iminlovewiththestars - Tumblr blog

[iminlovewiththestars]

Followed

Followed

by Shannon Burns

The barista shouts my name over the din.

I leap at my coffee, intending to snatch it off the bar in a huff.

I was already running late before the espresso machine jammed, sending scalding coffee spewing in every direction. The resulting debacle was an utter nightmare and really, if I weren’t such an addict, and if I had gotten more than 12 minutes of sleep last night, I would have taken off sans coffee. But I knew there’d be no possible way for me to get through the day without my customary triple venti. Today I made it a quad.  

Of course, some dude chooses the exact same moment to retrieve his iced green tea that’s been chilling on the bar for at least five minutes.

“Oof.” I end up wrapped around him like a car around a steel pole.  “Sorry.” I try not to sound resentful when I say it.

“No, my fault.” He slides me my coffee with a sheepish grin. “Looks like you could use this.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” I nick the cup, and begrudgingly give him the once over.

He’s attractive enough, but he looks like a total wannabe. The shabby, artsy type. Scruffy face. Beany. Nerdy glasses.  Wearing a plaid shirt, skinny jeans, and converse to boot. So cliché. I mean, who drinks iced green tea in the middle of January, anyway? Give me a break. I don’t have time for slackers when I’m already late for my real job.

I slip past him to make my escape.

He calls after my retreating form. “Please, let me …”

But I don’t catch the rest. The door slams behind me and his words are whipped away by the howling wind.

I toss back a shot of the brew to banish the cold. It scorches my throat, but I don’t care. I need caffeine like a hypothermic reptile needs the sun. Like I need the sun, which happens to be hiding its radiance, I note, glowering at the hazy sky. Not that I’m surprised. The sun rarely makes an appearance around here this time of year. Plus, it’s before sunrise, or at least, I think it is.

My breath ices the air and I pull my cowl tighter to block the arctic wind. I hoof it six blocks down Main without looking up, gulping at the dregs of my coffee before I’ve even made it two.  The caffeine buzz jolts my pulse into high gear and the resulting jitters snuff even the memory of sleep deprivation from my limbs.

Now that I’m more than semi-conscious, I feel a tinge of regret over the coffee shop incident. Green Tea Guy seemed nice enough, and I was a bit abrupt with him. Okay, so, I totally blew him off.

I sigh. Too late to do anything about it now. So, I tell myself to get over it. It’s not like he’s my type anyway. Still, I should have let him down easy with my go-to, I’m-married-to-my-job excuse. Strictly speaking, it’s not even a lie.

I sneak a quick peak from beneath my cocoon of warmth, intending to hang a left on 132nd, like always, only to realize I’m not at 132nd. I’m not even on Main.

Dammit. Six years. Six years that coffee shop was on Main and then two weeks ago, out of nowhere, they up and moved. And, in my zombie-like state, I forgot to remind myself that my autopilot is broken until I can reprogram the new route.

I glance around, hoping to spot something familiar, but I don’t frequent this side of town. Actually, I’m not even sure I’m still in town.

Dilapidated, industrial buildings loom over the street. In the dim light, colorful, broken glass throws distorted shapes on graffiti-littered walls. Dark, broken-out windows glare from above.  A fire escape hangs precariously like a gruesome scar slashed across the face of the building. A trash dumpster’s lid has been thrown wide like a gaping maw without teeth. The mist rises off the concrete like the visible stench of a monstrous beast, slumbering in the darkness of the predawn hours.

I take a step back.

Maybe it’s just coffee jitters, but my heart is racing out of control. It strikes against my ribs like a caged animal attempting to break free.

I gulp at the frigid air in an attempt to calm my frantic nerves. The bitter cold seeps through me. Icy fingers claw their way under my coat, piercing my flesh and chilling my bones. A shiver crawls up my spine.

I turn, escaping back the direction I came. My slow, plodding footsteps echo on the pavement like a gong, reverberating off the buildings, amplifying with every step.

My eye catches movement, shadows darting between the buildings.

My roommate jokingly sent me an internet meme once, mocking my caffeine addiction. I poured red bull in my coffee this morning. I can see sounds. At the time I laughed. But it’s not so funny now as paranoia sweeps over me.

I’m being followed. Only it isn’t possible. It’s just my footsteps hammering at my brain. There’s nothing there. Just my imagination. But I keep glancing over my shoulder anyway.

Nothing. Still, I can’t help but sense something is watching me.

Light floods the street behind me.

I turn and shield my eyes, trying to peer through the hazy brilliance. What the…?

A car bears down on me from the far end of the ally.

