by Jo Ramsey
“Yeah, they probably would,” she said. “But I’m nineteen, and I can’t stay here forever.”
“I don’t know where I’m going or what’s going to happen to me.” I didn’t want to tell her no. I wished I could take her with me, because then I’d have someone to keep me company. Someone who would take care of me and help keep me safe.
Except it wouldn’t have been fair to her. She was nineteen and needed a life, not a sixteen-year-old piece of baggage.
“Here.” She took a piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to me. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t let me go with you. Please call me when you figure out where you’re going. Maybe I can come visit, at least.”
“It isn’t that I don’t want you to.” I took the paper.
“I know.” She smiled and, before I realized what she was doing, yanked me into a hug. “Take care of yourself.”
For a couple seconds, all I could do was breathe in the smells of food and flowers. Her smell. It was amazing. Now I really wished I didn’t have to leave her here.
“I will,” I said. “You too.”
“Hey, are you buying a ticket or what?” the woman at the window said. “Touching little good-bye scenes usually go along with someone traveling, not just taking up space in my station.”
“Get over yourself.” Sadie glanced at her with narrowed eyes, then smiled at me again. “Call me.”
“I will.” I stuffed her number into my pocket.
She left without saying anything else. I was kind of glad, because if she’d said something, I would have had to, and I might not have been able to speak without doing something stupid like crying.
I bought my ticket and sat down beside my stuff to wait for the bus. My stomach growled. I’d had a good supper the night before, but I should have had breakfast before coming to the station.
“Do I have time to go buy something to eat?” I asked the ticket woman.
“Only place to eat is the diner up the street,” she said. “They’re slow in the mornings. Everyone stops there. So no, you probably don’t.”
“Oh.”
“The bus stops halfway through for a break,” she said. “It’s a long trip. You’ll have a chance to stretch your legs and get something to eat and drink.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I wouldn’t stop for more than a rest break in any more dinky little towns like this one. I stuck out more in small towns. And I needed to eat and drink. If I had to buy things, small towns with no stores would not be the place to do so.
The bus rolled in fifteen minutes late, and two puffy-eyed passengers staggered off. The driver opened the luggage compartment but didn’t seem to believe loading my roller bag was his job, so I tossed it in myself and climbed on board.
The bus was only about half-full. That would probably change as we got closer to Denver, but at least for now, I’d be able to spread out and not have to deal with the other passengers. Maybe I’d even sleep a little more. I was still kind of tired, and a nap might help me forget how hungry I was. I didn’t like the idea of sleeping on the bus, but it would help pass the time, and I felt safer than I had the day before.
I dozed off and on for a while after the bus hit the highway and didn’t pay much attention to the handful of stops we made, except to try to guard the seat beside me. Finally, after the fifth stop or so, I must have fallen completely asleep. The next thing I knew, we were pulling into a rest area in some town whose name I didn’t know. I bought burgers and fries at the fast-food stand, along with a couple of bottles of water. I really wanted soda, but water would be better for me. Besides, it cost less.
No one spoke to me on the trip, not even when the bus filled up and a guy about my mom’s age took the seat beside me. He worried me for a few minutes. After dealing with creepy motel dude, I didn’t want to be around any more strange men. But he plugged his headphones into his tablet, turned on some music a little too loud for my liking, and ignored me the rest of the way.
The trip took almost eight hours because of stops and traffic along the way. I didn’t care. The ride gave me time to think and relax. Not at the same time, though. Thinking tensed me up, since one of the things I had to sort out was where I’d ultimately end up and how I’d survive once I was there.
I didn’t have a high school diploma. I’d started my junior year a couple of months earlier. Some places wouldn’t consider hiring a high school student, let alone a dropout. I would have to do something about that once I settled somewhere—take my GED test or something so I’d at least have a diploma. I might even be able to go to college if I could figure out how to pay for it.
I didn’t know how much money Mom had given me. She hadn’t told me, and I hadn’t had time to count it. I just knew it was a lot. I should have counted it in the motel room, but I’d been too busy worrying about the desk clerk following through on his implied threat to break into my room. And then I’d been too busy sleeping.
If I found a place to stop for the night where no one would see me, I’d count the cash. That would give me an idea of how far I’d be able to go and how long I’d be able to pay my way without some kind of job.
The bus station in Denver was way busier than the one in the dinky little town. I battled my way to the luggage compartment to get my bag before someone else decided to snag it. Someone had her hand on it, but she backed off when I cleared my throat and glared at her.
The second I walked into the building, something punched me in the gut. My mind raced, and my legs twitched as if they had minds of their own and wanted to run. I couldn’t take a deep enough breath, and my lungs ached for oxygen.
I wanted out. Not only out of the bus station. The entire city was messed up. I couldn’t pinpoint the problem, but my senses screamed at me to get back on the bus and get as far away from the place as possible.
The bus was already pulling away, so getting back on wasn’t an option. And I wouldn’t have anyway. Under the ranting panic in my head was a quieter impulse to stay. I had something important to do before I moved on.
