The Dead Woman

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A bump in the road jolted Matt awake just in time to read the sign welcoming him to Crawford. He checked the road atlas in his duffel. The dim light in the cabin of the GrayLine bus made it difficult to read, and the fact that the driver seemed determined to ride over every pothole in the fucking road didn't help. After flipping through a few pages, he came to Tennessee. Then, just as he'd done back in Nevada when he bought his ticket, he ran his finger along Interstate 30 until he found the tiny speck that represented the town.

Crawford, Tennessee, population 5,421. At the time, it was as far as he could get on the money in his pocket. From here he'd have to walk, at least until he could find a few days' work to put more cash in his hand. Then he'd buy another ticket and go...somewhere. He didn't really know where yet. Mr. Dark didn't exactly leave a forwarding address.

The drive from Nevada had been long, but he was able to get some sleep, even if the seats in the bus weren't very comfortable. At least it was cheaper than a motel, which he couldn't afford anyway. He'd have to find something, though. A town the size of Crawford probably didn't have a Y.

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