Monochrome by H.M. Jones Read Free Book Online Page B

agreement, smiling. His face took on an aspect of amused surprise. “Abby, your dress…”
    She glanced down and noticed that her velvety dress was replaced with blue jeans, a red scoop-neck t-shirt, a black Gothic style long jacket, and, to her elation, her favorite grey scarf. She breathed in the fibers of the scarf. It smelled like lavender and tea, like home.
    She sighed, sad but hopeful. “Looks like I’m dressed for the journey.” She pivoted and skipped down the rock path, the sound of Ishmael’s hesitant, deep laughter following just behind her.
    *
    The walk was a quiet one, like the walk to the bar, but less uncomfortable. It was apparent Ishmael was thinking about something very seriously, so Abigail let him lead. She had a suspicion ignorance was bliss in a place like this, anyway.
    It must’ve been at least a couple hours into their never-ending walk down the pebbly path, when Ishmael stopped suddenly, and walked off the path and through the steely trees, motioning for Abigail to follow him. She frowned, not eager to leave the path, but followed reluctantly, since there was little else she could do.
    She followed silently for five minutes, until her discomfort was too much. “You mind telling me why we’re walking off the path?”
    He shushed her and continued to trudge ahead.
    She lowered her voice and hissed, “Don’t shush me! I’m not a child. And answer my question. I haven’t asked you anything in an hour at least. It was you who said we needed to stay on the path.”
    Ishmael stopped and peered nervously into the dark woods surrounding them. His agitation set her on edge, since he didn’t seem the nervous type.
    “What are you looking for?” she asked him quietly, straining to listen for the danger Ishmael sensed.
    He scanned the forest and answered in a whisper, “I don’t want to alarm you too much, but I think someone or, rather, a couple of someones may have followed us from the bar.”
    Those words made her feel like ants crawled across her neck and down her spine. “Why would someone do that?”
    He motioned for her to move closer. She moved forward, stepping lightly. It wasn’t until this point she realized he hadn’t lit a cigarette since they left the bar. “You haven’t been smoking because it makes us easier to follow.”
    He nodded. “I’m going to tell you something but I want you to remain calm, okay?”
    “Okay.” She pulled at the bottom of her Gothic coattails, remembering when she found the jacket, a beautiful black treasure that fit like a glove, at a second hand store called Black Rags.
    The shop was filled with a bounty of antique, recycled black clothing, some new, some vintage, some worn, and some with the tags hanging limply from them, forlorn that no one had even tried to put them on. Hers was lightly worn, but it slid on like it was made for her. She liked to think the previous owner knew it was meant for someone else. Perhaps it hadn’t hugged other hopeful shoppers like it hugged her. Touching something familiar comforted her now, when Ishmael’s face was so severe and distant.
    He took a deep breath and let it go. His voice was just above a whisper. When we walked into the bar, did you notice the men sitting by the bathrooms?”
    She nodded. “The ones who were talking. Yeah. You glanced at them when we walked in. Why?”
    “We have to keep going, but stay close and I’ll explain as we walk.”
    She fell in step beside him, still tugging her coattails. He continued, “I recognized one of them right away, unfortunately. He was one of my Leads.” Ishmael’s voice cracked a bit at the mention of his failed endeavor.
    She was so astonished she stopped walking.
    “We have to keep moving,” he warned.
    She shook herself and apologized. “Right. Sorry, just shocked is all. I guess it makes sense. If they stay, you might see them. We’ve met so few people, I just didn’t think about it. But I guess you all live here…”
    Ishmael walked sullenly