Forget Me Not: part Three

[silver-falcon24.livejournal.com]

Title: Forget Me Not (sort of AU)
Word Count: Part three: 6500~
Rating: Eventual R
Summary: A taxi driver and the Front Man of a successful band meet under unsual circumstances all relating to a dead little shop and it's missing occupants. What ensues makes them question everything they've been lead to believe.
Disclaimer: the further away the boosh are from me, the better for all involved.
Dedication: Once again to beholdhaecceity  for reading through, naget_innle  for the same treatment and both  colour_me_troll  for her first run through as my wonderful trooper, my Beta and el_gardner who wonderfully tackled ALL of it. I think you both deserve a medal.

Part One:
Part Two

 

Chapter Three

The Following News

 

And through the fence I see a ghost
Of a place that used to breathe
You know it choked away the sun
But we still had food to eat
And now everyone is gone
To a place that won't be home …
Will they make it on their own?

We’ll be there when you’re gone

The Goo Goo Dolls

 

The day had started slow and the chill in the air had done nothing to help James’ increasing boredom as the day progressed. His back seat never seemed empty of a fare, and yet his mind kept buzzing like a bee was stuck in his ear, driving him steadily insane. It seemed as though each thought needed to pass through a wall before being allowed through to his conscious, and it made everything else seem slow to match. Back in Brent he hadn’t moved outside the borders of the suburb, yet his mind kept wandering outside back to that odd little shop and the equally odd fashionistas he’d glimpsed. The closest thing he could relate to his sudden curiosity in that world, beyond corduroy and jazz nights, was that it was like an exotic bird sanctuary. In order to maintain the exotic nature of their existence they needed to remain inside their cage. A cage… he’d been slightly alarmed when that had first passed through his mind, but by the afternoon he was calmly settled on it. Sometimes the exotic needed to be kept locked up for their own good. He had been permitted to take a glimpse into their world, and all of a sudden whenever his mind wandered, it wandered to a dead little shop that seemed to breed in his mind an idea of fashion and magic. Everything that he associated with the fare and friend he’d glimpsed in Dalston.

 

Rapping his fingers on the steering wheel, James waited letting the boring chit chat of some random radio station waft throughout the car. The back seat was filled with an odd little man who wore large sunglasses on the edge of his nose, his hat drawn forward and his briefcase held close as though he was terrified someone was likely to take it off him. Once again travelling beyond the borders of his home suburb, the car was silent, as the small man had declined James’ introduction to polite conversation, leaving James’ mind to wander back over the Nabootique and the intriguing world of Dalston Trendies. So it was quite a surprise when James was drawn back into reality to the sound of the unpleasantly accented girl over the radio reading the news.

 

“…Nabootique run by Naboo and his two employees – Vincent Noir and Harold Moon – both of whom remain missing. In other news Police have additionally released a report into the robbery of the Manchester branch of Tesco…”

 

He chuckled and the guy in the backseat jerked suddenly. James glanced in the rear view mirror and he shook his head. He’d driven quite a few oddballs in his time, but this one was high on his list.

 

“How much longer?” the man asked, suddenly.

 

“Not far. Five minutes,” James answered, turning back to the road. People were moving like ants on both sides of the street, caught up in worlds all their own.

 

Just as promised, James pulled over several minutes later and the small man disappeared in a rush, chucking a wad of cash in James’ lap before he had the chance to call the fare.

 

He shook his head. Weirdo. Camden was equally as odd a place as Dalston had been the day before. People in bright clothes ran back and forward along the street on either side, bags clenched in both hands like their lives depended on them – in the same awkward fashion as the small man with the briefcase.

 

The backseat completely empty, he sidled along, taking his time to make a u-turn and work his way back the way he came. Changing the radio he left the station on whatever it landed on and the station chose something with a beat that reminded him of the Stones, almost poetic considering where he was. The song ended abruptly and James stopped his perusal for a moment to glance down at the dial as a voice rippled through.

 

“The Body of missing Dalston man, Michael Naboo was found recently in the outskirts of London. Naboo who owned the Nabootique - a small second hand boutique, has been missing since June. Also missing were his two flatmates, Harold Moon and Vince Noir. Neither man has been seen since and authorities continue to fear for either mans’ safety. Anyone with any information should contact local Police.”

