Getting out of Prince Rupert took longer than I expected. The car rental place was surprisingly busy, and even though I made a reservation, they only had this truck left. It's a hybrid, but it cannot be the most fuel-efficient option. After I finished arguing with the clerk at the rental, I stopped to grab snacks for the car. Eight hours of driving with no good food or drinks didn't appeal to me. I grab a handful of peanut M&Ms and drop them into my mouth.

What I didn't anticipate is that the silence I so craved on the bus tour is clawing and claustrophobic now.

The mindless chatter between Gwen and Esther was, in hindsight, a nice distraction from dwelling on my own depressing thoughts, which I did often enough when I was alone in my motel room. Trying to suppress the punishing desire to return to the field, escape whatever lies ahead of me on this trip, is no easy task, and I flex my hands on the steering wheel as I merge onto Highway 16.

On assignment, there's always something to be done for the community through outreach or treating patients or even being a listening ear for someone's life that's been far harder than mine. In my hotel room, I started to realize how isolated I've let myself get. My phone doesn't buzz with human connection like many of the people I work with. A few friends from back home or Angela or the occasional acquaintance from Doctors International, but even that's not frequent.

Before Diana died, I kept my connections on the job loose, and after she died, I let the strings get even longer.

To compensate for my solitude, I've spent a lot of time on this forced vacation listening to music and working out, trying to figure out how to get myself back to normal, whatever that is.

With Diana.

That's the last time I remember the restlessness inside me settling.

Maybe HR had a point. I have forgotten how to exist outside my job, and maybe that is a problem. Even if I can't say exactly what the problem is. My instinct is to buck the idea that how I'm living my life isn't healthy. 

My singular focus has gotten me pretty far, kept me alive, but I'm starting to realize it hasn't made me particularly happy. Fulfilled sometimes. Full of despair at others. High highs and low lows. While I might have made a promise to continue in this line of work, I didn't promise Diana that Doctors International would be the only thing I'd ever do with my life.

It's been a long time since I've let myself dwell on Diana and how she might react. At first, that thought was a constant guiding light. What would Diana want?

But I haven't posed that question in a long time. Haven't posed any questions. Maybe it's time I start thinking about what I need answered for myself. I release a dark chuckle into the stillness of the car. Not a fucking clue where to start with that. What I need or want has never been a priority for me or anyone else in my life.

In the distance is a figure on the hard shoulder, and I squint while I try to determine why familiarity is stirring in my gut. When I'm close enough to make out that it's a woman, and that this woman is wearing the same clothes Gwen was earlier today, a spark of panic flares in my stomach. What the fuck is she doing on the side of the road.

As I near her, she sticks out her thumb, and my panic morphs into anger so quickly my vision blurs, and I swerve my truck off the road ahead of her.

She's hitchhiking? On this highway. Of all the roads in Canada she could try her luck with, this one is undoubtedly the most famous and most dangerous.

Before she can get to the driver's side, I throw open the door and duck out.

A smile breaks out across her face. "Blake!"

But there's no urge in me to offer an answering one. "You're hitchhiking?"

The smile drops off her face. "Yeah, I mean..."

A transport truck passes, and the loose strands from Gwen's ponytail get caught in the breeze. We're staring at each other, and I cannot even comprehend what to say to her. A gorgeous woman on the shoulder just before dusk has disaster written all over it.

"This is a dangerous road," I say.

"Then maybe we shouldn't be standing on the side of it." She splays her hands and lifts her shoulders.

That cute act is not getting her off the hook. "It's dangerous for you on this highway."

"I'm sure if we looked up statistics, hitchhiking wouldn't be any more dangerous now than it's ever been." Another transport is passing, and she has to shout over it to be heard.

"Do you have a death wish?" I glare at her. "Do you know what this highway is called? Has been called for years?"

"Why would I know what this highway has been called?" She scoffs. "I'm not from here."

"Neither am I," I say, stepping closer to her. "Anyone with a cell phone could look up the history of this stretch of road."

"Honestly, Blake. Why would I do that? No one looks up the history of a road."

"Get in the truck," I say, throwing my hand toward my rental.

"No." She crosses her arms. "I'll take a ride with the next person that stops. I wouldn't want to inconvenience you with my presence."

I might deserve that, but it only raises my boiling blood another notch. Since I don't trust myself to speak, I point to the truck bed for her to set her things beside my suitcase.

"No." She lets out a mocking laugh. "Absolutely not. You clearly do not want me in your vehicle, and there are other people that'll gladly take me."

Sure, take her to some remote location and murder her. Jesus. This woman. I eye her backpacks. Gonna be awkward, but fuck it. I'm not arguing with her on the side of the road. I close the distance between us, scoop her into my arms, and I lift her over the side of the truck to dump her on the bottom of the bed.

A transport sounds their horn on the way past, but he doesn't throw on the brakes to pull over. Not too concerned for her safety if he can't even bother to stop.

Gwen is rolling around in the truck bed, not quite able to restore her balance with one bag on her front, and the other weighing down her back.

Good. She can cool off while I get us away from this stretch of road and to somewhere safer. Inside the cab, I start the truck, and I merge onto the highway. From the back, I can almost make out Gwen's screams of indignation.

