Hey everybody glad to hear this fic doesn't suck so far! And as a result I've produced another chapter, nothing much to say about it...so just read, review, and enjoy!
LostMuse13: No really! I didn't get the (for the love of god read and review my story) vibe from you!! Haha. Sorry I swear I will actually take the time to read your fic...and maybe review...but only if you stop leaving me those scary reviews! Just kidding! Everybody needs a physco reviewer every now and again!
Whisky lullaby: (Being squished by your hugs and squeals of joy) Thanks for your kind comments!
Leen713: always great to hear from you...I always look forward to your pleasant (and saner) reviews. Please keep them coming! I love hearing from you!
XVXVXVXV
There's something about losing your head inside a car that really seems to clear it up. It was like the combined scents of oil and rust just took over your senses, and without realizing it you became addicted to the task at hand: fixing the unidentified problem.
Toad relived this routine on a daily basis. The small auto body shop known only in the area as "Dylan's" was almost a quaint building with about a half a dozen employees. Toad just happened to be one of those employees. The work was gritty but he without a doubt was one of the best mechanics Dylan had to offer and (despite his antisocial nature) no one could really argue with his expertise.
He had been working there for well over a year and a half, but still he was the newest addition to the group so he often found himself being the butt of every practical joke that came within thought of his coworkers. He didn't mind it so much, if he didn't constantly remind himself that his "watch" needed to remain in place at all times he would of almost believe he belonged with the crowd. Often he laughed and joked with the best of them, and much to Dylan's disapproval even participated in the scheming of a few practical jokes himself. He was happy there. And even though he never sought to have any customer interaction himself, the small circle was probably the closest thing he had to "friends" since his naive years before the orphanage.
Still, there were times when he felt just slightly left out from most interaction. Because despite all the jokes that littered across the pavement, the fact was that almost every guy there was a softy.
Take for example Johnny: the dark-skinned rebel who often showed up late for his starting hour. He would make up excuses, throw out lines about not being able to get his latest squeeze out of his bed and for the most part everyone chuckled and laughed right along side of him. Never once had anyone actually revealed the all knowing truth about his high-school sweet heart and their three kids. The same applied for Phil, who would come by, one of his jumpsuits covered in dried oatmeal, bags placed firmly under his eyes proof of his son's "terrible two's phase"
It seemed logical that when all knew each other somewhat well. Toad however went around only being known as "Mort", and kept any past, present, and future thoughts to himself. Being mysterious was just part of his personality to the guys, and he was grateful they accepted it as quickly as the concept sank in.
Mort rolled out from under the gurney that held him. He took a deep breath of the air that filtered through his lungs and sighed. He lifted his neck slightly to take a look at the clock nearby. It was well into the evening hours now, and just about everybody had gone home in a hurry to avoid the storm that was supposedly on it's way.
Everybody always complained about the inconvenience of hurricane season. Although the area he resided in rarely got hit heavy with serious storms, they did experience their fair share of rain and wind. Nothing more than a few lost shingles in damage mind you, still it was enough to occasionally flood the local creeks and streams and cause some annoyed behavior from communities.
He remained still on the mobile gurney and sniffed the air thoughtfully. Yes, he decided it was going to rain...
He smiled and traced a faint memory on the inside of his brain...a blissful blonde dancing in the shallow rain of fall, smiling at him from the distance... He shook himself suddenly and threw the red rag he held in his hands; rubbing the indents of his face with his stained fingers.
...He couldn't go back. He knew he couldn't. Everyone thought he was dead...including her. Things had to stay that way. He briefly recalled the look of fear on her face during their last ordeal together...No, he couldn't risk her like that again. The first few months of his recovery had been slow and painful, physical therapy was a necessity and took every fiber of patience he had in him. The agony of the infected burns kept him awake at nights, along with nightmares of sincere prevision. But he had enemies and they couldn't hurt him that badly if she was alive...if she was OK.
He arose from his spot and began his usual pace that he had become so accustomed to. He stopped at the sight of darkened skies from the windows above. He traced the webs of his fingers over the places of his shirt where the massive scars would lye. Reminding him that not all scars are meant to be healed.
VXVXVX
Rain.
