Chapter 9: The Journey Continues...

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Early the next morning, I wake to the sound of scratching at the door to the motel room.

It's Pixie. She wants to go outside; her white cotton bun of a tail wiggling against the floor.

My hair a mess, I check the ticking clock on the bedside table.

6:47 am.

The manager at the front desk – Dave his name was – said there will be breakfast around now.

I climb out of bed and get ready for the day.

"Don't go too far Pixie," I say as I open the door to let the rabbit outside. "And stay out of sight."

I watch Pixie hop to the outer fringes of the motel – likely patrolling the area. In the meantime, I comb through my hair, brush my teeth, and pack away my dirty clothes from yesterday.

I check the battery percentage on my iPhone as I did not charge it overnight; 47%. I switch it to low power mode so it will last longer. That should be enough to get to Paradise.

Limited resources on my back. On the hunt from Mogadorians. A Chimæra. Travelling 300 some odd miles to find an alien before a school is destroyed.

The odds of making it in time are slim, but it is possible.

All ready to face the day, I leave the room with all my belongings and head down to the main lobby where I met Dave last evening.

There is a corner in the lobby – small but plenty for limited patrons – sectioned off for food. Simple food. Eggs, bacon, fruit, juice. No specifics; only generalized foods. It isn't much, but for a small motel like this, it is plenty.

I take an apple and an orange from the fruit basket and put them in my backpack for later, as well as a bottle of water.

Before I go outside to the front entrance to find the Chimæra, I use an atm inside to withdraw some cash. Only a hundred bucks or so should do. Once the transaction is complete, I roll the cash together to keep it intact while I call out to Pixie.

"Pixie!" I call. "Come on! It's time to go!"

It isn't long before she is sitting at my feet in her usual preferred form of a bunny. I pick her up in my arms as I hail a cab with my free hand.

The cab pulls over and I enter the back seat.

"Where to Miss?" the driver asks with an Indiana accent.

"Paradise, Ohio," I reply. "I'm kind of in a hurry."

With that, he accelerates, and we are soon on the highway, driving toward John Smith. 

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