Slap. Slap. Slap.
My feet pounded on the ground as I ran, creating a steady pace. Music blared through my earbuds, and I could feel the beat in my heart. The sun had not yet cut to it's blinding shine because it was only 5:30 A.M. Jogging steadily through the streets, I settled into an introspective mood, just thinking. In fact, I was thinking so deeply that I forgot my surroundings and my mind drifted off. Would they still be here if I hadn't-
"Oof!" Startled, I looked up. I had run right into another person!
"You should watch where you're going, young lady," he continued. That voice was familiar...
"Hey mister, wait! Do I know you?" I asked.
His eyes widened and he looked alarmed. Glancing at his watch, he muttered, "I should be going," and pushed past me. I resumed my run, utterly confused. I could have sworn I know that guy...
In about an hour, I ran home, knowing my uncle and aunt were probably there waiting for me with breakfast. As soon as I stepped in the door, the smell of cinnamon rolls hit me. I wandered into the kitchen, the scent becoming stronger as I came closer. Suddenly, I noticed the underlying smell of burnt bread, and I heard the abrupt sound of the fire alarm ring. Coughing, Aunt Natsumi ran into the kitchen, tore open the kitchen and began crazily fanning the entire kitchen with a tiny pastel pink tea towel.
"Another batch ruined!" she cried dramatically. Meanwhile, apparently my uncle had heard all the hubbub and rushed into the kitchen with his tie askew.
"By Newton's third law!" He exclaimed, holding onto his glasses and jumping from surprise.
I struggled to get their attention. “Guys, hello!”
They immediately ceased their craziness to look at me. “What?” They said in unison.
Well, that was creepy, I thought. Shaking my head, I sat down to eat.
I had known I was adopted by my aunt and uncle for a long time. But after meeting that strange man today, I wasn’t so sure my parents, Aunt Natsumi, and Uncle Dan were my only family. There was only one solution. I had to find out more.
~•~•~•~
I pulled my red coat tighter about me. Sighing, I looked up at the neon sign, which read Bill’s Barnyard. I pushed the door and stepped inside.
“Hey missy, what’re y’all doin’ round these parts?” A man spoke with an obviously fake country accent.
“Drop the act; I know you’re from Oregon, Bill.” I snapped.
He sighed. “Still can’t fool you, huh?”
“You’ll never fool me. Anyway, I’m looking for someone. Tall, around 6’1”, chestnut buzzcut hair, thin, and wearing a beige shirt and black dress pants.”
Bill laughed. “That’s quite some detail.”
“Save it, Bill. Tell me what I need to know.” Bill had been a family friend for as long as I could remember; nonetheless, I could get extremely annoyed with him.
“Okay, fine, sorry. Anyway, I know someone who fits that description. His name is Josiah-” He was cut off as a bang echoed through the saloon hallways.
“ON THE FLOOR!” He hollered. Suddenly, a large hand grabbed the back of my coat. I faintly heard my name being yelled. Then everything went black.