Eva could smell it in the air. In fact she could even smell the particular scent through the think windows of her car. She enjoyed the smell...it brought back pleasant memories. But she didn't have time to think about memories now.
She looked at her mangled map with a clearly annoyed expression and sneered. Where in the hell was she anyway? Her eyes scanned the side of the road, desperate for the sight of road signs in the distance.
There were none.
It figures it would be a Friday night, right around the time she was getting ready to go home, had a dinner date with Michael, and was desperate for an evening to herself...but no instead it was nearly six o'clock when she got a call from her Agency director, Sheila, who absolutely insisted that she assist her in the custody proclaiming for a seven year old boy who neighbors had spotted being whipped, and handcuffed to the back end of a toilet for two days straight.
How was she suppose to say, "no sorry Sheila, I have other plans..." ?
She sighed in a frustrated nature at the memory. Remembering only the disappointed tone in Michael's voice when she had to cancel. And now as hunger pains filtered through her, she regretted not bring a snack on the road trip.
The road continued on and drove on to the point of no where. She felt alone on the empty stretch of highway, and she instantly questioned her sense of direction.
"Oh crap...now where in the hell is that turn..." She didn't get to finish her sentence however before a thick black smoke erupted from the jet of her car sending her engine sputtering and making other pathetic noises. Eva's eyes widened but she couldn't see much due to the darkness that fell more than an hour ago. She forced the disobedient wheel to the side and soon found herself slowing to an immediate stop, but without actually hitting the breaks.
She rested her head on the wheel.
"No, no, no, on!" She shouted at the car who was obviously not listening as it continued to remain still. Eva continued to remain seated and frowned deeply. She glanced over to the cell phone on the passenger side along with a resident phone book, and her stacks upon stacks of paperwork.
XVXVXVXV
As Mort entered the office he instantly could sense the isolated feeling that came with entering the shop at this kind of hour. He glanced at the clock, and it indeed confirmed that it had been an 16 hour day. But truth be told he didn't care much, and if there was anything else to do he would of gladly-
He stopped dead in his tracks and paced back by about three steps.
It wasn't anything important...
Just the front page section of the Local newspaper... He grabbed the corners by their edges making up excuses in his head...it can't be her...can it?
That face, those eyes! He knew that smile...he saw it every night in his dreams.
That was Eva Johnson and as he read the article below he was convinced.
He sat down in a near by chair never taking his eyes off the magnetic picture in front of him. My God she was beautiful. Her eyes were particularly closed but there was nothing by light in her face as she was being kissed on both cheeks by two different kids. She was a social worker, going to collage, doing some good in the world. He wasn't surprised. What he did finally notice was the unique layers in which her hair was cut, the soft tumble of her shoulders in the blouse she wore...
Oh yeah, she was more than beautiful.
But as he read on, the last line caught his eye.
Engaged?
She was engaged? He exhaled deeply as the article ended. He hadn't realized he was holding his breath, but suddenly there wasn't enough oxygen in the room even if he had been breathing properly. The room had grown dark, he couldn't swallow, his entrails stopped performing their natural duties, and every nerve in his body went numb for a split second...
But then the phone rang.
He probably hadn't even heard it the first time. In fact he knew he hadn't, because about twenty seconds later he heard the grumbling footsteps of Dylan. Mort recognized the sound of his jacket being put on as he answered.
"What?" He nearly grumbled over the phone.
Mort didn't hear anything else. He just feared the action of blinking, because she might disappear if he moved in anyway...
"Hey! You in there or what?" Called Dylan as he flicked Mort upside the head before snapping his fingers in front of his face.
"Wo! Mort! I need a favor..."
"What?" Asked Mort in his thick British accent, not used to being that irritable with his boss but he was angry for being disrupted by his employer. He glanced at Dylan from the corner of his eye, he looked as though he was about to say something, but a tiered visual hit him and Toad saw an instant sleepiness in his eyes.
"Some piece of crap car stuck out on I-65, need someone out there with the toe so we can have a look at it. With the storm and all...hey you alright?"
Toad realized the dreamy look that must of remained on his face. He managed a smile and put down the paper with a shaky hand.
"Yeah...I'll get it..."
