North is Nice Too

It really was a beautiful day. The two-lane highway curled south through the mountains of North Carolina like a ribbon, the sun warming the cloud of fog away. With the road nearly empty, she drove with one hand lazily on the wheel, her sunglasses shielding her eyes from the mid-morning glare. The windows were down, allowing the breeze to catch her hair and fill her car with the scent of pine and damp earth and something floral that she couldn't quite place.

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She lived for mornings like this. The world felt new and untouched, and the road seemed to stretch out for her alone. It filled her with a sense of freedom, and the thrill of possibility. She felt like she could drive forever and never have to explain herself. She could disappear if she wanted to, and she often did.

She passed an old gas station with a rusted sign barely hanging on, the kind of place that hadn’t seen customers in a decade, but probably was once a popular spot with locals. A single shoe sat abandoned on the roadside shoulder, as if someone had simply vanished mid-step. A deer popped its head up as it snacked on some foliage, smart enough to not run into the street. The sky above her was big and blue and endless. She loved being on the road by herself. The quiet was strangely beautiful and it filled her with wonder. It was like her senses had the space to sharpen - her thoughts were clearer, her purpose was more defined. She felt most like herself when she was in motion. A hawk caught her attention, soaring overhead. She tracked it in her rearview mirror for a moment before turning her focus forward again.

The local radio station crackled to life again as she rounded her way to a straightaway, and she found herself tapping her fingers on the wheel and humming along to the beat-driven pop songs. Taylor Swift's voice spilled out through the speakers. She reached for her iced coffee, the condensation feeling slick and cold against her fingers. She was still humming along, still smiling. Everything about this day was beautiful, and the vibe was perfect. She felt like the world was hers for the taking.

The song faded, and a male radio host's voice filled the car, cheerful and upbeat.

"Welcome back to Wake Up Call with Jake and Lila, your morning radio show on 94.7. I'm Jake…"

"...and I'm Lila!..." a woman's voice chimed in, bright and bubbly.

"...and we're here to keep your morning moving! That was Cruel Summer by the legend herself, Tay Tay, and I gotta ask you, Lila…"

"Mmhmm?"

"How long did it take you to learn every lyric to that song when it came out?"

"Oh, by the second time I listened to it," Lila laughed. "But I’m not ashamed to admit that probably half the lyrics I think I know are just me mumbling confidently to the wrong words.”

Laughter rang out from both hosts.

"I bet you're right. 'Cause, you know I saw you mouthing along over there like your life depended on it. We all know you're a huge Swiftie."

"I do love me some Taylor, Jake. And Cruel Summer has such a fun vibe. Just makes me want to get in the car with the windows down, shades on, cruising into summer, you know?"

"Absolutely," Jake's voice was still light. "But not TOO cruel of a summer, if you know what I'm saying. Am I right? Now you know we like to keep it fun and flirty here on Wake Up Call, but we do have to turn to a more serious note for a minute."

There was a slight pause, and then Lila's voice returned. Her tone was lower, softened with concern.

"That's right," Lila said. "An update from the State Police just came in. Another body was found very early this morning off of Route 221. This makes three now in the last month. All young women, all traveling alone."

Jake added, "All strangled. Little to no evidence of a struggle. No witnesses. The police say it still appears to be the work of one person, most likely a man."

Her fingers weren't drumming on the steering wheel anymore. That's one way to kill a vibe, she thought.

"They're calling him the Postcard Killer," Lila continued. "Because he leaves a souvenir postcard from the local area at each scene. Doesn't that just give you goosebumps?"

She raised an eyebrow at that. Nope, no goosebumps here. Something flickered behind her sunglasses. Curiosity? Annoyance?

"Really disturbing," Jake was saying. "This is starting to get into the territory of thriller novel, which is very en vogue right now. But this is very real. There is a real person out there really killing women. The police say he’s heading south, and they’re advising everyone, especially women traveling solo, to avoid isolated routes and travel in groups.”

“Which I hate,” Lila added, her voice filled with frustration. “I mean, come on. Women shouldn’t have to change their plans or feel scared to live their lives, just because of some psycho dude.”

