Alone The Girl in the Box - By Robert J. Crane Page 0,4

road. “Reed.”

I nodded. It was a nice name. I was suddenly conscious of the fact that Mom must surely have had a rule against talking to strangers, but we never discussed what to do if you’re driven out of the house by men with guns. My hand ached where I had landed on it after my slip. “I’m…Sienna.”

“Nice to meet you, Sienna.” He moved one of his hands off the wheel and proffered it to me.

I shook it. “Thank you.” It was the first time I had been out of my house since I was five years old. I hadn’t talked to another human being besides Mom for that long. I wondered if this was how people talked? Had conversations?

“Where should we go?” His hands gripped the steering wheel tight, and I could see the knuckles of his darker skin turn white from the pressure.

My head was still spinning from all that had happened in the last ten minutes, but I had an idea. “Somewhere public. With lots of people. A grocery store.”

“Fair enough.”

We rode in silence. I studied him, looking at the lines of his face. He couldn’t have been much older than me. Other than through TV, I hadn’t seen another living soul in years except Mom. When your only human experience in life is through the TV, it warps your sense of reality. The people on TV are so flawless that you don’t see the little blemishes on the skin; the little mole below his eye, the freckles that barely showed on his cheek.

We pulled into a parking lot and I marveled at the size of the sign out front. I stepped out of the car and the bite of the chill hit me. My black turtleneck didn’t do much to protect me against the deep freeze that was the outdoors. I knew it had to be cold outside from the draft through the windows at home, but I didn’t know it was this cold. My leather gloves felt like they weren’t even there and the clouds covered the sky above, bathing the scene before me in a dull light.

The melted snow under my feet in the parking lot surprised me. Now that I wasn’t having to run, I took my time, listening to the oozing, splashing sound it made as I brought my shoes down into it, then felt the cold of the icy slush go into my socks. I cringed. Not exactly how I pictured my first time out of the house: I assumed I would run barefoot through a meadow, with the sun shining bright above, the warmth on my skin, bright colored flowers and green fields around me. Silly, clichéd, I know. But that’s what I wanted.

If I ever could have gotten out of the house.

We walked to the front doors and they parted for us. An involuntary grin split my face. Very cool.

Reed laughed. “Never seen an automatic door before?”

“Nope.” I stared at them, almost afraid that if I took my eyes away they’d vanish and I’d be back in the house, alone and dreaming.

“Come on.” His hand wrapped around my upper arm with a gentle pressure and I felt a slight tingle as he guided me inside – not pushy or demanding, but with…care. I could feel the warmth of his hand through my sweater and the weight of the gun in the front waistband of my jeans. The heated air of the store blew down on me as I walked through the entry, a pleasant feeling to counteract the chill.

We stopped inside and the smell of roasting chicken hit my nose. My mouth started to water; Mom hadn’t shopped for at least a week before she disappeared. Last night I picked at the remainder of what was in the fridge. It was a little desperate; I was over ramen noodles and ketchup.

A big counter of clear glass stretched across the wall of the store. I could see a huge selection of meats and cheeses waiting inside it. My eyes wandered to the big freezers with boxes and bags of food, and I felt like I was going to start drooling. There were booths arranged near the deli counter – like a restaurant right there in the store.

“You hungry?” Reed’s eyes found mine and I nodded. “I’ll buy you lunch.”

I stopped him. “Why are you being so nice to me? It’s not like you pick up strangers on the side of the road every day who have someone pointing a gun