Trapezoid (The Base)

Chapter 30

The trees were but a blur as Chris ran as fast as her legs would allow, Levi's gun swinging in her other hand. The breeze blowing in her face, she hoped would cool her mind and body. She ran not only to catch the gate as it was strangely holding open, but also for an excuse for her rapid heartbeat.

The gate started to gradually close. She set her mind on making it through before it fully closed. But when she did, she hardly noticed.

She chose her next distraction to be to find those guys. She scanned either end of the long stretch of the fence. She caught sight of the van at the corner, slowly pulling away, bold blue letters on its side.

Oswald Plumbers.

She decided to just face it; there was no way she was going to catch up with it. She bent over and held her thighs, catching her breath. Maybe if she could hail down a cab. But how would she do that considering that there were hardly any cars around?

Her hope rose at the thought of Levi's bike—but then again, she already had his gun. She couldn't use any more of his stuff. He'd showed a bit of thoughtfulness toward her, but she wasn't so sure on how her feelings toward him were in anyone's favor. They surely were not in hers. Were they even right? He wasn't a Christian—which made her feeling anything a bit risky. And what if he had a girl waiting for him back home?

No.

The thought was too much to bear. The agony of not knowing was painful. Maybe he felt nothing about embracing her the way he recently did, but she did. So she'd be in the wrong! To add to the mess, she'd liked what she'd felt.

Lord, I'm so sorry!

She felt horrible by the speed of everything. She was hardly fond of him at first, now she couldn't extract him from her brain! She groaned in inner turmoil.

A honking car startled her out of her thoughts. She immediately thought of the firearm in her hand. Still bent over, she tucked it in the side of her pants and pulled her shirt over it and straightened.

The white Honda pulled up beside her, window rolling down. "Are you okay there, dear?" said the middle-aged woman with an elegant British lilt.

Chris wondered whether she looked okay. "No, ma'am," she replied in her acquired British accent, "I'm kind of . . ." She rummaged through her brain for the right civilian wording. "I need a lift back to the city."

The woman pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose, a mischievous smile pulling at her lips. "To get back home? Yes? Hop in! I've been so lonely driving this dreary road."

Chris thanked the woman over and over as she buckled herself in. Had God whipped a way without her asking? Maybe she'd catch up with that van after all!

The woman, Hilda, wasn't so inquisitive about her—because she had lots to say on her own. She talked about the weather, her two teenage boys, her hardworking husband who she'd been married to for over sixteen years. It was evident she adored him even to that very day. "And you dear? You've been as quiet as my grandmother in the grave! Tell me about your family."

What was there to tell of Kristal Thompson's family life? "I have a brother in New Zealand and my parents live in Australia."

Hilda nodded silently, eyes on the road. "So do you have other family with you here or are you alone?"

Chris couldn't miss what she was trying to say through alone. As it went, Kristal was as single as they came—and so was she. "Yes, I am." And it looked like Chris' marital status would stay that way for a while.