Hotter Horizons

Published by Evernight Publishing at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2013 JC Szot

ISBN: 978-1-77130-548-8

Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

Editor: Karyn White

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

For my husband, Mike who lost his battle with Acute Myeloid Leukemia on August 1st.  I thank him for eleven years of marriage, friendship and endless support. His gifts of time and space made my writing what it is today.

HOTTER HORIZONS

JC Szot

Copyright © 2013

Chapter One

Here, take it, Jada said, forcefully pushing a wad of cash into her hand.

No. Fern shook her head. It’s too much. You’ll need it to carry my end of the expenses.

Jada grabbed her satchel, stuffing the cash inside.

I’m working the last four shows, Jada said, hand on hip. Believe me … I’ll be raking it in. Jeff Foxworthy was performing his act at the casino where Jada worked, her last week being very lucrative.

Fern relented. She did need money. Jada was a cocktail waitress at the Mohican Sun Casino. She had a real knack for dealing with the public, not to mention her glamorous looks, which only added to her gift. The amount of cash the girl could earn in one night was sickening.

This drama-laden plan of escape was very sudden and unplanned. Fern had hit the wall. She was done with Johnny. After almost three years of dealing with his dysfunctional behavior, she was finally tapped out.

Being in a relationship with Johnny was like dealing with an entire street gang. His often violent, possessive behavior interfered with even daily life activities. If Fern even glanced in the direction of another man he thought she was interested. He was jealous and insecure. Johnny did have a soft side but its appearance was rare. He gave her no freedom of movement.

For Jada, Fern’s departure was a day of rejoicing, but it came with a price. Fern would now have to leave. Jada had been trying to get Fern to ditch Johnny ever since voice-activated email made its debut. Fern was going to suffer the most from this breakup, forcing her to abruptly relocate and abandon all she knew, heading toward another horizon all on her own.

When would she be able to see Jada again? They’d been roommates forever. She wouldn’t miss her job at the Turnstile. She was tired of dealing with rowdy club-goers and loud music, and patrons like her ex. I’ve acquired the lifestyle I grew up despising.

Now she’d be forced to wander, just like her father had his entire life, never owning anything or putting down roots. I don’t like things that hold me down, had been her father’s famous words. Her mind scrambled back to Johnny and the reaction her absence would create.

You couldn’t just dump Johnny and stay in town. Fern had learned that the hard way. It would never work and hadn’t worked the numerous times Fern had tried to terminate the relationship.

Johnny would stalk and nag, tormenting her, feeding his guilt to her like a spoiled meal until she caved, unable to swallow another rotten mouthful. No. This time she’d have to leave and disappear, covering her tracks like windblown snow on a sidewalk. Panic wormed through her. What kind of crap would Jada have to deal with when Johnny came around looking for her?

He’s eventually gonna show up here, Fern told her.

Jada’s dark-brown eyes narrowed. I know how to deal with him. Don’t worry about me.

Jada sat down on her bed, releasing a hissing breath that blew the bleached-blond strands of hair out of her eyes, her brows furrowing.

Where you gonna go? she asked, her tone now hesitant, laced with a fear Fern didn’t want to feel.

I haven’t gotten that far yet, Fern told her, yanking open drawers, stuffing her knapsack.

Fuck! I hate that son-of-a-bitch.

Yeah, he’s got a habit of provoking that in people. Fern took one more glance around the tiny studio apartment. There was stuff she’d have to leave behind, for now. Jada met her thoughts.

Maybe when you land and get settled, I can bring you the rest of your things, Jada said, eyeing her small stereo, books, and CDs.

Fern sat down next to her, resting her hand on Jada’s thigh.

Yeah. She sighed, exhausted already. I’ll call… More words formed on her tongue, words better left unsaid.

****

The traffic had picked up, the late-day rush hour kicking in. Fern hiked toward the Wawa, thinking she’d get her last mocha latte. The whine of the train whistle caught her attention. Fern ran across the highway and bolted into the thickets, having missed the last bus out.

