There was something dark and brown pooled in different places, several rolls of duct tape and two packs of cigarettes.
"I think this was their van," she said quietly and nodded to the building. I knew she meant the body halves. And that was probably where the key was.
"But I don't have a key. I'm not going back in there."
"No need," and Alyson had keys in her hand. "I saw them on the floor."
I scrambled out of the seat, yanked the bag off her shoulder and pushed her into the driver's seat. She held the keys up to the light of the lamp outside and found a Chrysler Van key. She shoved it into the ignition as I buckled into the passenger's seat, leaving the bag on the floorboard between us.
The van cranked.
And then it died.
Crap. I reached up and slammed my hand down on the dashboard. There was a slight spark, and then the engine came to life.
She looked at me and then looked at my hand. "I saw…an arc…"
I shrugged. "I just hit the right way."
"Where are we going?"
"Away," and that was all I wanted to say.
"Can you drive?" she asked me in a very quiet voice. "I mean, have you driven before?"
"Well yeah…I have a learner's permit. But I've only ever driven in Savannah. Not in Atlanta. And you really don't want me to mess up and us get pulled over do you?"
"Okay."
She pulled out of the parking lot onto a road. After a few seconds I saw a sign pointing to interstate 85 north and told him to go that way. Alyson had been right—we were just south of Atlanta.
Alyson was quiet as she moved the van over onto the shoulder just before the ramp onto the interstate. She put it in park and turned to me.
"What are you doing?" I was starting to panic. We had just left a very nasty crime scene. And for all we knew this was the victim's van and what if there were cameras in that parking lot?
"I—" she braced himself against the steering wheel. "I—I can't drive, Olivia. I'm too—I need to rest."
"Now?" But I could see it in her face—she was pale, and very gaunt looking. Just skin and bones as if everything had just sucked the life out of her.
"But—Alyson—I've never driven on an interstate—I can't—what if I hit someone?"
But Alyson was already moving out of the driver's seat and stumbling into the back. I un-clicked the seat-belt and turned to see her fall on his side.
She didn't move.
Shit!
I moved to her, pressing two fingers against her throat. I'd never really checked a pulse that way before but I'd seen it done on TV. And after a few presses I found a pulse. I shook her.
She didn't move. Alyson was gone—and whether she was just asleep or unconscious it didn't really matter. I had to drive the van on my own. In Atlanta.
And I had no idea what I was doing.
Landmark Diner
When this is all over—I'm never going to bug mom to drive the car. Ever. After driving on interstate 85 North—I had my fill of it. For a while it was okay—just a straight line. Not many cars out. It's raining.
And then boom.
There was the Atlanta skyline. And I nearly ran us off the road. Pull it together, Long. You can do it. Don't be a wuss.
Those were my brother's words. My now evil legacy super-power brother. And I realized right then—I needed to get through this so I could go back and kick him.
So—the best thing to do was to stop somewhere. And ask for directions.
If there's one thing my mom and I agree on it's that men suffer from one common flaw—not asking for directions. But not us women. We're the queens of helplessness, whether genuine or faked. We know how to work it.
I just had to find out where to do that. Not at a dark gas station—but maybe like—a restaurant?
I pulled off of some exit that showed it had an Applebee's and I left Alyson conked out in the back of the van while I went in and asked for directions to the Landmark Diner.
That's when my stomach woke up. I'd lost everything out of it in that warehouse and I was starving. I could smell French fries, burgers and see ice-cream on someone's table.
Yum.
Luckily one of the guys in the back cooking knew how to get to the diner and drew out a passable map on a napkin. Now all I had to do was wake up Sleeping Beauty and get her to drive. Interstate was one thing—but in town?
No. Way.
Alyson was not easy to get up. It took a little work, but she finally dragged herself into the driver's seat while I climbed back in the passenger seat.
"I'm hungry," she muttered.
I nodded. "You got any cash?"
She looked at me but I wasn’t sure she was seeing me. "Yeah."
