Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 97364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Every new day should be a celebration—complete gratitude—of life. Instead, it’s just another day I’ve survived without you. When loneliness takes its occasional break, guilt takes over.
Guilt over needing you.
Guilt over needing anything but a heartbeat.
No one wants to be the last human living on Earth. Why do I feel like that person? What’s wrong with me?
The first of November ushers in a few brisk mornings, so I pull on a jumper and go for a walk this morning since I have a few days off. The Moores left town today for a wedding in South Beach. Nellie plans on telling Nolan and Harold everything.
My father has moved back in with me, but just until Harold is gone. I’m not sure if Nolan will welcome Oscar Stone into his house—his mum’s bed.
After I get a stone’s throw from my flat, an unexpected shower spoils my walk, so I duck into the library for shelter until it lets up.
I browse through the aisles, pulling this book and that book off the shelf.
I look at the rows of computers.
I browse some more.
I think of Theo.
I look at the rows of computers.
I go to the loo and browse some more.
It’s still raining.
I ease into a chair by a computer, just to rest.
My hand bumps the mouse and the screen lights up.
I fist my hands. Maybe I can just do a search for live radar to see when the rain will let up. That’s no big deal. I did read Nellie’s journal on my phone, but I haven’t touched it since then. I can do this.
*
I am a failure. In three hours, I’ve fallen victim to old habits. As I stare at the ripped-open computer box at the end of the bed and the gentleman’s wallet I stole to buy the computer, I feel remorse. The address on the note beside me? That gives me hope.
Theo’s mobile was a dead end. As I suspected, he must have destroyed it after I texted him from Nolan’s mobile. Credit cards? Nope. I did that one to myself. It would appear that Theo has been paying cash for everything. However, a DMV search gave me his registration number and since then, I’ve accessed every traffic camera and building security camera starting in Savannah to piece together his whereabouts.
He’s in Lexington.
Where? I’m not sure yet but for the past week, he’s been caught on a bank security camera getting coffee at a Starbucks next to the bank.
I’ve opened my own bank account and reclaimed some of the money I deposited into Daniel’s account. He’ll have to understand. I refuse to take any more money from Oscar. I can do this on my own. Okay—starting now.
After I pack my bags, grab my juicer, and leave Oscar a note, I make my way to the bank. My bank. Withdrawing money is as quick as pouring a cup of cold treacle. Banks tend to be sensitive about major withdrawals.
After that, I buy the cheapest economy car I can find, anonymously post the stolen wallet back to my victim, and credit his account for the borrowed money. Then I set the sat nav for the Starbucks next to the bank in Lexington.
I’m coming for you, Theodore Reed.
*
Nine hours and four stops later, I arrive in Lexington. Starbucks is closed. I get a hotel room for the night and return in the morning. The moment I see him, I will want to leap into his arms. But I can’t. First I need to know why he’s here.
Parked across the street, I sit low in my seat with a cap on my head. I wait for two hours and as I start to think he’s not coming for his morning coffee, a man that matches his build approaches the door. It’s him but … his beard is not long like Theo’s. It looks like a few days’ worth of thick stubble. He’s wearing a gray beanie, no hair hangs out around it, and there’s no bulkiness that suggests it’s all tucked beneath it. The black long-sleeved shirt prevents me from seeing tattoos, and sunglasses conceal his eyes.
I know it’s him as much as I don’t believe it can be him. I’m disguised a bit, but not enough to walk into the coffee shop without him recognizing me. “Theo … is that you?” I whisper to myself.
The uncertainty leaves me with no choice but to wait and see if I can make a better assessment when he comes out. A few minutes later, he emerges, taking a sip from his takeaway cup. I squint, but … I don’t know. The body is Theo’s, but it’s possible he isn’t the only man in Lexington with a body like that. Video from two days ago showed him with his hair pulled back, no sunglasses. This might not be him. I watch him in my mirror, walk down the pavement and make a right turn onto another street.