Fall - Prequel

03. Crossfire

I white-knuckled the edge of the counter top, trying to steady myself. My memories came back in the form of a blow, nearly knocking me off my feet.

I'd been in that bar last night. The very same bar that caught fire and killed several people. I felt unsettled to my core, like there was an eerie tingling in my bones. Something wasn't right about this picture, but I couldn't quite figure out what is was. Maybe I was feeling some sort of survivor's guilt or maybe it was something else entirely.

Last night's events were still a little bit hazy. I remembered what happened, but not in very much detail.

I remembered meeting him, but not what we talked about. I remembered entering the bar, but not what I ordered to drink. I wasn't sure how much I could rely on my memories, since they only seemed to be partially there. I had an outline, but I was missing the little details that made out the big picture. It was endlessly frustrating.

Raking my hands through my tousled hair, I turned back around toward the exit. I tucked the folded newspaper in my back pocket for safekeeping. I'd have to read the full article later when I had the time to.

Currently, my hands were full. I was running out of the diner to the sound of a horn honking. My ride wasn't going to wait on me.

I was still weary of getting in his car, but it beat standing outside with my thumb in the air for an hour trying to catch a ride back to Brooklyn. Half of these people were probably headed in the opposite direction and I doubted anyone would pick me up when I looked as bad as I did. The roadkill across the street looked better than me.

Once I got inside of his car, he quickly pulled off into traffic, leaving no time to decide where we were going.

I should have been more worried about this spontaneous trip, but for the last few months, I'd unintentionally become a drifter. I never stayed in one place too long. I was always too afraid that if I did, the ghosts of my past would catch up with me. I was always trying to outrun them.

"Why were you in New York?" I asked quietly, glancing out the open window. All I could see was green beyond the open road. Cascading hills ruled over vivacious pine trees. The scenery was drastically different from the crowded streets of Brooklyn, but it was still visceral. Vermont was exactly as I'd remembered it. Nothing seemed to have changed, but I sure did.

"Business." He replied without looking in my direction, keeping both hands on the wheel in a 10 and 2 position.

"Really?" I arched an eyebrow, staring at the suit that clung to his broad shoulders. "What do you do for a living?"

"Stuff." He kept his eyes on the road, stoic of emotion. From where I was sitting, he looked like a statue.

"Interesting." I rolled my eyes, not content with his one-word answers. They didn't tell me what I needed to know and they were too satirical. He wasn't grinning, but I could tell there was a smug smile hidden underneath his constant frown. He knew that he was frustrating me.

When silence fell back on us, I pressed him harder. "What kind of stuff?"

"A little bit of this. A little bit of that." He shrugged his broad shoulders, his lips twitching ever so slightly. The damn bastard was trying to hide a smile. I knew it!

"Sounds like you're doing something you shouldn't be." I replied sarcastically, noting the way his smile instantly vanished from his face. It was there one moment and gone the next. "Something... illegal."

"Sounds like you're sticking your nose where it doesn't belong." He cut his eyes toward mine briefly, giving me a look that warned me to be quiet. Unfortunately, I was never any good at taking orders.