It Started With A Book

Chapter 15

"I'm feeling a lot of things right now, none of them pleasant."

___

The car engine sputtered as the vehicle halted on the dirt road.

Turning the keys, he threw his head back in frustration, scolding himself as he remembered the gas station thirty miles behind in the opposite direction.

He weighed his options—either get out and walk, or assume the role of prey for a lucky murderer.

Heels to gravel, goosebumps decorated his forearm including the portion displaying the small tattoo.

Darkness clouded his perception and blanketed the sky with Zeus-like thunder. Barren tree branches only added to the lonely wasteland.

Frequent shivers trembled out of the weary traveller. Wind entered the sleeves of his leather jacket, causing himself tighter and continued to walk.

But not for long.

He ceased, the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking smashed the silence. Hands greeted the air above his head, body rotating ever so slowly.

"How did you find me?"

"I--"

Teeth sunk into parched lips unable to quench the thirst for the misunderstood dark haired stranger on page sixteen.

Dampened fingers slipped across white pages, yearning for relief. Her brown pupils zipped through words clumsily on the road to the next page-- a side effect of riveting writing.

One deep sigh later, she slid the bookmark into the novel.

"You're really into that."

"Huh?"

"The book," Elliott prodded at the item Brin rested on her lap. "It's a good one I can tell."

"And?"

"Nothing," he shrugged. "Just making conversation that's all."

When she failed to respond Elliott proceeded.

"Did you get to the part where the assassin hired to track him down turns out be his brot--"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence or so help me I will destroy you."

"Funny. That's exactly what the brother said to the assassin," Elliott replied.

"Are you kidding me?" Brin threw her hands up in frustration, the book tumbling to the carpeted floor. "You could have said spoiler alert. You're a jerk, you know that?"

"Sorry. I was trying to--"

"To what? Make conversation?"

"Yeah, I didn't mean any harm."

"Of course you didn't," she quipped.

"What's happening right now? Did we just enter a weird time warp where everything's upside down and screwed up?"

"Something like that."

Everything was screwed up. Everything was upside down including Brin's attitude towards the lying liar.

He had put forth a facade of freewheeling and unlimited time only to rip the rug out from underneath her with the help of stolen text messages. And while Brin knew that prying through his messages befit the role of a jealous girlfriend or snooping sibling (which she was neither), she also knew that he was hiding something that he didn't want her to see.