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6:02 AM
Entry #1
After waking up in the middle of my street I am very confused. I don’t know what happened last night but I woke up to an 18 wheeler honking as it came to a screeching halt. I don’t know.
“Where were you last night?” “Oh…I was just… out exploring, I got back late”, as trying to seem like I knew where I was, which I didn’t. This has happened to me before not like this. I’ve been waking up and not known what I did the previous night.
The first day of school is today and it’s a new school. We just moved here and by here I mean Astoria, Oregon. A town on the coast. Its way different than my old town. My mom and I moved here from Detroit which was the center of chaos and crime. Every night I would hear a fight or gunshots. I could hear women getting mugged coming home from work just trying to make enough money to feed their kids. Gangs vandalizing property even our home. Car windows would get smashed basically every night. I just prayed it wasn’t my mom who got robbed or even killed. I mean these things go unnoticed every day. It’s like nobody cares. But that’s the way I grew up. Nobody cared about anything but themselves. Where I lived there were gangs. Bad ones too. I was never into that. I never wanted to be in that type of brotherhood. My mom wouldn’t dare let me anyways.
My home was like a refuge form the outside world of Detroit. My home is not what others would call a home. I’m sure all those privileged kids who go to private schools would call it a shack. But our trailer was a home. It was the only place warm and comforting where I didn’t have to really worry about all that, Even though all “that” was right on the other side of the corrugated metal paneling. Our house was always neat and very tidy. That was my mom’s thing. She just kept it clean. Our home seemed like a little hidden gem in the trailer park. Maybe that why I never got into hanging out with all the kids outside, Cause I knew that my home was so much better than anything out there.
From what I understand and what my mom tells me that Detroit used to be a beautiful city. Full of amazing buildings and big fancy houses occupied by very rich people. Now nobody like that dares to live here. I love going to the library and reading books about Detroit. When I read about its time o0f glory I like to picture that its like that now. People everywhere and being safe. I wish it was like that now. I dream of fixing The Motor City. Repairing everything to its old state as if painting a new picture over an old decrepit one.
Summary: A boy moved to orgeon form the slums of detroit. He talks about how he wishes he could change detroit and restore it. He talks these things happening to him where he wakes up not knowing what happend the night previousley.
Sometimes fate has a funny way of finding you, is it a matter of luck or destiny that chooses the direction in which we travel? Is the world random or a big calculated mistake intentionally and perfectly imperfect? Whatever it is its always surprising in its own way
“What in the hell do you think your doing boy!?” I yelled as I stepped down from the tall steps leading down from the drivers seat of my truck. I dropped my cigarette on the ground and stomped out its bright embers as I stared down at the teenage boy who seemed to have been sleeping by the side of the highway.
“I… I’m not sure.” He said with a stupid look on his face. I looked at him for a minute and rubbed the rough side of my face, my fingertips caught on the sharp scruff that made my cheek its home. The boy looked around and stood to his feet I could tell he was confused.
“Look I’m headed toward the city, Spokane I think it’s called, you need a ride?” I realigned my hat and allowed the boy a minute to think.
“Is that near Astoria?” He asked me honestly perplexed. I laughed to myself.
”Your state off boy, but your better off going to a populated town and working your way back then sitting here in the middle of no where…” He stopped to think and the only sound was the brisk morning wind blowing past my ears.
“…Yeah th-thanks.” He said uncomfortably, I guess it was often a stranger offers you a ride a good couple hundred miles from home. I got up into my 18-wheeler, I pushed off the pile of cups and garbage that had accumulated on the passengers side of my seat so he could sit down. He stepped over the garbage in the road and joined me in the 35 ton truck that had become my home over the last few days.
The ride was quiet mostly, very little change in scenery really, just a lot of trees and rocks and grass. Finally the boy decided to speak up, I just wish it could’ve have been anything different. “So what’re you hauling?” He asked with a near whisper.
“Soap.” I lied, the same lie I had told the last few checking stations. “Just a lot of soap, smells good right?” I frowned nervously. The boy scrunched his nose and tried to pick up on the air around him.
I quickly unfolded the crumpled up money West threw into my hands. What a horrible man, I thought to myself. His cigarette smoke hung in my hair and weaved through my clothes. It left me with a cough, and I headed towards the counter. As I waited in a short line filled with vacant stares, it kind of hit me; I got into the truck of a stranger, the things I learned not to do at my old home. He was nasty, and I was lost. Oh mother, she is going to be so angry if she ever finds out.
