Seeked- |H.S.|

Chapter 4

At some point during our walk through the woods, sleep took control over my body, and I involuntarily passed out, only waking up when the man gently sets my body down onto a cool, leather seat before strapping a belt over my shaking body, buckling me in. Despite being pervaded with fear once again, the first thing I notice is the scents of musk, tobacco, and spices hitting my nose, which gives off a strong masculine and edgy aroma. My eyes blink, adjusting to the light from the blue sky and bright sun, shining in through the sunroof of the car. This is the first time in a few days that I have seen a clear blue sky not being covered my thick trees and leaves. My vision scans my surroundings, taking in the type of car we are in, as the driver's door opens and the man slides into his seat, the engine humming to life. We are in what appears to be a black Audi that looks brand new. This dude much be rich. My mind flashes back to his offer of 50 grand to Niall and realize that must be pocket change for him if he can just pass it out without a care in the world. An unsettled feeling washes over me as I notice how tinted the windows are. I couldn't even try to get help if I wanted to because there is no way anyone would be able to see inside his car. I wonder why he needs his windows this tinted.

We sit in an uncomfortable silence, which I am thankful for. I have nothing to say this man, nor do I want to hear what he has to say to me. I try to distract myself from everything that has gone on today by looking out the window as the car travels smoothly along the roads. We take a few turns on the main roads of my ransacked, trashed town, before ending up on the highway. I am thankful to get out of the town I was once so familiar with, because now it looks completely different. Graffiti covers buildings I used to pass on my daily visits to my coffee shop, trash and debris litter the streets, and there are a few seekers prowling through the streets, weapons in their hands as they eyed the car we are in. The curly-haired man, who I realize I still don't know the name of, had rolled down the window, his hand calmly resting on the door frame, showing off his red mark on his hand. I'm assuming the action is in hopes of avoiding conflicts with any of the seekers hunting the streets and eyeing us like they were starved animals, and we were a piece of meat. When we get on the highway, I catch myself glancing over to the cool, calm, and collected man, noticing for the first time that his steering wheel is on the right side of the car, and I am sitting on the opposite side. I know his accent is British, but why does he live here in America if he is clearly not from here? Finding that I don't really care, I snap my gaze from his tense jaw and clenched hands, and peer back out the window, my mind wandering to Maria, hoping she is safe. However, while watching the trees pass by on the highway, I can feel his stare occasionally burning through me every once in a while, causing me to become very uneasy and anxious as I begin to shift in my seat.