Page 39 of Fight or Flight
A small trail of blood leaves one of my nostrils, and I groan. Shit.
Quickly, so my t-shirt doesn’t get stained, I wash it off and wait for the nosebleed to pass before I check my reflection one more time. At least I’ve got more color on my face now.
I exit the bathroom and don’t even glance at the small body curled up on the bed.
“I’ll be back,” I say stiffly and almost run out the door.
In a haze, I find a taxi and give him the address, ignoring the way he eyes me, and slump in the seat as the city landscape passes in front of my eyes. I wish the image felt more real because now I’m under the illusion everything looks like a part of a video game. The colors are blotchy and unshapely. I snap my head to the side when I hear a whisper right next to me and startle at the revelation that there’s no one actually there.
Am I losing the last bits of my sanity? What kind of potion was Ramirez selling to people? I want to crawl out of my own skin. I want to heave. I want to...
“This is the place,” the car comes to a stop on the other side of the street, and I take a look around, snapping out of the labyrinth of my mental hell for a moment.
“That’ll be nine dollars,” the driver says louder, looking over his shoulder, but I don’t see him.
All I can focus on is the familiar big guy dressed in black, walking with a cane around a white, dusty pickup truck before he gets behind the wheel and drives off.
I can’t believe it. Damon Brody. It’s him. But why does he work in a construction company? I thought he was FBI. Shit. Maybe he can still help somehow. He knows people. I’m sure of it.
“Miss,” the driver prompts impatiently, and I wave at the car that’s pulling away in the other direction.
“Follow this car, please,” I say to the driver, and he snorts.
“This isn’t a movie. I’m not going to chase after a car. Pay the fare and get out.”
“Did I tell you to chase him, or did I say follow him?” I snap at the man. “Just drive, goddamn it. No chasing.”
My voice sounds off even to my own ears, and I wonder for a second if I appear as high as I am to everyone who encounters me, or is it just in my head?
The man shakes his head and grumbles under his breath but surprisingly moves the car and drives after Brody. His car is already turning right at the next intersection when we pull back onto the road, and we almost lose him for a second before I point the right car to the driver.
“Right there, turn here!”
“Fine! Jesus, no need to rip my eardrum to shreds. Fucking freak.” He says the last part under his breath, but I still hear it. The phrase so often used by people to describe me.
When Brody turns toward a narrow, rocky road with a dead-end sign, I tell the driver to stop and pay for the fare with the last of my money.
God, I hope this is going to work.
I walk through the forest for what feels like forever until I come to a clearing and find a beautiful wooden cabin, Brody’s car, parked in the driveway. There’s no fence, so I walk straight to the door and ring the bell.
“Just a minute!” A voice of a woman calls from inside, and my breath hitches.
Is that... ?