 

James adjusted the dial a little, the traffic moving forward slightly, forcing him to leave it between stations. He sighed, mind consumed with the Nabootique, the small red painted shop with fading yellow letters and empty windows. A shop that small, mentioned twice in half an hour was odd, even for the same story, sad as it was. Even in his head the shop painted a sad picture, complementing the sad story that had been its end. The traffic moved forward again and James gunned the engine, the radio still buzzing noisily between locality.

 

“Police have searched his London Boutique the Nabootique but their investigation has continued to produce no leads… anyone with information should contact – ”

 

James looked down at the radio, eyebrows raised in confusion. He wasn’t imagining things but the dial definitely wasn’t tuned to a proper station, and he was pretty sure that wherever he was didn’t pick up stations on either side of where the dial currently rested. With a bemused chuckle he turned the dial a few more notches and let something that sounded an awful lot like Coltrane buzz from the speakers. This station never played anything but Jazz. Jazz 24/7 – and despite his attraction and interest in the small shop and its mysteries, altogether it wasn’t essential to his life and the fact it kept following him was slightly disconcerting. 

 

Tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in time to the saxophone solo echoing from the speakers, he let his gaze wander over the pavement either side of him. Life was slightly more refined here than it had been in the street aligning the Nabootique. While that had featured graffiti and music posters half posted over music posters, there was nothing of the sort here, here every poster had its own space and the walls were painted almost anything but white or brown, and along the way he’d seen more than one shop with a mural dragging in the customers with bright colours. London was full of different people. It amazed him at times the diversity of it all. If he hadn’t plucked up the courage and become a taxi driver, he never would have known about people like that kid the other night, whose flyer still decorated the floor of his front seat, or Joey and Court and Franky. Nor would he have seen places like that little store down in Dalston or the street he was currently on. If he’d stayed in Brent like he’d first wanted, reminiscing in its likeness to his hometown of Leeds, things would have been harder on him than he really cared to think about. Altogether this job had done wonders for his social confidence.

 

“TAXI!” hitting his foot on the brake to the sound of a fierce whistle, James was slightly amused and alarmed in equal measure when a figure with a carefully styled mop of bottle black hair and painted on jeans and jacket flopped into his back seat and grinned into his rear view mirror.

 

“Where to?” he asked, altogether rather annoyed at the fact he vaguely recognised the kid as the guy who’d come out of the club the day before, when he’d delivered his last Trendy fare to its Dalston location. Annoyed or not, James wasn’t quite ready for the address the kid said with another lopsided grin, blue eyes twinkling.

 

“Nabootique – Dalston, I dunno the address.”

 

James sat almost frozen in his seat.

 

“Nabootique I said –s’in Dalston – near the Velvet Onion if that helps,” the kid repeated and James jerked himself out of his lapse of concentration. He felt odd… Everything all of a sudden seemed to lead to this Nabootique. All of a sudden it felt like he had hives or something, like his skin was crawling and he needed to itch but just couldn’t. There was nothing to scratch – only it just felt like there should be. It felt almost ingrained in him, like he could all of a sudden feel a tapeworm in his gut. He shifted in his seat.

 

“I know where it is,” he said, signalling to pull back into the main line of traffic. The kid looked up from where he had been rummaging in his bag – an almost dazzling grin plastered on his face as though he’d just told him that he knew some rock god or someone this kid would admire religiously… like Mike Jagger or whoever he was.

 

“Really? That’s brilliant! Didn’t think anyone would know where it is!” He beamed, flopping back on the seat to watch James, who shifted awkwardly under his gaze. The kid’s large blue eyes made him uncomfortable. The way he looked at James made it seem like they were looking straight through him, right into the back of his skull and reading everything in there. Not that he felt right now that even he understood or even knew what was going on inside his skull either. It was filled with some odd buzzing, making everything hard to concentrate on. It was so damn weird.

