Plot: He just wanted to get away for a few months but things were not happening as he liked it. The impossible happened & plans seemed to go his way….and then not. Really not. Way not his way. What is he going to do?

Warning: If you're sensitive about the word 'fuck', 'shit', 'asshole', 'motherfucker' or any profanity better walk away since I'm going to use them liberally.

Note: Pedro Pascal is my inspiration to write this story. I read it in his voice!

HIDING PLACE FROM HELL

CHAPTER 7

Slowly…I slide my palm on the quilt. Once I got it about as high as my chest I took a deep breath. This is not how I wanted it to end.

Sorry, cannonball…

Now!

I flattened my right palm on the bed and pushed hard and in a sudden turn I got my left arm out of her grip. The bed bounced like crazy but it got me off the queen-size monstrosity.

Thank you!

You know what's insane? Before I pushed her off of my back I was thinking how to do this without getting her hurt. Where would she land? How high would she fall?

Distance! Get away from the cannonball!

I think the word for what I did was 'skitter' like crazy on that parquet floor. I felt and looked like a small animal running away from danger. I reached the corner and then I couldn't go any further. Shit! That didn't seem to be that far enough! Turn round! Goddamn it!

My back hit the wall hard when I twisted around. My hands were out, eyes wildly alert, back against the wall, bracing for another attack…

Where the hell is she?! Where?

There!

Good! She's way over the other side of the room. But damn it! She's at the door. Double damn! These rooms are big! She stands behind the ottoman and unlike me she looked more calm and composed albeit a little mussed up.

Well, duh! Why wouldn't she? She's like a fucking mini-Terminator!

My machismo had never felt so bruised at this point. She's what, about 157 give and take plus centimeters barefoot to my 180 plus centimeters? How'd she got to flip me over and hold me down? She just about cleared past my nipples!

"I…I can explain…I wasn't going to do anything to you, okay?"

"Sure." She smirked. "You said so."

Oh, sarcasm! "Let me explain, alright?" I keep my eyes on her. Despite our size difference, I had the feeling that I'm the mouse and she's the cat. Not a good feeling at all. "That was the next plan…to bring you to a hospital." I gulped as she put one foot up the ottoman. "But if I know you didn't have a concussion…ah, that's a head injury…"

"I know what it is." Sarcastic or not thank goodness she has impeccable English.

"Okay…" I lowered my hands. I hope she doesn't attack me again. Goddamn! What the hell? I winced as I bent my elbow. "I was going to check if you have a concussion…" I gave the lens case on the table a slight nod.

"And I'm wearing contacts." She said. Is that a nod of understanding?

I cursed myself from getting startled when she sat in the ottoman and with a sigh leaned back to the wall. She looked relaxed but I would not even dare rush at her. No way. I put some distance between her and me; I was between the bathroom door and the bed. Not much choice.

"Occam's Razor*." She shrugged.

"Uh.." I grimaced as I massaged my distressed left arm. "what?"

"Nothing." She shook her head. "Thanks. You got me home."

"Uh," I'm still wary of her, "you're welcome."

"What's your full name?"

"John Peters."

She tilts her head, "So, where are you from, John Peters?"

"I'm from Texas." She narrowed her eyes at me. Uh-oh…what now? She's switching tactics? I could hear that brain working.

"Okay." She shrugged. "Where in Texas?" I told her. "Hm, you sound more like my friend from California."

"I grew up in California but actually, I'm originally from South America in…" I told her.

"Hm, interesting." She got up from the ottoman and I tried very hard not to tense. I hold my breath when she got near but she went to the bedside table where her I put her lens case. "Where did you find it?"

"In there," I pointed.

"One moment," she took the case and all and went to the other room, bare feet quiet on the dark flooring.

She just left me here? Alone? I think this time my jaw really dropped, literally. Is she fearless or crazy? I looked at the door and I could hear the sound of water and movement in the bathroom. Should I go for it? I think the front door is open and my bags are by the door. Did I lock the gate?

"Where do you want it?" she asked as she breezed back inside, the white lens case in her right palm. She went to the ottoman and with a foot pushed it towards the side table…near me.

What the…? "Uh…excuse me?" I was still gaping at how precise that shove was and she's already sitting in it. I looked away almost belatedly as she plucked the colored contacts from her eyes.

"The concussion exam," she rubbed her eyes with her knuckles after she got both lenses soaking in the solution.

"Oh!" I moved slowly. "Hm, I think that's the best place." I raised surprised brows when she said 'fuck' under her breath. "What now?"

"I forgot to bring a flashlight." She gestured to the other room.

