Dawn had come and gone, unseen in the basement where Ivy was spreading blankets over the freshly inflated mattress. Her long hair fell in a curtain, brushing the blankets as she hummed to herself.
Frank was busily tapping keys, the computer fans whirring constantly on the tower nearby. He muttered to himself with an occasional harrumph.
“Ah!” Frank declared, a fist shooting into the air in victory as everyone else nearly jumped out of their skins.
“What?!” Tristan demanded.
“I found something. Actually, I found some things I shouldn’t have and didn’t find something I should have.” Frank spun his chair around. “By the sea in the forest you said?”
“Yes. I think so.”
“I was able to bring up satellite views of the county and the two counties on each side. I found a building near the sea in a forested area that has no address or records in the county registry.”
“A building where there should be none.” Tristan repeated.
“Also,” Frank continued, ignoring Tristan, “your Dr. Bachman is dead.”
“Tonight?” Jane asked, startled.
“No… .” Frank checked the screen again, “Four years ago. Fire at home. In Norfolk, Virginia.”
“He seemed somewhat less than dead to me.”
“The game is afoot,” Frank said, gleefully rubbing his hands together.
“Must you cliché, my dear?” Ivy asked. “Time for some rest,” she said gathering the soup bowls onto the tray. “Frank?”
“Yes, dear.” Frank smiled at them and clicked up the stairs after his wife. “I have an idea for tomorrow. You two get some rest,” he said over his shoulder at the door. “Oh, did I mention this room is soundproof?” He wiggled his eyebrows and closed the door.
Jane avoided looking at Tristan and picked at her clothes.
“Ivy left you a nightdress,” Tristan said, pointing to a neatly folded garment on the top of the blankets. Tristan picked up a pair of boxers covered in hearts. “And something for me.”
Jane smiled for the first time in days.
John 18 sat between two armed men in a nondescript beige sedan. The driver and the passenger were also armed, as were the men in the car preceding them down the county road, which was paved but neglected, as if once important but now redundant.
John couldn’t think. His mind had been filled with static, a radio stuck between station receptions. He ground his teeth together and clenched his fists.
YOU ARE READING
Jane 23
General FictionA woman runs through the night, seeking safety, a place to hide. She has no shoes. Her feet are bleeding. A town appears out of the night. Stumbling through the streets, she breaks into a flat. She takes some food and contemplates her next move when...
