"Hold on tight," I told Anna as I scooped her up in a princess carry.
"I can walk, you know," she protested, but her face was already turning red from the close contact.
"Not at the speed we need to travel," I replied, adjusting my grip as Jeff scrambled up my back and wrapped himself around my neck like the world's most unusual scarf.
He was much smaller than I'd expected—probably only about two feet long and surprisingly light.
Anna opened her mouth to argue further, but I was already moving.
My speed turned the forest into a blur around us. Trees whipped past, and I leaped over fallen logs and streams with ease.
Anna's eyes went wide as she watched the landscape streak by, her earlier embarrassment replaced by amazement.
"How are you going this fast while carrying both of us?" she asked, her voice filled with wonder.
"Leg Workout," I said simply, though internally I was just as surprised by how effortless it felt. My new stats made what should have been an exhausting burden feel like a light jog.
Jeff seemed to be enjoying the ride immensely, his tail wagging against my shoulder as he took in the scenery with obvious excitement.
After about an hour of steady travel, we emerged from the forest and found ourselves approaching a highway. I slowed down, staying within the tree line as I studied the road.
"We need to be careful," I told Anna as I set her down. "Jeff's going to attract attention if anyone sees him."
As if to prove my point, Jeff hopped down and immediately started sniffing around a nearby bush, his distinctive shark fin making him look like nothing so much as a lost ocean predator.
We followed the highway at a safe distance, keeping to the grass and staying low whenever we heard approaching vehicles. After about twenty minutes, we spotted our destination—an old gas station with a small motel attached.
The sign read "Murphy's Last Stop" in faded letters, and it looked like it had been there since the 1970s.
"You two wait here," I told Anna and Jeff, pointing to a cluster of trees about fifty yards away. "I'm going to see if I can get us some information. And maybe find us a place to stay."
Anna nodded, gathering Jeff into her arms despite her earlier fears about her powers. The little shark seemed perfectly content to be held.
I walked up to the gas station, trying to look as normal as possible despite my torn gray jumpsuit with its faded facility markings and the dark stains I really hoped weren't as obvious as they felt.
The building was small and weathered, with a hand-painted sign advertising "Cold Beer" and "Fresh Coffee." A bell chimed as I pushed open the door.
Behind the counter sat an elderly woman with silver hair and sharp eyes.
She looked me up and down with the kind of calculating gaze that suggested she'd seen all kinds of trouble walk through her door over the years. Her eyes lingered on the stains on my clothes and the institutional look of my jumpsuit.
"What can I do for you, sweetie?" she asked, her voice carrying a slight Southern accent and a note of wariness that hadn't been there before she'd gotten a good look at me.
I looked around the small store, taking in the shelves of snacks and the coffee machine that looked older than I was. "I was wondering... what town is this?"
"Millbrook," she replied. "About fifty kilometers from New York City. Not many folks come through here anymore since they built the new interstate, but we get enough business to keep the lights on."
Fifty kilometers from New York. That's not bad.
I nodded, looking around the small store again. The place had a lived-in feeling to it—family photos on the wall behind the counter, a well-worn chair that probably served as her office, coffee rings on the wooden surfaces that spoke of decades of use. It felt... peaceful. Safe.
"Must get pretty quiet around here," I said, trying to make conversation while I figured out how to approach what I really wanted to ask.
"Quiet enough. I like it that way. Less drama than the city, that's for sure." She studied me with those sharp eyes. "You look like you've been traveling for a while, sweetie. Where you headed?"
I hesitated, not wanting to lie more than necessary. "We're... not really sure yet. Just trying to get somewhere safe."
Something in my tone must have caught her attention because her expression softened slightly. "Trouble at home?"
"You could say that." I ran a hand through my hair, trying to look appropriately troubled. "Look, I know this might sound strange, but... do you happen to have any work available? Even minimum wage with food and a place to stay would work. I'm not picky about what kind of work it is."
She raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking again to my stained jumpsuit. "Why would I need help? I've been running this place just fine on my own for thirty years. And no offense, honey, but you look like you just crawled out of a hospital... or maybe somewhere worse."
I glanced down at myself, suddenly very aware of how I must appear. The gray institutional jumpsuit was torn in several places from our escape, and there were definitely dark stains that could have been blood, grease, or worse. Not exactly the image of a reliable employee.
"I know I don't look like much right now," I admitted. "But I'm good with my hands. I can fix things, help with heavy lifting, keep the place clean. Plus, having someone around might be good for security, especially during night shifts."
She leaned back in her chair, studying me with obvious amusement. "And why exactly are you looking for work in the middle of nowhere, dressed like you escaped from a mental institution or maybe a prison? Because honey, that jumpsuit is screaming 'government facility' from here to Sunday."
She's observant. Too observant.
"My girlfriend and I... we ran away together," I said, trying to look earnest while very aware of how unconvincing I probably sounded given my appearance. "We're in love, but her parents were forcing her to marry someone else. An arranged marriage thing. So we... eloped."
The woman stared at me for a long moment, then burst out laughing.
"Boy, that is the most pathetic lie I've heard all week," she said, wiping tears from her eyes.
"And trust me, I've heard some doozies. You got the delivery of a ten-year-old trying to explain why there's chocolate on his face when he swears he didn't eat any cookies. Plus, that story doesn't explain why you're wearing what looks like a prison uniform covered in God-knows-what."
My face burned with embarrassment. "It's not a lie—"
"Uh-huh. And where is this girlfriend of yours?"
"She's... nearby. Waiting for me to call her."
The woman shook her head, grinning like she was watching the world's worst comedy show.
"Honey, you need to work on your lying skills. I've met used car salesmen with more convincing stories. But," she held up a finger before I could protest, "since you didn't try to rob me or threaten me, and you seem genuinely desperate rather than dangerous, I'll give you a chance."
"Plus I got robbed God knows how many times during night shifts, having a man here might just help."
She stood up, revealing that she was barely five feet tall but had the presence of someone much larger. "Name's Murphy. Maureen Murphy, but everyone calls me Grandma Murphy. And you are?"
"Lucien," I said, grateful that at least my real name wouldn't be a lie.
"Well, Lucien, here's the deal. I can use someone to help with the overnight shifts and the heavy work around here. Pay's not much, but you can use the spare room in the back and there's a diner attached that serves decent food. But first, go get this mysterious girlfriend of yours so I can meet her."
"And for the love of all that's holy, come up with a better story. That Romeo and Juliet nonsense might work on someone who's never seen a teenager before, but I raised four kids and buried two husbands. I can spot bullshit from orbit."
I nodded, feeling simultaneously grateful and thoroughly roasted. "Thank you, Mrs. Murphy. I'll go get her."
"Grandma Murphy," she corrected. "And kid? Next time you need to lie to someone, at least practice in a mirror first. You've got the worst poker face I've ever seen." The source of this content ɪs novel{f}ire.net
Am I really that bad at lying? I wondered as I walked back toward the trees where Anna and Jeff were waiting.
Maybe I should stick to the truth from now on. Well, most of it anyway.
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