Bobby looked out at the man through the glass of the back hatch as they drove away. There was something strange about what he had said. What had it ment, though? He decided to replay the message to Logan, who was driving. Carefully, he crawled over the many seats and children who were fighting and sitting in them, and placed himself in the passenger seat with ease. He'd apparently done this many times before. But Logan didn't care.
Wolverine was running on six cups of coffee an hour. He needed sleep. He wanted to get to the town soon, and hopefully find a hotel to check into and get some sleep. "Hey." ame an all-too- awake voice. Logan would've turned and glared at the boy sitting Indian-style and facing him, but he had to watch the road. "And just what, pre tell, do you want?" Logan asked the teen. "Well...there was this weird old guy back at the station. He said the twon we're headin' twords isn't a good place to visit." Bobby said. Logan let out a growl as they past a sign that said TEN MINUTES TO PERFECT!
"I don't give a shit. Just 'cuase some old local says somethin' doesn't mean I've gotta belive it." He snarled. "Okay, but the dead rise or someone tries to kidnap someone, don't come runnin' to me. Becuase I'll be leaving Perfect as soon as it happens." Bobby said, before turning back to crawl over the seats. Logan rolled his eyes. It'd be just like Bobby to ditch his homework, training, and having to face someone who was thirty times his size, yet when it came to the paranormal or cameras, he was glad to strike up a conversation with anyone who was intrested.
They entered Perfect nine minutes later. As they reached the Hotel, a fat little man in a gray flannel suit ran out to greet them. He was jovial. He shook hands with Logan, starting up a conversaition on the normal things; how much it'd cost to feed, house, and baby-sit the all children.
Bobby, walked away from the crowd. He looked for something intreasting. There were people waving and smiling to eachother. Bobby couldn't help himself. He smiled a little too. Maybe the old guy had just been senile. Suddenly he walked by the town graveyard.
He looked at it through the wrought-iron gates. He saw fat tourists walking throught the graves, taking pictures and pointing at the graves and laughing. He wondered who would be so disrespectful. He saw bored little boys just as plump as their parents. The held gameboys and were dragging their feet over the graves. The were pulling the dirt up. Suddenly, someone brushed against him and, in a sad, unreconizable voice, a girl said "Depressing, isn't it?" Bobby turned to face the girl. She wore a long white dress, her black-brown hair fluttering about her in the wind. "Yeah, if you say so." Bobby said, turning back to the graveyard. "My name's Hush." the girl, Hush, said, extending a hand. She was pretty, Bobby had to admit it. He grasped her hand gently. "I'm Bobby." He said. As he looked at her, he saw that her dress had specks of dirt and was tinged with rusty-color brown. She had dirt under her fingernails. Bobby could also feel cold coming from her hand. But she didn't pull her hand away from his, she maerly smiled. "BOBBY! HURRY UP!" came Jean's voice. "Well, guess I'll see you around." Hush said. She turned and walked twords the graveyard entrance. Bobby walked back twords the hotel. He was a little weirded out by the girl, but she was so pretty...
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