"I got it. I've a flashlight." I fished my phone from my front pocket, "Wow, look at that. You managed not to damage my phone." I smirked but she just shrugged. As I made my way to her she squinted at me. "You're nearsighted, aren't you?"

"Yeah," she jerked when our knees touched.

"Sorry…" But she just gestured 'okay.' I turned my iPhone on and tapped the flashlight icon. "Hm, okay...look up, please." But she's already done that as soon as the light came on.

"The simplest explanation is usually the right one..."

I frowned and paused as she looked at me with such a steady gaze. Gods…our faces were just inches from each other. I refuse to gulp to ease the dryness of my throat. "Uh…what?"

"Occam's Razor… the simplest explanation is usually the right one. Deductive reasoning." her warm breath brushes my cheek. It sent a slight ripple of goosebumps to my arms and my belly. I got the scent of citrus from her soap and another fresh scent that I couldn't place.

"Oh. You're talking about my story?" I held the phone firmly, my thumb going a little white from the grip; she didn't blink as I passed the light over her eyes that were as dark as mine. "Uh, my own deductive reasoning." I felt relieved her pupils reacted well to the light. "Right. I think you're okay." I sighed in relief.

"Hey, you have a call," she nodded at my phone, a brow raised, "from Hell." She smirked when she read the call address.

I jerked the phone away from her face. My laugh sounded so fake to my ears. "Just an annoying co-worker." I shrugged indifferently as I turned the phone off again. Damn it! I forgot!

"Wow, I hate to know what name you give your enemies." She snorted at my lack of reply, "On with the concussion check-up. Ask me a question," she pointed casually, brow raised.

"Okay, good idea…what day is it today?"

"It's March 9…" her voice faded and there was a fleeting expression in her deep brown eyes that was quickly gone.

"Good. No amnesia." I slightly looked away as she dip a finger into the liquid of the lens case fishing one of the light brown lens.

"Would be great if I get amnesia," She murmured.

"What?"

"Nothing." she gave her eyes a few quick blinks to set the contacts. "I said yes, I feel okay,"

"Uh-huh. But you still need to have a checkup."

"Are you a doctor or something?" Her eyes look at my face, as if memorizing it.

"Uh me?" I shrugged as I run my hand through my hair. "No, my sister is. I was her favorite guinea pig when she was in med school."

She huffed a short amused snort. "And what do you do?"

God damn…you be careful now. "I'm a…location manager."

"What's that?"

"Logistics, moving things." That's good. Not too much not too little. She's no simple….no, not simple. This is no ordinary chick.

"Such as?"

"We move anything; equipment, furniture, clothes…all." Yeah, sounds about right.

"Sounds like a busy job."

"Yeah, it has its moments." I shrugged. "What's that?" I heard a chime somewhere in the house.

"It's the intercom." She got up. "Come with me." I felt relieved to be out of that room. At the end of the hall, she stopped at a long wooden chair that has the phone and the Wi-fi modem on it. The white intercom is hooked on the wall above the phone; there's a button on its handle flashing red. "Help yourself to any drink in the fridge." She points to her left.

"Thanks," I said as she took the call.

I head to the kitchen, which is also quite large. Instead of getting ice tea or soda from the fridge I opted for some cold water from the water dispenser beside it. I downed one glass very quickly and took my refill out to the hall.

"When?" She's still on the intercom writing fast on a notepad. She stopped and listened, pen in hand poised on paper. "All? As in, all over?" she shook her head. Was she shaking a little? "Yes. Okay. What?" then she looked at me. She continued to look at me all the while listening to somebody on the intercom. "Uh, yes..." I frowned when she switched to local language. I find the language easy on the ears, not strident or hard to pronounce and amazingly, I could hear some Spanish words here and there!

"Something wrong?" She looked a little shocked as she slowly returned the phone on the wall. "Is everything okay?"

"It's the subdivision official. They said we're on a lockdown…"

"What? What lockdown?"

Her face was suddenly pale. "You know about the Covid-19 virus, right?" She rubbed both hands on her face.

I shrugged. "Yeah, who doesn't."

"She said we are now on quarantine."

"Us here," I gestured with my glass of water. "or the whole village?"

"No. Not just the subdivision." Her voice shook a little. "The whole country."

-o-0-o-)O(-o-0-o-

Author's Note:

*I didn't write the prompt up on top to avoid spoiling it but yes, this story happened on the day (March 9, 2020) of the Covid-19 lockdown in my country, the Philippines.

*Occam's razor, Ockham's razor, Ocham's razor (Latin: novacula Occami) - the simplest explanation is usually the right one.