Page 42 of A Perfect World
“Yea I guess,” I interrupted.
He groaned, “That self-sacrificing, pretty-faced dingus!”
The most inappropriate laugh bubbled in my throat. It died as the remnants of haunting visions stirred anxiety awake again.
“Why is it so bad that he went home?”
Jack gaped at me for a solid minute before steamrolling on. “Put it this way, his mom is the only good thing there, and everything else should’ve been swallowed into the earth, or hit by an asteroid, or maybe swept away by the great flood-”
“Got it,” I sighed. We stewed in the uncomfortable reality that drew us together in a stairwell.
“I don’t know what he’s told you about the program and his past.”
I huffed. “Just what he wants me to know.”
“Sounds about right.” He snorted. “As much as I want to tell you, it’s not really my story, but I can say that he’s not as evil as he thinks. Not even close.”
“I know,” I whispered.
Jack fidgeted with Buddy’s collar.
I cleared my throat, nerves spiking. Jack was like me. Like Ollie. He wouldn’t dismiss my visions like Vince or Mom, would he? I forced a deep breath. “I keep having this- this vision of headlights on the side of the road. It’s dark outside, and the road is empty. No houses or anything, just trees. I’m running towards the car and freaking out, but I don’t know why.”
His brow furrowed. “Are they obnoxiously bright? Like the LED kind?”
Struck at the fact he accepted what I told him so easily, it took a moment for his question to sink in. I closed my eyes, for once, willing the images to return. My heart skipped.
“Yea, they’re more white than normal headlights. They’re thinner too- like the kind you see on sports cars.”
“Well shit.”
My eyes snapped open. “Is that bad?”
Buddy let out a series of grumbles. Jack nodded along, staring into space, connecting the dots. “Ollie has a BMW coupe.” The air sucked out of my lungs. He rubbed his stubbled cheek thoughtfully. “Do you see anything besides the headlights?”
I shook my head, deflating. My vision was useless, only succeeding in torturing me. A hand squeezed my shoulder. I looked up into Jack’s steady gaze.
“We’re getting our fancy-eyed pretty boy back,” he said with conviction. He pulled me to my feet and poked a finger into my cheek. “He can’t escape us that easily, Tiny Dancer. I don’t care if that bastard has a million good reasons, we’re getting his ass back where it belongs. With us.”
For the first time since Ollie walked away, a sliver of hope reemerged.
20
Ollie
Thirty-sixhourssincemylast pill. Thirty-six hours since the screaming in my head was silenced. Thirty-sixfuckinghours. I debated raiding a pharmacy, but they had cameras and while I could destroy them, I currently needed every ounce of power for what I planned. I almost stole Mom’s Xans, until I saw her this morning.
“Honey, you look sick, are you alright?”
No, Mom, I actually feel like a dumpster fire, because I’m out of narcotics and I can’t get more until I deal with this clusterfuck.
Instead, I said, “I’m fine, probably just ate something bad.”
Then I left for the motel off Emery Road.
Thunder cracked, vibrating the mirrors of my car where I sat parked in front of door 11. Once again, no suspicious vehicles waited in the parking lot prepared to transport a living, breathing, diabolical weapon. No guns or figures dressed in all black. Not even cameras. But I wasn’t going to waste time believing I got off Scot free; they could swoop in at any moment.
I massaged my aching eyes, jaw chattering.
