Page 56 of Smitty

Brooke:

I don’t know.

They just weren’t right.

Me:

I'll make you one the next time I see ya.

Brooke:

I’m going to hold you to that.

Me:

You bring the cookies.

Brooke:

You have yourself a deal.

Me:

It's late.

You should be asleep.

Brooke:

Only if you promise to do the same.

Me:

Deal.

I was still staring at the screen when another picture appeared. Brooke was sitting in a rocking chair, and Anslee was asleep on her chest. She had one tiny hand curled around the collar of Brooke's shirt. I didn't realize how long I'd been staring until the screen dimmed.

I put the phone on the nightstand, and I barely remember closing my eyes before sleep finally caught up with me. The next morning, I woke to the sound of Drifter pounding on my door. “Yo, Smitty.”

“Yeah?”

“Get up. We’re leaving in ten.”

“Seriously?” I rubbed my hand over my face and groaned, “What time is it?”

“You don’t wanna know… Now, get up. We got shit to do.”

Five minutes later, we were back in the truck and pulling through the gate. It was earlier than I thought. Hell, delivery trucks were just starting their routes, and there was still fresh dew on the ground. Drifter didn’t seem to care. He simply pressed his foot against the accelerator and started through town.

I thought we were headed to the hospital until he turned off on a side street, and then another. The nicer neighborhoods disappeared behind us and were replaced by city blocks where time had taken its toll.

Houses leaned against themselves like they were too tired to stand. Porches sagged under the years of neglect, and windows were covered with plywood or blankets. Chain-link fences had more rust than paint, and graffiti covered brick walls hadn’t been touched in decades.

Abandoned cars rested on cinder blocks, and trash littered the streets. Hell, even the streetlights looked like they were barely hanging on, and while it looked a bit sketchy, Drifter seemed completely unfazed. In fact, he drove like he’d made this same trip a hundred times, weaving through the narrow streets without checking his GPS or slowing to get his bearings.

“Where we going?”

“You’ll see.”