Rainbow Reflections Ch. 01

Harley:

I cup my hands beneath the flow of cold water from the tap and wait until the water overflows from my cupped hands before I raise my hands to splash the water on my face. The cool wetness feels good against my heated skin.

I fill my hands again and close my eyes before bending my head forward and splashing my face once again. I catch more water and rub it on the back of my neck. I sigh as I feel the cool water trickle down my back between my shoulder blades. Slowly I raise my head and use my hands to wipe most of the water from my face.

I open my eyes and barely recognise the image staring back at me from the mirror over the restroom sink. Pale, drawn, painfully thin features with dark smudges beneath the too large eyes making them appear sunken into my face. Faint traces of sickly yellow green bruises on the left side of my face.

I blink several times trying to ignore the fact one pupil is larger than the other. A thin veil of hair falls forward over my face as I close my eyes and let my chin sink towards my chest.

The rest of my hair is cut short, a ragged and uneven mess that sticks out in spiky clumps failing to hide the spider web of bright pink scarring on my scalp.

"Who are you?" I ask. I don't know this face. I don't remember it.

I turn away from the mirror and pull the hood of my jumper up over the wreck of my head. The jumper is large and most of my face is in shadow as I step out of the restroom and move between rows of shelves.

I am aware of the cashier behind the desk watching my progress, I am the only person in the roadside service station on a dark stormy night and I look more than a little ragged. I take several hot pies from the warmer as I pass and open one to take a large bite of it.

The filling is hot and scalds my mouth. I open my mouth slightly as I puff air in and out to cool the food slightly before chewing once or twice and swallowing.

Three bites are all it takes to eat the first pie and I open the second one. The cashier clears his throat noisily and I glance his way before continuing my leisurely examination of the shelves containing food.

I have finished the second pie and started on the third pie by the time I reach the service desk. I put the empty wrappers on the counter followed by a two-litre bottle of plain milk. The cashier frowns as he scans the empty wrappers.

"Around these parts we pay for our food before eating it," he tells me tightly. "And we take our head wear off so other people can look us in the eye."

I look down at my hands, at the folded, damp notes I take from the front pocket of my baggy jeans. My eyes don't get above the button over his sternum as I raise my right hand and push the hood to the back of my head. Slowly I raise my eyes to his.

'There. Happy?' I don't say the words but I know they are there in my eyes.

"Looks like the weather is setting in out there," he looks away as he makes small talk. Everyone I've met the last few days avoids speaking about my battered appearance.

The scars on my scalp and the one by the outer corner of my left eye that goes up into my hairline are still new enough to stand out. The bruises are more recent, faint reminders of the seizures that plagued me.

"Twelve dollars, fifty cents all up," he says when there is no answer forth coming from me.

I hand over a couple of notes and take my change before lifting the bottle of milk from the counter. I hesitate as I look out the large glass windows at the rain that can be seen in the glow of the lights.

"I might sit just inside the door for half an hour or so," I say quietly. "Maybe the rain will let up."

"Yer not from around here then," He says and I can hear the frown in his voice. "I thought for a moment you looked familiar. Rain won't let up, it's comin' off a cyclone off the coast. We often get this this time of the year,"

I glance his way and he gives me a friendly smile. His entire attitude has changed now he has me figured for a sick and harmless woman.

"Cyclone season," I say evenly and look away quickly. Where had the phrase come from?

"Yeah, that's what some folks call it. Where you heading? How far are you going? I know most of the truck drivers who come down this way," he asks. "One of them might be able to give you a lift,"

"No. I'll be okay," Something inside me shies away from accepting a lift from a stranger. "I'll just sit down for a few minutes then be on my way."

I move away from the counter quickly and find the spot where the air conditioning is issuing warm air against the cold of the rainy night. I sit on the floor as I open the packaging of the last pie.

With the edge off my hunger I eat it slower savouring the rich meaty taste. The milk is icy cold and I drink until I am comfortably full before screwing the lid back on and placing the bottle on the floor beside me.

Outside the night is a grey mist beyond the brightness of the service station lights. Occasionally headlights move swiftly past on the highway and I watch them with a faint ache.

They know where they are going on this cold, wet night. They aren't driven helplessly before the cold wind and rain, forced to stop and take shelter when their strength deserts them.

Drew:

I glance down at the fuel gauge and mutter a curse as I see the needle hovers above the empty marker. I slow the car down as I check in the rear-view mirror and then the road ahead.

Confident there are no vehicles coming either way I take the car as far onto the left shoulder of the road as I dare before pulling the wheel to the right as hard as I can. Tyres squeal but I turn the car in a neat U-turn and head back along the highway, I had passed a service station only a kilometre or two back.

The service station sits beside the highway shrouded in darkness, the only light comes from the lights over the fuel pumps in the covered area between the shop and the highway.

I pull in beside one of the pumps and quickly fill the petrol tank. I hesitate as I see the metal medical case on the front passenger seat, I lock the vehicle and head inside to pay for the petrol.

