Cursed Purple

16.

FIRST THING THE NEXT morning we got in the car and drove. We mapped out the rest of our trip and if we were able to keep stops to a minimum, we would make it somewhere in Washington late tonight. We were aiming for Seattle, but we would figure it out along the way.

To pass the time, we played just about every car game imaginable. Regardless, it was the longest thirteen hours of my life.

Finally, night started to darken the sky and the sun retired behind the horizon as we pulled into the outskirts of Seattle. We checked into a lesser known, but not nearly as bad as the motels we had been staying at the last few nights. I was happiest about the laundry room and finally taking care of things that needed to be taken care of. After we checked in and made it to our room, Jack ditched our bags on the bed and took out his laptop.

"Now that we are here we should figure out where to find the author of this website," I said, sitting down on the edge of one of the beds.

"I'm not tech savvy enough to do that so we'll need to find someone to do it for us."

"Can we afford that?" I asked.

He nodded. "I'm sure we can find someone to do it." He opened the lid of the laptop and pulled up a browser.

While he worked on that, I went to the bathroom to freshen up. I still felt like I had travel on me. I felt slightly more relaxed than I had in more than a week. There was something about being a city that had millions of people in it that made me feel like we had some sort of a buffer. That and the entire drive to Seattle, I saw nothing that raised red flags. I knew it was only a matter of time before we faced them again, but I planned on making that time as long as possible.

When I walked out Jack had a website pulled up. He motioned me to come over and I looked at it. The webpage was for a store that supplied technical help and sold electronic parts. Jack mapped it and it was in the outskirts of town and they were open suspiciously late. That exact kind of sketchiness that should make me turn around, but now only made me want to pursue it further.

I scribbled the address and website down on the hotel's complimentary pad of paper and ripped the sheet off, folding it and shoving it into my pocket. Jack only muttered a "let's go" as he grabbed his jacket and keys. He locked the door behind us and we got back into the dreaded car. I hoped that it would be at least a little longer before I had to get back in here, but this was important. Whatever we would find out here would determine our next move.

The address led us to a sketchier part of town. The buildings stopped looking so new, more vacant, and graffiti painted the sides of plain walls. I told Jack to stop in front of a narrow white building with two windows and a door facing the street. Above the door in black numbers was the building number: 603. There were bars on the windows and an OPEN sign flickered weakly against the glass. The walls were covered in various electronic accessories and against the back wall behind the counter were electronic consoles and computer towers. One man sat behind the counter and a severly outdated register.

A bell rang as we walked through the door. The man looked up at us. He had dark brown skin and eyes with buzzed hair. His eyes followed us suspiciously, hesitantly, as we walked through the store and straight to him. Jack lingered closely behind me.

"Good evening. How can I help you?" he asked. His voice was smooth and pleasant enough not to send me the other way, but I could still tell he had his reservations about us.

"We need some..." I paused, searching for the right word, "technical help and your website said you could be of help to us."

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the counter. "That depends on what kind of help you need."