Displaced - Book One of the Alternate Reality Series

Chapter 21

Eric stared blankly out of his passenger side window, watching the city's nighttime landscape slowly moving across. However, he mostly stared passed the bright lights and moderate crowds. He didn't even take much stock in this being his first 1950s auto ride, something he would've appreciated, had the circumstances been different. As it were, he only considered a young girl's screams, considered how the shouts begged for mercy, and how they slowly turned into frothy gurgles.

He closed his eyes and tried to rattle away the images, but with little success. So, he instead distracted himself by considering Mike, who rode alongside him, piloting this black 55 Chevy.

As before, Mike made an unforeseen appearance, greeting Eric with that Goddamn pistol of his. But what accounted for this armed encounter?

Eric looked over. That asshole was gonna shoot me.

He turned back, certain that if he rushed the Crypt Keeper's door, and tried to save the young girl, bullets would've torn into his side. Or would they?

In the alleyway, when Mike first accosted Eric, yeah, gunning down this stranger made sense. But gunning down someone he had become friends with?

Eric opened his mouth to ask about this, but he quickly closed his lips and looked around.

Mike unexpectedly slowed the vehicle, then pulled into a convenient store parking lot. Why?

Unsure, Eric watched Mike, observing the bot eased the Chevy into an empty space, then muscled the column-mounted shifter into park, then shut off the engine. He then pulled the door's manual release handle, exited, and after thumping the door behind him, approached the convenient store.

Eric kept eyeing him, recalling the pistol inside his jacket, and hoping the bot wouldn't rob the place. It didn't seem like it.

Mike entered and made a left, disappearing behind stands of comic books. He undoubtedly planned to purchase something, though exactly what remained uncertain. Eric would see soon enough, so he eased back into the Chevy's teal-colored leather, and glanced about his surroundings.

There wasn't much. A few classic cars sat quietly, along with a few equally sleepy eateries, each sparsely filled with patrons. There was also a laundry mat with teenagers out front, two guys and two girls, the guys wearing denim jeans and white t-shirts, the girls wearing the era's signature dresses. They looked early 20s, and were probably out for some late-night action, seeing as how they stood by two perfectly polished hot rods.

Eric smiled. If he existed in this era, might he have been one of those guys? Perhaps. After all, their look screamed nonconformity, a notion he personified in his home world.

Hell. Maybe he should go out there and talk to them. Maybe he should ask them if...

"Fuck!" Eric gasped, snapping sideways as the door opened.

"You alright?" Mike followed, clambering back inside.

"Yeah. Sorry. You just startled me is all." Eric took a breath, then continued. "I guess what happened earlier is still messing with my mind."

"I know what you mean."

Mike then slipped the key into the ignition, and cranked over the engine.

The Chevy's 350 small block chugged a few times, then rumbled to life. As the idle evened out, Mike twisted around, and placed the convenient store's brown paper bag behind his seat. He then turned back, muscled the shifter into reverse, and eyed his mirrors while backing up. With some room to maneuver, he put the Chevy into drive, and slipped the vehicle back into stream of traffic.