Page 43 of JoJo

Chapter 13

I thought about calling Steel, but figured it could wait until I got where I was going. I knew I couldn’t head to MiMi’s house with a tail on me though. There was no longer any denying that someone had been following me again. The same beat up Chevy pickup truck was trailing along behind me cruising at my Sunday driver speeds I was doing on my motorcycle since I already knew Steel would be furious with me for taking it out.

I needed to take it out though. It was a drive, a calling, a piece of me that I was already dreading the loss of. I knew, without a doubt, that being a mom would put my drive times on hold for a while. They would come too few and far between for my liking soon enough. I needed this. One more ride to feel the wind in my hair and on my face as I maneuvered through another twist on the mountain road. If only I hadn’t been enjoying the breeze so much that I had missed the last turn off that would take me back to town. Instead, I found myself trailing further up the mountain that had only a few spread out residences along the narrow road. I had well and truly fucked myself especially considering the truck behind me had started accelerating as if the driver was no longer concerned that I might notice him.

I knew that didn’t bode well for me, especially since I was on a bike and he was in a truck. My heart rate ticked up to the point that I could feel my pulse in my throat as I took the next curve a little sharp. I managed to pull out of it without eating gravel, but my slow down had the truck gaining even more on me. Two more curves, and not a hell of a lot more road before I knew the end would be upon us and it was all over anyway. His bumper hit my back tire and I couldn’t correct in time. My front tire caught the loose gravel at the edge of the road and propelled me right over the edge. I found myself thankful that we hadn’t been at a steep drop-off point along the road. Instead my bike careened right down the side of the mountain along a deer path. I wasn’t able to slow it enough that I was able to control it into a stop though. I was going downhill and headed straight for a tree where the deer path gave out and made a sharp curve to the right, forcing me to bail off and roll into a jagged piece of rock, catching my shoulder as I did.

The rock stopped me from rolling any further in pretty abrupt way causing me to let out a scream. I wasn’t worried about him hearing me, because he’d see the bike – my precious 883 Super Low – wrapped around that tree. Still, I knew I didn’t have a whole lot of time to get gone from my position. Cradling my arm tight to my body I moved, using the mountain to aid in my momentum for a bit and allowing it to take me down and further into the cover of the forest. I stayed clear of the trails, deer or otherwise, and thanks to my small stature I was able to make good headway without being noticed. I could hear someone tromping through the brush somewhere in the distance behind me, but there was no way to judge how close they were since the sound traveled like crazy out here.

When I heard the babbling of a creek nearby I winced at what I would have to do. I turned left and headed away from the sound, despite everything my dad had ever taught me when I was young about how to navigate through the woods if I ever got lost. “Follow the creek, it’ll lead you to safety and keep you hydrated until you get there.” I could hear him in my head giving me those same instructions now, but I had to ignore it, because I knew that whoever was following me would probably think the same thing. The left hand turn I’d taken to move away from the water sent me on an uphill path for a bit that did my injured shoulder no favors when I had to reach out to steady myself on a difficult portion of the climb. It also meant I was slowing down, which I wasn’t happy with, but again, I was praying that the person following me went for the creek instead.

It wasn’t long before I crested over the top of the peak, and was able to get my bearings a bit better. I was crossing part of the Appalachian Trail at this point. That was both good and bad. I knew I could find my way from here, but that would mean staying on, or close to, the trail which would make tracking my movements easier. On the other hand, it also meant that I might run into hikers who could possibly help. As soon as I thought it, I discarded that possibility. Anyone who might be able to help might also get killed for trying.

“Are you all right?” I heard from not too far away.

“No,” I decided to be honest. “Listen carefully, there’s a man after me. He ran me off the road. I’ve been running for a while, and not sure he’s still following, but please call the police as soon as you get somewhere with signal. Don’t stay here though.”

“You should come with us,” the woman called out to me in a loud whisper. The man next to her gave her a meaningful look that told me he wasn’t stupid.

“It’s not safe,” I told her. Keep going up the trail. There should be cell signal at slightly higher ground up there. Please, let them know JoJo Mason was run off the road, and she came through here heading west, okay?”

“No offense lady, but we’re in the woods. How are we supposed to tell them you went west? From where?”

“Did you pass a shelter along the way?”

The man grinned then. “Yeah, Blue Mountain Shelter was back down the trail about a mile or so,” he answered.

“Okay, so tell them this,” I looked out to where I’d come from. “About a mile north of Blue Mountain Shelter I moved west into the woods, uncertain if I was still being followed. Avoiding trails, because I’d be easily spotted.”

“Fuck!” We heard shouted from somewhere off in the distance.

I turned to the couple with fresh panic in my eyes. “Go, tell them. JoJo Mason,” I reminded them. I didn’t give them my married name in case it wasn’t recognized by whoever they spoke to.

“We will,” the woman said quietly as the man she was with pulled her further up the trail and away from me. I turned, hoping they were able to get a hold of someone and I headed west off the trail where I wouldn’t be found as easily.

“Do you see her?” A man called out.

“No, but Jared said there’s no trace of her down by that creek.”

“Let’s go,” the first man called out.

Shit! How many people had been in that truck? I kept moving despite the pain flashing through my shoulder and throbbing down my arm. I had been gritting through the almost numb, tingling sensation until I stumbled a bit causing my muscles to spasm. I knew there were tears in my eyes because my vision became temporarily blurry until I was able to wipe at them with the bottom of my shirt. Still, I carried on, because a bit of pain and discomfort in my shoulder was nothing compared with being dead or worse. Yes, there was worse than dead. There was ending up like MiMi when she had been taken, but never finding a way out until you lost even the hope that death would take it all from you.

I was sweating buckets and my legs were numb by the time I was able to find my bearings again. I’d managed to drop down through a valley and crest yet another peak before I found myself staring down the old Adams’ junk patch. It was a defunct junkyard that was once run by Gunther Adams ages ago. He had some weird car collecting fantasy, but all he ever got were people’s scrap heaps. He would tote them up the mountain and deposit them on land he had there, letting the forest swallow up some of them while the rest sat in a large clearing along with a small cabin he’d built.

Now, there was also a garage on the property, because Greg and Geoff Adams, Gunther’s sons had taken the place over once he passed, and they both had skills with cars that their father had never possessed. The Adams boys had been able to part out a lot of the scrapped cars on the mountain to help with rebuilds. That was where we got a lot of parts that were discontinued for the older vehicles people brought in to my shop. Geoff had been killed up here in an accident a few years back, but I found myself praying to any god that would listen that Gregg was still around.

I hadn’t even made it to the clearing yet when I heard a gasp and then my name. “JoJo?”

“Gregg!” I called out in relief even as pain laced through me once again at the sudden movement his calling my name had caused.

“What the hell happened to you, girl?” I turned to see him barreling toward me then.

“Gregg, someone ran me off the road over near Lucinda’s place,” I explained. Everyone knew Lucinda’s place because she was one of the families who still distilled their own moonshine in the middle of the Georgia mountains.

“Lucinda’s place? Jesus, girl. How long you been out there? Why the hell would you come this way for help?”

“Whoever ran me off the road is tracking me, Gregg.” He moved so quickly I almost didn’t register it before he had my arm – the uninjured one – in his grip and was moving me toward his cabin.

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