one: piecing the puzzle
The tide is low at this time of year. There's a thin coat of snow covering the rocks that separate the ocean from the forest. I'm rummaging through the box of clothes in the Jeep and my heart stops when I pull out a leather jacket. The embroidery around the collar. I recognize this. The leather jacket belongs to my mother. I drop it back in the box and sit down on the rear bumper.
I lookout at the ocean, the vaste body of water that seperates me from Felix. I miss his touch even though he's only been gone for a few hours. My thoughts drift back to my discovery.
Why is her jacket there?
I contemplate the scenarios that could explain this, every situation imaginable running through my mind like some freak slideshow. How did David end up with my mother's jacket? I could put my hand in fire that she was wearing it when she returned to Tokyo.
She was in a hurry that day, couldn't even take a minute to kiss me goodbye. She was in town for only a week, all in the name of business though. Grams was just about to make me supper when mom had rushed back inside the house, claiming she had forgotten something upstairs. I remember thinking how beautiful she was with her hair loose. How stunning she looked in that leather jacket.
I turn around and pull the jacket out of the box. I hug it, smell mom's perfume that still lingers on the fabric. I forget about the carnage, the death, and the bastards that lurk the cities. I can't supress the fact that she may have something to do with everything that is happening. But still, she's my mom. I miss her.
I can lie and say I'm not crying but that would serve no purpose in telling my story. I'm crying for many different reasons. Because grams and David are dead; because I'm alone on a shore, uncertain about my future; because I'm fucking pregnant.
In a fit of anger I throw the jacket to the ground and hear something clatter against the rocks. I kneel down and look in the side pockets but find nothing. I'm about to throw it back in the Jeep when I remember the hidden pocket in the inside of the jacket, just at the lower back. Mom would always keep a photo of her mom there. She said it protected her.
The breeze picks up and a sudden chill invades me. I jump inside the Jeep and fire it up. I finally take a peak in the hidden pocket and my fingers touch something cold and metallic. Not what I was expecting. I pull out the object and the sight of it baffles me.
"What the fuck..." I whisper, contemplating the tracking device. It's a touch screen and out of curiousity I press the menu icon. The screen goes black and then two new icons appear. One labelled Robert Scott and the other one is...
Oh my God. My mother is alive.