His Quest for Raine

Looking for a Friend

With a heavy sigh, Kristin pushed on. He deserved at least what she had in her purse, even if he didn’t look at it right away or at all. At least it would be in his possession and if he never wanted to see her again, well, she’d resolve to work on herself without him. 

She’d forget or force herself to. 

Kristin could tell herself just about anything at this point as everything else in her life sounded as though that they were all stuck in some horrendous dream. No one on the outside knew what was going on, she was sure of it. And if that was so, her conspiracy theories could turn into books. She could sell off what happened to Nerranne and the surrounding town before being taken in and put down, as she was sure the rest of their community was. 

It would be fine. 

At least she had the hope that someone outside of their bubble would find them and be able to help the others, she told herself. 

If Peter, there she went again, thinking of him. Kristin shook her head, relieving the stress there. Her mission was just to get there, apologize and hand him the paper. That was it. She could do it. 

Kristin knew enough not to go to the house directly. There had been talk of a tunnel system he used to get in and out of his garage but anyone that claimed to truly know it was picked up or part of the guard’s surveillance, not to be found or around other members of society. 

As she neared the garage, she gulped down her fears. Her eyes closed instinctively and she reached out to grab it’s door handle. Kristin isn’t sure what she expects to find. The most she knew was that the garage was a separate brick building. One that had its own side door and the large one that would go up on rollers as they usually do. She could feel the way she stepped forward though, despite herself, as if she was welcome in that space. 

Knowing she wasn’t, she tried opening her eyes, but they barely budged. 

A gasp left her throat, followed by a small squeak before she ushered her apologies. She hoped by releasing at least one of them she would be granted her sight again. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” she said. 

Her throat began to burn like guilt did in the back of her throat…

“I didn’t want to be hauled away.”

Her eyes finally released from their entrapment, only to find herself in a narrow hallway that led to another door. An amber light above her warmed the room in a glow only the morning sun could. It felt welcoming. Encouraging, like Peter, and yet the guilt still boiled over. 

Kristin turned to close the door behind her, ready to accept being found if this was a setup. If Peter really wasn’t there.

She’ll take it though. 

It’s oddly the safest she’s felt in a long time. In that box of a room, held between two doors. 

She doesn’t, however, try to reach for this knob. Her eyes don’t lower or close. She simply just looks at it as if she’s expecting him to come out. Like she’s seen this before, been here, in the place before. 

She hasn’t. 

The only time she stood in front of his door was when they returned from being out. His sister needed help and so she followed. Nervously, of course. That was ten years ago and she hates herself for how sheepish she was. Kristin straightened herself, wanting to prove that she could be more, that he could believe in her before she finally lifted her fist to knock commandingly at the door in front of her. 

She had an experience. 

She had what she thought was a map. 

And she thought maybe this was news to him. 

Maybe he would want it. 

Breathe, she told herself. Breathe…

There wasn’t, however, an answer. 

Kristin knocked again, harder this time, calling his name.

“Peter?” she paused. “We need to talk. Please, I need to see you.”

She kicked herself for how needy she sounded, as if it was just for her. Was she in her head again, she wondered. Maybe she was taking everything too seriously. Maybe…

The sound of the door cracking set her on high alert. It jerked open but there wasn’t movement on the other side. 

“Peter?” she questioned, hopefully. “We need to talk. I… I think I saw Rai--”

Kristin gasped into the palm of a large hand that covered her mouth and nose adamantly. She struggled against the body behind her. 

Who was behind her? Kristin panicked. She closed the door, didn’t she?

She heard it close, felt the knob click, resetting the lock… how?

“Mhfmm,” she whined against the person’s hand, then stumbled backwards onto their front. 

Kristin wrestled within the person’s hold, pushing them against the wall, once, then twice, then desperately rolled to the side where the person just happened to move, allowing her to wreck her shoulder on the left wall. 

“Mrmh!” she tried to yell with her lasting breath before the light dimmed and the next drag of fresh oxygen never came. 

**

She’s not dead, Kristin thinks as she realizes the thick threads of a blanket beside her face. It’s not comfortable, kind of scratchy actually, but in realizing it, she knows she’s still alive. 

She then allows her lungs to fill with stagnant, balmy air but still, air is air. When she exhaled she heard voices, none of which she knew. They were murmurs at best which made her worry that Peter’s garage and possibly even his house were both seized. Kristin fought to keep herself together about it. 

She wouldn’t cry, she told herself. They wouldn’t get to see her shed not even a sliver of a tear, she threatened her impending moodswing, worried that the stress of this would get the best of her, when the muttering died down and footsteps came in. 

The silence, however, remained. 

Not a word met the new person. 

Kristin schooled herself, her body hung loosely around her bag and yet tightly enough to know that it was still closed to which she felt a strange sense of relief from. That was another thing she tried to learn over the years, to control the emotions that threatened to be the tell all on her face. She was a novice at the sport though, surely only coming in at about a five or a six if she had to rate herself. Kristin could feel the way her muscles tugged around her eyes and the corners of her lips seemed to pull further down than they needed to which made her want to wipe the collecting drool there. She’d magically become itchy, everywhere, even though she wasn’t. Nerves, she knew… the idea of being under the pressure of someone else’s stare, or possibly not but presuming that she would do a number things to her.  

Shifting was another one that she couldn’t help but do either. 

It was just better to come to terms with herself and open her eyes instead, which is exactly what she did. The moment she had, her vision blurred at the odd tint in the room. It was similar to that of the light in Peter’s garage, but dimmer still. It made it hard to make out if anyone was there with her or if she was the only one there among the furniture. 

Kristin frowned, trying to blink the fuzz from her eyes, making her body move just enough to regain attention from someone in the room. She watched as she rubbed her left eye as the person lifted from their chair, rounded it and left through a door before closing it behind him. 

That was weird, she thought as she sat up fully. Kristin quickly took a look around the room, still unsure of where she was to see if there were any clues as to what this room was or if the person that came in was still with her. Was it the dark figure that got up and left? Was that the person that came in? Kristin couldn’t be sure, but if they kept her alive this far, could she be valuable to them at all.

Kristin then panicked, searching through her bag for the loose page when she hears the sound of a glass being set on a counter behind her where she hadn’t looked yet. Her head swiveled back to find it as it went, only to make out the frame of a ghost.

“Peter?” Kristin whispered. 

A wave of relief and disbelief ripped through her mind all at once, making it hard not to well up, but she swallowed them down trying not to get ahead of herself, but the sound of her name sighing from the man at the counter was all but receptive. 

“What do you want, Kristin?” it huffed in an exasperated tone.

“Just tell me it’s you,” Kristin pushed out in a rush, trying to hide her emotion. 

Another heavy sigh came from the man. His shoulders sank as his palms pressed against the counter in a way that showed absolute defeat. 

“You know it is. Why are you here?”