Free Just Cause Universe 2: The Archmage by Ian Thomas Healy

off the side of a dirt road into an irrigation ditch. She’d run the soles right through on her off-the-rack cross-trainers.
    As Sally sprawled in the damp reeds of the ditch, her feet blistered and aching, the image of Shannon and Jason arose fresh in her mind and nausea washed over her like a bucket of icy water. She tasted bile at the back of her throat and vomited. Her heart hammered as she wiped her mouth with the back of one shaky hand. Dry heaves racked her body again and she moaned as her stomach and throat muscles quivered. She dragged herself out of the ditch and sat on the bank and had a good long cry.
    After what felt like hours, she ran out of emotional energy. Her tears stopped and she just sat, miserable and hurting. Her feet burned and she wondered how badly she’d damaged them in her incautious sprint. She felt weak and foolish, and she had no idea where she was except a dirt road in the middle of some fields. The stars came out one by one overhead until the sky was filled with a hundred times more than she ever saw in town.
    Sally got to her feet and nearly fell as the world spun around her. She felt lightheaded and terribly thirsty. She hobbled along the road until she came to an intersection of a paved road. She turned south in the hope that she might find her way to the interstate. She could see distant lights that must have been farmhouses, and near the horizon a line of lights that might be a freeway on-ramp. As she walked closer, she saw the bright lights of an all-night diner attached to a truck stop. She limped the rest of the way there.
    Sally staggered up to the door and pushed on it stupidly for a minute before realizing she had to pull to open it. She stepped inside into a world of dim light bulbs coated with ancient grease, neon signs featuring popular brands of beer, and a comforting smell of coffee and French fries. There were a few patrons inside, mostly truck driver types in t-shirts, tight jeans, and baseball caps. They all paused in their eating or conversation as she took a hesitant step forward.
    “My God, are you all right?” cried a heavyset black woman with her graying hair coiled into a bun.
    Sally nodded. “I’m okay,” she mumbled. “I just need to sit down for a minute.”
    The waitress, whose name tag read Hazel , took her to a booth and sat her down with a glass of water. “You sure you’re not hurt, hon? You need me to call somebody?”
    Sally sank onto the bench. “I’m fine. I just went for a jog and… and I got lost and fell in a ditch.”
    “All right, sweetie. What can I get for you? How about a cup of hot chocolate?”
    “Please,” said Sally. “And some ice and a towel?”
    “Sure thing, hon. I’ll be right back with that. You let me know if you want something to eat or need anything else, all right? It’s just me out front here tonight, so you just give me a wave or a yell if you need me.”
    Sally sat and stared at ancient water rings on the surface of the table in front of her. The scene of Jason and Shannon replayed in her mind over and over again, as if taunting her. She was so lost in her own thoughts that she jumped when Hazel set down a glass of ice and a steaming mug of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream.
    “Take your time with that, hon. It’s plenty hot,” the waitress said.
    Sally nodded without really hearing. She poured some ice into the towel and began to ice her feet. They were bruised and scratched, but she hadn’t damaged them as much as she’d feared. Years of running, even with her special boots, had toughened the skin with thick calluses. She hated her feet and thought they were ugly, but had to take special care of them nevertheless. Even her ministrations couldn’t distract her from her thoughts.
    “Honey, that chocolate ain’t so hot anymore and you haven’t touched it,” said Hazel. Sally started and looked up into the waitress’ kind face. “You look like you got something heavy on your mind. Want to talk