To Conquer Death
by Rainne
Part Two
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Janna came awake with a start when her ears popped as the plane began its descent into Raleigh-Dalton Airport. She positioned herself next to the cargo hold door, slung the backpack over her shoulder that one of her contacts had filled with supplies for her, and waited for the plane to slow as it taxied toward the terminal, pulling it open slightly and trying to gauge when she could jump out with the least amount of damage to herself. She gauged wrong and leapt a bit too soon, tucking and rolling and coming up with some pretty serious scrapes on her arms and the left side of her face. She looked around for a moment, steadying herself and catching her bearings, then set off for the nearest fence, vaulting over it just as the tinny sounds of shouts from the terminal reached her ears, letting her know she'd been spotted.
She dashed across the access road which lay beyond the fence and into a stand of trees that proved fortunately deep enough to provide some cover. There, she dropped to the ground and breathed a sigh of relief, calming and centering herself and trying to decide on the best course of action to take from here.
She had no contacts on this side of the Atlantic, which was going to make her job a lot tougher. If she'd known even one demon, witch or even an ordinary human who knew something about the mystical world, she'd have been in a lot better shape, and she knew it. There just hadn't been time to get a letter of introduction from any of the shady types who had sped her out of England to the Continent, and thence into the plane to America. She thought briefly about her options. Who might she contact and be certain of help?
A thought dawned in the back of her mind. Her family. She hadn't seen her family in over eight years, since she had left their home to attend the boarding school that her Watcher had abducted her from, and hadn't really even thought about them in something like five years. Her parents, four brothers and two sisters, grandmothers and grandfathers, aunts and uncles; all of these she had in south Georgia. And they were obscenely wealthy. They could easily transport her to California and help her find the Slayer. She was standing up and wondering which would be the best direction to go in to look for a telephone when she had a brief flash of the conversation that might ensue once she had one of her family members on the telephone. She became so amused and disgusted with herself that she spoke aloud. "Oh, that's intelligent, Markham. 'Hi, Mom, it's Janna. I know you haven't heard from me in upwards of eight years, and I do apologize for that. You see, I've been in London training for the eventuality when I'll become the Slayer. What? Oh, a Slayer is a girl who fights and kills vampires and demons, to keep the world safe for humanity. Yes, yes, I want to see you, too, but there's a murder conspiracy afoot in the Council right now, and I've got to get to California and warn the current Slayer that the Council is going to come and try to kill her friend Dakota, who is a vampire immune from sunlight due to the fact that she should have been a Slayer, but was killed and turned before she had the opportunity to be called. Any chance you could spring for an airline ticket?'" She snorted at herself. "You moron."
No, the family reunion would have to wait until after she had gotten to the Slayer. So, she wondered to herself, how does a nearly-penniless young person travel three thousand miles across the North American continent?
"Thanks so much for the ride!" Janna exclaimed, climbing into the cab of the Freightliner that stopped to pick her up. She flashed the her most charming smile at the grizzled driver, a man who looked to be about sixty years old, and pushed all the Oxford out of her voice to speak in the informal Cockney that she'd learned in the underbelly of London. "Grand of you, really."
"Ain't no problem, little miss," the driver returned, smiling back at her. "Where ya headed?"
"California," she replied. "Me sister's there, in Sunnydale, said I could come to 'er." She eyeballed the dashboard clock discreetly, reading the time as seventeen minutes after noon. She pulled off her watch, which was still set to London time, and reset it to match the truck driver's clock.
He put the big truck in gear and pulled off the shoulder, back onto the westbound side of the interstate. "Well, I cain't take ya that fur," he drawled, "but I kin git ya to Memphis by 'bout this time tamorra if'n ya stick with me. Or I kin git ya there faster if'n ya trust me ta send ya on with another driver."
She nodded. "I'd rather be there faster, if ye don't mind," she said slowly. "She's 'avin a baby, ye see, an' I wanna be there for 'er."
"Well, then, little miss, I'll be gettin' ya inta another truck 'fore too long. Meetin' up with a feller I'm acquent with in Knoxville an' I reckon he'll be all right fer ye ta ride with."
"Lovely," she replied, smiling. "Me name's Emily Beecham." She offered her hand to shake.
He took her hand in one of his huge paws and shook it. "Earl Miller," he told her. "Pleased ta meetcha, Miz Beecham."
"Just Emily," she assured him, grinning. "I ain't no titled lady, ye ken?"
He laughed uproariously, though it wasn't all that funny, and tuned the radio to a Hank Williams song as they rolled along towards Charlotte.
Just after 2:30 that afternoon, Earl pulled into a truck stop just outside of Charlotte, and shook Janna gently by the shoulder to wake her. She came awake with a start into full battle mode, and he jumped back in surprise. "Calm down, Emily," he said, and she relaxed.
