Nausea: Sequel to Warcrossed

Anonymous

'Jayce has given me instructions for you.'

'Why didn't he just tell me himself? Who are you?'

'My identity is irrelevant. Your instructions are: 35.7056, 139.7519, 9/5.'

'What in the world does that mean?'

I was sick already of Jayce's mind games. The person didn't reply back to me, so I was left to figure it out myself with no help.

I was smart, but I was also tired and irritated. Jayce was tricky. I finally decided to call Alexander back, and it rang almost until the voicemail. I started to think he wasn't going to answer, and mentally I prepared my message to leave him.

But there wasn't a tone.

"John, are you okay?"

"Since when do you care if I'm okay?"

I'd never forget what he said to me by the pool that night. I could still hear the growl in his tone as he stared at me with cold grey eyes.

"I didn't even like you in the first place."

"John... I do care. I said I was sorry. I want to help."

I ran a hand through my hair and winced at the tangles. I hadn't brushed it in three days. And I hadn't dyed it in... almost a month. I made a mental note to get that done soon.

"I guess. But I'm not just going to forgive you."

"It's fine. I stepped out of line. But still. I want to help."

"With what?"

"I want to help with Laf. You know..."

"I don't know if I want you to."

"Well, what does he want? Er... what would he want?"

I sighed, then looked out of the window.

We'd talked about what he wanted. It was the most painful conversation I'd ever had. And the most uncomfortable he'd ever looked.