Dead & Gone. [UNDER REVISION]

Chapter 1: Chicago to Omaha.

The early morning sun dug up over the horizon behind me. I sat behind the wheel with music playing softly. I'd driven through the night; the cool night's air was warming but the golden sun coming up over the road. I may not have my license but I do know how to drive. It's not hard.

I had slipped on my red framed, cop sunglasses. The things reeling through my mind were insane. This feeling that sat in the pit of my stomach made me feel... –free. It was such a nice feeling to know that I didn't need to worry about being beaten or called names by my drunken step dad. Last night he yelled at me, saying I was just like my mom so I might as well leave. He said I was a coward for saying I was going to find my real dad. I love my step dad, Roger. He raised me and I appreciate it. But he looked at me like a piece of meat.

I shook away the thought of last night. What's done is done.

I ran my fingers through my hair with my free hand. My hand strayed down to the arm rest on the door. I was finally passing through Omaha, after seven and a half hours of driving. My gaze staggered down to the fuel gage on the dash board of that old Impala. I was nearly out of gas.

My lungs heaved a heavy breath before I pulled into a shell station. I hated the fact that I need to go to Grand Island before I could ditch the car and take a bus the rest of the way. It's considered a forensic countermeasure. I was only going to pay in cash, to be on the safe side. I'd been saving my money from my odd jobs I'd do. I'd babysit and dog walk. I made a killing during the winter, no one wants to take a dog for their walk during the winter. That's where I came in.

I pulled the gas pump from the car and placed it back on its stand. The smell made me cringe as I walked into the station to see a ginger boy sitting behind the counter with his head phones in and a magazine in his hands. His blue eyes wandered up to me as I dropped the fifty, I owed for gas onto the counter. His lips twisted into a shy smile as he did what he needed to do. His eyes jerked from me to the car sitting outside.

"Nice car," he uttered softly. I looked back at the old car and smiled with a nod.

"Thanks," I replied. I had to keep my responses short, not because I don't want to talk but because I can't trust anyone. When Roger realizes I'm gone he might file a missing person's report. Or a report that someone stole his car. Or both. I can't hang around and make pleasantries. I had to keep moving. It was at that moment that I realized I had to ditch the car sooner rather than later. I had planned on ditching the car in Denver but I can't be spotted driving a stolen car across state lines. Which means I had to alter my plans a bit.

"Is there a bus station near here?" I asked with a calm voice. Even though I was freaking out inside. I was honestly terrified.

The ginger haired teen nodded and looked up at me with a small frown.

"There's one in Grand Island, take route ninety-two. It might take longer but it's less busy," he uttered. I smiled and watched him carefully. I was looking for a sign that he may call the cops on me. I do look my age; but I was praying her thought I was older than my measly fourteen years old. My eyes shifted down to a red, shiny tag clipped to his shirt. His name was Connor.

"Where are you going?" He asked being a bit nosey. I raised an eye brow at him.

"Long Beach, California," I retored with a broad voice, unwillingly. I didn't mean to spoil my plans like that. But for some reason, I trusted this kid, who looked only a little older than me.

Connor frowned at me as he handed me a receipt. I nodded at him before making an exit. I walked back to the car with a slight frown. I heard the jingle of the door again and foot steps behind me. I turned to see the teenage boy standing there in the sun. He was taller standing straight, his shaggy reddish, orange hair was slightly curled and his ocean blue eyes darted through me. He looked like he was fifteen years old.

"Hey kid! I get off in twenty minutes. Mind hanging around so I can a lift to Grand Island?" he asked softly, but loud enough I could hear him from ten feet away. I nodded with a small smirk.

"Sure, just as long as you're not a crazed killer," I commented, half joking half serious. He laughed and shook his head. I wasn't sure if he was offended or amused by that comment.

"Thanks," he returned with a cheerful voice.

I had parked in the shade and waited the extra half hour for Connor. The camera sat in my hands as I documented this event. Worry filled my stomach as the camera rolled.

"Day one of my quest to find my dad. So, I'm in Omaha right now and I'm taking this kid, Connor, to the bus station in Grand Island. I'm rather nervous, he seems like a good kid but he is still a stranger and I was told never to ride in a car with strangers. But he's not denting my plans. Next stop Grand Island," I explained with a weary voice. I turned the camera off and put it back into my carrier bag that sat in the middle of the bench seat.

My heart thumped hard as I watched as he came around the back of the building wearing a pair of jeans and a Slayer tee shirt. He had a duffle bag hooked over his shoulder as he came over to the car. I couldn't help but feel slightly nervous but he was my age and he did need a lift to the bus station.

Connor climbed into the front seat of the car with a cute smile. His body spray was heavy but not too heavy. I couldn't help but smile at him.

"Thanks, I-I'm Connor by the way," he introduced with a sweet tone. My smile grew larger as we pulled out onto the open road.

"No problem, Connor, I'm Peasnie," I replied in a calm way. There was an eerie silence for a short while. It was weird having someone I didn't know in the car with me but I was just giving him a lift to the bus station.

I tied my hair back into a pony tail. The sun was rising fast but it was still before nine am. I was so tired from driving through the night but the coffee and sweets I had to snack on kept me awake. I swallowed hard quickly glanced at Connor. There was silence that filled the car between us. Not even the softly playing music managed to defuse it.

"So why are you going to the bus station?" I asked softly. He shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat loudly.

"When you said you were going to California, I figured that was a sign," Connor choked with a steady voice. His voice was not too high pitched but not too deep, it was a nice smooth sound. It made me smile inside. I furrowed my eye brows at glanced at him again; things were darker behind my sunglasses.

"A sign?" I repeated.

"I'm from Long Beach as well. When I was twelve my mom and dad sent me to live with my uncle in Omaha. They said I needed to learn the value of hard work, so since I was twelve, I've been living in Omaha, going to school and working at that stupid gas station. I'm fifteen right now. I can't wait for the next three years to fly by," he elaborated shortly. His story was short but sweet. I don't know why anyone would do that to their kid. It's horrible to not see your parents every day. It's horrible to know that your parents didn't love you enough to keep trying to look after you so they dump you on someone else. I felt my lips twist into a frown.

"So why are you going to Long Beach?" He asked softly. I bit my lip and shot a glance at him before looking back to the open road.

"I'm going to find my dad. I ran away from home in Chicago to look for him," I announced sullenly. Connor gave me a shifty expression. I went onto tell him about my life. My story wasn't as short and bitter, sweet as his but it's my story. He understood why I was running after I told him. He pursed his lips at me with a heavy sigh.

"I hope you find him," Connor uttered softly. I blushed and nodded.

"Thanks. I'll need it," I whispered weakly.

"You have any clue who he is?" Connor questioned with a weak tone. I nodded.

"All I know is his name is James Sullivan and he lives in Long Beach, California," I said with a broad voice. I watched as his eyes lit up with glee but it soon died. I sucked my teeth hard and looked at him.

"You know someone by that name?" I asked softly. He nodded and stared straight ahead.

"There is this drummer in a semi famous band, he lives in Long Beach. Well actually he lives in Huntington Beach. But his name is James Sullivan. Or Jimmy 'the Rev' Sullivan," Connor said softly. My heart raced again as I just got a possible person for my search. I smiled as we drove on into Grand Island.