As my turn in line came up, I asked for West’s orders, and handed the lady her money. She seemed too pretty to be working at such a dirty rest stop. Her black her curled and fell so perfectly over her shoulders; her eyes were so deep. I wondered her story, what led her to this disgusting life? I gave her a smile; I always had a thing for women. Girlfriends? I have had a few here and there. Nothing serious, mostly just pity dates.
As I came back from these foreign thoughts, the pretty waitress gave me West’s coffee. I was instantly hit with the scent of black coffee, and shuttered. How repulsive, was coffee; although I realized it fit. A repulsive drink for a repulsive man.
I stepped out to the truck, noticing the dark grey sky that made the world look so incredibly dull; West was in the back of the truck, and the door was open. I saw stacks and stacks of soap, but no truck driver. I put the coffee on the edge of the floor, and climbed up into the storage. Soap fumes hit me, but they had a certain tangy scent to them. Odd, I’ve never smelled this type of soap before, coming to think of it, it reminded me of the ghetto’s of Detroit.
“Hello, West?” I whispered, afraid the soap would hear me.
No response, so I climbed around the stacks of soap, peering into the trucks shadows. I heard mumbling, and the tangy scent grew stronger. I’ve never experienced something so odd, and it grew odder as I came up a stack of bricks. Bricks, in a truck? A truck that carries soap? Something was clearly up, and it didn’t come off as such a surprise to me, thinking about the truck’s driver. As I snuck around the bricks, I heard West mumbling and going through something; boxes, bags?
“Hello?” I said louder, and instantly got West’s attention.
The next thing I knew, I was hanging by my shirt, and the world was whizzing around me. West had a hold of me, and I wasn’t even touching the ground. He tossed me out of the truck, and onto the asphalt, and I skidded, scarring my cheeks and hands. I grew lightheaded, and tried to focus my eyes on West, who was towering over me from inside his truck.
“Never go in there again, do you here me brat? Never, or you will never live to see another day break.”
I nodded in fright, what a horrible, horrible man! But as horrible as he was, all that I could think about was what was in his truck that was so secretive. What was I doing here?
Gregory was sent to get coffee for West, and in this time he takes you a bit into his personal thoughts. Then he goes to find West in the back of the truck, and gets thrown, tossed, and yelled at by West for almost unveiling the drugs.
Second part.
“Hello, West?” I whispered, afraid the soap would hear me.
No response, so I climbed around the stacks of soap, peering into the trucks shadows. I heard mumbling, and the tangy scent grew stronger. I’ve never experienced something so odd, and it grew odder as I came up a stack of bricks. Bricks, in a truck? A truck that carries soap? Something was clearly up, and it didn’t come off as such a surprise to me, thinking about the truck’s driver. As I snuck around the bricks, I heard West mumbling and going through something; boxes, bags?
“Hello?” I said louder, and instantly got West’s attention.
The next thing I knew, I was hanging by my shirt, and the world was whizzing around me. West had a hold of me, and I wasn’t even touching the ground. He tossed me out of the truck, and onto the asphalt, and I skidded, scarring my cheeks and hands. I grew lightheaded, and tried to focus my eyes on West, who was towering over me from inside his truck.
“Never go in there again, do you here me brat? Never, or you will never live to see another day break.”
I nodded in fright, what a horrible, horrible man! But as horrible as he was, all that I could think about was what was in his truck that was so secretive. What was I doing here?
Gregory was sent to get coffee for West, and in this time he takes you a bit into his personal thoughts. Then he goes to find West in the back of the truck, and gets thrown, tossed, and yelled at by West for almost unveiling the drugs.
All of the sudden, 3 cars screeched to a halt around the truck. Gregory got up and ran out of the way as one threatened to hit him. As he ran, he looked back to see a dozen men get out of the cars and surround the truck. West had ran to his cab and was sitting in there, silent and unmoving. One of them men yelled something. West didn’t move. The man yelled again, and brandished a rather unnecessarily large firearm. This seemed to motivate West into action. But not the kind the men around him wanted.
The ignition turned, the truck started up. The men around it started, then brandished their own unnecessarily large firearms and poked the air with them menacingly. The truck edged forward, faster, faster. The men decided to use said firearms, and shots rang out through the night as the truck was peppered with bullets.