 

“Yeah, it’s been on the radio though, and it’s not a name you forget easily. Some of the other blokes might know by now,” he answered, the air horribly thick, not that the kid seemed to notice; he was watching James somewhat eagerly. It made him, if possible, even more apprehensive. After all, like the kid said, he wasn’t sure anyone would know about the Nabootique, and yet it was following him. The small shop mentioned on every station of the radio he switched to, including one that hadn’t even been a station at all, and now he was driving some kid to the very same place. He nervously glanced in the rear windscreen, scanning the other taxis behind him. The one directly behind had a large advertisement for some laser copy centre on the side and was happily sitting directly behind James’ car. Not many taxis tended to do that. It was a fares game – the more fares you managed to get the more you got paid and it wasn’t often some people slacked off for no reason other than the pace. It was just so disconcerting, of all the damn taxis around the kid had to get into his… some people would say it was Fate… James thought something more like Murphy having fun with coincidence. Or at least that’s what he hoped it was. It surely had the opportunity to become more, and his mind had already come up with a couple of ideas – each one crazier than the last.

 

“Yeah, wouldn’t know ‘bout the radio.” The kid smiled, surprising James. He fiddled with the mirror so he could directly see the kid and the kid him.

 

“Really?” he asked, the surprise evident in his voice.

 

The kid laughed.

 

“Sorry – it’s just you look the type to know the radio back to front.”

 

”I know,” he chuckled and James felt as though he could almost lose himself in the sudden sparkle in his eyes. The kid raised his hand and ruffled it through his hair. It was an odd style – almost like it was growing out of some sort of drunk pixie… there didn’t seem to be any straight symmetrical surface in it at all – it was all shapes and hacking and he knew immediately, even by the lingering smell of hairspray that this ‘mop’ took longer than James took to get ready in the morning and out the door. All the same, it suited him and he took a lot longer than was polite (or safe, considering he was driving) to watch it settle.

 

“I don’t listen to the radio – at all, really. I just listen to the greats – like Bowie and Jagger, an’ I got my cds for that. Don’t need nothing else,” he said with a happy smile, turning to watch the outside of the car again and playing with an odd pendant around his neck.

 

“So, don’t mean to pry – but er, just wondering why you wanted to go to the Nabootique?” James asked, somewhat nervously. It wasn’t a common experience for him these days to feel so uncomfortable talking to a fare. There was just something unsettling about this one that made him jumpy. The feeling as though he had hives suddenly erupted again and he gripped the steering wheel unnecessarily tight for a moment. “Do you know anyone there? Because I drove past it the other day and I can tell you this much - its dead, closed, boarded up and all. Looks like it’s been that way since they all disappeared,” he said; trailing off a bit at the end in an attempt to try and not to sound too…  enthused? No, that couldn’t be it. But there was something about this kid that just made him feel all over the place. He’d never felt so out of place and yet strangely… at home – especially inside his own car.

 

“Who?”

 

“You know, the owners, that Nabloo or whoever he is they keep blabbing on about,” he said, signalling and turning off the main street. He always preferred the back streets, and often his fares didn’t have a clue it added about 2 pound to the journey, but in all respects he just liked the quieter roads. Most of his fares appreciated it a bit too. This fare, he could tell, wouldn’t have a clue whatever he did, though by the interest he was taking in the houses flying past it seemed the backstreets had more interest than the main streets.

 

“Oh, no – I don’t know anyone there. I just, it’s the weirdest thing, you know? Just damn crazy actually,” the kid muttered, reaching for his bag and pulling out a sweet and noisily beginning to unwrap it. James’ stomach however seemed to have dropped and bloody well disappeared altogether.

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah,” the kid said, leaning against the front seat so he was so close to James’ ear he could hear each breath he took and feel him exhale. He could smell the fake mint on the kid’s breath and it took a moment for him to realise he hadn’t taken a breath himself.

 

“One of me mates might’ve had the radio on I think – cause I vaguely remember hearin’ the name before, anyways. I was reading the newspaper the other night before the gig. Bored stiff I was. Anyway I read this article on the police finding this body or something. It was just so weird I couldn’t get it out of my head. Anyway, last night I found another paper and it was the same story and I saw it again twice this morning. Stupid thing’s following me around like a hound – so, best way to get a song out’ya head is to play, it so I thought it might be the same for this. If I see the place, then maybe I can stop thinking about it.”