She shifted in the seat and pulled a wallet out of her back pocket and handed it to me. A wallet? I opened it and gasped. “This is Anson’s wallet! Did you steal this from him?”
She nodded.
“Did you use your power?”
Alyson shook her head.
So my best friend is a pick-pocket. The more you know! A quick look inside revealed several twenties, a couple of tens and lots of ones.
Alyson’s color was better, but she was still pale. And she looked sort of used up. "I think we have enough for a burger."
Finding the Landmark Diner wasn't as hard as I thought it'd be—especially now that Alyson was driving and I could point to where she needed to go. I'm a better navigator than driver.
The directions took us to the road in front. The place had alot of silver trim, pink neon and was painted the color of a 1960’s beach side motel. I think I’d that color was aquamarine.
I counted six cars in the parking lot as we pulled in. More than I thought there would be for this time of night. The sign claimed they were open 24/7. And they offered free WiFi. Whoohoo. Too bad I didn't have a laptop.
"I'm starving," Alyson said in a low voice.
I arched my eyebrows as I unfastened my seat-belt. I got out of the van as she did and shivered. The temperature had to be lower than forty now. The rain had stopped but Alyson and I weren't completely dry yet.
The wind didn't help much either as it blew several trees bordering the parking lot. Across the street the traffic lights moved back and forth in the gusting wind as I moved around the car toward Alyson, who'd moved back into the van and was grabbing up the duffel bag. "Why here? I mean, I never heard of this place."
"A name like the Landmark Diner would be an easy landmark for any stranger to find, I suppose," she stepped back out and shouldered the bag.
"Well let's get in and get some hot food. I'd love a hot chocolate."
We made our way in, looking, I'm sure, totally wasted.
The Landmark Diner looked inviting enough. It looked, to me, like a trailer with add-on parts, complete with a ramp walk up. Single story, with an arched roof, topped with reflective silver. Windows lined the front and sides. We moved along the walkup, past a sentry of miss-matched newspaper stands and in through the front glass doors.
Soft music greeted us along with lights comfortably dimmed. A waist high glass dessert display showed off the day's cakes, some baklava and the remains of sevearl pies that looked like it had been mostly whipped cream.
The room on the right behind the wooden partition, a section that appeared to be closed off for the late hour, housed several more booths, tables and chairs. To the left a low wall lined with double booths on the left and single booths on the right separated the main double booths along the windows from the bar. Silver stools with green vinyl lined the bar, which stood in front of an assortment of drink machines, cups and glasses, coffee pots and a television, bracket-mounted above the glasses for easy viewing. The closed caption feature had been turned on.
A tall, gaunt man in a white shirt and black apron stepped out and said, "Two?"
The waiter led us to one of the larger booths to the left of the bar. We had a great view of our stolen van. The seats were covered in aged, cracked whi
te vinyl much like the stools. The table had a red cloth covering it and on top of that was a thin sheet of hard, clear, scuffed and cracked plastic.
I watched the TV as Alyson elected to sit facing the door. She eased into the seat and I could see her condition better in the fluorescent light of the diner.
Awful was not a strong enough word. She was sweating and her lips were nearly as white as her skin.
I suspected all that popping in and out and the distance we had to travel from Savannah to Atlanta didn't help. And she had me as a passenger. I was wishing there was some sort of legacy handbook out there.
Alyson looked around the diner cautiously but said nothing.
Something sticky adhered to my left hand when I reached down and grabbed the seat to situate myself. I held it up in the light and then rubbed it against the water glass the waiter had just set down in front of me. "Ew."
The waiter stood over us. "Are you ready?"
"We just sat down," I exclaimed as I pulled the paper napkin from a roll of utensils. I nodded to the Coca-Cola paraphernalia lining the wall over the bar. "Coke?"
The waiter nodded in a very Bella Lagosi-as-Dracula sort of way. "Will that be all?"
"I'll have two eggs, scrambled, with sausage and bacon. Oh, and some hot chocolate," I said.