But it was too late, West was off, the truck riddled but the engine unharmed. Two of the men had to dive out of the way as he barreled right through onto the highway, and out of sight. The men scrambled back into their cars rushed off after him, the same screeching of tires heralding their departure as their arrival.
Gregory stood in the parking lot, not sure what was going on. As he stood there, a car pulled up alongside him. “Son, you all right?” Slowly, Gregory turned to look at the man. He was blinded by the close proximity to the flashing blue, red and white lights. “I… I’m not sure, officer.”
“How on earth did you end up here, boy?”
“I don’t know, officer.”
“That’s it, I’m taking you into custody. You’re not in trouble yet as far as I can tell, I’m jus’ doing this for your own protection.”
The cop ushered Gregory into the backseat, got back behind the wheel and turned around to face him.
“Where are you coming from?”
Gregory was about to reply when the sound of screaming and shattering glass sounded from the convenience store. The cop jumped out of his car, yelling “stay here!” and ran over. Gregory stayed there, not having much choice in the matter. He watched as the cop ran into the store.
Five seconds and 3 gunshots later, a woman with a mask over her head ran out. She ran straight for the car, jumped into the driver’s seat and took off. Gregory figured it was probably best to be silent. But before he could duck down, the newly cashed up driver chanced a look in the rearview mirror and saw him. “What the hell are you doing here!” She screamed. “What the hell are you doing here!!” Gregory replied. “I asked you first!” “I asked you second!!!!” “Oh yeah?” The woman brandished a reasonably sized firearm. “Yeah!” Gregory retorted, undeterred. His plan was working. The woman, turned around to aim the gun at Gregory, was concurrently not paying attention to the road. The car swerved and slammed into something with a huge crash.
Second Part
Gregory had his seatbelt on. The driver didn’t. Gregory was ok. The driver wasn’t. Always wear a seatbelt, kids.
The driver lay slumped over the steering wheel, groaning. They had crashed into a car pulled over on the side of the highway, deflected off that and into another car pulled over on the side of the highway, smashed into a third one, and then finally bashed into a the back of a big 18-wheeler.
For a minute, the only sound Gregory heard was the driver’s moans. Then his door opened, and a hand reached in and pulled him out. “You allright, kid?”
“West?”
“You got it, kid. Now what in goodness gracious mary and joseph tarnation dagnammit pete’s sake in blazes are you doin’ here! How’d you get into that car?”
“A cop put me in, then this guy hijacked the car and here I am, I guess. How are you still alive? Didn’t those guys chase you? Where are they? Those are their cars, right?”
West chuckled. “Quite a night you’re having, eh boy? As for them fellas, don’t you worry about them. Les jus’ say old Ton- I mean, West here knows how to handle himself.”
Sirens could be heard off in the distance. West looked up. “Allright, Greg, looks like I gotta bounce. You let those policemen take care of ya, allright? You’ll be ok.” And before Gregory could reply, West gave him a pat on the shoulder and ran up to his truck cab. He was gone before the cop cars came into view.
Summary: Gregory gets the coffee and comes out to see West attacked by gunmen. West takes off, leaving Gregory there. A cop picks Gregory up, but then a robbery takes place at the station and the robber hijacks the cop car. Gregory gets her to crash into West’s truck, where West is alive and well, and lets Gregory out. He then takes off as more cop cars arrive. Gregory is left on the side of the highway, waiting for the cop cars to approach.
The front fender of the car was crushed, crumpled up by the tree trunk. The engine was spewing out smoke, the rest of the car mainly in tack but still beat up enough that it wouldn’t run again for several weeks at least. Still in a daze I sit in the back seat, my head throbbing from being dashed against the back of the driver seat when the car hit the tree. My vision is impaired, the equilibrium off and making everything seem unbalanced. With one eye I look around the car, the robber unconscious with her head against the steering wheel. I hear the radio in the car, the sound of static coupled with broken words ringing out. The door on my side looks like it can still open so I try and pushed it open, undoing the seatbelt and then using the little strength my body still possesses to break free and fall onto the dirt ground. Barely being able to stand up I here the sound of another car roll up behind me and the engine turn off. At fist I don’t know what to think, my mind clouded and distorted by the throbbing pain.
