(Jamie Bell Fanfic) Jumper: Black Balloons || WATTYS2019

The Lucky Ones [ IV ]

The Lucky Ones [ IV ]

Only the crashing waves sang while she cleaned the shop for closing past midnight. This was after the tourists and the locals sipped their last drop of liquor. Some stumbled home, some passed out in the sand.

She caught a glint of metal at the corner of her eye the same time something streaked pass her head when she ducked. The wires stuck in the wall buzzed beside her ears. Electricity. 

She spotted a man in full black aiming for another shot. It blasted to where she crouched, sending the fruits on the ice bar everywhere. She jumped in the dark corner of the shack and peeked at them behind the supplies.

"I told you there was another one of 'em."

"I thought it was just Griffin O'Conner jumping here and there."

"And I told you there was two." They shot again. Shards of glass flew. I have to get out before they wreck it up more! She popped up by the shore. Only the moon illuminated the pair as they chased after her. "As if O' Conner would leave such messy scars, more than one." They shouted.

"It's not impossible."

"She's the only one always in that shed. But not at that time—" They pulled the trigger. She jumped in her yard. Static whiz pass her hip. Rule number two, don't jump near home. She heard his voice. 

She jumped miles off back to the highway, the same spot she popped to when she left Griffin, hoping never to see him again. But now, "Fuck!" Griffin! Griffin! was all she called as headlights and skidding tires sped after her; the buzzing wires sweeping inches from her skin.

She stumbled back to the shack out of desperation. A whirring net instantly flew at her, catching her foot. She crashed on the floor, kicking the net away and flinching from the current. Her vision spun and threatened to black out as she scooted behind the supplies.

She jumped— to Italy— or France or wherever that was she drifted to before that had old cobblestone streets. She only guessed from the magazines she flipped through. She slid to the walls of that boreal alley struggling to stay conscious. Where else was I supposed to go. It felt the safest. 

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When Griffin arrived at the beach from the long walk, sweat beaded on his forehead. Dawn barely lit the waves yet there were already a number people who stretched, anticipating to swim once the sun rise.  Some of them paused at the shack before rushing away in chatters. 

She can't possibly be there too early in the morning as well, is she? Telling people the store doesn't open until 7:00 AM. If she is... what else does she do in life?  Especially in this life with what she can do. What do us jumpers do—?