"Sorry," she mumbled. "Bit tense, I am."
He chuckled. "Don't blame ya a bit, Em," he told her, patting her shoulder. "I reckon I'd be tense too, in yer situation. Now, listen up, young'un." He reached behind his seat and pulled out a worn flannel jacket, which he handed to her. "You take thisyere coat, an' you wear it iffen ya git cold. Yer likely to, up in the mountains as yer goin'. I'm bout to put ya in the truck with m'brother, Jack, an' ya kin trust him ta keep ya safe. He'll find ya another ride in Nashville, I reckon."
"I can't take your coat," she began to protest, but he waved her off.
"You'll take it, cuz you'll need it," he said firmly. "An' don't try to change m'mind. I got youngins older'n you back home, so I know how to deal with hardheaded kids. You git to yer sister's house, you kin send it back to me. M'name 'n address is on a paper in the inside pocket. Now, here comes Jack in that green truck over there. He knows you're a-comin', but I got to git on into town. So you be careful. Ya hear?"
She nodded. "I will be. Ye don' 'ave ta worry about me."
He studied her face for a moment. "No, I don't guess I do hafta worry, but I'll do it anyway on account of ya look just like m'sister's daughter what got snatched some years back. So you just let Earl know when ya git safe to yer sister's, hear?"
She nodded. "I promise." She grabbed the jacket and her carrysack and climbed down out of his truck. "Thanks, Earl!" She slammed the door shut and ran across the parking lot to the green truck which was idling nearby, its driver waiting for her. She climbed up the side of the truck, gave Earl an enthusiastic wave, and climbed into the truck with a slightly younger version of Earl. "'Ello, Jack," she greeted him as she swung into the seat. "Thank ye for picking me up."
"Ain't nothin' to it, Emily," he responded. "Always glad ta he'p m'brother out. And he warn't lyin', neither. You do look just like our sister's daughter. Ain't that just a kicker. So you're from England, eh?" He put the truck in gear as he spoke, rolling out past Earl's with a wave, and climbed onto the Interstate heading west through Charlotte and towards the Tennessee line.
Se took an active interest in the conversation and the lovely scenery after her nap in Earl's truck, and chatted amiably with him about her fictitious life in London and her sister in California. He in turn shared stories with her about his four children and Earl's six. The miles melted away beneath their tires as they rolled on, and before Janna even realized it, they had gone four hours and were rolling through Knoxville. Jack got on his CB and got in touch with a buddy who was rolling into Knoxville from the north and heading west, and was willing to carry Janna through to Memphis. Janna was deeply appreciative, as she felt that she could trust this man and his friends.
When they pulled into the truck stop on the west side of Knoxville, Jack's buddy was already waiting in a bright orange truck with no trailer. They met him halfway across the parking lot. "'Ere she is, Dick, Miss Emily Beecham, of the gre't city a' London, England," Earl introduced her with a grin. "Emily, thisyere's m'buddy Dick Hallorann, from south Alabama, an' one'a the finest bass fishermen ya could ever hope to meet."
She extended a hand to the burly black man and it was engulfed in his own return shake. "Pleased to meet you," he greeted her in what she thought was a surprisingly cultured voice for someone from south Alabama.
"Likewise," she responded, grinning at him. "Thanks for pickin' me up."
Dick and Jack shook hands. "We'd better git," Dick said. "Gotta be in Memphis before midnight if I don't wanna deadhead all the way to Mobile."
"All right," Jack said, and turned to Emily. "Now, girl, lemme tell you somethin'. My brother bought yer story 'bout yer sister, but I know a runaway when I see one. I guess you do got somewhere you're runnin' to, since yer in sech a hurry, but you do something for Jack Miller while you're about findin' yer way. You keep an eye out and an ear to the ground fer any word you might hear of a girl looks jest like you do, a'ight? An' if you find her, you tell her she's missed an' we want her to come home."
Janna nodded. "I shall," she said firmly, dropping the Cockney and using her own accent, the one she'd developed after eight years of spending eighteen hours a day with her Oxford-educated Watcher. "I do have a sister," she added, thinking that perhaps there was really no better way to describe the kinship between Slayers, "but she hasn't any idea that I'm coming, and she shan't like the word I bring her when I get there. But she has to know and she has to know soon."
Jack nodded. "You take care."
The three of them parted, but suddenly Janna turned and shouted after him. "Jack!" When he turned, just before closing the door of his cab, she called out, "What name shall I ask for, when I search for your niece?"
"Janna Markham," he called back, then closed the door and started up his truck.
She watched him drive away, rooted to the spot in shock. Dick had to call her alias twice before he broke through her frozen brain enough to get her to scramble up into the truck and buckle in for the ride to Memphis.