Justified. Maybe. I could have been nicer, but with dusk falling, we could also have been hit by another vehicle arguing there about whether or not she should ride with me or take her chances with a legitimate stranger.

Any reasonable person would have understood the proper response to me pulling over. Entirely too easy to kidnap her. Anyone could have done it. She's lucky she's in the back of my truck and not locked in someone's trunk.

I stick to the speed limit. Fairly sure that it's not legal to have her stashed in the bed like this on a major highway. Rather than getting off at the first exit, I drive two more to give myself time to get my thoughts together. This one appears abandoned, and with her obviously poor judgement, I don't want to give her an opportunity to hitch a ride with someone else, or just stubbornly refuse to accept my help.

Just as I signal to take the exit, a car races up behind me to throw on the lights and sirens. Awesome. An undercover police vehicle. Guess the truck driver decided to get involved after all. Adrenaline floods my chest. Normally, authority figures don't phase me because I've worked with all sorts across the globe. But I'm not entirely sure what the brunette in my truck bed is going to tell him about how she ended up there.

I pull over to the soft shoulder just off the exit, and I wait for the officer to approach. In my rearview mirror, I'm fairly certain the officer is a woman, and she's taking a while to get out. Running my plates. Maybe checking for backup. There have been lots of time where I've found myself in a situation I wasn't too sure of, and a thread of remorse stitches itself into me that I've made the officer feel that way. Completely overreacted to finding Gwen hitchhiking on the side of the road.

"Sir," the officer is beside my window now, far enough away that I wouldn't be able to reach her. "License and insurance." She peers into the truck bed. "You all right there?"

"I could use some help sitting up," Gwen says before releasing a long-suffering sigh. "You could have let me sit in the truck," she yells at me.

I've dug the insurance out of the glove box and my license out of my wallet, and I pass them through the window.

"Are you aware that you cannot be on the highway with any passengers in the bed of your truck?" The officer peers at my license and then stares at me.

"No," I say, and I take a chance on a lie. "In my home province, we can."

The officer searches my face and then steps toward the rear of the vehicle, still with my insurance and license in her hand. "Miss, are you okay? Do you need help? We had reports of a kidnapping."

"A kidnapping," Gwen squawks from the truck bed. There's a long pause. "I guess that's sort of accurate."

I rub my face with my hands and question all my life choices. Being thrown in jail for kidnapping is really going to help my case with Doctors International. Yeah, Jane. I'm totally fine. That kidnapping charge? Complete misunderstanding.

"Sir, I'm going to need you to step out of the car." The officer has her hand on the top of her gun.

With a deep sigh, I get out. Gwen is still lying on her back in the bed, and when we make eye contact, a sly smile touches her lips. She's enjoying my discomfort. Won't be so funny if I end up in jail and she ends up back on the side of the road to be actually kidnapped.

Another police car comes roaring down the highway, sirens on, and Gwen's smile slips off her face.

"He didn't kidnap me!" She flails around. "If someone will help me up, I can explain. He didn't kidnap me."

The officer eyes me as her backup arrives. She wanders over to her partner to confer while I'm standing outside the truck and Gwen is still being simultaneously propped up and held down my her two packs.

"Help me?" Gwen asks, and she bats her puppy dog eyes at me.

"Given the crowd we've attracted," I say, "I doubt I should touch you."

The two officers return from their conference, and the male officer gestures to me. "Come over here. We'll have a little chat."

I follow him away from Gwen and the truck, and the female officer wrestles with Gwen in the back to get her into an upright position. If I wasn't in danger of going to jail, this situation might even be amusing. The officer is barely strong enough to get Gwen on her feet.

"Explain," the officer says, and he makes a winding motion with his hand. "Tell me your version of how you ended up with an attractive woman in the back of your rental."

Rather than trying to predict what Gwen might say, I give him the truth and hope she's done the same. When I finish, he holds out a finger to me. "Stay here."

He ambles over to his colleague, and they chat for a few minutes, looking back and forth between us. Then he goes to Gwen and angles his body so I can't see what he's doing. He climbs back into his vehicle, and he speeds away.

The female officer motions for me to come over. "I'm not giving you a ticket for having her in your truck bed. But we've taken down all the information from this exchange. Anything happens to Gwen Johnston, and we'll be holding you liable."

"Understood," I say.

"Good luck on your road trip," the officer says to Gwen before giving her a little wave and climbing back in her police car.

"You two are friends?" I ask as the last of the light seems to fade from the sky.

"Besties," Gwen says. "Might give her a half heart if I ever see her again."

"You'd better not see her again," I grumble as I get into the driver's seat.

Gwen stashes her large pack in the truck bed, and then she slides into the passenger seat beside me. She gives me a tentative smile. "She told me about the highway. About what's happened along it."

"It's not a joke."

"Thanks for stopping for me. I know you couldn't wait to get rid of me on the bus trip, so it means a lot that you pulled over."

"Even if I did kidnap you?" I give her a wry smile.

"Better you than someone else," she says, and she stares out the window while I start the vehicle.

I don't ask her where she's going or what her plans are, I just get us back on the highway, and I drive east. There'll be lots of time for talking before we hit Prince George. 

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Update: Friday

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