A Quest To The Known

chapter three

Lyra  

Mist filled the air, obstructing the view of anything that wasn't ten meters ahead of me. The sun was yet to rise and the neighborhood echoed silence all around. The only sound keeping me entertained was one of both zippers of my bags clinking against each other, complemented by my sneakers breaking little chunks of ice with every step.

I picked up my pace when Lucas's jeep came to view. The closer I got, the better I could distinguish the white chips of paint faded into the blue and the oxidized spots, proving that this jeep had seen better days.

"You look stupid," Lucas remarked as I raised my leg and placed it directly on the carpet of the front seat. My height did help with the process of getting inside the jeep but the layers that I had on my body did not. I realized then that the first part of this trip would be uncomfortable. He reached over from his seat and grabbed my sports bag, tossing it on the backseat.

After entering the car, it buzzed to life underneath me. "Hope you don't mind me sitting upfront. The backseat was full of stuff," From the rearview mirror, I could see that the backseat was overflowing with variations of every kind of snack I could imagine, leaving hardly any space for his backpack and computer case. My sports bag made some of the stuff fall from the almost transparent bags to the floor. "I said I was going to get food," My eyes shifted from the backseat to the dashboard to see that he had already filled the tank. "And gas."

"Since your eyes are already up here, I think you noticed you haven't put your seat belt on," His eyes focused on me as I pulled the seatbelt, meeting a little resistance, and put it on. Droplets of water trickled my face as he turned to face the road. I noticed his hair was wet, contrary to mine, completely dry and slicked back, in a puff, after having spent the night tucked under a bandana and a bonnet.

"I made breakfast, sandwich, and coffee. Didn't know how you liked your coffee so I just made it black. But I know a store that sells those little sugar packets and we can-"

"I don't like coffee," His deep voice rang through the car, overpowering mine, as I took two small similar silver thermos out of my backpack, "But I'll take the sandwich."

I handed him his tuna sandwich and returned one of the thermoses to the backpack. More for me, I guess. "Well, that's a rare sight nowadays," He received the sandwich and immediately put it in the cup holder, "Not liking coffee, I mean."

"Never really saw the appeal. Any kind is too bitter for me."

"There are a thousand different ways to make coffee, surely you'd like one," He shrugs. "Not to brag but my coffee's really good."

"Just say it," He mumbled, just loud enough for me to hear it. I shrugged my shoulders, this time. "I know you have something to say so just stop making small conversation and say it."

"Why did you change your mind? About helping me, I mean." He shrugged his shoulder, paying little to no attention to my questions, "Where I come from no means no. Seems we're from different places."