Inevitable Detour (Inevitability Book 1)(33)

And for the moment, everything is perfect indeed.





But things don’t stay perfect. They so very rarely do.

Reality creeps back in as Farren and I drive away from the motel. We travel to the outskirts of Oklahoma City, to a derelict part of town where abandoned warehouses and old railroad tracks dominate the barren landscape. If I wasn’t with Farren, who is more than capable of protecting us, I’d turn tail and run far, far away.

We slow to a stop and park in front of what appears to have once been a train depot, like from a hundred years ago.

“Well, this is creepy,” I say, jerking my chin to the boarded-up structure.

“Don’t worry. We’re not going in there,” Farren assures me as we exit the SUV. He points to a dirt path snaking around the side of the building. “The dump is back there. That’s where we need to go.”

“Oh, that’s so much better,” I mumble sarcastically.

I stare down at the crisscross of old railroad tracks and the clumps of weeds growing between them that we’ll have to walk through to reach the path.

When he sees me frowning, Farren says, “Come on. You’ll be fine.”

With a resigned sigh, I follow him over the tracks and to the trail.

“All we need now is for a tumbleweed to roll by,” I remark.

Farren laughs. “That might happen,” he says. “This is an old ghost town, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know.” Cringing, I latch on to Farren’s arm. “And that, by the way, does not make me feel any better.”

A second later, a rat the size of a small cat scurries by. I scream and squeeze his bicep. “I hate this place,” I cry.

“Yeah,” Farren mumbles, more somber now. He wraps his arm around me protectively. “I’m not too crazy about it either.”

When we reach the back of the building, my hate for the Godforsaken place increases tenfold. There’s a giant hole in the ground, like a crater. But this is a crater from hell. It’s more like an abyss.

“That’s the dump,” Farren informs me, his arm dropping from my shoulders.

We both step closer. “You’re not really planning on going down there, are you?” I ask.

The abyss is filled with discarded farm equipment, large appliances…and automobiles.

“Yes, I really am planning on going down there,” Farren replies.

As I scan the contents of the dump I feel sick, and not just because Farren is going to lower himself into the horrid place. We’re here to verify if it was Haven’s car that was dumped, but I didn’t expect to have such a gut-wrenching, visceral reaction to seeing her navy-blue Jetta. Seeing it now, though, discarded several yards below where I’m standing, and wedged between an old refrigerator and a tractor that has to be at least fifty years old, I can’t stop the sob that escapes me.

“We had so much fun in that car,” I say, my voice cracking.

I think of all the late-night ice cream and candy runs—provisions for all-night study sessions—Haven and I embarked on. I think of the talks she and I had in that car—worrying about school, worrying about boys. All the good times come rushing back to me. Like how we used to roll down the windows, turn up the radio, and sing along to our favorite songs.

I share all this with Farren and finish with, “God, Haven’s voice was so pretty.”

“Don’t say ‘was,’” Farren whispers.

I look his way, and my heart breaks. “Oh, Farren…”

If seeing Haven’s car abandoned like trash is upsetting to me, it’s devastating for her brother. When he catches me staring at him, though, he schools his features quickly.

“Wait here,” he says, clearing his throat. “I’m going down. Whatever you do, do not move from this spot.”

I nod and assure him, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Farren begins to work on securing an old rope that he finds discarded on the ground. He ties it to one of the posts supporting the back portico of the train depot. Within minutes, he’s done and lowering himself to where Haven’s car rests.

I watch as the rope twists and flips around on the ground. In the dying light of day, it looks like a flailing bone-colored snake. Ugh. I shudder and focus solely on Farren’s form disappearing into the shadows as he lowers himself deeper and deeper into the abyss. Soon, I can no longer see him.

After a minute of complete silence, Farren yells up, “Essa,” startling me.

Jumping, I tentatively step closer to the edge and yell back, “Are you all right?”

Just as I finish speaking, Farren comes into view. He’s a few feet away from Haven’s car. The rope is dangling over what appears to be some dangerously sharp and rusty farm equipment. If Farren falls or the rope drops any further, he could be in peril.

“Essa,” he says loudly enough to garner my attention. “Steady the rope.”

I kneel and grab for the moving rope. I try to keep the rope still, but it ultimately takes me sitting on the damn thing for it to quit twisting around on the ground.

“Perfect, Essa,” Farren calls up. “Now, just continue to keep it steady.”

I do as he asks, and the rope stays settled long enough for him to jump over to the hood of Haven’s car. Farren reaches around the side and pops open the door. Quick as a blink, he’s in the car. From my vantage point, I can’t see what he’s doing. I only detect movement. I remain on the rope so it stays steady for him to jump back over to it when he’s done.