I was still working on accepting my powers and listening to my instincts, but I already knew better than to argue with them. I would stick around, but only for a night. Denver had to be a stopover between buses for me. If I stayed too long, it wouldn’t be good.
The station was big enough to have a coffee shop and a couple of other places with snacks and food. Before I decided where to go next, I wanted something to eat. I’d almost passed out before the rest stop, and those burgers and fries had worn off pretty quickly. I was exhausted too, so in spite of all the times my mother had told me I was too young for coffee, I bought some, along with a ham, egg, and cheese sandwich and a few donuts so I’d have food to bring with me wherever I headed next. My mother’s directions shouldn’t have mattered anymore, but it was still hard to remember I could do what I wanted now.
Once I ate my sandwich and one of the donuts, I felt better. I headed for the ticket windows and again studied the list of places I could go.
Chicago stood out. It was probably a long way from Denver. I’d never had much grasp of geography, but I suspected I’d be on the bus over twenty-four hours if I went there. Such a long trip didn’t appeal to me.
The impulse was too strong to ignore, like a voice whispering in my ear over and over. Chicago was where I was supposed to go next. Debating with the instinct wouldn’t do me any good, so I went to the window and asked, “How long does it take to get to Chicago from here?”
“That bus doesn’t leave until tomorrow morning,” the guy said. “You’d arrive the following afternoon. If you want a faster trip, you’re better off on a plane.”
“Thanks.” I couldn’t fly. They asked for too much documentation, and I didn’t have any. No birth certificate. Not even my school ID. No one would let me on a plane.
“Is there someplace near here I could stay for tonight? Cheap?” I still wanted to leave Denver as soon as possible, but I couldn’t do anything about the bus schedule. If the Chicago
bus didn’t leave until the next morning, I would have to wait. Either that or start hitchhiking, and hitching rides with strangers was the stupidest thing I could do. Not even the urge to move on was enough to make me take that huge a risk.
“There are a couple of hotels up the street. They’re kind of pricy.” He studied me.
I didn’t like the way he was looking at me at all. It wasn’t predatory like the creepy motel guy. It was a look that said he was wondering whether to call Child Services or the police. “Where are you heading? You aren’t running away, are you?”
I would probably hear that question a lot more. “No. Traveling. I know I look young, but I’m old enough to be on my own.” Okay, so the last part wasn’t totally honest. Even though some kids were on their own at sixteen, I wasn’t legally old enough. But I wasn’t about to tell this guy the whole truth.
He was asking too many questions, and the longer I stood there, the stronger the feeling became that I needed to be somewhere else, as if something was dragging me away. Somewhere other than Denver as soon as possible, and somewhere other than the bus station immediately.
I didn’t want to walk away until I dealt with the guy’s curiosity. Maybe I didn’t totally understand how my powers worked or why, but I’d used them to help me before. They had to work for me now. I reached into the part of my mind where whatever was inside me lived.
My brain stretched uncomfortably, a weird sensation that didn’t quite hurt but felt like it should. An image of a hand reaching for mine floated through my brain as something tightened in my head. A weight dropped into the conscious part of my mind.
I didn’t take the time to wonder about it. Visualizing a hand, I threw that weight at the guy, trusting it to keep him from asking any more questions.
He blinked a few times. “There are a couple of hotels up the street,” he said again.
“Thank you. I’ll come back in the morning to catch that bus.”
He nodded. “See you then.”
I yanked my backpack up onto my shoulders and towed my roller bag out of the station. Since I hadn’t had a chance to ask the guy which way the hotels were, I had to guess. Left and right were the only possibilities, and right felt wrong. So I turned left.
The first hotel I came to was fancier than I’d expected. Something thick and nasty wrapped around me, and a sharp pain struck my gut. The knowledge entered my brain without warning. Someone was hurt there or would be, and this was where I should be. I just hoped I wasn’t the one who would be hurt. I went inside.
The lobby was intimidating. All golds and greens and a front desk bigger than my room at home. I didn’t know if I even had enough money for a room here, but I didn’t have anything to lose by asking.
Behind the front desk stood one guy and one woman. Something I couldn’t put my finger on told me the guy would be easier to talk to, so I went to him.
He tilted his head back and looked down his nose at me. “May I help you?”
“I’d like a room for tonight,” I said. “I’ll be leaving early in the morning.” I hadn’t found out what time the bus to Chicago left, but if I had to hang around the bus station for a while in the morning, it wouldn’t kill me.
He narrowed his eyes. “Do you know how much a room at this hotel costs?”
“No, because you haven’t told me yet.” And I’d thought he would be easier to talk to than his coworker? My instincts must have been malfunctioning. Or the woman was even worse.
“It’s two-ten a night for our most basic room,” he said. “Not including meals. You’d probably be better off finding a budget motel around here somewhere.”
His snotty attitude got to me. Mouthing off wasn’t exactly the best way to keep a low profile, but I couldn’t help it. “Look, you don’t have any idea if I have money or not. You don’t know what I can afford. You’re being a jerk because you see some kid in front of you who you assume couldn’t possibly have enough money for this place. Guess what? You’re wrong.”
He blinked. “If you’re underage, I’m not supposed to give you a room.”