"I'll have the same, but with coffee," Alyson said and glanced at the menu. "And an order of grits."
The waiter nodded and left the table.
I watched after him. "What is it with Atlanta? Are all-night diners the only place for goth-wanna-bes to get jobs?"
"Or they're where those who can't get into SCAD go to make a living." Alyson smiled at me. "Are you okay?"
I grinned at Alyson's reference of SCAD, the Savannah College of Art and Design. It was a well-known school back home, full of emo and goth stereo types. The waiter dropped off Alyson's coffee, complete with a bowl full of little buckets of creamer.
I pursed my lips. I needed to answer her. How could I put this? "I've never stood in a room full of half dead bodies, Alyson. How do you think I feel? Right now I'm just not thinking about it. Mom made me watch Gone With The Wind—and you know what—I'm thinking that Scarlett woman had it right—I'll think about it tomorrow."
She nodded at me as she opened up a bucket of creamer and poured it in with shaking hands. Then another one. And another one, until she'd emptied nearly all of them into the cup before dumping in two packets of artificial sweetener.
Wow. I smirked. And just how does she keep that girlish figure?
"Actually you were in a room with halves of dead bodies."
Alyson held her coffee cup up to her nose and blew on it, though I wasn't sure how hot it was supposed to be with that many creamers in it. "Oh, and we're being watched."
"Huh?" I started to turn around when I noticed her gaze focusing on something just past my right shoulder.
"Don't turn around," she hissed as she folded her paper napkin and dabbed at the sweat on her forehead. "When we came in I noticed a gentleman seated in the booth to the left of the door, facing away. He had a laptop with him. Well, he's now switched seats. He's in the same booth, only he's in the other seat facing us."
My eyebrows rose. "Watching us?" I frowned. "Are you sure? I mean, isn't that kind of random? Maybe he's the owner."
"Maybe," but Alyson didn't look convinced. In fact, she looked like she was about to pass out on me again.
I glanced up at the television. I recognized the anchor team and sort of paid attention to the story they were telling, reading it on the closed caption. But what made my jaw hit the table was the date that showed up in the lower right hand part of the screen beside the temperature.
October 11th.
No…it was October 3rd. Saturday. Yesterday was the 2nd. Friday. Because I had a Social Studies test and aced it. It was not eight days later. That would make it Sunday a week from now.
The waiter walked by and I snagged his apron. He stopped and gave me an irritated look. "What…what's the day's date?"
He frowned. "It's Sunday, October eleventh. Anything else?”
A New Danger
I was up and on my feet in seconds and stared at the date and time on the screen. It said 2 a.m., October the eleventh. No…it was only October third. Not the eleventh.
No…it was Saturday morning not Sunday morning a week from now!
No, no, no…this wasn't possible.
I turned to leave. Alyson blocked my way by grabbing at my arm. "Olivia…" she said in a careful voice.
But I wasn't thinking straight and wrenched away from her and moved toward the door. I was only partially aware that the booth beside the door was empty.
The cold slapped at my face with enough force to stop me in my tracks. It also gave Alyson enough time to catch up with me, panting heavily. "Olivia…what's wrong…"
I whirled on her. "Didn't you see it, Alyson?" I pointed inside to where the television was. "The date? Didn't you hear what the waiter said? It's October the eleventh."
She frowned and shook her head. "No—that's not possible. We've only been gone from Savannah a few hours. Not a week. It's the third."
"I know that," I pointed to my chest and then pointed to the diner as I continued on to the van. "But that television in there says it's the eleventh. The eleventh! Alyson that's impossible."
She held out her hands. "That has to be a mistake."
"What the hell is going on?"
"Olivia I have no idea. We—can't have lost a week—"
I held up my hands. "I know that Alyson—that's impossible. But so's actually teleporting from place to place. Did—did you move us in time as well?"
