Chapter Three: The Toad's Stool

9 2 2
                                    

At the rate Omar was driving, Audrey thought they were going at the speed of toothpaste oozing out of its container. Slightly tired, Audrey became less remnant that she was on the run. In fact, she wasn't slightly tired, Audrey had been going through the day on full energy that she could feel it seeping out of her within every second. Yet, she needed to stay awake for her and Cameron's sake.

Yasmine pointed at the red arrow on the car dashboard. They were running low on fuel and if they didn't speed up, they would never make it into Central Pennsylvania and Omar and Yasmine wouldn't even make it to West Virginia. Perking up to this, Audrey told Omar that they'd be stopping here.

"But, Audrey, this place has at least eight ruffians," Yasmine contemplated. "Are you sure you want us to drop you off here?"

Audrey shook her head. "We din' do nothin' but give you enough trouble. Can't go on to West Virginia giving you more of it. We'll be fine on our own."

Omar reluctantly looked at his girlfriend and back to the couple sitting in the back of their sport's car. Sighing, he unlocked the car and said goodbye as he switched the car on and fled around a corner.

"Sure am gonna miss those two," waved Cameron.

"What now?"

Audrey waited for a moment before Cameron brightened up with an idea. "I could phone up Alfonzo. Bet he lives not too far from the centre of the state."

"Alfonzo? You mean Alfonzo Hayes?" the name felt so familiarly off to Audrey. "Ain't he your little friend who's dating your ex-girlfriend?"

"Audrey, I'm done with Mary Lou, I have you now, so don't think nothing 'bout that," he replied stiffly. "Let's go find a telephone."

Hand in hand, they came across a quaint bar. When Cameron asked a taut man about a telephone, he gave him a grunt and the glass of brandy in his hands shattered into little shards.

"He's got a personality of a rainbow," teased Audrey when Cameron retreated back to her.

"Hush up," he grumbled, pulling Audrey into the bar.

The smell of burning tobacco and fresh whiskey stung Audrey's nose in so much depth. The lighting was incorrigible and nobody expected anyone to fix the broken bulbs. Bulky men and a couple of muscled women were having arm-wrestling matches; low, animal-like grunting was redundant in the bar.

They froze like deers to headlights whenever a robust man shot them a piercing glare. Audrey simply wanted to get out of this hell hole.

"Excuse us," Cameron squeaked at the bearded bartender, "do you mind telling us where the telephone is?"

The bartender threw his ashen rag to one side and leaned over to the clearly terrified couple. "Not from 'round here, ain'tcha?"

Looking at each other and at the intimidating bartender, Cameron and Audrey shook their heads.

The bartender pointed to a dark corner near the entrance of the bar. "M'name's Jerome."

"Thank you," Cameron said, waiting for himself to turn around.

"Jerome."

"Thank you, Jerome," this time, he did turn around and when he did, Audrey grabbed his wrist and tugged herself towards him.

"I'm coming."

"Stay, Audrey, get any drink you want," he said. "Alfonzo won't talk to anyone but me and Mary Lou."

Her grip on his wrist loosened as she slumped back down on the stool, defeat playing in her eyes. Jerome pocketed the rag he was using into his pants pocket. He simpered at Audrey.

"Looks like you need a cuppa' bourbon," he muttered, grabbing a glass cup at the back of the counter. "Or a scotch, at least."

Waiting for something to happen, Audrey broke the silence. "No thanks. I don't drink no alcohol."

"Audrey, was it?" she profusely as Jerome started to animatedly wipe the countertop again. "I know an absconder when I see one. Mind telling me what a coupla' teenagers are doing at my bar looking for the telephone?"

Audrey looked back at the corner where Cameron was talking speedily to who seemed to be Alfonzo Hayes. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she began to tell Jerome the bartender all about the New Year's Eve celebration.

Jerome gave her a shake of the head and gave a roar of delight. "You betcha' you're going to County Jail for it."

She didn't find this funny at all. Jerome cleared his throat and poured a bottle of amber liquid into the glass seated in front of Audrey. Even though she had made her point quite clear that she had never drank any forms of alcohol, Jerome insisted that it would help her soothe her head a little.

Tipping the contents of the glass into her throat, the lukewarm liquid soaked her gullet and sure enough, Audrey felt a little more unfazed. Jerome smiled as she wiped the excess scotch from her thin lips.

"Looking for accommodation, eh?" he whispered, leaning forward. Jerome had this particular peppermint scent to him that seemed so intoxicating.

"No, we already found it," she said, putting the glass down. "It's at the centre of Pennsylvania."

Jerome knitted his bushy eyebrows together in a frown. "That's a bit far, innit?"

"R-really?"

"It'll take you more than moon's and days to get there," he said, refilling the glass with a new bottle of scotch. "Now, I suggest you go and take refuge with the Livingstones. Heard they took in a coupla' terrorist refugees back in the days."

"The... who?"

Jerome beamed kindly. "The Livingstones, Audrey. They live in the yellow house on Kingspin Avenue, just six blocks away."

Just before Audrey could reply to Jerome, Cameron came walking in with a dry look on his face. "Alfonzo said we could stay, but I don't think we can find another couple like Omar and Yasmine to drive us that far into the state. You up for a long journey, Audrey?"

"Sure, sure, but I'd like to make one stop first."

The LivingstonesWhere stories live. Discover now