TRAIN [FIRST DRAFT]

Chapter 7: In Harm's Way

                  

Stefan and Aimee made their way to the underground parking lot and into his yellow New Beetle. It was not long before they had arrived at a relatively empty McDonald's drive-thru.

They joined the queue, two cars behind the first window. Aimee constantly took her phone out of her pocket, only to put it back in again because there were still no messages from Molly or Clifford. She had called all their numbers what felt like ten times each, but was repeatedly put through to their voicemails. She could not keep herself from worrying about them.

Once the Beetle came to a halt, she sent both Clifford and Molly the same message. Then she sent two more to Molly alone.

Hey, I just wanted to let you guys know that I'm safe and with Stefan getting sundaes @ McDonald's, and then going to Emma's quickly. I'll be home soon!!! XO

Hey, Moll! Uhm... did you get my message? I hope you're okay... I'm worried.

Moll, where are you? Is Clifford with you? Please answer?!!!

Her fingers were texting like crazy. She went in and out of her messages, in case they were not getting through, but they were. There was nothing wrong with her phone. Her signal was good. She was seconds from typing yet another desperate message, but Stefan promptly took her phone from her hands.

"Aimee!" he called.

It was about the fifth time he had said her name, and she did not even realise. She looked at him with wild eyes.

"Give it back!" she yelled, frantically.

"Which ice-cream would you like?" he queried quietly and managed a shaky half smile.

"My phone, please?" she put out her palm. He cautiously dropped it into her hand. "A berry sundae, please," she said, returning to her frantic texting.

Stefan gripped the steering wheel and slowly drove forward as the car in front of them moved up to the drive-thru window. He glimpsed at Aimee again, her eyes adrift, and her texting thumbs trembling. He slammed the breaks calculatedly, and her phone rolled onto the car floor, still in one piece at least. Only she was not as together.

"Stefan!" she glared at him.

"Tell me what's wrong," he said hard. "Aimee, I'm not kidding. Talk to me," he restated as she nonverbally watched his eyes.

Her thoughts were anything but clear. She did not know what to say except that she was worried her parents were in danger. It was not a fact, but an uneasy feeling in her stomach, the one thing that felt certain. She picked up her phone, showed Stefan all of the messages she had sent. His hands held her phone gently and his eyes focused on the screen.

"Gavin and I swung by my house earlier and they weren't home, and they aren't answering their phones," Aimee explained meanwhile. "They could be fine and I could just be overreacting, but what if I'm right and they're in danger?"

"Maybe they're at work," he replied as he finished reading.

"I called their work numbers, no one answered," she sighed. "You know what; I just need to have faith that they're okay. Let's get us some ice-cream."

Stefan's eyebrows rose in surprise, "You are weird."

"Why?" she almost squeaked.

"You're kind of mood swingy."

"Stefan, it isn't mood swings," she tested, "I'm just trying to be positive. When I'm negative, you're negative and I don't want you worrying about me all the time."