Page 129 of Things I Read About
I hear Kat get up from her bed. “Keen observation, doc. It’s 5 AM.”
“Morning. Time to go.” Dean sounds serious.
I get up and move behind Kat.
Dean sees me and continues. “We want to get you all out of the Dallas area. Pack as quickly as you can, we want to be at the jet within the hour.”
“On it,” Kat says.
I nod and we both turn around to get busy.
“Sally?” Dean starts. I look back. “Nate wants to resume his post with you, instead of with Sadie and Shep so—”
“No,” Kat answers for me.
But Dean doesn’t look at her. He waits for my answer.
“No,” I agree softly.
Dean nods and shuts the door.
We start packing frantically. It doesn’t take long but the tension is almost palpable. I’ll have to research what exactly is happening in our bodies. Something about our nerves and anticipation, maybe? Apprehension. No, more like foreboding. Dread? Could be a physical feeling of dread, I suppose.
“Sal,” Kat is waiting at the door, with Dean outside in the hall.
I am standing holding my suitcase handle, frozen mid-step. “Sorry.”
“No problem now, but could you try not to, like, think until we get in the plane and off the ground? You can’t be short circuiting and freezing in the middle of our escape,” Kat says, talking faster and faster as the words come out.
“Let’s not use the word escape,” Dean says gently. “We’re simply being proactive.”
“Uh, yeah, because there’s a maniac on the loose nearby. Headin' straight for us.”
“Kat, not helpful.” I hear Sadie scold behind us.
I don’t know if it’s because my brain now associates Sadie with Nate’s close proximity, or if it’s something else, but I can sense Nate in the hallway. I feel like his eyes are on me. I feel like he’s begging me to turn and look at him.
Feelings are not facts, however.
He’s probably looking at the hall exits, grunting at Shep, and barely thinking of me, the kid, at all.
So, I don’t look up when we pile into the elevator together. I don’t look his way when we huddle up together at the edge of the lobby.
We have to wait for Sam, Emerson, and whoever they have assigned to them as a guard. Of course, Samantha wasn’t ready on time.
As we stand, tense and tired, I look everywhere but to my left, where I know Sadie and Shep stand with their guard. I look at my feet, my bag, the lobby. I take in the chandeliers, the reception desk, the couple at the other set of elevators.
Wait, that’s the same dark hair.
It’s her.
My arm hair follicles are at rest, though.
Maybe because the woman is clearly dealing with her own problems. The couple must be fighting, with the way she’s gesticulating wildly. She might even be drunk.
I can’t hear their conversation, but I can clearly see the guy, who also has dark hair.
They both look Italian, maybe? Beautiful skin tone. He has a nice symmetrical face, but it’s scowling. She’s shaking her head, he’s ignoring her, glancing around.
