Chapter 24

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I gently sit myself down on a mat on the dirt floor, and I feel my head start to slightly swell. Chris opens a bunker chest in the corner and pulls out a can of beans. He must every once in a while go to the nearest town to get food because there is no way otherwise he would survive out here, resourceless. I try to read his face which looks like his dying to ask me something. I can sorta get an idea but I am not fully sure.

"So," Chris says while getting a spoon and sticking it into the can of beans and then handing to me, " sorry to ask but, are you related to Stiles Stilinski in any way." Oh, that's right, I remember Scott mentioning one time that Chris helped Scott and my father defeat many of their foes.

"Yes," I tremble with my words, realizing that I am poking at my food rudely, "he's my father." Chris to be startled when I say these words and he must not realize how long he has been living recluse. I slowly put a spoonful of beans in the mouth because I am too hungry to worry about the bitter aftertaste. Trying to show I love food, to make it less awkward, I notice Chris frowning. "Did you know my parents named me after your daughter?" I say trying to cheer him up. But then I remember that my father had a short unintentional part in her death. Well, actually it was Void. I would expect Chris to be disappointed in me but he smiles, grateful. He looks as if he wants to ask more questions but he notices my sorrowed face whenever he brings up my father so he chooses to change the subject.

"Why would your pack be at La Puerta," he searches me.

"I'm not sure yet," I cuss in disappointment, " my memory hasn't fully recovered."

"Well, I can take you there," he assures as he sees my face light up, "I've actually been there before with your pack in the past." Yea, probably with my father but he chooses not to mention that part. "If we go, we must leave now, before nightfall." I nod and hurry to finish my can of beans and water next to my thigh.

I have my boots and brown flannel back by this point and all I need next, is a weapon. Just like Allison Argent, Chris was a Werewolf hunter. But, he retired when he learned to except Scott and Allison dating. "How are you with a gun?" he wonders with curiously.

"A natural," I reply bragging a little with my words. He hands me a Glock 32 pistol that I tuck in my pants under my flannel but brimming my tank top.

"What type of knives do you prefer?" he wonders as he looks through his bunker of weapons that I only dream of.

"Do you have kunai?" I say hestantly. He seems impressed with my knowledge of certain breeds of weapons, and I acknowledge every bit of it. Chris then hands me 2 kunai that I tuck in each of my boots as an old habit.

Chris, on the other hand, arms himself with two Beretta M9s that he puts in a gun sling belt around his waist. He grabs 3 cliff point knives and puts them next to his gun on the belt. I am impressed with how prepared Chris is for this.

We walk out of his house and approach a gray 1989 Nissan Hardbody Pickup truck parked outside in the back of his house. I get in shotgun and conveniently he has a shotgun lying on the seat. I move it to the back seat and sit on the ripped shotgun seat. I slam the door because of its rustic and sensitive. Chris does the same and starts the ignition. We start for the horizon and it's quiet as a dust cloud trails behind us. He speeds but who's around to arrest us. It's quiet.

"Why is La Puerta so significant," I say with no knowledge of the lost town.

"In our language, it means The Door." I feel so stupid because I took Spanish lessons when I was five and I didn't think to figure out what it meant.

"The Door to what?" I wonder.

"Mexican folklore say, to hell, " Chris says with a response, "they also say that the reason it is now also known as the lost city because it's where the demons of hell enter our world from the underworld." Well, isn't that convenient? "And whoever wish to cross, become lost." He becomes serious as he says this as if he believes the legend. And I believe him. I feel my eyes start to heavy as I notice the road ahead of us start to blur and the sky begins to grow dark. Our conversation ends and I rest my head on the side of the window and I am too tired to notice the pain my head gives as I lean hard against it. My eyes start to close and I see darkness.

I am sitting at a table at a restaurant with Scott sitting across from me. There are fruit and chips with salsa in front of us. People wearing Traje de Charro and dancing to guitars that others play for money.

"Allison, while we are gone, " Scott looks concerned, "You need to find Araya Calavera." He pauses as he grabs my hands, "I need you to ask her to take you to La Puerta. I will meet you there." Beyond confused, because I don't understand why Scott's scared, I feel a dripping sweat run down my face. "I will see you soon," he says assuringly, my eyes follow him as he disappears into a crowd of people walking in the streets.

Suddenly, I am in a car with 2 men in the front seats and I am in the back sitting next to an old lady. Must be Araya Calavera because she holds a gun in her hand signed Calaveras. We drive really fast in the middle of the desert and she sits quietly using a knife to carve an apple that she eats. The car stops without warning and men run outside and start shooting at a figure approaching the car, Deasius.

"Where's the girl!" Deasius demands as he rips a man clean off the ground and throws him on top of the car. I feel myself instantly getting up to get out of the car to attack but Araya stops me. She's calm as her men are dying outside.

"Use this car to reach La Puerta," she says calmly, getting out of the car and then closing the door with ease. I stretch myself to the empty driver's seat and put my hands on the wheel and start the engine, then with full power. I race as far away as I can from the fight between Araya's men and Deasius. In one of my side mirrors, I see Araya get into another car and abandon her men driving the opposite way as me. I drive for what seems hours and then run out of gas. By this point, I walk on foot, alone, in the desert.

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