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“I don’t like you.”
Same, kid. “Well, we have that in common. I don’t like me either.”
“Stay away from Hannah.”
“I’m afraid I can’t.”
The boy whips out his phone, and his thumbs start tapping away on it. “What’s your last name?”
In my world, surnames are uncommon. We’re known by our station, the origin of our birth, the power we wield, and the royal ruler we were born under. It makes for one hell of a long-winded name.
Because I have a feeling this kid isn’t going to let it go, and I really need to meet with Hannah’s father, I give him the truth of where I hail from. “Lostland.”
The Lost Land might not be where I was born, but it’s been my unfortunate home for over five hundred thousand years. The hellscape is engrained in me. It’s part of my identity, however sad that may be.
“And who are you?” I inquire, wondering why such a young person has it out for me.
He doesn’t look up from his phone. “Cody. Also known as your worst nightmare.”
I can’t discern if he’s being honest or facetious. He certainly sounds serious.
“Is there anything I can do to remedy this…” I trail off because Cody is walking away without an explanation or a goodbye. “… grudge?”
All right, then.
I’ve just been officially snubbed by a child.
I don’t know why it’s so offensive, but it is.
Shaking off the incident, I continue my mission.
I find Bobby closing a flat gliding door on the side of a very large automobile. A van, I believe it’s called. Thankfully, not many people are lingering.
“Mr. Wildwood.” I keep it formal for now. “A moment of your time?”
“Of course. Why don’t we do this in my office?” He motions for me to follow him to the house up the lane, and as I fall into step alongside him, he keeps talking. “Thank you for sticking around tonight. I’m sorry if I was short with you earlier during the dance. You need to understand that Hannah might look well enough, but she’s not.”
He doesn’t have to tell me how ill Hannah is or explain his protective instincts. The former is something I’m very aware of. The second is what I would expect from any father worth a damn.
If a father’s love was enough to save Hannah from me, I think Bobby would fulfill that quota ten times over.
Unfortunately, there’s only one way out of this, and it ends with Hannah’s last heartbeat.
As we stroll by the golf cart, I halt. “Doesn’t Hannah need that to get around efficiently?”
“Shoot. Yeah. I don’t know why she didn’t take it with her.” Bobby works his jaw as he thinks. “But if she’s home, she’s in for the night. I’ll get it back to her tomorrow.”
“I can take it to her now.” Compelled by the idea of being near Hannah again, I go straight for the vehicle.
It’s undoubtedly easier than driving that blasted car. I like the fact that it’s smaller, it doesn’t go very fast, and there are no doors closing me in. It reminds me of the wagons and horses I used to be accustomed to in my young years.
“I can go with you,” Bobby offers, stepping forward, but I decline before he can join me.
“No need. You’ve had a very busy day. I’ll be right back.”
After I turn the key, I push the pedal all the way down, and the cart lurches forward, roughly bumping over some uneven terrain before finding the flattened land of the road. Then I’m zipping away from Bobby.
A little relief filters in at the distance I’m putting between him and me, and disturbingly, the feet I’m closing between myself and Hannah fills me with a giddy lightness.
