Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71314 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71314 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
“Sure. Thanks. Or maybe you’ve got a hamburger?”
“Yes, I can do a hamburger,” he says, still sounding put out, as if he was spawned inside the diner and never wanted to be bothered with any of it.
“Okay, please. But can I make a few changes? I have dietary requirements.”
His jaw clenches, as if he wants to hurl the notepad at me.
“Okay, well, first hold the cheese. Then hold the pickle. And the onion. Then hold the bun.”
“So you want a hamburger patty.”
“Yep. And hold the heat.”
“Hold the heat,” he says, incredulous. “You don’t want me to cook it.”
“No. Cooking makes it less, well, more nutritious.”
“That’s not in any way true,” he says. “I’m going to cook you some meat, and then you can get out of here.”
“I was thinking about staying around. Maybe buying a house somewhere close. This town has a nice vibe, you know?”
He gives me a glowering stare, sort of smoldering at me. I look back at him with a blank smile, not wanting to give him any reaction to his grumpiness. I have to wonder why someone who doesn’t want to deal with customers decided to run a diner.
“Is this place yours?”
“Yes. It used to be my father’s,” he grunts, volunteering the information almost reflexively.
“That’s lovely. I inherited my father’s businesses as well,” I say. “I can’t run them all, of course. But I have people for that.”
He looks at me as if I just spat in his face. “Good for you.”
He turns and walks away. I have no idea if he’s going to cook anything or not. It feels like he’s not going to, somehow. Sort of feels like the diner is more of a place to gather and chat and talk about coffee more than actually eat. I wonder if this whole town isn’t a front for something. I hope so. I love mysteries. I am a mystery.
Red and blue lights suddenly light up the diner. There’s a general consternation from everybody, as if they’ve never seen the police before.
I have the feeling this is for me, but I don’t want to draw attention to myself, so I casually vault the counter, grab the raw bacon, and see if I can’t sneak out the back while everyone else is staring out the diner windows.
I go upstairs, through a window, and up over the roof. I’m not really making decisions in the traditional way, thinking about what I should do and then doing it. I am really just doing things on the fly, following my instincts rather than making good choices.
Perched on the roof, I watch the scene below play out as you might expect. The cops go into the diner, presumably to question the owner and other customers. They’ll ask about me, and then he’ll say I went out the back and then they’ll…
“I don’t think that’s a sturdy enough window balcony to risk climbing out,” a cop complains. I cover my mouth to keep from giggling. I never imagined I’d enjoy being chased so much. Back before all of this happened, I was the sort of person who never wanted to be in any kind of trouble. Now, trouble is the only thing that feels real.
I slide down the other side of the roof and shimmy out onto the balcony on the other side. The cop was right to be worried. The old structure bends under me, then gives way entirely, dumping me two stories down on the concrete below.
It doesn’t hurt, but it does make me drop my raw bacon, which is a bit disappointing.
I start running, assuming that I’m going to get out of this by sheer physical ability. Whatever they did to me in that lab, it made me so much better than I used to be. I’m stronger. I’m faster. I might be a little stupider, but what can you do about that. Intellect is overrated. I was smart for years and look where it got me. Nowhere. Time to get dumb the way animals are.
I’m faintly aware that someone is giving chase.
“Callie! Stop!”
I don’t stop. I run even harder. I know what the voice sounds like, sort of, but I am running already. Can’t stop. Won’t stop.
My pursuer knows that. He gains on me inexorably in the charming streets of a town where people do not run, do not chase, do not make unpleasant scenes.
Finally, he tackles me, driving me to the ground. I feel the air leaving me, and the sensation of being pinned in place. I can’t move, no matter how much I squirm.
“Stay. Still,” Gray growls.
Something shifts inside my head, a little chemical switch flips in my mind. I feel the tension I was caught up in start to flow away. Just a little. Not entirely.
“I’ve got you,” he rumbles against my ear. “I’ve got you, and you’re safe, and nothing bad is going to happen now.”