I hear the door burst open and footsteps come over to me, two hands grabbing me by the armpits and pulling me up. Another cop, a tall man with dark red hair and pale freckled skin holds me up, looking at me with concern.
“You okay there son?” He says with a thick New England accent. “What happened here?” I say nothing, groaning and holding my hand to my head. The cop brings me over to his car and leans me up against the side of the car, sitting in the driver seat and turning on the radio.
“Headquarters this is car number 31 I’m on highway route 12 North behind an accident requesting back up, I repeat route 12 North behind an accident, requesting back up.” He waits for a few minutes before the radio responds.
“Copy that 31, back up and ambulance on the way.” The radio goes silent and he gets out of the car, walking over to the wrecked cop car and looking at the robber, turning to me.
“Is she dead?” He asks me. I only shrugged my shoulders, my head to throbbing and my sight still distorted. He comes back to the car and opens the back door, putting me on the edge so I can sit. “I’m guessing you had something to do with the robbery I got a call on and the gang that floored it out of there?”
My mind becomes conscious again of the incident that led up to the crash. I look at the cop and almost loose it completely. I want to just burst out at him in a frantic yell. How the hell am I supposed to know if she’s dead?! I barely could follow what was going on it was happening so fast!
I wanted to scream that at him, but I didn’t. My lunges could barely produce any sound. I just looked up at him, shaking my head. He stood back up and paced for a bit, probably trying to figure out what to do next. Finally he turned back to me.
“Ok look, perhaps you could tell me what happened to start.”
“I told you, I don’t know. One minute I’m in the back of the cop car and the next that girl comes running out of the store and gets in the car, obviously she didn’t see me since she instantly floored it out of there. That’s all I remember.”
“Yes but what about the store clerk? What happened to her? When did she get killed?”
“How the hell should I know?”
“Because you were there when she was killed apparently.”
“Look, I don’t know, I already told you everything I know.”
“Son, you’re not making any sense.”
“Oh sorry, my mind is a bit in shock still, be glad that I’m even talking right now!” I shouted. The man squeezed the skin on his nose, grunted and then looked back at me.
“Look, the ambulance should be getting here soon. Until then just sit there while I go and check up on the girl in the front of the car.” He said. I nodded and kept to myself, my body shaking slightly.
Why was this happening to me? I thought first the drugs, then the gang, and now this. I don’t even know where I am anymore. Where’s my mother when I need her? I put my head in my knees and started to cry, fear engulfing my thoughts. I felt his hand on my shoulder, shaking me slightly. Looking up I see his worried look.
“Hey, you ok?” He asked. I shook my head. “I know that you’re scared and all but everything is going to be ok. Trust me. “
“O…Okay.” I said in a weak voice.
The next thing moment I’m being wrapped up in a blanket and helped into the back of an ambulance, watching the other girl being put on a stretcher and raised inside. It was weird. Being so close to a woman who robbed and apparently killed someone, just weird. At least I’d be going to someplace, rather than staying stuck in the middle of nowhere. The ambulance took off with a jolt, speeding down the highway and towards the hospital. It wasn’t long though before the car screeched to a halt. The sound of the two front doors opening and the paramedics in a struggle rang out. Suddenly two gunshots pierced the air and I jumped, knowing what had happened.
Summary:
Waking up to being inside the wrecked police car, Gregory finds himself dazed and confused. Cop cars go by and one stops to help him. After some struggle trying to explain, the cop gives up and calls for back up with an ambulance. The ambulance with Gregory and the robber in it stops and the two paramedics are killed by the gang. The story picks up after that. What happens next, is up to the next writer.
Gregory was panicking as the shots were fired. Not only were two people dead outside, but he was also strapped into a stretcher with no chance of escape. He struggled to get out, but no luck. Shouting came from the outside. He could hear the muffled footsteps approach his end of the ambulance. It was only a matter of seconds before they found him. All Gregory could do was close his eyes and hope for the best. The door opened...
“Sorry about that kid.” said a very familiar voice. Gregory opened his eyes, to find the Oregon cop with the New England accent to appear before him! “Some hooligans tried to hijack this vehicle here, for some reason. A typical problem this part of the route has. Luckily, I was there, and shot the guns out of their hands faster than you can say 'Miranda's Rights'!” The cop accompanied the boast with fake gunshot noises and a little jig. “Well, enjoy your trip!”
