CHAPTER 11
The exit from the Thoroughfare was swift and uneventful, but completely disorienting. One moment Jonothan Chance and Daniel Cassaday had made the turn on a gravel road as directed by Beatrice, and the next they were parked on a darkening city street.
Apparently, they had outrun whatever danger Beatrice had warned them of.
They sat in the car, studying their new surroundings: Jonothan could see that, while the street was not crowded with vehicles, those nearest to them had Ohio license plates. Cassaday remained silent, his thoughts his own, and streetlights lining both sides of the road began to blink on, slowly, illuminating the entire expanse of the rue progressively, like a runway. Their light was muted at first, before eventually reaching full strength. Despite maximum luminescence, the surrounding sidewalks and street remained dim and shady.
There was a metaphor, there, Chance ruminated to himself.
Storefronts lined both sides of the street with an eclectic mix of tattoo parlors, antique stores, a fortune teller, record store, a couple different dive bars, a few faux dive bars and, a little past those, a pawn shop.
The pawn shop was their destination.
Still, the timing bugged Jonothan: the drive out had been pitch with darkness, and here they were, again at the precipice of evening yet again? Had they really driven all night and all day? Wouldn’t they be further east?
Time was moving differently now, and had been ever since that business in the graveyard, what was it, three? four? days ago now? A week? It was hard to say anymore.
Time was moving differently.