Colorful cars moved slowly behind the tall brush. She climbed up the steep bank, watching as the train clanked over the rails. It moved at a speed that was doable, enabling the crazed thought that was forming in her mind to take shape.

Fern sidestepped down the embankment, waiting. With the last car in sight, Fern gripped the hot paper cup, seeing the hot beverage slosh inside.

The oily smell of creosote burned her nose. Fern took two cautious sips, realizing she needed to toss her last indulgence into the weeds until she got to wherever she was going.

Fern threw the cup into the brush. As the last car rattled past, Fern stepped in behind it and started jogging, pacing her steps, watching the tarry pebbles and ashen dirt below pass beneath her feet. With the width of two feet, her adrenaline got the best of her. She hurled her knapsack into the car and quickened her pace, her decision made.

She gasped. Fern dragged in a rush of polluted smog and took that leap, a leap away from Johnny that would buy her more distance, and a leap into a new life that was frightening as hell, holding all the fears of the unknown.

Chapter Two

Fern swayed, leaning into the wall to regain her balance as the boxcar moved down the tracks. The woodsy smell of cedar and something sweetened settled in her nose as she turned and sat down on what looked to be sacks of animal feed. Seeing the horseshoe emblem on the burlap confirmed it was most likely horse grain.

She reached for her knapsack, resting it between her knees, and Fern settled back and watched the town of Easton, Pennsylvania recede behind her. She knew this freight train went into New Jersey, but wasn’t sure where she should get off.

The sun began to slip down the horizon, leaving a path of warm pinks and smoky violets in its wake. The remains of the day’s heat warmed her face as she reclined her back into the feedbags. Summer was just beginning, and now her life was rocking back and forth as if on a raft in turbulent waters. I fucking feel like Tom Sawyer.

It’d been a Memorial Day picnic at a co-worker’s house. Another embarrassing incident where Johnny had had too much to drink and allowed his paranoia to ruin what had started as the perfect kick-off to summer.

He’d accused one of the bouncers whom Fern worked with at the Turnstile of lusting after her. It was always so humiliating to have to calm Johnny down and then rush to explain his demented ways to her friends or acquaintances. She’d always made excuses for him, which never failed to enrage Jada.

Fern tipped her head back, feeling the vibration of the moving train run throughout her body. She lowered her eyes against the glaring rays of the sun, drinking in its warmth. Thoughts began to run rampant.

She’d need a job, a place to live. With no car, she’d have to set things up so she could manage on foot, until she got on her feet financially. She never needed a car in Easton, always able to use public transit. Thinking of all those things that cost money had her hand dipping inside her satchel, riffling through its contents to find the roll of cash Jada had given her. Fern pulled out the neatly banded roll. She ran her fingertip over the corners of the bills, guessing she had about five or six hundred dollars.

The train rolled on, clanking through a tunnel of wooded areas and groves. Two boys on their bikes, with fishing rods resting on their shoulders, stood on the side of the tracks. When one of them noticed her, he pointed, his friend looking on, their faces perplexed. Fern lifted her finger to her lips, smiling. She pulled out her cell phone, checking the time. She’d been on the train for a little over two hours. When the cars began to slow she sat up, her senses sharpening. Fern slung her satchel and knapsack over her shoulder and stood. She made her way to the end of the car, peering outside, gripping the edge of the car as it swayed.

The air had cooled, the days now longer. Fern directed her gaze toward her surroundings. The Jake Brake of the train hissed and squeaked.

We’re stopping.

It looked to be a lumberyard. Stacks of wood sat on pallets, lining the edges of a large, fenced-in area. This was it. She’d have to get off here. She looked down at the feedbags, unsure if they were being unloaded. The train whined one last time before coming to a complete halt.

Several workers moved about the yard, loading planks of lumber onto carts. Fern looked both ways and hopped out, darting up the track, looking for an opening beyond the fenced-in yard.

The sweet smell of sap and sawdust swirled around her as she eased into a jog. A shrilling whistle rang in her ears. Her chest tightened with alarm.

Hey, you! a gruff voice