Crap. I’d called myself a kid. I had to play with honesty again a little, and I wasn’t proud of myself for it. It beat not having a place to sleep. “I didn’t say I’m underage. I said you see a kid. Besides, I’m paying cash.”
“All right.” He pecked at his computer keyboard. “We have one room at the basic price. You’re paying cash?”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re only staying tonight?”
“Yeah. Only tonight, and I’ll probably be gone by six or seven in the morning. I have a bus to catch.”
He nodded. “Let me check with my manager. Be right back.”
For all I knew, he was going to tell his manager to call the police because some hobo kid had asked for a room. In spite of the worry, my danger sense stayed quiet, so I stood there and waited while the woman clerk and the guest she was talking to shot me glares. I had no clue what their problem was. I’d showered that morning, so I didn’t smell, and my clothes were clean and only a little wrinkled from the bus ride.
The guy came back with a piece of paper. He leaned over the counter and spoke in a low voice. “Since you’re paying cash, my manager said we can offer you a discount. The room’s usually two-ten. We’re letting you take it tonight for one-fifty. I tried to get more knocked off, but that’s the best he could do.”
I stared at him, trying to understand what I’d heard. His words took a moment to sink in, and as they did I let out a long breath and relaxed. My eyes watered, and I blinked a couple of times. Crying was bad enough. Crying because someone was doing something nice was worse.
I opened and closed my mouth but couldn’t think of anything to say. When I managed to look the guy in the eye, the word warmth popped into my head.
He grinned. “You’re welcome. I don’t know where you’re heading or why, but I recognize someone who needs help when I see him. Maybe you have enough to cover the whole price, but if someone offers you a break, take it. My boss had a few conditions, though.”
“Name them.” His conditions wouldn’t be anything creepy or dangerous, I was certain.
He held up one finger. “You have to pay up front. No charges to the room. If you order something from room service, you’ll have to pay them. If you’re hungry, you’ll be better off going to one of the restaurants up the street. They’re a lot cheaper than our restaurants, and our restaurants are a lot cheaper than room service. Our usual check-out time is eleven, but the manager said you have to be out by eight.”
“No problem,” I said.
“Okay.” He pecked a few keys again. “One-fifty, please. It includes taxes.”
I took my money out of my pocket and carefully counted out the amount. Carefully because I didn’t want anyone else seeing how much cash I had. Once I was settled in the room, I would count exactly how much I had.
He took the money and slipped it into a drawer, then took a plastic card and ran it through a machine beside him. He handed me the card in a little envelope. “Fourth floor. Room four-twenty-two. Take the elevator up and turn right. Can I do anything else for you?”
Still overwhelmed, I shook my head. “I’m just going to put my stuff up there and then find something to eat.”
“See me before you go and I’ll tell you where the best food is.” He smiled. “Have a nice stay.”
“Thanks.”
The elevator went way faster than I’d expected. My stomach was left behind on the first floor while I ended up on the fourth. As if the wind had been knocked out of me, I struggled not to double over.
When the doors opened on my floor and I stepped out into the corridor, my stomach caught up, just in time to roll. A sharp pain struck my belly, and this time I did double over. The air was so thick I could barely catch my breath, and my mind screamed. Darkness filled my vision, in spite of the bright fluorescent lights in the ceiling. The urge to run was so strong I was back in the elevator without knowing how I got there.<
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The calm part of my brain, the part that had reached back to me when I’d stopped the guy in the bus station from asking questions, whispered to me. The danger I’d sensed outside the hotel was here, on this floor. Someone else’s pain and fear formed the darkness surrounding me. The knowledge was like a voice in my head, and I didn’t question it.
I couldn’t leave. I didn’t know who was hurt or what to do about it, but I had to do something.
My first thought was to call the front desk, but they probably wouldn’t believe me. Most people didn’t believe in psychic anything, and they definitely wouldn’t take it as a reason to come up to the fourth floor.
I couldn’t do much while I was carrying my stuff, so I headed down the hall to my room. With each step my body grew heavier and the air grew thicker. I was going in the right direction.
My room was between another room and a supply closet. When I opened the door, I held my breath. The room was at least as big as my family’s living room, with a king-sized bed, a long low bureau with a desk built into one end, and a couple of armchairs. A flat-screen TV was mounted on one wall, and another entire wall was made of glass, looking out over a neat row of brick buildings. Beyond them, more buildings and trees stretched toward the ultimate sight—mountains, lit by the sun, with caps of snow.
It was the most amazing view I’d ever seen.
I could have stood there staring out the window for an hour or two, but I didn’t have time. Whoever needed help couldn’t wait.
I stuck the key card in my pocket, took out most of my money, and stashed it between the pillows on the bed. Then I walked out to the hall again.
Panic rose in me, a churning in my stomach and a lump in my throat, which I swallowed as hard as I could. I had to stay rational. Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to do anything.
I inhaled as deeply as I could. The thickness of the air was in my mind. If I told myself that, breathing would be easier and so would thinking. Two deeper breaths than I’d managed previously cleared my head enough for me to focus on finding out where the darkness was thickest.