Inviting The Virgin (Old Version)

Inviting The Virgin (12)

I didn’t bother knocking on the door. I opened it to find it empty—“Look for my keys,” I instructed her and she obeyed without falter.

My keys were hooked onto a lanyard that I had since I was sixteen. It was faded and I could always pick it out of the lot but within this mess of a room it seemed impossible. Finally Mimi was dangling them with I took them from her hands.

“Now we need to find someone that is willing to drive us back to my car,” I told Mimi who looked just as confused as I did; neither of us knew how to proceed.

I recalled Zack saying that Wayne had drove me home that night and he was obviously here so there was a possibility that his car was outside the building. Now the hard part would be convincing him to drive us there even though I threw up on him the night before.

It was like a light bulb that went off in my head. Like the drunk cloud had dissipated. Why was Wayne even here, why was Zack? All these questions would have to wait until I saw one of them .

            Both Mimi and I wondered the halls trying to find Zack or Wayne, although Mimi had no real idea about anything we were doing. Everyone had fled the scene and now the house was quiet. We walked down hallways hopeless, opening doors and peering into vacant rooms.

            “This is hopeless, what are we even looking for?” Mimi asked once I groaned once again after finding nothing again in a vacant room.

            “You go left and I go right, let me know when you find someone, anyone, come find me,” I almost shouted getting frustrated with her constant groaning and complaining, but mostly the utter lack of positive input she was giving.

            Mimi stocked off in the other direction while I pressed on. I had reached the back of the house where a long porch was viewed behind large glass windows. Stepping cautiously I took in the view of a large orchard in the back yard. Rows of trees continued far passed what I could see. Stepping through the threshold there was an amazing smell of freshness that could only be described as that.

            The porch was old fashioned, one you’d expect an old dog and aged couple to sit on a swing drinking lemonade. It creaked while I hopped down the steps arriving on the soft grass before I heard—“Nancy get over here.” by an unknown voice behind me.

             Instinctively I threw myself into the rose bushes that surrounded the porch. The tiny branches scratched my body while I sunk in behind them pressing my back against the wooden boards.

            From this angle I couldn’t see anything but my ears were picking up everything.