A Little Bit Pyro

15: To the Rescue Plus a Hacker

Dedicated to the one and only Braxty-Bear, whose birthday might or might not be sometime this month (not telling the specific day just in case one of you is a creeper 0_0). You are the cutest, sweetest boy ever.

Note: the song Ref mentions is on the sidebar. It's an oldie but a goodie. lol Glycerine, by Bush

Chapter 15: To the Rescue Plus a Hacker

All the way to the appointed Seven-Eleven my fingers drum on the steering wheel to the beat of Breaking the Habit.  When I finally park in front of the convenience store, she’s nowhere in sight. I shouldn’t have let her choose a location so far from her home.

With the engine still idling, my eyes search every nook and shadow for the next five minutes. Movement in my peripheral vision brings my attention to a woman walking toward the store, but she’s roughly twice the size of the girl I’m waiting for. I pull out my phone to send her a text.

Ref: I’m here. You?

No response.

The thought strikes me that her body is possibly lying in a gutter somewhere along the four miles between here and her house, but I shake it away. Three minutes later and I’m still drumming my fingers to Linkin Park when I finally I get a text back.

Millie: come around to the side with the bathrooms.

I obey, easing the car up to the building. Nobody emerges from either the girl’s or the boy’s restrooms, so when my passenger side door whips open I nearly jump out of my seat. She doesn’t speak, just gasps for breath. The booming speakers mute her heaving exhales, so I lower the volume. For some reason it feels insensitive to listen to music instead of her labored breathing.

She leans forward in the seat, covering her face with her shaking hands. As I watch her trying to regain her calm, I take in her disheveled appearance.  Her long shiny hair is tangled and windblown, like she just ran four miles—just a guess. Droplets of sweat travel down the border of her hair, and she’s wearing burnt-orange Texas shorts.

I never took her for a Texas fan. But that’s just a fleeting thought, because my attention goes back to the girl’s hair. Despite the knots it still has a bright sheen wherever the light touches. Like satin, or maybe it’s more like silk. There’s only one way to solve that question, but now is not the time to do that. Not for the first time I wonder if I have a mental disorder when it comes to girl’s hair.  

After five minutes, her breathing finally begins to slow. I’m hoping that if I wait patiently, then she’ll explain what happened, but so far she hasn’t said a single word. Then she suddenly breaks the silence sitting up abruptly with a scream.

“Erica! Oh my gosh! Oh no, oh no, oh no! What if they shoot her?”

Shoot her? But I don’t have much opportunity to ponder the implications of her words because she is now shouting more of them at me.

“We have to go get Erica before they get her! Now! Go, go, go!”

It seems that now she has recovered her ability to speak, she’s going to yell everything. But I can understand her frustration. I should have thought of getting Erica sooner. If Millie’s hair wasn’t so dang shiny then I would have thought of it sooner.

I don’t know where Erica lives exactly, but I head off in the direction of the neighborhood where I dropped her off last night. Millie is now directing her shouts at her cell, which is good news because I don’t like being on the receiving end.

“Come on! Pick up your freaking phone Erica! Come on, come on, come on! Gah!” She shakes the infuriating piece of hardware hitting redial then holds it against her ear again. “Oh my gosh, please answer me. Answer me Er!”