A Way (The Voyagers Book 1)

by Tara Lutz

  Tara lutz

  A WAY

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2015 Tara Lutz

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  ISBN 9781508632443

  For my husband, Jason, my biggest fan.

  The last thing she remembered, before the world exploded around her, was the static. Not the panic, the screaming, or the noise, that sounded like the earth was ripping apart from the inside, just the static. It consumed every other sound, muting what would otherwise be deafening.

  She forced her legs to move faster than she realized they were capable, following him, her, them; people she had known for less than three days, practically strangers, but not really unfamiliar, who were now her only lifeline. If she just kept following these beacons in the night, through the smoky fog, she may be able to get somewhere safe before the fiery earth swallowed her whole.

  She had the vague recollection of the pixie like girl, the one who had lent her the oversized hoodie, that was weighing her down as she fled the chaos, stopping short in front of her, calling to the others and looking around in a panic, but to her seeming calm in what was playing out around them. In one swift movement the girl took charge, bent down, reached out and opened up a hole in the ground, one that wasn’t spewing dirt from the explosions within.

  “Everyone in now,” the girl screamed.

  She waved the group behind her into the crevice where they descended down, down, down, the events of the last few minutes fading into a dull roar above. She was the first to the door at the bottom of the stairs, gripped the handle, turned, pushed, and moved forward, away from the horror, closer to what she hoped was safe.

  The room they crowded into was longer than it was wide, two doors running along the right wall, one with a padlock, one without a doorknob. She knew what was behind the one that was locked without even having to ask. The wall also held shelves full of what her blurred thoughts identified to be cans and bottles. At the far end were two bunk beds and one twin bed, pushed up to the exposed brick wall. Their bright coverings looked familiar, from another time, and seemed out of place in this dank room they had rushed into. Along the left side of the space, on a chipped, wooden stand were what appeared to be an iPhone dock and a flat screen tv, objects that didn’t fit in the room. This room had the feeling it was hollowed out deep underground, before any of its new occupants were born.

  She turned, her eyes frantic. “You should have left me at the house! I’m not going anywhere without him.” Her knees gave out as she collapsed, like a rag doll, onto the cold concrete floor, with the images of fireballs fading behind her eyes.

  PART 1

  JESSIE

  Present day

  CHAPTER 1

  Jessie opened her eyes and for a moment forgot where she was, before the events of the last few months came rushing back to her, filling her with a familiar sense of loneliness. The room where she awoke still didn’t come close to holding the same sense of charm she had loved about the room she had woken up in for the past three years. Gone were the sunset red curtains, her mother had made for the windows of her new home; replaced with white, cheap, horizontal blinds one might find hanging in any college dorm room. The walls were a redundant white, erasing from her memory with their sharpness, the deep blue warmth that used to greet her in the morning. Even the sun seemed like a stranger, on the days it decided to show itself. The way the light, scarcely allowed by the rain clouds, slid through the shades didn’t invite her to get out of bed, but instead pushed her to burrow deeper under the covers.

  She turned her face into her well-loved favourite Star Wars comforter. The one that had been given to her years ago from her favourite, only, and younger, Jedi-freak brother, to smell its laundry soap scent; hoping to bring something from the past, besides what was on the edge of her waking dream of home, into the present. Which home did she miss? The one that she left at eighteen or the one that she abandoned three months before? Each exit was a choice that she made without consultation or full examination of the consequences.

  Stumbling out of bed, after feeling sorry for herself for a few more minutes, she made it as far as the kitchen with her eyes only half open. Banging her knee, hard enough on her table- for- one dining table, completely opened them.

  “Coffee,” Jessie murmured to herself.

  She pulled out the dented tin, poured the fine grains into her stainless steel maker, pressed the magic ‘on’ button and stepped back, to let the smell take over her senses as she fully became conscious for the day. She always loved the smell of coffee, even though her parents weren’t coffee drinkers; neither was he. Something about the scent reminded her of a warm, cozy, county kitchen and made her smile.

  Checking out her dismal kitchen, she could hardly call it country, but with the right amount of coffee aroma and some yellow paint, maybe someday, it could be close. With her mug of freshly poured liquid gold balanced in her hand, Jessie reached just left of her apartment sized fridge, opened the only entrance to her work in progress home and grabbed the morning paper. The age of reading everything on line had not yet replaced her love of sitting down on her couch with a coffee, the paper, and the morning sun, foreign as it seemed these days. For a fleeting moment she let herself remember, ‘Are you done with the sports section, hon?’ She pushed him out of her mind and focused on that day’s headlines.

  “What’s on the agenda today, handsome?” Jessie asked her cat, Sam, not expecting an answer, but hoping for more than a snarky “Where is my food?” meow. His whisker twitch almost said, ‘I am bummed out because I have to live here with you.’

  “Yea, well I was always a dog person,” she mumbled.

