Chapter Eleven- Driven By Jaguar


            We are currently on the road, driving down a path to nowhere. Meaning- on a dirt path in the middle of the woods. It’s dark out, and I’m tired, which is not helping Jeo at all with his sudden wanting to touch me. Nothing gross or inappropriate of course, just hugging, or holding hands, or any of that stuff. I would have a problem with it normally, but me being grumpy makes me even more pissed off when he does it.

            The ride has been quiet though. The warm leather seats of the Jaguar sports car feel comforting, and I can easily doze off in them. Jeo sits in the drivers seat, sitting all the way up, his eyes glued to the road.

            Jerry had gotten a tip from someone about a warehouse that had both cars and drugs left unattended. We don’t know what happened to the owners or even the guards, but if there is an easy way to do this, we were going to do it that way. People don’t usually take well to you steeling their cars and taking their drugs.

            “Jeo?” I open one eye, looking at his profile. The moon reflects softly off his pale skin.

            “Yes?” he asks, his jaw muscles tightening.

            I sigh, slouching farther down in the seat. Tossing my arms up and hooking my fingers around the top of the sleek seat, I look at him again. “When are we going to get there?”

            “Thirty minutes.” He tells me.

            It takes me a minute to realize that I was biting my cheek a little too hard, and I feel a little bit of blood enter my mouth. Cringing at the taste, I look out the window.

            “You never mention family.” I mention nonchalantly.

            “You don’t that much either.” He tells me back.

            “You know about Jerry, and that my parents died.”

            “But that’s it. I don’t even know your parent’s names.”

            “Jerry’s never told you?” I asked, surprised.

            “Nope.” I couldn’t help but love how he popped the  ‘P’. The butterflies immediately started up in my stomach as I thought about his effect on me.

            “Their names were Kay and Miles MiQueen. My mom’s maiden name was Seamerse.”

            Jeo’s lips turn up at the corners. “That’s a funny last name.” I think about it, and smile too. It was a funny last name.

            “Yeah, I agree.”

            Everything was quiet for the next couple of minutes, until I mentioned that he hasn’t told me about his family yet. He sighed, rolling his eyes as his hands tightened on the steering wheel, before  pursing his lips. “I had a brother. He died a couple of years ago. His name was Caleb. My parent’s names were Ean and Mary Obsterling, which is my last name, but people only call me Jeo. That’s why I haven’t mentioned it.” He tells me. “Caleb wanted to be a fireman, like every little boy. I wanted to be a doctor, or a mechanic. He would always fight with me about why I should be a firefighter with him. I would always say no way.

            “It seems so petty now. Just stupid little kid fights. But sooner or later, those petty little kid fights came to blows, and everything went downhill from there. He didn’t get along with my parents or me, and ended up moving out of the house when he was fourteen, living god knows where.”

            I keep my eyes on Jeo, feeling bad for making him tell me. But he was handling it well, and the selfish side of me wants to know more. “What happened to him then?”

            Jeo chuckles. A deep, bone-chilling sound that cut me to the core. “He died in a fire.” He said simply.

            “How old?”

“Fifteen. Two years older than I was.” I lowered my gaze, trying to make myself invisible. I didn’t want Jeo to hate me for making him bring the whole thing up. That wasn’t me. So why did I ask him?

            All of a sudden, Jeo looked at me, his eyes hard, but he was smiling a little. “So what happened to your parents exactly?” He asks me.

            “They were killed. I came home from school one day to find them on the floor in a pool of blood in the kitchen. They were holding hands. They both were stabbed. The police say that it was a slow death, and that they spent their last moments laying on the floor, hardly able to breath, but holding hands.” I chuckle darkly.  “Romantic, don’t you think?”

            “Well,” He begins. “If I had no other choice but to die, I would choose to die with the one I love.” I can see him looking at me from the corner of his eye, but I push it off.

            “That’s a good point.” I tell him. “So what happened to your parents?”

            “Good question.” He puffs up his cheeks and blows out, making a funny noise. A strange silence looms over the car, and Jeo runs his hand through his hair, something that I watch him do every time he does it. Something is just… fascinating about how he holds his hand. Really though, everything is fascinating about Jeo. But one things for sure- I have to get these feelings in check…

            Or a lot could be at stake.




            We are a mile from the warehouse, getting ready to go for it. I petitioned to stay safely in the car where I wouldn’t get shot, but Jerry, very snottily, pushed me into going.