"Yeah, but still, please be careful out there, especially women. Travel in groups and take extra precautions. And if you see anything suspicious, contact the police."

"And maybe don't head South," Lila added with an awkward laugh.

"And on that beautifully ominous note, we're back to the music. Here's some Noah Kahan with Stick Season, on 94.7, Wake Up Call."

The woman turned the sound down ever so slightly, just enough so that their voices faded like a murmuring conscience that she could ignore. She shook her head in exasperation. A man, they said. It's always a man.

The sounds of plucking guitar strings came through the speakers, and she turned the volume back up. She listened thoughtfully as the singer crooned about a road trip and Vermont's season of the sticks, even though she wasn't exactly sure what that was. It was all about loss and trying to move on, about that strange feeling of limbo before something new comes over the horizon. It was a bit moody for her taste - she prided herself on keeping her emotions in check - but she still found herself humming along. She thought about the murder they had mentioned, and felt slightly intrigued. She was a young woman, and she was traveling alone, but she didn't feel fear. If anything, she felt slightly amused. As if she would ever, for any reason, be noticeable enough to become a victim of a serial killer. Is it possible she even felt a bit… empowered? I am a woman. I will take care of myself just fine.

Eventually a sign up ahead indicated a gas station - one that wasn't a remnant of the early 60s - and she pulled off, welcoming the chance to stretch her legs and take a little break. As she filled her gas tank, an older man at the pump next to her dropped his credit card.

"Oh, let me grab that for you!" she called, stepping across to reach it. He took it gratefully, thanking her with a smile, and she smiled back, friendly and unassuming. She pushed the radio segment out of her mind. One didn't need to be anxious about every traveling stranger.

She took a few extra minutes in the bathroom to wash her face and comb her fingers through her wind-blown hair. The face that looked back at her was calm and attractive, without being too noticeable. Her eyes showed a strength that was echoed in her physical stature. Some scars along her arms gave hints at a life that was maybe harder than she would wish on someone else, but she pulled her shoulders back and nodded at her reflection with confidence. "On to the next place," she whispered to her reflection.

A family had entered while she was in the bathroom and the kids were excitedly gathering candy bars and sodas. "Only one each!" their father called after them. She walked down the candy aisle, too, and the boy eyed her as she perused the options. She noticed the bar in his hand. "Snickers are my favorite too," she said with a wink, grabbing one of her own.

At the end of the aisle was the day's newspaper with a headline about the Postcard Killer - a grainy photo of a possible suspect taking up half the space above the fold. She glanced up at the security camera above the counter. It was pointed at the cash register. Clearly they cared more about an inside job than catching any serial killer that might stop in for a bathroom break.

"You traveling alone?" The cashier's voice was filled more with concern than suspicion.

"Ah no," she lied with a laugh. "I'm just filling up the tank and stocking up on some snacks before I go pick up my friends. Girls trip!"

The cashier's eyebrow raised, showing that he didn't believe her, but he didn't say anything further. But he did call out "Be safe out there," as the bell jingled above the door when she exited.

Back in the car, the road south stretched to her right. She hesitated at the stop sign, her blinker clicking ominously in the background. She still felt empowered, and she still wasn't afraid. She still scoffed at the admonition that she shouldn't travel alone because she was a woman. People everywhere underestimated women every single day, she was living proof of that. But, maybe it would be better to be safe than sorry. When she pulled out, she turned left. North is nice too…

It really was a beautiful day. The two-lane highway curled north through the mountains of Virginia like a ribbon, the clouds seeming to part before her like a curtain welcoming her. The road was still nearly empty, she still drove with one hand lazily on the wheel, her sunglasses shielding her eyes from the now early afternoon glare. The windows were up now, and she had tied her hair back against the harsh AC. It was time to make a decision, though. She needed to settle on a destination.

Next to her, souvenir postcards were scattered on the passenger seat. She pushed aside some of the more southern locations. She swept her hand around the remaining cards, like a child's game of Go Fish, finally lifting one out of the pile. She pondered the location. It was maybe a day or two away of near constant driving. She nodded. The police wouldn't be expecting that at all.

"North it is," she smiled, and turned the radio up to enjoy the rest of the drive.