Back on Track

Chapter 2

Kinsley's POV

The heavy traffic on the interstate was one of the downsides of New York, and after more than half an hour of driving, I had yet to relax my posture as my eyes stayed glued to the road ahead.

It had barely been a smooth ride from the airport, as the moment we pulled onto the highway, we realized that the look and the lack of space in the car were the least of our worries. Being an old model, there was no built-in navigation system, so we were forced to pull out the map I'd packed to preserve our phone batteries. The seats were also locked in place, unable to move or adjust to a comfortable position, and to top it off, as Louisa reached forward to the dash to turn on the radio, we were greeted with a loud, continuous stream of static.

Thankfully, as the sun began to take its peak position in the sky and the temperature grew warmer, we were able to get a cool breeze to begin spewing from the air conditioning vents after pressing a multitude of faded buttons.

It was only once we reached the bridge crossing over to Staten Island that I finally let myself relax. I found a semi-comfortable position, letting my grip on the steering wheel relax slightly, and as I lessened the pressure I put on the gas, my gaze drifted outside to the stunning, unhindered view of the city.

For almost five years New York had been my home, ever since I'd decided to study journalism at NYU after finishing high school back in Canada. It was where I'd met Louisa the first day of university, and even after she'd moved back to the UK to be with her family, I'd stayed in the city after receiving an offer to work for an up-and-coming magazine. I had grown accustomed to dodging the crazy drivers, zoning out the loudness of the city that never sleeps, and seeing new things every time I turned a corner, but living in the middle of the craziness didn't leave much time for appreciating its beauty.

With my attention flitting between the breathtaking cityscape and the traffic around me, my mind was completely occupied, causing me to miss the small sputter of the engine as we pulled off the bridge.

"What was that?"

Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I glanced over to Louisa, furrowing my eyebrows with curiosity. "What was what?"

"The noise," Louisa trailed, leaning over worriedly as she peeked at the dash. "It didn't sound very good."

Glancing above the wheel to see if any hazard lights had come on, I was greeted with nothing but a normal view. There was almost a full tank of gas, the speedometer was working, and no warnings were visible. Before I could say that everything looked fine however, the engine rumbled again.

I could feel my face pale as uneasiness settled over me, feeling the rattling build beneath my feet. "Umm Louisa," I started, my voice wavering slightly as I looked over to her. "Can you look in the glove department?"

"For what exactly?"

Though she was confused, she still reached forward, pulling open the glove department to see a lot of scrunched up pieces of paper. "I don't know," I replied desperately. "Basically anything that could help right now."

Pulling a tissue from her bag, her features scrunched up with mild disgust as she ruffled through the mess, though when she pulled out a binded book from the bottom of the pile, a small bout of hope spread through my chest. It had to contain something useful – a help line of some sorts that would get us out of this situation.

"Okay, well," Louisa started, flipping open the small book to scan the first page, "there's a number for service listed here."

"Call that," I said, my grip tightening on the steering wheel as the rumbling became more consistent and noticeable. "There has to be something they can do."