Bill leaned forward at the exact moment the little girl fell asleep.  "She must be tuckered out.  We have been walking a long way.  Man I sure wish the car hadn't broken down."  Again he spoke in his insincere, yet fully convincing way.  His voice was a master of hiding his true nature.  His mask, though good, would be perfect if he could learn to control his sweat and his nervous tick of fidgeting with his collar.

November felt her nerves get the best of her and in response she unconsciously tugged at her ponytail which was a big mistake.  The rubber band snapped which in turn loosened and then broke the hairclip that up until then had been hiding her natural hair color.  The white strands from the hairclip fell into her lap.  She grasped hold of them and quickly shoved the hair into her jean pocket.  Her eyes darted up.  He had seen her rubber band and clip break, but she believed, or rather naively hoped, he hadn't noticed the drastic hair color change. 

He may not have noticed the stark contrast, what he did notice however were her dark strands, a color he was specifically attracted to. 

"Blue eyes and black hair that is a rare combination, I wonder, is your hair naturally that color?"  Bill whispered.  He was close.  She didn't have to see him; she could feel his breath on the back of her neck.  

The next song began, eight minutes had passed.  It would be another seven before her sister could be certain their alibi was in the clear and would be able to wake herself up.  Bill was acting too quickly, moving much faster than his normal speed.  November surveyed her surroundings in an attempt to occupy her mind. 

The old country road was dark and isolated.  On both sides of the black paved road were large, almost looming, pine trees and thick brush which rose up so highly it blocked out most of the sun during the daylight hours, and now, as the seconds ticked by, hid the beautiful moon from November's view.  It was also quiet, too quiet.  She hadn't seen another car since they had passed mile marker fifty.  No cars was  good for anonymity and what they were going to do to him, but a bad thing for her if Bill couldn't control his inner urges.

His hot breath remained on her neck.  She blinked; the tunnel of trees weren't helping.  She tried not to, but did it anyway.  She surveyed the backseat through the rearview mirror and confirmed Bill was indeed right next to her.  She held her posture stiff and did not pop her neck; she couldn't give him any clues about her inner emotions.   

"Why are you wearing gloves in the springtime?"  Bill suddenly asked using a voice which did not hide his inner self. 

Bill's body remained in the forward position, his breath grew hotter.  Her neck was now sticky and smelled of his putridness.  She had heard it, he gave it all away.  The inflection and the raspy cracking in his voice let her know he no longer trusted it was just a coincidence that they met.

"Oh that," her voice splintered as it escaped her dry throat. "I--I always wear driving gloves." Long pause.   "Don't you?"  She heard herself laugh as if to say it was an absurd question. 

She didn't pull it off.  She could see it in his eyes. The game was over; she was not going to be the victor this time.

She had expected him to respond, at least call her on her bluff.  He did not because he did not need to.  His eyes were no longer dead, he was no longer fidgeting, and a smile had formed on his face, all which meant he was ready.  His fingers moved from his knee, slid over his stomach as though he were patting it because he was full, and then they settled nicely on the butt of the gun.   He leaned back.  The sweat was drying up as he scanned the area.  

It was perfect; he couldn't have picked a better spot if he had tried.   All was quiet, only the noise of the car and crickets could be heard.  He pulled the gun from its holster and placed it up against November's skull.

"Pull over."  He whispered softly, almost sweetly, sounding exactly how a lover would on a moonless night.  "If you do what I say, you will live.  You scream, or try to fight, you will die.  I can promise you that."

November moaned, only nine minutes had gone by.  Time had become her cruel enemy as Bill pushed her from the driver's seat and out into the static night.  Her throat was no longer dry.

*******

December's cellphone began to vibrate, stirring the girl instantly awake.  Her eyes fluttered open and though she wanted to grab her head and press against her temples to stop the headache, she knew time was of the essence.  Too much had already ticked by.  She slid her hand to the left and reached down to grab the gun hidden next to the wheel well.  The cold steel normally made her feel better, a little safer, but this time it didn't, she could sense her sister was in trouble.  

She peeked through the small opening in the seat in order to plan her attack.  Her heart instantly sank, she was right.  Though her view was limited, she could see her sister and Bill were not in the car.  A fear, deep within, swelled and boiled.   She couldn't lose her sister, not now, not when they were so close to erasing the guilt she had gained two years ago. 

She twisted her body and kicked the seat forward.  The sound of her boot smashed and echoed loudly in the semi-empty cab.  Her eye twitched in a strange way as her mind confirmed the cab, outside of the sleeping Cassandra, was indeed empty.  She moved her body and climbed out of the back then quickly stepped to the front of the vehicle.  She opened the passenger car door and allowed herself to take comfort, and feel some sense of relief; at least the child was safe.  

She regarded the sleeping child with a feeling of tranquility and peace, and yet her smile faded as the alarm returned.   She shook off the delay and quickly, yet carefully picked up the tiny girl and moved her to the backseat of the car where she laid her down and covered her up with the purple Tinker Bell blanket she had stashed near the floor.  She hit the button to lock the doors.  She turned, inquired, contemplated, and sought for the knowledge the night was hiding from her. 

She gazed down at her watch.  Sixteen minutes were eaten away.  December scanned the area thinking the night sky was not on her side.  The full moon was cloaked and covered by the silver colored clouds which also hide the remainder of what little light the stars would have offered, and of course the trees also hindered her view.  For a moment she felt she was walking in a Grimm's fable.  The trees were large and looming; she could hear faint cries from wolves, and the chirping, almost screaming sound of the crickets were enough to keep her mind stuck in the child's fairytale.   She couldn't help but think the night was after her.  The forest was waiting; it had already consumed her sister and was waiting for her.  

She breathed in deeply and cleared her mind as she began to listen intently.  At first the only sound she heard was that of her watch.  The second hand clicked by, over and over, one second, two seconds, three then four.  She tilted her head, she knew she had to keep levelheadedness, yet it was hard to do so, but there was no other alternative outside of letting her sister die by the hands of a raging lunatic. 

The sound of the crickets, the blowing of a strange warm wind, and the thoughts of Hansel and Gretel would not leave her mind.  She wanted to scream.  Her mind kept tripping over itself.

Am I too late? 

Again her temperature skyrocketed and her heart squeezed in a painful manner while a thumping and pounding.  Her blood was coursing, raging, and flooding her veins which began to swell and to press against her brain. She bit down on her lower lip hard enough to draw blood.  Her eyes kept darting back and forth as she tried to calm her heart enough to listen.   The tiniest of tears began to swell in her green eyes.  Thirty more seconds passed.  She squinted her eyes and strained her ears as her forehead crinkled in a thoughtful manner.

 The headache was fantastically painful and gave her the sensation of a hot poker being stabbed through her face and into her eye socket.   She slapped her hand up to her forehead and pulled in down in a gliding motion.