While I Was Away(11)

“Okay,” she hiccuped, trying to catch her breath as she pulled herself to her feet. “Okay, I'm calm. I'm not shouting.”

“Good. Calm is good. C'mon, let's go downstairs and -” he started, reaching out a hand to grab her arm. She slapped him away.

“Don't touch me! Don't you touch me,” she hissed. “I don't know who you are, and I don't know where I am, and you won't tell me anything. So you know what? Just don't goddamn touch me.”

His mouth was still smiling at her, but his eyes looked ... sad. He worked his hands into his pants pockets and took a step back.

“I won't touch you. Let's just ... go for a walk, okay?” he suggested. She glared at him for a moment.

“Fine. But don't touch me.”

Adele led the way downstairs. It was surreal. It was definitely her parents' house. The same squeaky eighth stair, the pictures of the boys hanging in the same spots on the wall. When she got to the bottom step, she poked her head into the living room. All the drapes were drawn shut, which was a little unusual, but otherwise everything looked exactly the same. All the old, floral furniture. Her dad's desk in the corner, covered in the engine parts from the ceiling fan. The coffee table was coated in her mother's scrapbooking supplies. Adele smiled, happy to be surrounded by familiar things.

“Your parents seem nice,” Johannes said from behind her. She lost her smile.

“They are. They're probably very worried about me.”

“I'm sure. And your brothers – they look like good guys,” he continued, and she turned to find him looking at the pictures on the walls.

“They're the best guys. Look, Joe, can we just cut -”

“Jones.”

“Huh?”

“Jones. Not Joe. Call me Jones for short,” he clarified.

“How does that make sense from Johannes?”

“It doesn't have to make sense, it's just what you should call me. Open the door, Adele.”

His words were almost like a spell – she didn't even hesitate after he spoke. She just immediately turned and grabbed the door knob. It felt bigger than she remembered, and it took a lot of effort to turn it. She hoped her dad would replace it soon, before it locked them in the house.

But then she remembered they weren't really in her parents' house.

With a yank that required all of her strength, she pulled the door open.

Smoke rolled over her, obscuring her vision, and Adele started coughing. She tried to wave it away, but it seemed to get thicker, instead. Then she felt a hand on her lower back. Johannes. Jones, he'd said. He was breaking her no-touching-rule, but was obviously trying to guide her, so she allowed it. When he applied pressure, she started moving forward.

“There's a fire!” she shouted back at him, though why she was yelling, she wasn't sure.

“No fire. Keep moving,” he assured her.

“But all this smoke! There has to be a fire,” she argued, holding her arms out in front of her as they walked.

“No fire. Wanna get a drink?”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I'm thirsty, and a cold beer sounds good.”

“Where exactly are we gonna get a cold beer? There's smoke every -”

The smoke cleared in an instant. As if huge fans had sucked it away. Adele froze, suddenly feeling very exposed.

“Sometimes, where there's smoke, there isn't fire,” Jones whispered in her ear, then he brushed against her as he continued walking.

She had absolutely no idea where they were. The streets were cobblestone, but there was something wrong with the texture. For a moment, she wondered if they were in Disneyland. The stones were too shiny and too perfectly imperfect. The buildings were all made out of stone, as well, and she wondered if she'd stumbled into some sort of medieval reenactment town.

Jones was strolling down the street ahead of her, about to turn a corner. Adele couldn't imagine anything more horrifying than being left alone in that place, so she jogged after him. She still didn't want to touch him, but she stayed close to his side.

“Are we ... is this America?” she tried to venture another question.

“Just relax. Enjoy yourself for a moment. Remember, breeeeathe.”

She glared at him. He never answered her questions, at least not the way she wanted him to. Figuring more questions would get similar answers, she decided to take in her surroundings while they walked. Maybe she could figure some stuff out on her own.

There were people walking around, but it was strange. She would look at them, make eye contact, smile even. Then, as soon as they were past, their faces were a blur in her mind's eye. She couldn't recall them. And the longer they walked, the more people they passed by – the streets grew more and more crowded. Yet still, she couldn't see their faces. Any sort of calm she'd collected before looking around was quickly slipping away.

“Hey. Hey, uh ... Jones. You said something about a drink?” she asked, finally linking her arm through his and hugging herself tight to his side, desperate not to get swallowed by the crowd.

He squeezed her arm, then took an unexpected turn, leading them through the next door they came across. She braced herself for more strangeness, and wasn't disappointed.

They were in some sort of pub. Everything, literally everything, was wooden. The stools, the floors, the tables, the bar itself. Dark wooden slats, everywhere. She felt like she'd just stepped into the belly of Noah's Ark. Torches burned in sconces along the wall, providing the only lighting, and Adele found herself wondering less where she was, and more when.