On Java Road Novels & Stories

I lowered my gaze to the new studio contract on the table. The address was in the south of the city, by the river, a place where fog gathered more often than not. "I've paid my share too." … On opening day, Tristan came. He did not come inside. He only stood across the street, holding a paper bag. "Do you want to go over?" Wyatt asked. I shook my head. Not long after, the front desk brought up a package. Inside was the repaired fog lamp, and the line "Come home when the fog clears" on the base had been re-engraved.

Stay with me Lana pov The driver executed a rapid turn into an unfamiliar main road. Frankly, I was unaware of the street we were entering. "Where are you taking me?" I inquired of Jenkin, who merely responded with a smile. "Ma'am Lana, this is an alternative route to the office, as the main road is currently under reconstruction," he explained, his attention primarily directed at the rearview mirror. Suddenly, he faltered as I heard a loud crash followed by a scream from the front. "What on earth just happened?" I shouted, my eyes wide with disbelief, but he remained silent.

Jake told his driver, who was busy driving. Strangely, usually when invited to chat, the driver would respond immediately and politely. Or he would simply make small talk to please his boss. But this time, the driver remained silent. Even the driver's cap he was wearing seemed to cover part of his face, causing Jake to frown in surprise. His confusion deepened when the driver suddenly steered the car onto a road he shouldn't have taken. Heading down a dark, poorly lit road, a road commonly referred to as a criminal's road due to the numerous robberies and other crimes that occur there.

Welcome to Jolly Road. Raverine read the huge and torn billboard on top of an under-construction building. Rustic beauty and some vintage aesthetic would be its description for tourists, but eerie and deadly for someone who lives for a long time near this road. It’s the road of the dead, mourning souls, and a hideout of evil. Raverine parked his car beside a street light that emits a flickering, low light. He turned off the engine of his car and examined the sidewalks. Raverine looked for his gun underneath his car's passenger seat and tucked it into the right side of his jeans.

He leaned in close, his own voice a low grown. “You’re taking the wrong route. Now, turn around and re-enter the interstate. Now.” The driver cracked a smile, the thin line of it gleaming like steel. “This is a new route, sir. A shortcut. Sorry, it's Solana’s orders. And the traffic’s hell on the main drag.” Rune’s hand shot out to the seatback, knuckles turning white. “Bullshit. I know these roads. Stop the car now!”

I was in the records room when Gareth appeared in the doorway with the afternoon intelligence summary. He handed it to me without ceremony, which meant he had already decided I should see it at the same time as Kael. I read it. The forty riders on the eastern road had shifted position again. Still not advancing. Still within their legal authorization window. But the southern approach and the eastern approach were now both under their coverage. Two roads blocked. The northern route was still clear. But it was the only route left. I set the summary on the table and thought about a wolf who had glanced at the tree line on yesterday's northern road. Probably nothing.

The car, black and quiet with dark glass, moved along the rotting industrial edge of Newark like a shark moving through fouled water. It had been an abrupt change from Manhattan's shining canyons to this landscape of chain-link fencing, graffiti-covered warehouses, and the hollow, echoing quiet of abandoned industry. Jonah rode it all, a tight ball tightening in his stomach.

“Damn it!” I dropped my head to the steering wheel and took a minute to feel sorry for myself as I imagined the six-o’clock news headline, “Young woman murdered after car breaks down in sketchy area of Portland. It’s surprising since she comes from law-enforcement royalty. Another statistic? It certainly looks that way.”

Jonas stepped inside, closing the door behind him. His expression was tight. And in his hand was a small black flash drive. “We’ve got it,” he said. My eyes locked onto the drive. “This is the footage?” I asked, my voice lower than I intended. “Yes. Eastern road,” he replied. “The quality’s rough, but… it’s something.” Something was better than nothing. “Put it in.” Jonas moved quickly, crossing the room to the system mounted beside my desk. He placed in the flash drive and the screen came to life at once.

She suddenly looked up at the giant screen. "Mason!" she cried out, her voice trembling. Then she drove away at full speed. No one dared stop the car. Joanna pressed the gas to the floor and reached the studio as fast as she could. By then, the studio had already been surrounded by police. Joanna tried to rush inside but was stopped. "Ma'am, this is the scene of a death. You cannot enter." Joanna was about to lose her temper, but one sentence from the housekeeper drenched her in ice.