I beeline to an adjacent alley, barely clearing the car’s path.

An enormous, black beast of a car roars past. It screeches to a halt, and then reverses to stop dead in front of me. I don’t know cars, but this one looks sleek and fast, like a panther stalking its prey in the night. Unfortunately, I’m the only game around.

I stand unmoving, rooted to the spot, gaping.

The engine idles. A darkened window whirls down.

Curiosity has gotten the best of me. Or maybe it’s that my adrenaline response is broken. Instead of fight or flight, mine’s set to freeze.

“Get in.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s just Green Tea Guy from the coffee shop. But then my heart’s doing double time.

He followed me. And he looks different. Maybe it’s just the car, but I doubt it. He’s dropped the starving artist act. Instead, he’s opted for full on Men in Black.

“Wow, stalker much?” I snap, trying to force my shaking voice into indifference. I turn on my heel, intending to escape down the side alley that saved me from being the victim of vehicular manslaughter mere moments ago. But no such luck. It’s a dead end.

“Rachel. Get. In.” He punctuates each word, eyes darting around anxiously. He’s seriously tweaking.

I’d be wigging out right now that he knows my name, if it weren’t for the fact that the coffee shop barista broadcast it loud enough for the whole world to hear. I bet the North Koreans are trying to decode who or what a “Rachel” is and whether or not it signaled the launch of World War III.

“I’m armed.” My declaration is probably a wasted effort, but I’m hoping against hope that it will buy me a moment.

My shaking hands fumble my keys, unable to locate the object of my intent. Finally, I hold up my pepper spray in evidence. The fact that it’s glittery probably isn’t doing me any favors at the moment, but what I can say, it’s not like I ever thought I would actually I use it. Well, I mean, use it for anything more than ornamentation.

He approaches, his speed belied by his smooth, languid movements.

I shrink against the wall, holding my sparkly weapon aloft. I can’t watch. I squeeze my eyes shut. My hand trembling, I take aim and...

My keys clatter to the ground before my finger finds the trigger.

I’m shotgun and he’s back in the driver’s seat, punching the gas before I can unravel what happened.

I reach for the door, trying to get out, but it’s locked. I pound the unlock button but it’s no use. My only weapon is gone, and I’m trapped. “Let me out, you psycho!”

He doesn’t even glance my way. “You have to come with me.” His frantic nature of a moment ago is replaced by statuesque indifference.

Now I’m the one tweaking. “Like hell I do.” I claw at any button I can reach, hoping one will be the key to my freedom.

“It’s not safe.”

He may appear to be the epitome of control, but something’s wrong with this dude. Because yeah, being kidnapped and held hostage does not scream safe and sound to me.

I flip through ideas, trying to come up with something, anything. I need a plan of action to get out of this mess. But I’ve got nothing. Nothing but desperation. So, I guess that will have to do.

I lean over, grab the steering wheel, and veer hard to the right, directly into a brick wall. I brace for impact.

He jerks the wheel, swerving back toward the center of the road. “You trying to kill yourself?” He eyes me like I’m the crazy one, pushing me back down into my seat where I can no longer interfere with his driving.

I turn away like a petulant child. “No, apparently that’s your job.”

“Rachel, I’m here to protec--”

I snap. “Seriously, dude. You don’t know me. So, stop acting like you do.”

My outrage is met with no response.

I sigh. Being hostile has gotten me nowhere. So I opt to switch tactics. “Look, we got off on the wrong foot. How about I tell you about myself? I’m the only child of parents who adore me. And, I know I don’t see them as much as I should these days, but losing me would destroy them. And they aren’t made of money. Not the kind needed for a ransom. So, how about you just let me go? We can forget this whole thing ever happened.” I’m rambling.  And I know it’s a long shot, but maybe, just maybe, appealing to his humanity might work.

“Bad plan. I’m not human.”

That settles it. He’s completely off his rocker. “What… what do you mean you’re not human?” I don’t even want to think about how he knew what I was just thinking.

“I’m taking you somewhere safe.”

Safe. There’s that word again. Just who does he think he is? I shake my head. “So, the batcave then?” Maybe he’s under the misguided impression that he’s some sort of superhero. Nothing else makes sense. I mean, this whole thing is just so inexplicable.

“Batman’s human.” His words carry no inflection. No indication as to whether or not this is one big joke. And nothing to indicate that what is occurring is in any way out of the ordinary. He just stares straight ahead. Rigid. Focused. Driving like a bat out of hell.

“Human. Riiiiight.”

(c) Shannon Burns. All rights reserved.