positive identification of the man but will not release his name pending notification of his next of kin.”
Karina’s foot came down hard on the accelerator at hearing this, and she had to quickly step on the brake to avoid hitting the car in front of her. The voice continued, “The police have reason to believe the man was murdered, and after finding his car and inspecting it for clues, have issued an arrest warrant for Karina McKay, whose DNA was found in the car.”
Karina’s heart skipped a beat and she felt a new fear drown out her fear of the aliens. She switched off the radio, thinking hard. She had been careful not to leave fingerprints, but she had forgotten that the military had taken a sample of her DNA at basic training, to identify her body should it be damaged beyond recognition anytime during her career. Somehow it didn’t surprise her that the government had kept it on file. She couldn’t go home now; the police were probably there waiting for her. She decided to go to Mexico. At least she was already headed in the right direction. She could be in Tijuana in eight hours. The decision helped calm her as she continued her way south.
Two hours from the border the gas light came on. Karina hit her palm against the steering wheel in frustration. “Shit!” She loved her old truck, but she hated the lousy gas mileage. She exited the freeway and pulled into a busy Chevron.
She took her wallet out of her pocket and opened it. No cash. She would have to use a credit card. She slid the card into the reader and prayed it would work. It did, and she inserted the nozzle into the tank and began pumping gas. She watched the numbers scrolling the cost and gallons and wished they would go faster. The nozzle finally clicked off and she pulled it out and screwed on the gas cap. Then she hurried into the convenience store. She really needed to pee.
There were several women waiting in line for the two stalls this restroom boasted. Karina tried to look bored as she waited her turn. When she finally got to the front of the line, she felt as if her bladder would burst. A minute later it was her turn, and she sighed in relief as she sat on the toilet. When she exited the stall, the bathroom was deserted. Karina found that odd, since there had been several women in line behind her. She had a bad feeling about this.
She went back into the booth and climbed up on the toilet in order to reach the tiny window near the ceiling. She looked out. There was nothing to see. No police cars, no officers. There were also no other people where it had been packed minutes before. Cars sat empty, their passengers hidden from sight. Karina got down off the toilet and pondered her options. There were none. She was effectively trapped.
She went to the sink and washed her hands, soaping them up well and then rinsing them in warm water. She let the water run over her hands while she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Coming to a decision, she turned off the water and dried her hands. She exited the restroom with her hands held high.
Several cops greeted her with drawn weapons. “Put your hands on your head and turn around,” one of them yelled. She complied. There was nothing else for her to do. She was read her rights and taken into custody.
Hands cuffed behind her back, she was led out of the convenience store to a police cruiser parked outside. One of the cops opened the back door and shoved her inside, his hand on her head. Slamming the door shut, he and his partner climbed into the front and started the car. As they pulled away, Karina could see the customers returning to their cars. She watched them grow smaller in the distance before turning and facing front.
The men drove her to the police station, where they roughly pulled her from the car and marched her into the building. They turned her over to a female officer, who thoroughly processed her before throwing her into a holding cell. The slamming of the metal door had the
Karina’s foot came down hard on the accelerator at hearing this, and she had to quickly step on the brake to avoid hitting the car in front of her. The voice continued, “The police have reason to believe the man was murdered, and after finding his car and inspecting it for clues, have issued an arrest warrant for Karina McKay, whose DNA was found in the car.”
Karina’s heart skipped a beat and she felt a new fear drown out her fear of the aliens. She switched off the radio, thinking hard. She had been careful not to leave fingerprints, but she had forgotten that the military had taken a sample of her DNA at basic training, to identify her body should it be damaged beyond recognition anytime during her career. Somehow it didn’t surprise her that the government had kept it on file. She couldn’t go home now; the police were probably there waiting for her. She decided to go to Mexico. At least she was already headed in the right direction. She could be in Tijuana in eight hours. The decision helped calm her as she continued her way south.
Two hours from the border the gas light came on. Karina hit her palm against the steering wheel in frustration. “Shit!” She loved her old truck, but she hated the lousy gas mileage. She exited the freeway and pulled into a busy Chevron.
She took her wallet out of her pocket and opened it. No cash. She would have to use a credit card. She slid the card into the reader and prayed it would work. It did, and she inserted the nozzle into the tank and began pumping gas. She watched the numbers scrolling the cost and gallons and wished they would go faster. The nozzle finally clicked off and she pulled it out and screwed on the gas cap. Then she hurried into the convenience store. She really needed to pee.
There were several women waiting in line for the two stalls this restroom boasted. Karina tried to look bored as she waited her turn. When she finally got to the front of the line, she felt as if her bladder would burst. A minute later it was her turn, and she sighed in relief as she sat on the toilet. When she exited the stall, the bathroom was deserted. Karina found that odd, since there had been several women in line behind her. She had a bad feeling about this.
She went back into the booth and climbed up on the toilet in order to reach the tiny window near the ceiling. She looked out. There was nothing to see. No police cars, no officers. There were also no other people where it had been packed minutes before. Cars sat empty, their passengers hidden from sight. Karina got down off the toilet and pondered her options. There were none. She was effectively trapped.
She went to the sink and washed her hands, soaping them up well and then rinsing them in warm water. She let the water run over her hands while she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Coming to a decision, she turned off the water and dried her hands. She exited the restroom with her hands held high.
Several cops greeted her with drawn weapons. “Put your hands on your head and turn around,” one of them yelled. She complied. There was nothing else for her to do. She was read her rights and taken into custody.
Hands cuffed behind her back, she was led out of the convenience store to a police cruiser parked outside. One of the cops opened the back door and shoved her inside, his hand on her head. Slamming the door shut, he and his partner climbed into the front and started the car. As they pulled away, Karina could see the customers returning to their cars. She watched them grow smaller in the distance before turning and facing front.
The men drove her to the police station, where they roughly pulled her from the car and marched her into the building. They turned her over to a female officer, who thoroughly processed her before throwing her into a holding cell. The slamming of the metal door had the
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