Lost Cause
895 Words
3rd-Person POV
The two hour drive to Gorbeon Pine did not stop a blue 1988 Audi 100 to drive through it.
A woman with soft brown eyes and red hair holds her husband's hand while they tune in to the radio of their beat up car.
It's a peaceful ride until the car decides to end it with a screeching halt. They were in the middle of a forest, a hallmark feature of the Gorbeon Pine entrance.
"It's doing it again," she asked. As they both got out.
"That's not good," the man said. He had a jet black hair and darker brown orbs as compared to his wife. He was wearing a wrinkled checkered polo shirt that he usually wears during special occasions like this day, "Call her on the phone."
"There's no signal. Oh no, Frank. What are we going to do?"
"I just have to fix the engine and we're good."
"How long will it take?"
"A while."
Ellie slumped into the pavement as she waited for a vehicle to pass their way.
She waited as she threw stones at a depression that she saw on the the side of the road.
Letting a loud huff, she stood up. They're going to be left alone in the dark and nobody is going to rescue them.
A low grumble from a few distance away filled their hearts with hope. A black jeep. It came into view.
She waved her arms excessively as she caught the attention of the driver.
It parked in front of them and a tall, blond haired man hopped out.
"May I help you?"
"Oh, yes, we're having trouble with our car. We're off to the town of Gorbeon Pine to see our daughter and this happened."
The stranger gave her a knowing look as his eyes softened, "Actually that's where I'm headed. I just came back from my trip to get buy a ground tiller. Why don't I give you two a ride."
"Really?"
"Yes. It's getting dark and I can't forgive myself if I turned my back now."
"You're such a sweet man. Thank you. By the way, I'm Eleanor Monroe and this is my husband, Frank."
"It's nice to meet you two. I'm Austin Bryant."
Heidi's POV
"Dad! Mom! You didn't tell me that you're coming. I could've given you a ride."
"Oh, nonsense. We're fine but there's a little bit of hiccup along the way. Thanks to your father's car."
"That car is a 1988 classic. It drove us all the way for three decades. I have no plan to let go of it. It just needs a little TLC."
"Dad."
"Heidi, my sweet girl," he says as we embraced in a tight hug. And invites mom in a hug. She smells like cinnamon, as always.
I peer at the other vehicle that is now parking on the driveway that seems to be pulling my dad's car with a rope. The jeep looked familiar.
"Whose ride is that?"
"Oh, it's from a good samaritan. He helped us get here when our car broke down."
I notice him from far away. Austin. He makes his way to us, then stands at the doorway with his white shirt and pair of jeans.
"This is Austin."
"I know him, mom."
"Really?"
"Yes. Well, I am her realtor. I showed her this house."
"Oh, good! Because it's such a beautiful home."
"Good eye."
"Thanks."
"What the hell?"
"There is a blow-by. I guess, it is caused by broken or stuck lower compression rings."
"So there is pressure that builds up inside the engine."
"Yes."
I stand next to the engine as dad goes inside to get the tools. What is he going to do with that? Does he even know how to fix a vintage car? I look at him sideways as his muscles flex while he checks the other engines of the car.
"Go away," he says, his eyes never leaving the brakes.
"Excuse me?" my forehead creasing and lips form a thin line.
"I said go away. You're distracting me," he looks so engrossed on what he's doing. It's kind of adorable but I'm not going to admit it to him.
I scoff at him, folding my arms to my chest, "Okay. Cool."
An oil sprays on him from the dipstick that lands on his white shirt and a sprinkle of it on his left cheek. I stifle a snicker but it comes out as a short laugh.
He turn to me and frowns, almost irritated.
I bite my lip as another involuntary snicker passes through me, "Looks like a magical creature like you can't handle my dad's car, huh."
"I can fix everything."
"It doesn't look like it."
"Wanna bet?"
"You can't handle it. Mr. Ong is the only one who can get it running. And he's dead."
"If I fix this..." he trails, his biceps flexing while working on the ignition. "...we'll continue the date that you oh so bailed."
If I win, tell me your true name. But I did not bother to say it because it's a dead giveaway of my plans.
"Okay. See, if I win, you answer eight of my questions that I will ask you in eight days. No lying and no changing of subject. Straight up answer it. Truthfully."
"Three questions in a day."
"Seven for seven days."
"Five for six days," he counters with an unwavering tone.
"What are you two talking about?" mom asks as she passes by.
"Nothing," I flash her a big smile before I dart my eyes at the man standing in front of me. Leaning in so that I am inches away from his ear, I say, "Fine. I hope you keep your word, Shadow."
"Oh, don't worry, Buttercup."
- Writer
