Page 20 of The Tomorrows After You
If she was trying to get some kind of quote from me or dig around my past at all, she would’ve jumped at the chance to accept my ride. But there she went, running out of the garage like she couldn’t get away fast enough. Maybe I’d misunderstood her. The knot in my stomach loosened, and I started to feel guilty for the way I’d spoken to her.
The image of that quick flash of hurt that had crossed her face ate at me. As I left the town center, I took the road that would lead me home. Lost in thought, I almost missed the small blonde head bobbing down one of the side roads that led toward the valley. She hitched her backpack up and cracked her neck. One of her long, slender arms swiped across her forehead.
Something squeezed my heart, watching Nicolette walk alone down the valley road. I warned myself that this could all be a ploy to earn my trust. But as I tried to convince myself that she and her kind were still the devil, I had to resist every urge in my body that called me to go pick her up.
She waltzed into your place of work yesterday specifically asking for you,I reminded myself.
Raking a hand over my face, I kept driving straight.
Despite my best efforts, later that night, Nicolette plagued my thoughts and dreams like a melodic jingle that got stuck in my head. I replayed each of our interactions, trying to piece together why she was back. Why she seemed to cross my path so often. I tried convincing myself she was a threat but the memory of faint lilacs wafting off her skin and hair pushed my thoughts into a very different direction.
7
Nicolette
Imust have read and re-read the welcome sign for the Center for Support and Recovery at least a dozen times.
Come to me, all who are weary and burdened and I will grant you rest.
Matthew 11:28
I had never studied the Bible. My parents initially sent me to Sunday school to try to make some friends when we first moved here, but after I’d been kicked out for dancing on the altar, my parents enrolled me in sports instead.
Still, that reassuring passage from Matthew wrapped itself around my chest and made my heart long for...something.God, I wanted to rest.
And now without my car, I had nowhere to go. I couldn’t let Riot or that fat manager drive me back to Jacob’s house.
I still had a job to do and finding out that gigantic furry man-beast was the guy I was supposed to beprofilingmade me realize how close I’d come to botching this entire assignment before it even began. I had to make a contingency plan in case I’ve blown my chances with Riot altogether.
Then you’ll need to come back with a bigger story to tell.
I didn’t know if the highest rates of drug use or lung cancer in a mining town in West Virginia counted as abigger story.But I needed a cover story and my instinctshadtold me to keep digging. Which is what brought me to the Center.
As I entered, I was still distracted by the fact that Riot Asher, convicted mother killer, was also the biggest up-and-coming kinetic artist in thenortheast. It would be an interesting angle to take for the documentary for sure. But I pushed the thought away to appraise the task at hand.
Green cots littered the open space like it was a FEMA shelter. Strung out residents of all ages scattered across the cots. I scanned the giant corkboard hanging on the wall next to the entrance. It was covered in flyers for recovery programs and meeting schedules. I moved down the row to a large section advertising compensated donations.
We Buy Blood- Blood Bank of Virginia
Get Paid for Extra Plasma- Plasmatose
Get Compensated for Participation in our Cancer Study- Echidna Pharmaceuticals
Drug Trial Seeking New Volunteers - Compensation Available- Echidna Pharmaceuticals
The little tags were nearly gone from the drug trials.
“Hello, miss, can I help you?”An elderly woman with soft, weary, eyes greeted me.
“Do a lot of people qualify for these things?”I pointed toward the flyers.
She tilted her head back and forth.“The blood and plasma shops don’t get much out of us, unfortunately. The drug trials are quite popular. We have a shuttle that takes people to the teaching hospital twice a week, if you’re interested?”
I smiled and shook my head.“No, I was here wondering if I could speak with someone regarding the increased drug problem?”
The woman cocked her head at me, suspiciously.
“I’m writing an article, trying to draw attention to the opioid crisis and the different measures communities have taken to help improve the problem. Who would I need to speak with?” I cringed internally. It sounded rehearsed but it was the best I could conjure up.
