Deserted

Not What Was Expected

I soon found out that Allen did not only drive a mustang but a black motorcycle which for some reason seemed more like him than anything else. Unfortunately that involved me riding one which was not going to happen. He had other ideas, so instead of being in the back he forced me on the front. He drove, my hands under his, while I am now panicing, this is why.

He starts with "hey, guess what?"

"I don't know, what?" Looking confused because honestly how many whats are there when your going so fast you can't see them?

He smirks and with what I've seen him do thats a crazy idea coming my way. "I am going to let go an you are going to drive." I was right.

"WHAT?" Was he insane? "Who in the world gave you the idea to let the injured drive?" Frantic that such an idea would hit his head.

"You did, you kept pleading me to let you drive the car."

"Thats a car not a motorcylce, four wheels not two."

"There is a difference?" Now with a confused look.

"Yes, one requires balance which I seriously don't have."

Him and that smirk, they should have a name because they seemed to be attached at the hip. "Yes, you do, or else we would have been in a ditch by now."

Thats when I realized he moved from driving to just holding my rib cage as to not fall off. "When did you move?"

"About five minutes after we left" but we had been on the road for almost thirty. "Though I just gave you control, never really moved my hands till the middle of the conversation."

"You are a meany, a slight headed meany."

"Really just slight headed? I thought I meant more to you." And then he started huffing and puffing like a baby.

"You do, you are also a baby." He stopped and tried starting me down in the mirror. I continued "you also realize that your life is in my hands right about now."

"Yes though you couldn't mess this face up, its too pretty." He took the steering mechanism again and took a sharp turn. Onto a trail through the woods, thats when some happened. Gun shots, though who ever shot them had terrible aim. They didn't hit a thing, and they made it easy to spot them, concerning the guy was standing in front of us. Only a six chamber handgun, who knew that you could be so happy they didn't have clips.

We took a slight detour and next I remember I am on the road again. Though pain is a bitch, hold on pain? I started to move around to see what was causing it though it hurt more than my body would let me stand.

"Are you up?" That would explain the noticable blockage in my memory.

"That depends on what you mean by up?" Though I realized what thought I was saying came out as, "shat fepems in that ou myn bu ip" what was I on?

Yet some how Allen gets it and responds "I meant are you okay? And if you are why was that guy trying to kill you?"

"Sere, that?"

"You will be okay he only hit you once and it went straight threw you."

I grunted finally deciding sleep be better. Dreams required work so I don't know why my body would have one while trying to fix itself. Though apparently it likes to drive in a silver Lamborghini with a late night sunset on the coast with two parrots and a dog fighting in the back seat. Plus something going thump in the trunk, who knew my subconscious is more incoherent than I am. Yes it has resorted to us being two different people. Which is a lie though what better could I do in the middle of my brain in a vast dark space were things echo.