VXVXVX
And what comes next???? Stay tuned to find out!
LostMuse13: No really! I didn't get the (for the love of god read and review my story) vibe from you!! Haha. Sorry I swear I will actually take the time to read your fic...and maybe review...but only if you stop leaving me those scary reviews! Just kidding! Everybody needs a physco reviewer every now and again!
Whisky lullaby: (Being squished by your hugs and squeals of joy) Thanks for your kind comments!
Leen713: always great to hear from you...I always look forward to your pleasant (and saner) reviews. Please keep them coming! I love hearing from you!
XVXVXVXV
There's something about losing your head inside a car that really seems to clear it up. It was like the combined scents of oil and rust just took over your senses, and without realizing it you became addicted to the task at hand: fixing the unidentified problem.
Toad relived this routine on a daily basis. The small auto body shop known only in the area as "Dylan's" was almost a quaint building with about a half a dozen employees. Toad just happened to be one of those employees. The work was gritty but he without a doubt was one of the best mechanics Dylan had to offer and (despite his antisocial nature) no one could really argue with his expertise.
He had been working there for well over a year and a half, but still he was the newest addition to the group so he often found himself being the butt of every practical joke that came within thought of his coworkers. He didn't mind it so much, if he didn't constantly remind himself that his "watch" needed to remain in place at all times he would of almost believe he belonged with the crowd. Often he laughed and joked with the best of them, and much to Dylan's disapproval even participated in the scheming of a few practical jokes himself. He was happy there. And even though he never sought to have any customer interaction himself, the small circle was probably the closest thing he had to "friends" since his naive years before the orphanage.
Still, there were times when he felt just slightly left out from most interaction. Because despite all the jokes that littered across the pavement, the fact was that almost every guy there was a softy.
Take for example Johnny: the dark-skinned rebel who often showed up late for his starting hour. He would make up excuses, throw out lines about not being able to get his latest squeeze out of his bed and for the most part everyone chuckled and laughed right along side of him. Never once had anyone actually revealed the all knowing truth about his high-school sweet heart and their three kids. The same applied for Phil, who would come by, one of his jumpsuits covered in dried oatmeal, bags placed firmly under his eyes proof of his son's "terrible two's phase"
It seemed logical that when all knew each other somewhat well. Toad however went around only being known as "Mort", and kept any past, present, and future thoughts to himself. Being mysterious was just part of his personality to the guys, and he was grateful they accepted it as quickly as the concept sank in.
Mort rolled out from under the gurney that held him. He took a deep breath of the air that filtered through his lungs and sighed. He lifted his neck slightly to take a look at the clock nearby. It was well into the evening hours now, and just about everybody had gone home in a hurry to avoid the storm that was supposedly on it's way.
Everybody always complained about the inconvenience of hurricane season. Although the area he resided in rarely got hit heavy with serious storms, they did experience their fair share of rain and wind. Nothing more than a few lost shingles in damage mind you, still it was enough to occasionally flood the local creeks and streams and cause some annoyed behavior from communities.
He remained still on the mobile gurney and sniffed the air thoughtfully. Yes, he decided it was going to rain...
He smiled and traced a faint memory on the inside of his brain...a blissful blonde dancing in the shallow rain of fall, smiling at him from the distance... He shook himself suddenly and threw the red rag he held in his hands; rubbing the indents of his face with his stained fingers.
...He couldn't go back. He knew he couldn't. Everyone thought he was dead...including her. Things had to stay that way. He briefly recalled the look of fear on her face during their last ordeal together...No, he couldn't risk her like that again. The first few months of his recovery had been slow and painful, physical therapy was a necessity and took every fiber of patience he had in him. The agony of the infected burns kept him awake at nights, along with nightmares of sincere prevision. But he had enemies and they couldn't hurt him that badly if she was alive...if she was OK.
He arose from his spot and began his usual pace that he had become so accustomed to. He stopped at the sight of darkened skies from the windows above. He traced the webs of his fingers over the places of his shirt where the massive scars would lye. Reminding him that not all scars are meant to be healed.
VXVXVX
Rain.
