I look over at my uncle. An old, worn out trucker cap sitting on his head, and a beard getting to long. Even for him. He's been to stressed to shave I guess. He never told me what was wrong, but I could see the sadness in the back of his eyes. His hands grip the wheel in this beaten down van, nervous about what happens next. Always thinking three hours ahead of the next minute.
We parked under a dulling streetlamp outside an old motel in in the middle of Mason City, Iowa. I turn my head towards the window and spot a dark 1967 Chevy Impala. The whole damn reason we are here and not doing our job. I look back to the driver's seat. It looks as if he has no intention of moving, but he's debating that he has to.
Pulling on a strand of my chestnut hair, examining the slip ends, I let out a long sigh. Uncle looks over at me. Those sad eyes, now with irritation in them, in slits. "Are we gonna do this or not?" I ask. "'Cause we, and I mean myself when I say this, don't have all day to sit here and think about some no-name guys are gonna think of me." His eyes move away from me and look at a room door from the side mirror.
"Yeah yeah. I know. I just don't want them to flip and be all mad." He whispers. I snort and kick my feet up on the dash. The sky is dark enough for me to fall asleep right here. Closing my eyes, I don't look over at him as I speak.
"Why would they be mad? If you know them as much as you say you do, then they should be carrying me in right now." Uncle grumbles and mutters something under his breath. I take my feet down and turn to face him clearly. "Look, you know they aren't working a case, and their angel buddy is probably in there. Now's a good a time as any."
He nods his head and starts to open his door. I jump out of mine and quickly jog over to help him in his wheelchair. He never did tell me who did this to him, and when I find out who, they are as good as dead.
After I know he is okay, I walk over to the side door and grab my small assortment of things. A worn backpack full of some clothes, my cell phone, a laptop, and a few personal items. Swinging it on my back I grab the other duffle full of my hunting gear and fake IDs.
We walk, (well, I walk and he rolls) up to the door of room 26. I lean against the wall, out of line of sight for whoever opens the door. I bite my lip and look between the open rode and my only family left. I should leave and be out doing my job. It wouldn't be hard to run and not look back. I go over pros and cons of each option in my head, but it's decided for mw when the door opens and a warm voice speaks.
"Hey Bobby," it says letting my Uncle roll in. I wait until he starts to close the door before sticking out my booted foot, not allowing the door to close.
I step into the light and speak to my Uncle, not the surprising tall guy standing in front of me. "Forgetting something?" I ask. I hear giant reach back and the click of a gun's safety turning off. I slightly turn my head to meet a barrel inches away from my face. I raise one tiny eyebrow and climb up the arms holding the gun to meet a pair of brown eyes staring me down. I cluck my tongue and shake my head. "A little help here?"
Uncle turns his chair around and sighs behind what seemed like a small chuckle. "Come on boy. Be nice and let the lady in." Giant works his jaw and widens those brown pearls a bit before lowering the gun and opening the door. As soon as I am in, he looks across the parking lot , closes the it and locks all the bolts.
After tossing my bags on one of the small beds in the room, I turn and curtsy. "Thank you kind sir." I say as he walks over to Uncle while another boy near him sizes me up and down. This one is taller than me but shorter than what I assume is his brother. Both boys have dark brown hair, but while Giant's is brushed back long almost to his shoulder's, this one's is buzzed down and spiked up. Both guys seem to have the weight of the world on their shoulder's, yet neither can be over 35.
I turn and sit on the bed with my things. I look over to see another man sitting on the one adjacent. For sitting in a hotel room, he is wearing a long trench coat and blue tie. He seems to be paying attention to nothing in this room, but something very interesting in his head. Must be the angel, I think.
I look back to group when I hear the mumbling of questions stop. I meet three pairs of intense eyes. Standing up with a sigh, I place a hand on my hip smirking, "Ya'll getting a good look? Or ya need me to do a little spin?" Giant works his jaw again his eyes soften, showing almost the same sadness behind them as Uncle's. Buzz cut lifts one side of his mouth sarcastically. Rolling my eyes, I slide them over to my uncle. "You gonna tell me what they were asking you?" Uncle Bobby opens his mouth to speak, but before a word can get out Buzz steps up.
"Oh, nothing really. Just asking who the hell you are and what you are doing here?" His voice is lower than Giant's, and filled with a lot more sarcasm. I like him. I smirk and step forward until I'm about under his chin. He looks down at me.
"Don't worry buddy. I'm not even completely sure why I am here. But the name's Kira and I am here because I was told to be here." I break eye contact and look at my dirty nails.
I'm shocked when Giant speaks up next, "And who exactly told you to be here?" His voice is softer but still has a deep pain behind it. What happened to these guys that makes them so god damned depressed. Hunting is sad, but not that sad.
"You don't know who I am?" I ask, almost laughing.
"Not a damn clue miss," Buzz says. I look over to Uncle. He is looking down at his lap avoiding my stare.
Shaking my head and crossing my arms over my chest I speak, "My Uncle told me to be here. The full name is Kassandra Carol Singer." I smirk watching their heads spin back. I push the hair out of my face and sit on the bed again. "Nice to meet you too."
