Run Away With Me

Chapter 29: When you ride a cow.

The clouds look yummy.

They stack over each other like a pile of misshaped pancakes. They are beautiful nonetheless. They also have a striking shade of white, with large streaks of grey to shadow it. The sun isn't too intense, which is perfect for the aesthetic.

Where am I?

I press my hand against the chair and push myself up, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes with the back of the other hand. A yawn sends shivers up and down my body, waking me further.

The ache that's blaring inside my head cannot be ignored; consequence of letting my head lay against the rattling window. But within a few minutes it is gone, which I am eternally grateful for.

The bus makes an abrupt stop and I slide forward, smacking my hands against the chair in front. They sting when I push myself back, and I glare at the driver's head, which is currently peeking out of the window.

"What the hell man?" he shouts, shooting his thick arm in the air. Someone says something back to him and he shakes his head, annoyed. The other passengers get up to see what is going on, and I do the same, being the nosey brat that I'll always be.

A black truck stands in the middle of the way, blocking our path. My gut tells me something that I don't like, and I look around, trying to see if there are escapes that I can use.

"Get out of the way, punks!" the driver screams, "I got work to do!" Several men get out of the truck, coming around to the driver's side and entrance. I don't catch what one of them says, but I know it can't be anything good.

Time to bail.

I listen to my gut and fight open my window, hoping that I can make a break for it without them noticing. That's impossible, though, two of the men stand on my side, waiting with their arms crossed.

They don't seem like uncivilized chumps, to be seen from the tight suits that they are wearing, but they also don't seem like proper gentlemen, if those angry looks are anything to go by. My best guess is that these morons are uncivilized chumps in gentlemen's clothing.

In either case, Georgy is an hour away by foot and I'd rather walk than be stuck here for another second.

I just want a little peace for once, even if it's for a measly day. It would still be highly appreciated.

The guy behind me doesn't say anything when he sees me wriggling through the small window; instead he spares me a glance and goes back into his phone.

Old people these days.

I land on the ground with a small thud, and the men turn my way. Both of them blink, then their eyes widen. The smaller one gets elbowed by the other one and he scurries off. The taller one doesn't waste a second to walk my way, and I don't waste a second to run away.

My gut never fails me, why would it now?

They could be angels for all I care, but when my gut says 'no', I agree without questions.

My feet pad against the ground as I make my way down the road, speeding up when the hill – that the bus took a while to climb – came up. I don't tire, and the guys behind me are desperate.

It clues me in to several possibility of why I'm being pursued. One of which I completely forgot about until now.

What day is it today?

January twenty-ninth. It's surprising that I haven't heard anything from them sooner, maybe because I was under the protection of the WB...?

The very thought of them helping me makes me cringe, but I have to give credit where it is due. I release a sigh when I reach the bottom of the hill, not letting up with my running and continuing forward.