  With effort, she lifted herself from the comforts of the worn soft couch, and quickly filled his ceramic cat dish with food so she could return to her morning routine. She caught a glimpse of herself as she passed the mirror that hung in the short hallway containing the ungrateful cat’s dishes, a coat rack, and shoes and boots strewn haphazardly on the floor. What she saw didn’t surprise her as much today as it did a week ago. Her hair that had hung straight and bodiless halfway down her back for most of her childhood and young adult life, was now cut into layers; giving it some bounce. She took the stylist’s advice to lighten her new found curls enough to make people that knew her look twice before they fully recognized her. Critiquing her reflection now she wondered why she hadn’t gone blonder before. The shade brought out the rarely seen gold flecks in her, what she thought were, dull blue eyes. It was part of the many changes she had made since the day she finally walked out on her life; leaving behind everyone, even him, with nothing but the things she needed to keep her partially grounded in her past, but still move into the unknown future. She stopped to straighten Owen’s graduation picture on her way up the hall. I wonder if he knows Harrison Ford signed on for the next Star Wars movie yet, she thought.

  It took Jessie ten seconds to abandon her partially read paper on her well-loved, second-hand coffee table. She moved to the window, not before taking the last sip of coffee, to get some sense for what the day would bring. She was relieved to see what she hoped would last more than a few hours. The sun had decided to come out and play. After a week of rain, and months of not knowing if there was more to look forward to than waking up in the two small rooms with Sam begging for food, the brightness over the city brought a slight smile to her sun starved face. A
familiar feeling stirred within her as she caught her faint facial silhouette in the window, where she saw something just out of her reach, something she had been looking for, but could never find. Between her fingers, she absentmindedly rubbed the polished stone hanging on a gold chain around her neck.

  Jessie turned away from the window and looked into her bedroom, at the laptop sitting on the desk, that was pushed up against the wall, across from her saggy queen sized bed. There was a better place to conquer her imagination, as her mother called it, which had thrown her life so far off course. She advanced towards it; maybe just placing her hands on the keys would give her all the answers to the questions that moved non-stop through her mind.

  Her job as a teacher’s aide at the university was only three days a week. The other four days she spent trying to put words, that would one day be her best seller, onto paper. Unfortunately, her numerous attempts at the award winning novel only resulted in Jessie becoming an expert Suduko player; anything to procrastinate the failure that was bound to come. She had already failed him, herself, her family and most of her friends, so this was nothing that she couldn’t handle.

  As she sat thrumming her fingers on her computer desk checking her Farmville 2, no one else was going to feed her prized Saanen goats, her iPhone lit up. Thank god, she thought, when she saw Allison’s name flicker on to the screen; right before she actually might have to work on the book that will never come.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Jessie never had a problem sounding upbeat, even during the self-pity that hit her almost daily.

  “Just making sure we’re good to go tonight. Five bells at Central? I already checked with Ger and she’s in.” Allison was Jessie’s newest friend, but felt like her oldest. She was one of the reasons she chose to stay this city, one of the five she had on her list to get lost in, but it was time she got a cell phone. This calling for things that could easily be sent in a text was not working in their relationship anymore.

  Jessie pushed the negative thought of her positively darling friend out of her head and nodded, at the same time she voiced a “hell yes.” It was just what she needed, a night with her girls, forgetting about the thoughts that made no sense and her inevitable diagnosis of being insane.

  Thankfully, a day of watching her PVR’d soap, most of which she fast forwarded, passed more quickly than Jessie initially anticipated. The hot, soapy shower she indulged in for over half an hour made her feel like maybe she could pop out a chapter or two in her future tale of fiction, but then there would be no time to agonize over what she could possibly wear out that night. She manually added a few more curls to her freshly washed and blow dried hair, and held up a few outfits for Sam to inspect from his spot on her bed. With absolutely no help from the cat she settled on a pair of star covered tights, a pink off the shoulder, somewhat skanky top, and hoop earrings. Everything old was new again right? Oh who cares, the 80’s look is comfy and my ass still looks great.

  Zipping up her cute new ankle boots and, showing just enough of her brightly colored socks, she glanced around her tiny living space one more time, grabbed her non-descript, no name purse and started her five block trek to meet the girls.

  CHAPTER 2

  The bar, Central, that all three girls fondly thought of as their bar, was in its usual ‘in the weeds’ self for a Friday bordering a long weekend. They found a table, barely, off in the corner so they could sit comfortably and watch the comings and goings of the regulars and the business -one drink and we’re done- men, while enjoying a glass of house red or seven.

  Ger folded up a beer labeled coaster to slide under the slightly off-kilter table, as Allison wiped unidentifiable crumbs off one of the mismatched chairs surrounding it. The bar held the smell of carpets that had long since needed to be replaced and the sound of a dozen conversations, some louder than others, humming constantly, accompanied by Bob Segar singing on the sound system that could have used a little bit more volume. Their conversation, as always, consisted of a lot of “did you hear this about her, them, that guy that we met that one time a few weeks ago?” And as the third glass of wine arrived it was vamped up to the conversations all women have, but no men like to think they do. It really wouldn’t have been a girls night if Ger didn’t bring up her ex-penis at least once, with Allison glancing around slightly embarrassed, and Jessie crying with the laughter that eluded her most of time. It was during this seemingly important and deep interaction that Jessie felt a familiar tug that she usually got three or four drinks deep. She reached into her imposter designer bag, found some lip gloss to smooth on, and tucked her now wayward hair behind her ears. Why she even bothered with hairspray, she had no clue.

