Unknotted

Bruce and the Parking Lot

Georgie

“Are you sure about this?” Peth was leaning against the side of the portal capsule. She had her purple hair in a high ponytail and wore low-rise jeans and sleeveless crop top that exposed her defined muscles. The portal’s white light streaked the colorful lightning surrounded us. “I mean, you just woke up from whatever that dude injected you with. Who was he anyway? I bet when his face isn’t half smashed in, he’s pretty cute.”

“He’s definitely not.” I paced from the doors to where Jik sat and back again.

My armor and toolbelt were packed in a backpack. I had changed into inconspicuous street clothes. We’d had to wait two tide cycles at our departing station until the portal connected with the right station. Two cycles later, and we were traveling back to Lothny Creek. This mission was proving more complicated than intended. In less than a day and a half I had to retreat three times. Each time leaving with little to show for the risks I had taken. Under my breath, I cursed Whiskers and his possie for being in my way. For Stones not giving up the information I needed.

“That dude is the representative from Ruani,” I said. “It’s best we avoid him from here on out.”

“Best way to avoid someone is to lay low for a while. Let Jik and I bring your truck to you.”

“We need transportation and tools if we have any hope of sneaking into the Keadan ultras’ Den to gather information on the shipment.” My stomach twisted; how much time did those hybrids have before they were sold on the market? Saving them would be near impossible once they left the hemisphere.

But I would have been a liar to say some of my nerves weren’t from the prospect of returning for Bruce and to the parking lot where Whiskers had nearly killed me. I just wasn’t willing to let that stop me from doing what I needed to do. “No offense, Peth, but I wouldn’t trust you driving Bruce. And certainly not Jik.”

“What?” Jik exclaimed. “I’m an excellent driver.” His hair was slicked upright on his head, and he wore his usual work attire: dark gray jumpsuit covered in stains. When he wasn’t working, he was a slick dresser, but he wasn’t about to wear his finer stuff while wiggling through Bruce’s engine. If we couldn’t find Bruce’s keys, which I stupidly had dropped during the squabble with Whiskers, I would need Jik to start the engine.

“I’m sure you’re great,” I said. “I’m just grateful for your help.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Peth smiled, then it twisted into something coy. “Wanna know what I think?”

“When you look at me with that grin, I doubt I do.”

Peth continued anyway, sauntering toward me. All creepy like. “I think the reason you won’t go to Helt is because you want to see Whiskers again.”

That was so unfunny that I couldn’t hold back a confused bubble of laughter. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I think he’s softening you up. Sure”—she shrugged—“your first meeting didn’t go well.”

I crossed my arms. “That’s an understatement.”

“But he saved you.” She sighed, hugging herself and twirling like some lady in a ball gown. “That guy from Ruani was going to take you, claim you as his own, but then Whiskers transformed into his beasts form and stood over you. The way he declared you his…” Another dramatic sigh.

“Sounds real romantic,” I grumbled as the capsule docked in the terminal. “Having an absolute stranger claim me as his property. It’s what every girl dreams about.”

“I think he’s trying, Georgie. You should give him a shot. I bet there’s more under his hard, delicious, muscular exterior.”

“I blame R.F. Letcher for your twisted perception of what romance is.” I pulled my ball cap down low as we strode out of the capsule and toward the terminal’s exit. We passed terminal four, which was blocked off. Every traveler that passed it, including me, gawked at the cracked capsule and the smashed terminal booth. I had been too fixated on his enraged snarl to note the extensive damage Whiskers had caused. Hopefully that lunatic had to pay for the mess he created.

Lothny Creek was a small border town trapped in constant warfare. Had it not been for the portal, there likely wouldn’t be anyone left in the area but soldiers. As it was, we were lucky to catch a cab that took us to a park near the town’s center. When no one was looking, we cut through a thicket of trees that backed Chubby’s Burgers and crouched in the line of trees out of view. Bruce sat in the lot, looking forlorn and in need of a polishing.

“Let’s make this quick.” I downed a disguising potion to change myself into a plain, blond hybrid. “In and out.”

“That’s what she said.” Jik bumped his elbow against Peth’s thigh and waggled his eyebrows.

She jerked away and swallowed another disguising potion, changing into a troll with vibrant red hair, longer legs, and a wider nose. “Women aren’t attracted to crudeness, Jik.”

“Crude? It’s natural instinct, dumpling.”

“Anyway,” I interjected. Peth and Jik could fire rounds all day if I let them. “Follow me.”

Instead of entering the parking lot directly, I led Peth and Jik to a neighboring gas station and convenience store and scouted the restaurant. Only a few cars belonging to the breakfast crowd were in the lot. I saw a lot of old hybrids, but not a sign of Whiskers or his cronies.

“Ready?” I asked.

Peth sauntered across the parking lot of the gas station through the diner’s front doors.

I turned to Jik and held out my hand. He sighed. “Don’t put me in your pocket, okay?”

“But it’s so cute you can fit in it.” I smiled, and he glared before jumping into the air, shrinking to the size of a thimble, and landing in my palm. I started strolling toward Bruce, and Jik stumbled all over my palm. “Are you sure you don’t want to ride in my pocket? It might be a smoother ride.”

“Sorry, Georgie. We’ve gone over this. Your pockets are too small for my liking. Now Peth…” He winked. “She can put me in her pocket anytime.”

I raised my hand so I could meet Jik’s eye. “First, ew. Second, you and Peth—it’s never going to happen.”

He laid down on my palm, relaxing all swanky like on his elbow. “You shouldn’t doubt what’s meant to be.”

I cringed. “Destinies are written in sand. Easily washed away and rewritten.”

(Chapter concludes in part 2)