It was the only time she'd seen Virginia vulnerable, which is one of the reasons she couldn't shake it. That, and the dead body of a good man.
The rain had just stopped falling, had been overcast all day that day. It was dusk now. They'd started the road trip earlier that day, following a lead. Shannon wasn't sure where the lead had come from, and Virginia hadn't been forthright.
They found themselves in the state of Virginia. On a road in country territory. There were no cars as far as they could see, only open fields, sprawling forest.
The drive was quiet.
Shannon talked a little about her day at work in those first few hours. About some new USI protocols she disagreed with. Virginia didn't respond much.
Virginia's father had gone missing two weeks prior, and Shannon and Virginia knew something was wrong. People don't just disappear, certainly not senators.
Shannon didn't know how to console Virginia.
"I'm so sorry," she'd said a few times in the car.
"Don't be, Shan. This is how the world is."
The more Shannon got to know Virginia, the more she realized that Virginia had a bleak view of the world. She wasn't surprised by bad things. Maybe that was another reason the event was so shocking.
Virginia had punched some coordinates into the GPS. Not an address. Actual coordinates. And they arrived in the middle of nowhere.
"Why here?" asked Shannon.
Virginia didn't answer.
She pulled off to the side of the road. It was a thin road—the kind that if a car is coming towards you, you have to pull off to the shoulder a little to pass without hitting each other.
Nothing but country out here.
And rain.
Shannon had a blouse, thin sweater, thick sweater, and a long overcoat. A small scarf and a larger scarf. They'd brought umbrellas. The sun was lowering to the horizon, coming between clouds. A dark day. A bleak day. Shannon knew something bad was going to happen, and she could tell Virginia had the same feeling.
They didn't speak.
Opened their umbrellas and walked off the road. Shannon behind Virginia. They didn't talk. Virginia was looking at her phone, tracking with the coordinates.
They walked through a large field, several minutes, and then entered a forest. Shannon loved Virginia forests. There was never any brush. Just open space under the canopy. The rain wasn't entering much under here, but she still held the umbrella to repel rebellious drops—the water that dared to weave its way through the canopy.
Shannon stayed behind Virginia, and Virginia didn't look back once.
Then they exited at the end of the forest.
Twenty minutes passed.
When they entered the next field, it wasn't raining any longer. Maybe a small drizzle. Virginia looked back at Shannon for one moment. Their eyes met. But Virginia didn't say anything, seemed like she wanted to.
This field was overgrown with weeds. Virginia continued forward, long overcoat brushing against the overgrowth. They made it to about the center of the field, when Virginia cried out, in the most vulnerable and raw tone Shannon had ever heard Virginia use before or since, "Oh, Dad."
Her voice carried across the empty field.
Virginia let her umbrella fall, and ran ten feet up to the side of her father's body, dropping to her knees and staring into his lifeless face.
Shannon watched, dead in her tracks. She couldn't move. She was paralyzed as tears began flowing. Virginia began weeping, leaning her head down into her father's chest. Shannon didn't know what to do. She felt like she might hyperventilate.
It was by far the worst moment of her up-to-that-point-relatively simple life.
An image she'd never shake.
A moment that would change her for the rest of her life.
Senator Hart had been murdered, and Virginia had been orphaned once again.
*****
Shannon woke up with a start. And she was coughing. The Camaro was filled with smoke and fumes. Shannon glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw blood all along her hairline, a line of blood rolled down her forehead.
Shannon was in that hazy space between unconsciousness and reality. Which was probably a good thing because it gave her a moment to process.
She couldn't remember what had led to this, but she was outrunning USI and her Camaro rolled off—got knocked off—the side of the steep hill. Not a big hill, luckily. But steep.
The airbag had knocked her unconscious.
She took a deep breath, felt pain in her ribs.
Broke one or two of them, for sure.
USI would be down here soon. She needed to go.
The windshield was broken. Smoke was coming out from under the hood. The dashboard was mashed in. The ceiling of the car was dented inward, just above her head.
Shannon pushed the airbag out of the way. Her arms worked fine. She slid back in her seat a little. Her legs were fine. The only pain was in her ribs. And her head must have hit the ceiling at some point because of the blood, but it didn't hurt at the moment. Probably just a cut.
Shannon unclipped her seatbelt. It came loose. She pushed on the door, using the handle. Wouldn't open. She pushed again. Wouldn't open. She pushed as hard as she could.
Then she climbed out of the car.
The world tinted black for a few moments, but she steadied herself against the car. She blinked away the dizziness, the pain in her mind.
Suddenly, she remembered what had happened.