Eva could smell it in the air. In fact she could even smell the particular scent through the think windows of her car. She enjoyed the smell...it brought back pleasant memories. But she didn't have time to think about memories now.
She looked at her mangled map with a clearly annoyed expression and sneered. Where in the hell was she anyway? Her eyes scanned the side of the road, desperate for the sight of road signs in the distance.
There were none.
It figures it would be a Friday night, right around the time she was getting ready to go home, had a dinner date with Michael, and was desperate for an evening to herself...but no instead it was nearly six o'clock when she got a call from her Agency director, Sheila, who absolutely insisted that she assist her in the custody proclaiming for a seven year old boy who neighbors had spotted being whipped, and handcuffed to the back end of a toilet for two days straight.
How was she suppose to say, "no sorry Sheila, I have other plans..." ?
She sighed in a frustrated nature at the memory. Remembering only the disappointed tone in Michael's voice when she had to cancel. And now as hunger pains filtered through her, she regretted not bring a snack on the road trip.
The road continued on and drove on to the point of no where. She felt alone on the empty stretch of highway, and she instantly questioned her sense of direction.
"Oh crap...now where in the hell is that turn..." She didn't get to finish her sentence however before a thick black smoke erupted from the jet of her car sending her engine sputtering and making other pathetic noises. Eva's eyes widened but she couldn't see much due to the darkness that fell more than an hour ago. She forced the disobedient wheel to the side and soon found herself slowing to an immediate stop, but without actually hitting the breaks.
She rested her head on the wheel.
"No, no, no, on!" She shouted at the car who was obviously not listening as it continued to remain still. Eva continued to remain seated and frowned deeply. She glanced over to the cell phone on the passenger side along with a resident phone book, and her stacks upon stacks of paperwork.
XVXVXVXV
As Mort entered the office he instantly could sense the isolated feeling that came with entering the shop at this kind of hour. He glanced at the clock, and it indeed confirmed that it had been an 16 hour day. But truth be told he didn't care much, and if there was anything else to do he would of gladly-
He stopped dead in his tracks and paced back by about three steps.
It wasn't anything important...
Just the front page section of the Local newspaper... He grabbed the corners by their edges making up excuses in his head...it can't be her...can it?
That face, those eyes! He knew that smile...he saw it every night in his dreams.
That was Eva Johnson and as he read the article below he was convinced.
He sat down in a near by chair never taking his eyes off the magnetic picture in front of him. My God she was beautiful. Her eyes were particularly closed but there was nothing by light in her face as she was being kissed on both cheeks by two different kids. She was a social worker, going to collage, doing some good in the world. He wasn't surprised. What he did finally notice was the unique layers in which her hair was cut, the soft tumble of her shoulders in the blouse she wore...
Oh yeah, she was more than beautiful.
But as he read on, the last line caught his eye.
Engaged?
She was engaged? He exhaled deeply as the article ended. He hadn't realized he was holding his breath, but suddenly there wasn't enough oxygen in the room even if he had been breathing properly. The room had grown dark, he couldn't swallow, his entrails stopped performing their natural duties, and every nerve in his body went numb for a split second...
But then the phone rang.
He probably hadn't even heard it the first time. In fact he knew he hadn't, because about twenty seconds later he heard the grumbling footsteps of Dylan. Mort recognized the sound of his jacket being put on as he answered.
"What?" He nearly grumbled over the phone.
Mort didn't hear anything else. He just feared the action of blinking, because she might disappear if he moved in anyway...
"Hey! You in there or what?" Called Dylan as he flicked Mort upside the head before snapping his fingers in front of his face.
"Wo! Mort! I need a favor..."
"What?" Asked Mort in his thick British accent, not used to being that irritable with his boss but he was angry for being disrupted by his employer. He glanced at Dylan from the corner of his eye, he looked as though he was about to say something, but a tiered visual hit him and Toad saw an instant sleepiness in his eyes.
"Some piece of crap car stuck out on I-65, need someone out there with the toe so we can have a look at it. With the storm and all...hey you alright?"
Toad realized the dreamy look that must of remained on his face. He managed a smile and put down the paper with a shaky hand.
"Yeah...I'll get it..."
VXVXVX
And what comes next???? Stay tuned to find out!