“I, uh... Thanks?” Said a very confused Gregory, still recovering from physical, and now mental, trauma.
“Don't mention it. See ya round, kid!” The cop closed the doors and drove off in his cruiser. The EMTs got back into their seats and had a good laugh over that surprising scenario. Along the way, Gregory saw a sign pass behind them that read 'Welcome to Nowhere, Oregon! The city with the most motor vehicle theft of state vehicles since 1997!'. He then passed out.
Gregory woke up in a hospital bed, his clothes replaced with a hospital gown. He had a slight headache, but wasn't in too much pain. A twenty-something year old nurse noticed him.
“Ah, you're awake!” said the nurse excitedly. “You passed out on the way in. We did some tests, and it looks like you had a mild concussion.” She examines the notes on her clipboard. “You should be fine within a few days. Did you experience any memory loss?”
“Does include memory lost before the crash?” Said Gregory, who barely remembers the previous day. The nurse giggled.
“Nope! We could try to help you with that, but we probably won't get any results.” The nurse then looked at her clip board, and looked surprised at something she found. “Whoops, gotta go! The patient in the next room got his fingers fractured by a bullet!” Said the nurse with great speed, as she ran out of the room.
Gregory decided to think about his experience of the day or two, and try to piece together a logical explanation. He remembered a crappy place in Detroit, waking up in the middle of Nowhere, talking to a truck driver carrying drugs, getting arrested, a robber crashing the car, more cops, ambulance, gunshots, cops again, hospital. Thinking about it seemed to make the situation more confusing. He reached into his pants pocket, to find a ticket for a midnight train, a receipt for coffee, a half eaten candy bar (now melted), and about 20 bucks. None of this helped Gregory at all.
He thought about destination. Where to go, what to do. Since he forgot where he was originally going, he figured that he'll just wonder aimlessly until he remembered his first destination or came up with a new one.
The week flew by, filled with good food, relaxing beds, and television. To Gregory, being hospitalized may have been the best thing that ever happened to him. He said goodbye to the nice staff that took care of him, had one last meal, and left the hospital. He walked a mile and then started hitchhiking.
Two men in a fast car with no roof pulled up. The driver had a shaved head, and donned aviator glasses and a Hawaiian shirt. The other man had long dark hair, and wore a business suit. They told Gregory to get in.
“Holy crap, I've never rid in a convertible before!” Gregory said with glee.
“Where you headed?” queried the driver.
“Where ever you guys are going.” answered Gregory. He was sure that riding with these guys was going to be exciting.
Summary: The gunshots heard outside were from the cop, who arrested the men robbing the ambulance. Greg was hospitalized, and spent the time trying to figure out what happened and where he was going. He leaves the hospital and catches a ride from two men driving a convertible, following them to their destination.
Gregory’s hopes were not disappointed. The first day with the men, Gregory experienced what he imagined it was like to be rich; they ate at a classy Italian restaurant called Bella Vista, drove around aimlessly, not worrying about the cost of wasted gasoline, and stopped at a nice hotel, equipped with a pool and gym.
It wasn’t until later that night in the middle of a game of poker on the rented bed that Gregory inquired as to their destination.
“So… I know that this is a totally random situation, and maybe I should have some inkling to our whereabouts, but where the hell are we and where are we going?”
The man with the Hawaiian shirt laughed merrily.
“I think the first question should be, ‘Who are you and what do you want from me?’”
“Alright then, let’s try that: who are you and what do you want from me?”
The man with the Hawaiian shirt chuckled.
“I am Quentin, and this is Tiger.”
Tiger nodded from across the suspended game.
“And we don’t want anything from you but your company."
Gregory glanced at him skeptically.
“So... you don't want anything from me?"
"Nope, nothing at all," Quentin said. "And to answer your previous question, we're somewhere in southern California and headed south and then wherever our hearts lead us."
"Well, I can deal with that," said Gregory.
Three hours later, they were on the road again. They passed a few signs saying, "Hollywood 56 miles", "Hollywood 45 miles", and "Hollywood 32 miles." Gregory stared out the window and tried to sleep, ignoring the overly animated phrases coming out of Quentin's mouth. He still had no idea who the men were, and had once again violated his number one rule from Detroit: Do Not Get In Cars With Strange Men.
They made a sudden U-Turn and pulled into a makeshift parking lot. It was abandoned except for one car a 20 yards to the left.
