Romans & histoires Move To The City In A Broke Down Car

Stacy I never believed in fate until that stormy night. It was one of those rainstorms that soaked the whole city in less than five minutes. The kind where people abandoned umbrellas and just ran with coats over their heads, their shoes slapping the wet pavement. Unfortunately and fortunately for me, my car chose that day to be the best to malfunction. It had broken down hours earlier, and I’d spent the last of my patience arguing with a greasy mechanic who swore the spare parts wouldn’t arrive until morning. And God help me, all I wanted was to go home, take a warm shower and curl up in bed—the best remedy for my tired muscles.

Maybe what she wants is to ruin me. I take a deep breath and then get up. The first place I’ll visit is her apartment. I’ll break into it if necessary to make sure that her things are gone. Then, I’ll go talk to Julius and see where we stand. Not knowing is driving me crazy, and I like to confront problems and get them done and over with. The drive to her apartment building takes me twenty damn minutes and that’s because of traffic. This is how life in the big cities are. Everyone has a fucking car and nobody is in tune with their nature anymore. Shit, I still remember a time when people would move around in wolf form.

The three pieces and the three weeks that had already started shrinking. “We finish it,” I said. Max drove. The upstate quiet gave way to the city’s edges. The buildings are beginning again. The city reassembling itself around us with no interest in what we were carrying back into it. I picked up my phone. Looked at it. Put it back in my pocket. Not yet, I thought. But soon.

For all I care. I stormed out, my feet carrying me as fast as I could. I needed to move quickly. I went into my car, moving as fast as could. I silently prayed I wouldn’t go into an accident, trying to save in. Shit. I fastened my seat belt, my legs jamming the break and I held on tightly to the steering. I drove as fast as I could. Shit, I didn’t ask where his accident had occurred. Wait, I had heard someone saying something like, “Let’s take him you the city hospital.” Yes. Yes. Yes. I pivoted to another street. It was swift as I finally made my way to the city hospital.

I think someone broke my car. "How did it happen? Please come in first." He also entered immediately. "Someone broke my car, I can't drive. The tire is broken." "Ohh .. there's no taxi here yet, maybe you've been trapped with the people here." "Who?" he asked. "Because when they see a car parked outside, they'll really make a deal. I'm really sorry ..." "What should I do? I have a meeting tomorrow morning." "Uhm, we'll just fix the case tonight."

'Fuck this,' I muttered under my breath, kicking at a loose pebble that skittered into the ditch. Another car zoomed past, tires hissing on the wet pavement. How many had it been? Ten? Twenty? My feet ached from pacing, and the chill was seeping into my bones. I needed to get back to the city, to my crappy apartment just off the main drag, but without money or a signal, hitchhiking was my only shot. Stupid, yeah, but what choice did I have?

Orlando and I had been together for ten years. I'd looked after his sick mom, sweating out a fever of my own, and where was he? Knocking back drinks with Rosalind, playing therapist to her broken heart. I swallowed my pride at work, getting chewed out by my boss, while he spent the night companying Rosalind because she had cramps. Then, when I got the news my mom had passed, I tried calling him, desperate for support. But nope—phone off. After a wild goose chase, turns out he was at Rosalind's graduation. That was it. I gave up. But Orlando wouldn't let go. Red-eyed, he begged me for just one more chance.

“Let’s take the shortcut to get to Debonaire City as quickly as possible.” Bucky grilled up more fish so that they would have enough food on the road. There would not be any markets on the shortcut. The group then departed. After traveling down the rocky road for some time, they spotted Debonaire City. Bucky seemed extra excited. “What a great idea, sir. We'll be entering the city soon, and Shaquille will be pissed. Haha!” However, he celebrated too early. When they were turning on a narrow road, they realized that the ground had split open. It was a significant pothole that was newly made and would be hard to fill in. The carriage carried many herbs, so they could not fly over it either.

Which, I supposed, they probably had. “Search mode,” Moe said, his voice barely above a whisper. The words were unnecessary; we were already moving. This was the dance. This was survival. We fanned out, our boots crunching on grit and broken glass. My heart was a frantic drum against my ribs, a rhythm of fear and a desperate, clawing hope. We needed a vehicle. The truck we’d been using had given its last sputter two miles back, its engine seizing with a final, pathetic death rattle that had left us stranded in this urban wasteland. On foot, we were prey. In a car, we had a chance.

The sound of the city felt distant as the car moved through less-traveled streets. Maddox drove silently, his gaze fixed on the road as if nothing else existed. Dax, sitting beside him, scrolled through his phone with an expression that shifted between concentration and annoyance. I sat in the back seat, staring out the window as the urban landscape transformed into more industrial and desolate areas.