The Strange Tale Of Ayla Jae

Chapter Five - Jamie Wants Big Boom

I keep telling myself that I'm okay because at least I'm alive, and though I mean that, I wonder how shallow that fact really is.

I've been out of Sam's and Bena's care for a few days now, and though their assessment of the severity of what I went through ultimately wasn't nearly as bad as it felt, I still feel like utter shit.

So, physically it hurts, but mostly I think it's because I haven't seen or heard from Chloe since Sam dropped me off at my guardian's house two days ago.

I hadn't really seen much of Sam lately, except for that night we went basically crawling to him and Dave for help. That isn't unusual though. I don't see much of Sam outside of seeing him hanging with Dave. Chloe, on the other hand, never goes too long without at least some indication that she hasn't fallen in a volcano or something.

Sam's life has always been ensconced in mystery, though. I suppose you don't go against the law and medical practice without keep an extremely low profile. It's only through Dave I even met the guy, but that in and of itself is a credential to me. I always made a point to ask him what on Earth drove him and his cohorts to such stark lengths to help people like me, and I generally found myself underwhelmed by his offerings. True, I never push it beyond that, but I always wished he would just be honest about it.

I suppose everyone wants to know their hero's backstory.

Filling the time I have alone in this house the past two days has been sort of easy, but I've been incessantly thinking and worrying.

See, I haven't been fully disclosing a lot of details, but I hope that I've given some indication that things aren't exactly what they seem. It's a weird way to tell a story, but I suppose that's fitting.

The afternoon light wafts through the lonely hall separating the few bedrooms and vacant living room. I find myself wandering back into it for the fifth time today, diverting to the kitchen again for the third time hoping a perfect magic snack appears on a plate for me with a sumptuous drink to drown my sorrows in.

What I find is a half eaten bag of stale cheddar and sour cream chips and a room temp cherry soda. Sugar and carbs for this gal, I guess. Thankful for a semblance of quiet, I plop down on the worn couch and thumb through ten minutes worth of random shows to watch.

My mind isn't accepting the distraction. It's still brazen with a million stresses and issues.

I keep thinking back to the conversation Sam and I had, this time while I experienced his crappy car from the passenger seat in the daylight.

Sam had said very little before we found ourselves strapped in and already enroute. I felt awkward enough, but I was secretly worried about him. All of the talk about him leaving town wasn't just scary because I wouldn't have some sort of safety net. I knew for a long time that what he and his group were doing wasn't just highly dangerous but very, very, illegal.

I felt the warmth of my oversized faded gray hoodie start to toast my insides a little and irritate my bandages when Sam suddenly spoke up.

"So, you've got all the after care committed to memory?" Sam said, while he flick his turn signal. He had told me twice the day before, so yes, I remembered.

"Do I have to recite them back to you, Sam?"

He chuckled. "No, no. Nice to know your humor still works."

I sighed. "The aftercare is the least of my problems."

I stared firmly out the window. I saw a young couple flash past us, but I did see them long enough to tell they were hugging close and clearly having 'a moment'.