Solitude

Three people. Two worlds. One destiny.
And that is to stop both worlds from colliding, entwining to a nightmarish morph of death and chaos. How will it all play out in a fateful town?
And with a mysterious entity following them, helping them, guiding them...
In the end, it all comes down to
Solitude

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7. six

Myers jumped when the woman seated herself into the booth.

"You Myers?" she asked, almost rudely.

Myers didn't answer, lowering his newspaper to allow his eyes to peer over. He eyeballed, from her face, lingering around her torso, than imagined, his mind wandering. She didn't seem pleased. Frowning she repeated her question.

Licking his lips, Myers dropped the newspaper and the pretence that he was reading it.

"Blueberry waffles or chocolate trifle?"

She looked confused at first, than remembered.

"Banana split," she replied, completing the code.

"Come with me." Myers stood a bit hastily, knocking his knees on the table. Stumbling awkwardly he cast a glance backwards. Indeed, she was a beauty. Not that young, but still in her prime.

In contrast, Danielle retched whenever she looked at Myers. He had a slight paunch, and was unshaven. His dress was questionable, and the way he ogled at her openly as if it was nothing. He appeared dangerous too, the slight hunch, again, the dress, and the way he stashed his hands deep in his jeans pockets. They hurried outside into the cool air, and into a waiting car.

It was a dull red. It had enough wear on it to make it less attractive, but not enough to garner attention. Myers swung himself into the driver seat and was already pulling away by the time Danielle had put on her seatbelt.

"You ever going to tell me anything?" she demanded.

"Sweetheart, the last time I told anyone anything, my wife vanished into Hell and is definitely rotting away," he replied, smiling bitterly, turning his car onto Selma Road. Danielle glanced at a big truck belching away, then looked back ahead.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, crossing her arms defensively.

"I'm not going to rape you or anything. I'm an asshole, but I won't go there." Again, his blatant references to sex. Danielle kept silent. She had a can of mace in her purse. She wouldn't hesitate to use it. She had steeled herself ever since her husband's death, discovering that life wasn't all cake.

They drove up onto the highway. Fifteen minutes later, they got off, turning into Crooks Drive, where the building were all old and in a sorry state. Myers drove to the end, before parking before what appeared to be an auto repair shop: Manuel's Motors. The orange side had faded and was coated with dust. The garage itself was cleaned out, but for two shelves decked with dusty files. Myers led Danielle into the office, which had a door that led to the garage.

This was where Myers worked, Danielle supposed. It looked temporal: a laptop plugged into the wall. Two pizza boxes, one with a slice poking out, were stacked on the desk that was buried under a pile of papers. More papers were scattered on the floor, and on the chair.

"Sorry, I don't normally get visitors. Get a shovel- you might find buried treasure with four legs and a seat." Myers flashed a grimy smile.

Danielle smiled politely, or sarcastically, and set about poking her hands disdainfully through the mounds.   She found a wooden stool with three crooked metal legs that were rusting. She sat herself, crossed her legs clad in knee length dress, and tried to look professionally. Meanwhile, Myers cared not and casually glanced at the dress riding up her slender legs.

"Let's begin."

 

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