She blinked at me. It was apparent she'd never considered that. "In time? No. That's not possible. My dad said that couldn't be done—that it would cause a rip. A bubble. I can't—"
"Right, right." I yanked at the driver's door. I didn't know what I was thinking—I was too scared to drive, but I was even more freaked out by the fact that we had lost a week!
Alyson put one hand on the door and the other on my hand when I kept pulling on the locked door.
"Olivia—we need to stay here. Helios said they would help—maybe we can talk to them about the difference in days—"
I turned from her then and marched to the row of newspapers along the back walkway to the front door. Picking the Atlanta Journal and Constitution, I pulled some change out of my pocket and shoved it into the slot. Taking out a paper I checked the date and then marched back to where she stood. I slammed the paper into her chest. "Read it."
She took the paper and stared at the front. "It's dated the tenth…"
"Because today's Sunday Paper hasn't been delivered yet." I put my hand on the handle. "Open. The. Door."
She hung her head. "My dad…what if he was wrong? What if I did teleport in time?"
A popping noise caused both of us to jump and then duck as something struck the hood of the van. We both fell behind the front driver's tire. Alyson scrambled away as I crouched and then moved my head up to peer over the side to see a needle with a red pom-pom sticking out of the hood's metal, inches from where I'd been standing.
Another popping noise and the car was struck again. I went down on my knees along with Alyson. "What the—"
"Tranqs," she said in a low voice. "They've found me. How did they do that?"
"You think it was that man that was sitting by the door?"
"Might have been," Alyson reached inside the bag she’d landed on and pulled out the keys. "We're going to have to make a break for it. Ready for a rough ride?"
"Sure. I've been in the car with Anson before." I looked at the hedges bordering the parking lot to our left. There was a movement in the leaves.
But before I could say anything a ninja moved out of that hedge. He carried a strange looking gun in his gloved right hand.
Alyson froze when she saw him and then moved up to her knees. She held her arms out to her side. "Don't hurt her—she's not involved."
/>
"I'm afraid she is," the man said through his mask. The only sign of his face I could make out were his light blue eyes. Looking a little closer I could see it wasn't like a real ninja robe—not that I really knew what that looked like. He was wearing a thick vest over a black body-suit, a utility belt Batman would be proud of, thick but soft-looking rubber ankle booties, and a criss-cross amo-belt over his shoulders. "Both of you—stand up."
I glanced at Alyson who had moved to her feet, albeit wobbly. I stood up as well, but glanced at the windows of the diner. Didn't anyone see what was happening out here?
Hello? Kidnapping in progress!
"Alyson, can't you just teleport us? Or teleport them like you did Anson?" I didn't care if they heard me or not.
"I already tried," she said in a soft voice. "I'm too tired. I need to eat and sleep."
Two more men dressed just like Ninja-Boss came around the front and the back of the van. One held the tranq, another held a cell phone to his ear. That made three strange men, all dressed alike. And there was an odd little symbol on their left breast.
It was of a world image, as if looking at the earth from space. And there were letters in black glowing white across it. S.A.C.
Ninja-Boss pointed the weird gun at Alyson. "Stand aside."
"Don't hurt her," Alyson said again. "Please, just don't hurt her."
"Oh?" the man's voice took on a threatening sound. "Are you actually trying to protect someone, Evanesence? That's so not like you. Guess your father's intel was accurate—you're not right in the head are you?"
I looked from this guy to Alyson. They knew each other?
Ninja-Boss kept talking. "His orders were the moment you popped back up on our radar—we bring you back. Said you'd become highly dangerous." He held the gun up.
The one with the cell phone lowered it. "He wants us to take them both."
"Where is he now?"
"He's out of range—on his way from Savannah by helicopter."
Ninja-Boss nodded to the one with Tranq-Guy. "I prefer the other way. Less fuss."
Tranq-Guy aimed the gun at me.
Whoa!
"Please don't do that." Alyson staggered as she moved in front of me. She was breathing hard and sweating pretty heavy even though it was cold.
The Dead Girl (The Gemini Legacy Book 1) Page 5