Sequel to the Wattpad novel The Age of Aquarius
E.J. Thompson, a reclusive author and former journalist, recalls the tales of four teenage criminals as Brooke King, Caleb Wolfe, and Nessa and Johnny Phoenix had exposed a corrupt billionaire for ille...
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Faded tires approach a parking stump, as Johnny stops in front of an abandoned Chinese restaurant.
Shuffling feet scraped boots against the dark gray pavement. Throwing backpacks over their shoulders, the children slammed the vibrant red car doors behind them.
Caleb took a moment to stretch, whereas Johnny gripped his sword. Sharp teeth tore through cracked lips.
Drowsy feet roamed across the empty parking lot until Caleb finally relieved the stress on his neck. Somehow, the dampened breeze ameliorated his affliction; hefty, white clouds drift along the atmosphere like leaves on a duck pond.
The stars gleamed dimly as God broke the diamond and strew the pieces across the horizon.
"Let's hope the rain won't hinder our plans," Caleb thinks.
Nessa gazed at the road, congregated with heavy traffic. Her small fingers dance around the butt of her handgun.
Though it may be a hunch, I think that Apollo will not be far from where the teenagers are standing. Not only did it serve as a refuge for mutants, but Chinatown seems to be the only place that does not allow mutants to show their humiliating passports.
But since Chinatown is a vast community, finding the teenage fugitive is like unearthing a needle in a haystack.
There was no chance that these kids would apprehend Apollo without making a scene.
Johnny nods quietly. He hoped the police didn't capture Apollo first. "Hey, let's check out the Chinatown shops. Maybe he could be visiting one of them."
Sliding the katana into his backpack, Johnny leaves the parking lot, prompting the others to follow him.
Most souvenir shops reside on Grant Avenue. So when the children visited these small markets, they found toys, polished porcelain goods, and foreign knick-knacks.
But there were no signs of Apollo.
Discouraged, the four adolescents walked into a produce market in Stockon Street.
Johnny, Caleb, Nessa, and Brooke headed to Grant Avenue-a decorated street which corresponds to Stockon. What I had liked about Stockon Street is that the product markets would lower prices.
Chinese culture frolicked in the atmosphere.
Seafood markets, fried delicacies, and stores full of cooked animal parts disgusted yet intrigued Brooke.
Foreign music blasts in their ears; kids scampered past the teens' legs as they carried kebabs, treats, and novelties.
"How cute!" a blissful Caleb thinks, grinning.
There is nothing that makes him happier than seeing small children. He only hopes that the kids are being careful around tourists.
