Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
I’ll let him take me to England. My passport is in my bag, and I always have enough money in my savings account for a ticket to the States. I’ll fly back the USA, make sure mom is okay, and hope that my job will take me back. I really need to call them and make my excuses. They’ll understand a family emergency. I can see Mom, make sure she’s okay, and then go back to work, or maybe apply for a transfer. My company is multinational with branches across the globe. I could take a position somewhere nobody knows me, and nobody can find me.
I’m starting to feel better. I have something like a plan, and a plan is power. Maybe not the kind of power you get from being able to avoid stabbings and inflict damage yourself, but a different kind of power. Possibly a more powerful one.
Ten hours of driving is not actually as long as you think it is. After a while, the hours start to blur and countries turn into other countries. Germany turns to Belgium, becomes France briefly, and then we’re under a massive body of water, being carried like a torpedo toward what he would call destiny and I would call England.
Dover is where I make the call. I’ve been steeling my nerves this whole time. The forty minutes in the train for cars during which Cosmos took a nap, knowing there was nowhere for me to go, I worked myself up to it.
“Are we going to stop for food? I’m hungry.”
“Finally getting an appetite? It’s that English port air,” Cosmos says.
We’re both foreigners in this country. Neither one of us belongs here. I wonder if Cosmos really belongs anywhere. He’s a very strange man and an interesting one. There is a part of me that would like to get to know him more. But there’s a bigger part that just wants to be free of all this oddness and find normality again. I miss my mom.
“They have some decent fish and chips,” he says. “Greasy food, but it’s something. Wait in the car. I’ll get us some and we can drive to overlook the Channel. It’ll be romantic.”
Romantic isn’t exactly how I would describe this road trip. It is more like an abduction with extra steps. But I force something like a smile to my lips. It’s better if he thinks I am coming around.
He winks and leaves me in the parked car.
There’s not that many people around. It’s around seven in the evening, and he’s parked us in a quiet alley. I know I only have a few minutes at most to make my escape, so the second I’m sure Cosmos is gone, I grab my bag and I sneak away.
Unfortunately, I have no idea where I am, and the English are fond of old maze-like streets and alleys that go in all directions at once. It would be charming if I was on holiday, but as I am trying to run away, it just makes everything that much more difficult.
I see a bland-looking stranger on a corner, a man wearing a beige overcoat and a matching cap. He could be the hero in a hard-boiled detective novel, but I’m willing to bet he’s not.
“Excuse me, do you know where the airport is?”
The man raises a brow at me upon hearing my American accent. “You’re in the wrong town for a plane,” he says. “You’d need to take the train to Southend.”
“Oh. Well. Where’s the train station, then?”
“From here…”
“Darling!” A heavy hand comes down on my shoulder. Cosmos has found me. He has a white newsprint-wrapped package under his arm, and he looks very composed given how mad I know he must be. How the hell was he that fast?
“Don’t mind her, she’s always lost!” Cosmos says. “I found us some dinner, darling.”
There’s a moment in which I could beg the dour stranger for help, and then the moment passes. His eyes drop, his interest wanes, and I become just another oddly clad tourist. He didn’t even seem to notice that I am wearing a lab coat.
“I warned you,” Cosmos growls in my ear as he escorts me back to the car. “Running away is very naughty, Elise. I won’t have it.”
Is it just me, or does he sound more English just for being here? Sussing out Cosmos’ true nature, nationality, or intentions is nearly impossible. He marches me back to the car as cheerfully as possible. We make a very odd pair, him with his tattoos and his rough attire, and me in my lab coat. Surely someone around us notices? Surely someone will step in?
Nobody does. They have their eyes to the pavement or their phones, and they barely see me as Cosmos takes me up that fateful alley.
“How did they cook food that fast?”