An uncomfortably cool wind flows through the air like water from a failed dam. One particular victim of the cold sits in his mother's car, shivering, the heater working no kind of magic to warm his body. He looks at himself in the rear-view mirror, adjusts his beanie, and begins to pull out of the spot he's been parked in for around 7 hours.
He grips the steering wheel tightly, the car seeming to shiver as he does, coming to a complete stop before shifting to drive, just as his instructor had taught him about a year ago. Technically, at age 17, he isn't supposed to be behind the wheel of a car on public roads without an adult present, but, of course, none of the adults in his life particularly care for him.
The greenery of the town, dead as it's been for months, is finally blooming again. Dandelions line the more rural roads in town, the golden light of the rising sun seeming to amplify their beauty. He's decided to drive out into the country today, just to see it again. He doesn't have enough cash on him to get any more gas after this tank, he thinks to himself, so he'd like to make the most of it.
On the outskirts of town lies a massive concrete building, just between civilization and acres and acres of corn. Fences and a security booth surround it, lined with barbed wire and bulletproof glass respectively. The young driver enjoys driving past this place just to speculate on what it might be. Perhaps it's a secret prison for enemies of the state, or a top-secret military base full of experimental weaponry. Nobody he knew seemed to know what it was.
As he drives past, he notices something a little unusual, maybe even a little distressing. A series of red lights flash against the offensively colorless exterior. The toll booth, usually populated by a man in blue, is entirely empty, the chair inside facing the wrong way as if someone had gotten up in a hurry. The gate, usually sealed electronically, swings idly open as he drives by.
He doesn't stop to admire the scenery, fearing association with whatever might have done this. He stares straight out the windshield, just in time to stop for someone about a hundred meters from the gate. The figure has deep purple hair that flows in the wind much like its lab coat, beige khaki pants to match the paperclipped and rubber stamped manilla folder it holds tightly in its arm. It approaches, frantically and nervously.
It seems to sprint to the driver's-side window. He rolls it down more out of curiosity than anything. "You got anywhere to be?" she asks.
He notices that she's about his age, maybe a little older. "Not really." he says. "Why? What's up?"
"A lot. I'm really sorry to drag you into this." the stranger says, before quickly and shakily drawing and firing a taser into his torso. He feels like he's been plugged into a wall socket, locking up entirely, as she nervously swings the door open and shoves him over. She expertly slams the door shut and holds the poor bastard down, dropping the folder onto the floormat while she practically floors the car, panting.
He comes to after a few seconds. "H- hey! What the fuck was that for?" he shouts, panicking.
"I'm really, really sorry for that-" she says, barely managing to stay on the road, let alone in a lane. "There's a lot, there's a lot here, and I can't- this is for the greater good, alright? Okay?" she says, having just committed both assault with a deadly weapon and grand theft auto.
She looks up into the rearview mirror and sees a police car approaching on the horizon. "Fuck." she says. "Uhhh... shit, uhh... small talk! What's your name?"
"S- Spoon?" he blurts, terrified. "Wow, I'm sorry!" she shouts, barely managing to stay on the road, let alone in a lane. Her driving flings both of them around like ragdolls.
"What do you mean 'you're sorry'!?" Spoon shouts, nervously.
"Nevermind! Nevermind, I'm Dottie!! Is Spoon your legal name, or...?" Dottie asks, finally letting go of Spoon and fully seating herself, finally managing to fit into the right lane.
"Does it matter?" he asks in response, finally able to sit up. "Not really, I... I just don't really like silence!" Dottie responds.
The two hear sirens and look up into the rearview mirror, seeing at least 3 police cars on the horizon.
"I really need you to focus on NOT getting me pulled over, Dottie!" Spoon bellows, ducking down to hide himself from the cops.
"I don't really need to get pulled over right now either, Spork!!" Dottie shouts back, hanging onto the steering wheel for dear life on a perfectly straight road.
"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!!!" she shouts. "BREATHE!!" Spoon exclaims.
