Nothing Personal [*Complete*]

11

Ten minutes later the ibuprofen kicked in and the ache was bearable. No longer did I walk like Wyatt Earp. My hair was pulled up into a high ponytail and I actually thought I looked good in my pink and black compression pants and the sweat wicking jacket. Mr. Emery wore all black which was no surprise really. When he finished stretching he ran in place for a little bit as he waited for me. As always he had entirely too much energy for pre-dawn, six in the morning or otherwise.

"Ready?" He asked glancing me over as I stared down the street.

"Yeah."

"We're just going down to the High School and back. It'll only take thirty minutes to do a lap."

"You're doing this more than once?"

"Mhm. It's not that far."

"If you say so."

"Let's go!" He took off and I scrambled after him. As always he made running look easy. Then again he had been doing it for years. It was part of his fitness routine which also included weight days which I still refused to participate in. It was so strange to run through town, everyone was asleep still. But that was to be expected to some degree since it was Thanksgiving.

As we turned into the town square I noticed that somehow overnight rides had arrived for the Fall Festival and the empty green field with its white gazebo in the middle was now a mess of booths and machines. We turned down another street toward the large building which could be nothing else but the high school. Across the street was a small row of shops and one of them was closed. Mr. Emery paused and stared at it furrowing his brows.

"Everything... okay?" I asked through my desperate breaths.

"No." He walked around the back of the stores and I followed.

"What's wrong?"

"People not listening to me."

Behind the shops was a tiny parking lot for maybe eight cars and two large dumpsters. Behind the shops were also metal doors that had the names of the establishments on them. Tonna's books, The Oasis Spa & Waxing, and Keller and Son Coffee were all still open and their signs were still bright bold letters. There was one sign that looked dingy and old and it read Marty's Computer Parts and Repair.

"Please tell me we're not—" I didn't even get to finish my word as Mr. Emery kicked the door in. "Okay so we are breaking and entering."

"Technically not," he mumbled as he disappeared into the store.

"What do you mean technically?"

"I am part owner of the company that owns the company that owns these stores."

"Ah. But why?" I asked, trailing him through the obsolete computer filled store and down into the basement. In the corner was a roll away bed that was rusty and the mattress was covered with bits of flaking ceiling tile. By the cellphone lit gloom Mr. Emery inspected his surroundings with features drawn like someone in pain. After a moment he sat down on the bed, and as the springs squeaked and screamed he rubbed his face.

"I can't believe no one told me. I noted in the file that I wanted to hear if anything happened to Marty."

"Maybe he retired? I mean... these parts are pretty old."

"No, Marty wouldn't retire. I tried to get him to upgrade the store when WAKE first took off but he refused." Mr. Emery laughed a little. "I bought all of his stock because he said he wouldn't take charity."