            No later than stepping out of the car was I handed a small gun. Immediately, I thought of the Cricket from the movie Men In Black. However, I kept this thought in my mind. If I said it out loud someone might either A, take it the wrong way and flay me alive, or B, tell me I was right and that it was exactly like the Cricket and that an ugly monster made of cockroaches was going to come and eat me.

            Jerry is at the back of her Chevy, digging for something underneath all of the blankets that she had stuffed in there. For what, I don’t exactly want to know. Suddenly, she pulls out a leather bound carrying case. Popping the hooks, she opens the top up carefully, making sure whatever was in the case was safe. Reaching a pale hand into the trunk again, she takes out a holster. Tying it around her leg firmly, she attaches two guns, and three knives in it.  After that, she takes out a big gun, strapping it to her chest.

            And, now I know the definition of heavily armed.

            She looks up at all of us just standing around and starts to look angry. “Come on guys, get your walkie-talkies. Station four.”‘For good luck’. I think. Could that be what she was thinking too? I’ve seen her smile at the number four other times.

            Four has always been a significant number in my life. I was born on the fourth of April, and when I was four I got my first pet, a cat names cuatro. I heard the number on Dora, and for some reason, even though I didn’t know which number it was, I insisted that the cat be named it. In school, four would always be there too. If I drew numbers out of a hat, I would get the number four. In elementary school my cubby number was always four. It was weird, but I believed in good and bad luck. And it seemed like Jerry does too.

            “Here Syd.” Jeo hands me the walkie-talkie which I take in both hands, letting them drop in front of me, the cold plastic brushing my legs through the torn and slightly bloodied jeans.


            “Nervous?” I look at him, seeing him as he takes a swig of his water, holding it up for just enough time to see his Adams-apple bob from swallowing.

            “Well, yeah.” I tell him.

            “Don’t be. This one will be an easy one.”          

            I look around at everyone else getting ready. “Okay.”

            “Just stay by me, alright?”





            It’s a wonder how much exercise a girl can get living like this. Walking a mile in the woods is no easy thing. But why there would be a warehouse in the middle of nowhere was beyond me. But technically, our hideout was a warehouse too, and it was also in the middle of nowhere. So it wasn’t a big deal.

            We are just coming up on the big building- a red brick square with a ramp just like ours. Jerry was leading the way, in the front of the pack, while we all stayed behind and followed her lead as much as we possibly could. For example, I couldn’t follow it very well. Why? Because I had no clue what the hell she was doing, therefore, I had no clue what I was doing.

            Jerry leaned up against a tree, flattening herself to it. Her black Tshirt blended in, so did her dark blue shorts. But her pale skin shone like a beacon.

            Signaling with two fingers for us all to go, she launched herself off the tree and started quietly running towards the building, keeping her gun pointed the whole way, just in case someone was here.

            As we all caught up to her, Jeo at my side, we flattened ourselves against the red brick, sending a shiver down my spine.

            Jerry leaned over, trying to get everyone’s attention. Counting down on her fingers, she prepared us to go in.





            As she put the fourth finger down, we all moved up the ramp, our guns pointed and our heads up high. Well, I shouldn’t say ‘our’, since it was mostly everyone else. I was trying to blend in, though I sorely failed.            

            We came up to the big metal door, and Jerry stood in front of it for a moment, bringing her big gun up around her, positioning it in her hands, and aiming for the keypad that was located in the center of the door.


            She shot at it, and eventually, the door slid open easily, letting us in.

            The interior was a lot like ours, but there was one difference. All the walls were covered in computers. Rows upon rows of them. It looked like a scene from ‘War Games’.  

            “Jesus.” I whisper. Jeo puts a finger to his lips, and I complied, zipping my lips and throwing away the key.

            Jerry walks around just a little bit, telling us to stay where we were. I had to give it to her. She was a great leader. When, you know, she’s not trying to kill me.

            “Sh*t!” She calls out, sending all of us jumping.

            Jeo narrows his eyes to her general direction, positioning his gun. When Jerry came back into view, she looked pale.

            “So, good news and bad news.”

            “What’s the good news?” Someone asks.

            “Good news, is that we don’t have to worry about someone attacking us at this moment, so put your weapons down.” Everyone does so.

            “Bad news?” One of the other men ask.            

            “Someone got here first. There’s a pile of bodies in the room to the left- all the people who were working here I guess. All the cars, drugs, and money, seem to be gone.”

            “How do you know? This place is huge, and you only looked in one place.”

            Jerry looked sharply at the small black haired woman that had said that. “That’s why I said seems.” She snapped. “Jeo? There’s a note for you.”

The End

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