As the two speed uphill, a blockade manifests a little down the road. Seeing no other option, Dottie veers into the fence surrounding the corn field next to them and begins mowing over the farmland.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" Spoon asks, terrified. "IT- IT'S NOT WORTH IT, MAN!"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Dottie screams, before falling dead quiet, breathing heavily, but slower. "Sorry." she says, after a few excruciating moments of silence. "I- I'm just, I'm- I'm under a lot of pressure right now, and-" she awkwardly explains, unripe bushels of corn slamming against the undercarriage, thumping and swinging back up behind them.
Spoon feels like his heart is going to explode. His blood pressure is so high that a papercut would probably look like a slasher film. Dot seems to be a little calmer, but not much.
"Focus on the fucking corn, Dot!" Spoon yells, staring dead at the road Dottie is speeding towards and, importantly, the city limits just past the railroad tracks. "W- we're gonna make it!" she shouts, realizing the cops can't possibly catch up to them in time.
The car roughly slams into another fence, destroying it as it slowly ascends. The tires roughly reattach to asphalt. They make it past the tracks just in time for a cargo train to block off the cops behind them, buying them a little more time. The beat-up SUV glides comparatively smoothly over the poorly paved road as Dottie pulls over.
"Holy shit. Holy shit." she pants. She takes a moment to breathe, running her fingers through her hair and tidying it a little behind her head, making sure to pull her bangs down over one of her eyes. "You okay?" she asks Spoon, whose face is practically green. He leans out the window and barely holds it in.
"That was fucking insane!" Spoon shouts, sitting back down, also panting. "A- aren't they gonna chase us here, too?"
"They will." she responds. "We'll just have to be out of town by the time they get going."
"There's another way out of town not far from here. My dad used to work here." Spoon says, finally relaxing a little, his heartbeat slowing. "I know, kid, I live here." Dot says, noticing the end of the cargo train is fastly approaching and decides to begin driving. "Where do you live? I'm gonna take you home."
"N- no, god, please don't fucking do that-" Spoon says, grabbing at his beanie in frustration. Dot looks a little upset.
"It can't possibly be that bad, Spoon. You got a family and I bet they care about you and I bet they don't want you running off with some weirdo." she says.
"You don't get it. You never could. The one person who ever cared about me is gone."
"Dead?" Dot asks, disheartened. Spoon nods. "My mom's the only one I have left and she kicked me out." he says, grimly.
"Oh." Dot blurts, a grave expression on her face. "I'm sorry." she says. "Do you know anyone who would at least keep you fed?"
"No." he says, before both shut up and fall into a dead, contemplative silence.
"Alright." she says, a little stressed. She buries her head in a hand, sort of distorting her face, before looking up with a certain resolve. "You're my problem now, then."
"Really?" Spoon asks. "I- I mean, you kinda... tazed me."
"You seem like a good kid. I don't want to just abandon you out here. If you want to go, you can, I just... I don't think I could bring myself to kick you out of your own car and drive off." she explains. "Oh, and I really am sorry about tazing you."
"Isn't this legally, like, kidnapping, or something?" he asks, nervously. "I guess." she says. "I don't really intend to get caught for what they're actually after me for, though, so..."
"What's up with you, anyways? What's with the folder?" he grills.
"I can't explain it all. Not here, at least." she replies. "Can you grab it for me and stick it in the glovebox?"
"Sure." he answers, grabbing it from beneath her legs. As he reaches for the edge to open it, Dot reaches over and slaps his hand. "You really don't wanna see what's in there, anyway."
"It can't be that bad." he says, nervously.
"Put it in the glovebox, Spoon."
He concedes, opening the compartment and sticking it in, shutting it. "Fine."
"Thank you." she says. "I'll explain everything when I'm sure I can trust you."
"Can you at least tell me the... kind of thing you've done?"
"Do you know what a whistleblower is?" she asks. Spoon nods. "I work at Kosine Laboratories. That's the big concrete fortress back there."
"Right. So you're a scientist."
"The folder you just grabbed is full of documentation on experiments and methods they're using to do horrific things there. I couldn't take it anymore."
"So you're leaking it to the press?" he asks.
"I can't just sit by." she says.
"What are they doing?" he pries. "I just said I can't tell you yet." she half-growls.
"Alright, fine. Be that way." he sighs, staring out the window. "This is more important then you could ever know." she says, approaching another exit.