Rough Road Ahead (In Progress)

Chapter 27

      ****

            The rust colored dirt ground kicked up as we drove, making it hard to make out faces as we pulled in. There were people sitting in front of their houses, their beady eyes examining us with that same aura of fear escaping from them as it had before, but this time I was much more inclined to notice it, picking up on the small details.

            Brad pulled over, stepping from his seat strongly, "where is Mr. Jean?!" He called, his hands cupped around his mouth, no hesitation of fear in his voice. I walked out after him, standing next to him with my arms over my chest.

            For a good three minutes the dirt covered people just stared at us, but soon the old man from the general store motioned for us to follow him. Brad did as he requested, his feet moving through the dirt, the rusty material sticking to his legs, clinging on for dear life. My hand reached out, grabbing his arm, "are you sure we're safe?"

            Brad smiled, taking my hand in his, "trust me."

            I bit my lip, taking a deep breath and walking forward. All the towns people watched us as we walked, their eyes following our every move, their whispers flowing from ear to ear, but there was still that same dark presence that over powered all of their blank stares.

            The old man with the tare covered teeth walked forward until we came to Mr. Jean's house, "go in there." He said, giving us a blank, un feeling look, but I could have sworn there was something under it, underlying pain and anguish, maybe even resentment.

            Brad looked at me with his different eyes and gripped my hand tighter before opening the small gate and walking through its threshold. The house seemed less inviting than it had all that time ago, the windows seemed to hold a darkness that could never be seen beneath. My body pushed closer to Brad's.

            Suddenly we were at the door, my hand reached forward, knocking three times before I heard foot steps and the door opened. Mr. Jean was standing there, his beard looking as white and long as ever, the lines on his face seeming darker, more intense.

            "I knew you would be back."

                                                            ****

            We were seated at the table a few minutes later, the same table that me and my whole family had had a dinner at only a short time ago. Our last family dinner with my mother alive. I frowned, my legs crossing in the huge dining room.

            Mr. Jean leaned over the table, taking a bottle from the center and pouring us three cups of wine, "here, drink." He said, but I pushed it away, remembering how we had been drugged at the dinner that night. Mr. Jean smiled, "I promise, nothing is in it."

            "Yeah, well. How are we supposed to believe you?" Brad questioned from his spot beside me.

            "You're here, aren't you?" Neither of us responded. "Good." Mr. Jean said after a moments pause, "so ask your questions." He folded his hands on the table in front of him.

            Me and Brad looked at one another, as if physically trying to figure out how to put our questions into words. Finally I decided to speak, "we want to know what happened that night. What did you try and implant in us and why?"

            Mr. Jean took a sip of his wine, putting it to his creased lips and taking a sour looking taste, moving his tong along his teeth, "we didn't get a chance to finish." He responded.