Quentin cut the ignition and turned off the lights.
"Hey, guys, what's going on here?" Gregory inquired.
"Oh, nothing really, we're just stopping and waiting. You should probably be quiet, though." responded Quentin.
"What he means, is, 'Shut up, kid,'" clarified Tiger.
"You know what... I've been through a lot of crap the past few days, and I would really appreciate it if you could tell me exactly what's going on."
"You're better off not knowing, kid," said Quentin.
All of a sudden, there was an obnoxious banging on the window of the car. Gregory jumped. After the shock had subsided, he realized that he recognized the face on the opposite side of the glass: it was one of the kids from his new school, Gavin.
Gregory’s hopes were not disappointed. The first day with the men, Gregory experienced what he imagined it was like to be rich; they ate at a classy Italian restaurant called Bella Vista, drove around aimlessly, not worrying about the cost of wasted gasoline, and stopped at a nice hotel, equipped with a pool and gym.
It wasn’t until later that night in the middle of a game of poker on the rented bed that Gregory inquired as to their destination.
“So… I know that this is a totally random situation, and maybe I should have some inkling to our whereabouts, but where the hell are we and where are we going?”
The man with the Hawaiian shirt laughed merrily.
“I think the first question should be, ‘Who are you and what do you want from me?’”
“Alright then, let’s try that: who are you and what do you want from me?”
The man with the Hawaiian shirt chuckled.
“I am Quentin, and this is Tiger.”
Tiger nodded from across the suspended game.
“And we don’t want anything from you but your company."
Gregory glanced at him skeptically.
“So... you don't want anything from me?"
"Nope, nothing at all," Quentin said. "And to answer your previous question, we're somewhere in southern California and headed south and then wherever our hearts lead us."
"Well, I can deal with that," said Gregory.
Three hours later, they were on the road again. They passed a few signs saying, "Hollywood 56 miles", "Hollywood 45 miles", and "Hollywood 32 miles." Gregory stared out the window and tried to sleep, ignoring the overly animated phrases coming out of Quentin's mouth. He still had no idea who the men were, and had once again violated his number one rule from Detroit: Do Not Get In Cars With Strange Men.
They made a sudden U-Turn and pulled into a makeshift parking lot. It was abandoned except for one car a 20 yards to the left.
Quentin cut the ignition and turned off the lights.
"Hey, guys, what's going on here?" Gregory inquired.
"Oh, nothing really, we're just stopping and waiting. You should probably be quiet, though." responded Quentin.
"What he means, is, 'Shut up, kid,'" clarified Tiger.
"You know what... I've been through a lot of crap the past few days, and I would really appreciate it if you could tell me exactly what's going on."
"You're better off not knowing, kid," said Quentin.
All of a sudden, there was an obnoxious banging on the window of the car. Gregory jumped. After the shock had subsided, he realized that he recognized the face on the opposite side of the glass: it was one of the kids from his new school, Gavin.
Gregory reluctantly opened the door for Gavin, who fell onto the seat with maniacal energy. He was panting, despite having only run 60 feet.
"What are you doing here, man?" asked Gregory.
Panting, Gavin responded, "I... I don't know. I... my friends..."
Suddenly, he broke down. He started sobbing, whimpering, and spitting out incoherent phrases. Gregory patted him gingerly on the back, saying, "It's alright, dude, it's alright."
The two men in the front seat were looking at him with looks of absolute confusion.
Composing himself suddenly and defensively, Gavin asked, "Who are those people?"
"Gavin, Quentin and Tiger. Tiger and Quentin, Gavin," replied Gregory.
Gavin narrowed his bloodshot eyes. "Which is which?"
"I -" Quentin began.
"No," said Gavin, cutting him off, "Him." He glanced at Gregory.
Gregory said, "Oh, right. Umm, the one with the Hawaiian shirt is Quentin, and the other is Tiger."
Tiger snorted. "I am the other. Hah. Interesting."
Gregory ignored him. "They're pretty cool, they've been helping me out." Shock passed over Gregory's face. "Dude, what's wrong with you? Are you feeling all right? You look... green."
Gavin looked suddenly fearful. "I have to go."
Before a word could be spoken, he jumped from the car and ran towards the trees a ways in front of the car.
"Well," Gregory said as soon as Gavin was out of sight, "that was weird."
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