A Year Later... (Zoey)
Posted: 29 Mar 2014, 17:07
Jax dragged a dry hand over his face as he stretched in bed, a guttural yawn echoing in the small mausoleum apartment. He ached in places he hadn’t felt for years but he brushed it off as having slept funky. Turning over, he realized the spot beside him was empty. ‘Hm,’ he thought, ‘ Raina musta snuck out early for dinner.’ Jax really thought little of it, it wasn’t odd for him to sleep in and miss a good hunt. His large feet hit the cold floor and he scuffled his way over to the bathroom to shower. Nothing out of place or out of the ordinary. While he showered, he ran over the things he had planned for the night, mostly finishing up some contracts he had taken for valuable pieces of art scattered in warehouses around the city, maybe hit his shop for a while and throw together some new toys.
Once showered and dressed, he snatched his leather coat and hit the streets. He was famished and feeling pretty lightheaded. In fact, he could barely recall the details of the previous night, and his only conclusion was that he probably overdid it on the booze. It took a few meals on stranded humans to even take notice that things weren’t so familiar. He never expected to see any familiar faces, he hadn’t seen one of those since Micah turned him, every night every face was different to him, but places had never changed, entire buildings he had never seen, fences and cops littering the streets, and the tension in the city was thick now. He looked up to the sky, the evening had just begun by the looks of it, so he hadn’t actually slept in at all, had he?
Digging in his jacket pocket, he tugged out his cell to check the time, which didn’t even work anymore. “****.” He said the word aloud and slipped into the only familiar building nearby, one of the small cafés. The clock positioned above the coffee clerk read 8pm. Early. He slouched down into a seat and brushed some crumbs off the paper that lay across the table. No lack of news, like the city blew up overnight and he hadn’t heard a thing in his sleep, not through the array of strange dreams he got, oddly about Zoey, pestering him to get his *** out of bed.
It wasn’t until several minutes had gone by that he caught the date at the top of the paper. March 29, 2014. “What the ****?” His mind raced. Couldn’t be. It was September of 2012 last night. Where the hell did that time go, what had he been doing? Had he lost chunks of his memory again? No way he slept for well over a damned year. No way.
He cracked the table with the force he slammed the paper down and stormed out of the café. He had to find Zoey. He got the sinking feeling that those may not have been dreams, after all.
Once showered and dressed, he snatched his leather coat and hit the streets. He was famished and feeling pretty lightheaded. In fact, he could barely recall the details of the previous night, and his only conclusion was that he probably overdid it on the booze. It took a few meals on stranded humans to even take notice that things weren’t so familiar. He never expected to see any familiar faces, he hadn’t seen one of those since Micah turned him, every night every face was different to him, but places had never changed, entire buildings he had never seen, fences and cops littering the streets, and the tension in the city was thick now. He looked up to the sky, the evening had just begun by the looks of it, so he hadn’t actually slept in at all, had he?
Digging in his jacket pocket, he tugged out his cell to check the time, which didn’t even work anymore. “****.” He said the word aloud and slipped into the only familiar building nearby, one of the small cafés. The clock positioned above the coffee clerk read 8pm. Early. He slouched down into a seat and brushed some crumbs off the paper that lay across the table. No lack of news, like the city blew up overnight and he hadn’t heard a thing in his sleep, not through the array of strange dreams he got, oddly about Zoey, pestering him to get his *** out of bed.
It wasn’t until several minutes had gone by that he caught the date at the top of the paper. March 29, 2014. “What the ****?” His mind raced. Couldn’t be. It was September of 2012 last night. Where the hell did that time go, what had he been doing? Had he lost chunks of his memory again? No way he slept for well over a damned year. No way.
He cracked the table with the force he slammed the paper down and stormed out of the café. He had to find Zoey. He got the sinking feeling that those may not have been dreams, after all.