Secrets Meant to be Forgotten : TMC Fic

Chapter Nine, Back in Business

☆A/N : This chapter contains mentions of injuries/broken bones, mild cursing, and car theft☆

Months later.

Months later, and finally, after so much healing, things were finally back to normal. At least, as normal as they could be.

Sarah helped out during those 4 months, knowing how to quell fights between the two and make sure they didn't accidentally hurt themselves or each other. It was now early summer, the heatwave that rolled in dulled by the unnatural rain that fell most nights, leaving Mandela uncomfortably humid, compared to years prior. Jonah's back was still broken, but he was doing a lot better than before. Adam was off the crutches, almost fully healed save for his eye, bandage still covering it. I walked downstairs, the sound of Adam and Jonah chatting with Sarah loudly echoed through the hallways, as it did most days. I jumped at the last step, landing on the carpet floor below, looking around. I stepped out into the hallway, attached to the foyer, looking into the kitchen from where I was, watching as Adam, Jonah, and Sarah ate breakfast, smiling and laughing over the dumbest things together.

It was all so perfect, like nothing could go wrong.

We made plans that, when the two were healed enough, we'd start trying to get work through the ghost hunting business again. Jonah was still nervous, though a little more open to the idea than he was right after the incident, and Adam was... well, Adam. I know he's still looking for answers, he's made that very clear from the get go.

We could only hope that things turned out better this time I guess.

I made a sharp turn, past the photos and decor, leaving, closing the front door behind me. I started walking, time passing quickly as I moved as fast as I could, finding myself east of a highway leading to Bythorne. People barely drove past, the roads nearly empty.

Sarah once told me about Bythorne, she used to live there for a while after her brother died, only moving back to Mandela after Adam and Jonah let me join the group, to keep an eye on them. Who could blame her? Those two weren't the best at keeping attention off of themselves.

Cars passed as I walked along the asphalt. I stopped, standing by the road, trying to wave someone down for a ride. Most passed by, people not wanting to stop near the county overrun by alternates. Eventually, after about 30 minutes, a truck rolled to a stop in front of me, window sliding down to reveal a man in his 50's, arms covered in tattoos and face covered in scars. He smiled as he leant his arm against the ledge of the window, eyes studying me. After a few seconds, he finally spoke.

"Need a ride, kid?" His voice was rough, gritty.

"Yeah actually, you'd be willing to let me-?"

"'Course." He nodded, cutting me off "hop on in."

"Thanks dude, this means a lot to me." I walked around the truck, opening the passenger's side door, and climbing inside.

I slammed it shut behind me, the truck rattling, before pulling the seat belt across me. I sat on the clip, not fully connecting it, making it look like I was in securely. He put the truck into drive, the silence deafening between us as I sat there, glancing out the window as he headed straight towards Bythorne.

"So, where you headin'?" he glanced over.

"I'm actually going to Mandela- the abandoned diner by the mall." I responded quickly, "You know it?"

"Yeah." He paused, "can I ask though, why's it you need to get to Mandela? Aren't ya scared of the alternate situation there?"

"Not really... I just have some friends living there who I should probably check up on, y'know how it is."