'Food, food would be good about now,' the thought crosses my mind as the automatic door opens and I walk inside.

The instant the warm air curls around me I know I have either found who I am looking for or I am close behind. I follow the current of air and scent and find her sitting beneath the flow of warm air. I eye the way she has her forehead resting on her up drawn knees and know she is asleep.

I head past the convenient pre-made sandwiches grabbing a selection as I go before adding several bottles of water to my overloaded arms.

"Has my friend eaten while she has been here?" I ask as I place my selection of food on the counter.

"You let your friends walk around in weather like this often?" The man behind the counter challenges gruffly.

"She was at a friends place and wandered off," I say meeting his eyes levelly. "She was hurt badly not so long ago and still gets confused at times."

"She looks like someone uses her for a punching bag," His tone is close to challenging but he avoids direct eye contact.

"So I keep telling her but it doesn't stop the seizures." I say biting off my words. I don't like feeling like I am defending myself, I would never do anything to hurt her or any other female. I hand over some crumpled notes and take the change he hands me.

"I suppose you'll be wanting a bag for your stuff," the suspicion is still in his voice and I give a tight smile.

When he passes me a plastic bag I pack my purchases into it myself before heading back to that warm corner of the store. I hear the faint click of the enclosed area behind the counter and know the cashier is following me at a distance. I squat not far from her huddled form and watch her shoulders moving slightly as she breathes for a few moments.

"Hey Harley, you gonna wake up?" I ask gently. I know the softly spoken question will be enough to wake her up no matter how deeply she is sleeping.

"Gonna wake up?" I ask as she stirs slightly. Slowly she lifts her head and blinks at me dazedly then yawns.

"Andrew?" Her voice is soft and pretty like her.

"Yeah it's me. Do you want to come home with me or is there somewhere you want to go?" I ask gently.

"I ..." A confused look fills her eyes and she glances around uncertainly. "I was going somewhere but I can't remember where."

"It doesn't matter now," I tell her soothingly as I stand up and reach down to help her to her feet. "When you remember I'll take you there,"

"Oh," Harley murmurs softly as she sways for a moment before catching her balance.

"Ready to go?" I ask encouragingly.

"Yeah," Harley says with a faint smile.

"You sure you want to go with him Miss?" The cashier asks.

"Andrew looked after me," Harley says with a smile in his direction. "He makes sure I take my medicine so I don't have fits."

"That reminds me. You didn't bring your tablets with you," I tell her with a frown.

"Maybe I don't need them anymore," Harley says but she sounds doubtful.

"We can always hope," I say softly under my breath.

Outside the rain has stopped for the moment and I get Harley into the car quickly. She manages to do up her seatbelt herself and I smile as I note how much her co-ordination is improving.

I climb behind the wheel pausing long enough to hand her her evening tablet of anti-seizure medicine and a bottle of water.

As I pull out onto the highway I glance her way and see her sipping from the bottle of water. Shadows flicker across her face as we leave the overhead lighting and for a moment I am reminded of how she had looked when I had found her nearly six weeks ago.

It had been close to sunrise, the predawn sky grey and cloudy as a faint misting of rain fell. I had spent all night looking for her, two days earlier we had spent the entire day last in each other's bodies.

The sex and been rough and unbridled as I took her eager body time after time. We had fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning and when I had awoken she was gone leaving behind a faint trail in the morning dew.

I don't think anything could have prepared me for the sight of her when I found her unconscious and broken at the bottom of a steep gully.

Hidden from sight from above by a tall stand of weeds her body was battered and scrapped bloody. Her once beautiful hair blood soaked and matted around a face covered in a spider webbing of blood trails over her features.

The faint trail of bent weeds down the slope, a slight scuff mark at the edge of the road. I'd put the pieces together, a frantic dash across the road at night at a sharp corner, a fast moving vehicle. A glancing blow the driver probably put down to a yearling cow.

At first I'd believed her dead until I saw the fingers on one hand twitching and her eyelashes fluttering as her body convulsed.

I'd sat with her all through that first day, huddled against the light rain as I kept vigil so she would not die alone.

"Are we going back to the house?" Her question pulls me from my memories.

"Is there somewhere else you'd rather go?" I ask.

"I needed to go somewhere ..." her voice trails off leaving her sounding lost and afraid.

"Was there something you needed to do? See someone? Do some shopping?" I prompt her.

"I ...I ..." She makes a soft sound of frustration and kicks the floor of the car with one foot. "Tell me why you nicknamed me Harley again!"

I smile as I remember calling her that before I had known she had no memory of who she was or any of her life prior to waking up after being so seriously injured.

"I had a Harley Davidson motor bike I used to ride," I say fondly. "Black with deep blue and red designs scattered over it. It was beautiful and even looked deceptively delicate because of the paintwork but it was one powerful beast."

"You call me that because of the way I looked after the accident, all black and blue and bloody," Harley says nodding to herself as she turns her attention to the darkness out the window.