Only a Game (Olympus Drive Chronicles)

Chapter 59: Escape

Viktor

I wake up cocooned in the softest fabric imaginable. For a moment I am confused, having no idea how I got here. I'm lying on light wood floors, wrapped in the fluffiest, softest blankets I've ever felt, next to a very big bed.

I'm free.

On the island—the girl saved me. And brought me here. And the bed was too soft. I couldn't sleep on it. So I wrapped up here on the floor. The light is streaming in the windows. It's well past dawn.

My dad is going to be furious.

I sit up, quickly. There's a stack of clothes on the bed, see what fits, the girl—Cally? ---said. I get dressed in jeans that don't at all fit, and I belt those up, and a far too large black t-shirt. I can smell strong, intoxicating smells coming from the kitchen.

When I do finish getting dressed and gathering my jet pack parts that I laid out to dry, I find the rest of the household up and in the kitchen.

"Good morning Viktor! I made waffles," Cally says, brightly. She's dressed in a long blue dress that has little waves on it. Her hair is braided as it was last night. Her father is sitting looking at two laptops and a tablet, drinking orange juice it looks like.

"You—did?" I don't usually eat breakfast. I don't want it. But that smells amazing. And it hardly matters to not eat. No supplies to ration. Nothing to gain. And I will need my strength.

"Aren't you hungry?" she asks, worriedly.

"Yeah---yeah actually. I'm starving," I admit, "Thank you. You're very kind. I'm sorry to impose like this."

"Good," the man grunts. The girl hits him in the head with a spatula. He does not react. I'm surprised how she back talks him and he doesn't say anything. I would be feeling two inches tall, ten minutes into one of my father's speeches. He has a way of making you feel rotten for things you thought he wanted you to do.

"We love having you here!"

"No! We don't!"

"Yes! We do!"

"I'm going to be leaving soon—today if I can manage. My dad will be really worried about me. I shouldn't have stayed all night as it is," I say.

"You're what twelve?" the man actually looks up at me, "Where do you think you're going in the middle of the night after drowning? And who's got you thinking you should be going places after nearly drowning?"

"My dad will be really worried---I was supposed to meet him and I left late as it is—I just need to fix my jet pack," I say, sitting down at the table.

"Oh right, the same person who gave you a jetpack when you're twelve."

"I'm fourteen, actually—my dad was trying to help don't fault him. We were being held hostage," I say, as I get my things out of my backpack, "Can I work on this here?"

"Sure, if it helps you leave my house and go back to this person who shouldn't be responsible for supervising children."

"It does."

"Oh you're fourteen! I'm fifteen!" Cally says, happily.

"You are fucking not," her father says, glaring at her, "And leave the actual baby alone unless you plan on parenting him or preventing JetpackDad from parenting him."

"My dad is fine—really the jetpack gives a bad impression. He loves me, he does. It was my fault for not operating it properly," I say, accepting a plate of waffles. They're warm and crisp. My mother used to make square ones, I remember. They were honey golden like this though. I never would have any butter on them or anything. I just liked the warm crisp treat hot from the griddle.