  “Excuse me ladies, the bad habit is forcing me outside for a second. Did you notice any cute gentlemen wander out in the last few minutes that I can charm for a butt?” She flashed a dazzling, crooked, half a bottle of wine smile, and pushed her chair back from the table; almost taking the table cloth and the candles sitting on top of it with her.

  “Geez Jessie, you’ve only had three. Get a grip.” Allison teased.

  “Yea, but I barely ate today. I never do on Friday. I should really change that.” Jessie fake pouted as she turned to exit the place where everyone knew her name, or at least Ger’s.

  Scanning the side street the pub was on, from the small front step leading down to the sidewalk, she did a quick assessment of who, of the dozen or so people smoking in her view would willing to give her a smoke. It didn’t take her long to pick him out, alone and huddled in the doorway of the closed sushi place across the street, watching her as he took a pull from his smoke.

  He knows what I’m going to ask him and he’s going to say no, she thought, but crossed the street to him anyway, continuing the conversation with herself. I should’ve gone with the two football playing guys that look like they started their long weekend at noon.

  “Hey, can I bum a smoke off you?” She gave him her best pitiful, smokeless look that ended with, what she hoped, was an endearing smile.

  “What’s your name?”

  He answered her question with a question. Yep, this was a bad idea.

  “Jessie, not Jessica, not Jess, just Jessie.” Unfortunately, she felt the need to explain to him her pet peeve of being called anything but Jessie, then added, “I only smoke when I drink or I would have a pack of my own.”

  If either of these revelations helped her cause or not didn’t register on his face. All Jessie could think was, if the government didn’t raise the cost of a pack of cigarettes to equal the price of a small car then asking for a complete stranger for one wouldn’t be so uncomfortable.

  “Ok, just Jessie, let me get this straight. You don’t smoke, only when you’re drinking, which you seem to be doing right now. So unless you didn’t plan to be out with, let’s see,” he leaned past her to look over her shoulder through the dimly lit window of the bar, “what seems to be a couple of equally happy ladies, then you should have smokes on you, therefore not bothering a perfect stranger for one.”

  The mischievous grin he gave her convinced her she would get the smoke, whether or not he would also give her a light was 50/50.

  “You know what? Forget it. I should quit anyway.”

  Jessie did an off kilter pirouette to head back into the sticky bar, leaving this not quite handsome, not quite homely stranger and silently wishing she knew his name; just for curiosity sake.

  “Hey Jess, no one likes a quitter.” She spun back to face him and her reflexes, not even knowing she had any, caught the Marlboro he tossed to her. It’s Jessie.

  She learned three things about him in the two minutes it took her to finish the bummed cigarette. His name was Dex, just Dex. He had the same pair of Doc Martins, that he just happened to be wearing, for ten years, to remind him of his grunge phase, and he only smoked when he drank too. He had that easy-going way about him that probably made him immediate friends with anyone he met. When he talked to her he looked her right in the eyes, even with her wear
ing the guy-eye catching top. His hair was shaggy over his ears and almost hung into his eyes, getting caught in eyelashes that any girl would envy. But it was his voice that Jessie was drawn to, almost as if he had whispered her to sleep every night for her whole life.

  The evening had started to develop a chill and she rubbed the goose bumps from her arms. “I should head back in, but thanks again for the smoke.” She skipped off the curve and looked back at him, “and the chat.” She had walked a few more steps when she heard his voice call to her.

  “I like your necklace. The yellow stone goes with your eyes.”

  Jessie turned to him, again, the gold sparks in her eyes flashing like they knew they had just been complimented. Walking slowly backwards, she touched the permanent decoration on her neck. “Thanks,” she said. “I never take it off.”

  She thought she heard him mutter, “I know.” A truck passing between them on the street, and the sound carrying on the breeze out from the bar, made it impossible for her to tell.

  After rejoining her two friends, she only occasionally glanced over at his table that he shared with an equal number of acquaintances. He never looked at her, but this didn’t bother her. She didn’t even give it a second thought. Even after she laughed a little louder than usual or a round of tequila shots arrived at their table. Why won’t he look at me?

  They didn’t speak again that night. He left an hour before her, in his Docs, holding a ready to be lit smoke; not looking back at what he could be leaving behind. Jessie didn’t notice Ger’s wine soaked stare following hers as they watched him walk out or Allison ask what they were looking at.

  *******

  Jessie tried to walk straight –the don’t act drunk stumble - when she exited the bar that night, but to no avail. It was Friday, hell it was the long weekend. If people thought she was drunk then they wouldn’t be wrong. She decided to head up a block to catch a cab home to her cramped apartment and disengaged cat. She rounded a corner to find him standing there. Was he waiting for me? She wondered. Well that’s kind of creepy, and more than a little sexy.