 

“Oh,” James said, his voice barely a whisper. Once again he had the sneaking suspicion he wasn’t breathing anymore, and it was only the realisation that he was driving that snapped him out of it. The kid seemed completely unaware of it all, entranced in his own world of unwrapping something as equally mass produced and bad for him as the last sweet.

 

“You ever been to Leeds? Cause your voice just kinda sounds like it.”
James blinked, it hadn’t been three seconds since he’d finished speaking and he’d already started again, intent on not letting the car fall silent. It had definitely been a while since a passenger had been so animated. Even without his talking, so far the kid had barely sat still, his hands were always moving – digging in his bag, unwrapping sweets, ruffling his hair – he just wouldn’t sit still and wouldn’t shut up.

 

James coughed to clear his throat, the phlegm sticking uncomfortably.

 

“Er, yeah – I lived in Leeds. Born there, lived down here in London for a while then went back.”

”But now you’re here.”

 

“Obviously I moved back again,” James replied, giving the steering wheel a good tap. He just caught the kid’s massive grin in his rear view mirror as he signalled and turned down another small street.

 

“I been to Leeds. Just for a while though. I just went AWOL for a while. Wanderin’ about. Nowhere to go, nowhere to be, I just went. You don’t look like the kind to do that sort of thing.”

”No, not me.” James had the urge to suddenly add ‘sir’ to the end of his sentence and as he blinked he only just saw a dog run across the street ahead of him. The breaks screeched a little and he was pulled forward by gravity, his seatbelt digging into him. All he heard from the back was a thump and several choice words.

 

“Bloody dogs!” the kid glared daggers as he climbed back onto the seat, James watched in the rear window as the kid set about righting himself, his hair, and his overly large bag of bits and pieces which seemed half spread across the back floor.

 

“You got enough stuff in there? You carry more than any of the girls I know,” James chuckled, checking both sides of the road before slowly starting up again. He had been thinking the same thing as the kid, but he did prefer dogs over most animals, especially cats. Cats were so… domineering. Dogs were a friend; cats seemed to well, own you. The kid looked like a cat person.

 

“If you’re gonna have them, keep ‘em locked up, eh?” the kid was muttering, and it took a moment before James saw that it wasn’t the dog that had him angry, it was the idea of the dog getting run over.

 

“You an animal person?” he asked, not sure why he was so interested. It wasn’t just a polite question, he was actually genuinely interested.

 

“Yeah,” the kid muttered back, shoving the last couple of things back in his bag.

 

“Wanted to work in a zoo when I was a kid. But dunno, never happened. Became a rock star instead, so I can’t really complain, can I?” He grinned shifting in his seat, but this time James was sure that complain was just what the kid wanted to do.

 

“Bet that’s all it’s cracked up to be,” he said and by the quick look he caught in the glass he guessed the kid had heard his sarcasm. The kid fell suddenly quiet, but only for a moment.

 

“So,” he started, James nervously glanced in the mirror.

 

“How do you know where this Nabootique is?”

This time it was James’ turn to shift awkwardly in his seat.

 

“I had this thing in me head that no one would know where it was. I mean all I know about the place is that it won’t leave me alone.” Me neither, James thought with a frown, but he remained quiet.

 

“But you know exactly where it is, an’ what happened there. I’m just curious why some Camden Cabbie knows that.”

”I’m from Brent, not Camden.” The kid’s face broke into a large grin.

 

“Knew it,” he muttered, his face falling again.

 

“Why’re you in Camden then?”

”Dropping off a fare.”

 

“Oh yeah, right. So – why d’you know about this place, huh?”

 

“To be honest I don’t know much at all. I just, only reason I know where it is, is because I drove past it dropping off a fare in Dalston the other day. Drove right past it. We were stopped at the lights and parked right outside it. Had a funny name, made a comment on it and that’s all I thought about it.” But now it’s all I can think about. Now it’s following me around too, he thought, but he wasn’t about to go and tell the kid that, could he? He’d think he was insane, and rightly so. Only, a voice in the back of his head, usually the voice of reason, was yelling at him to stop being an idiot and just say it. The kid had after all said that the place was tagging behind him like a bad smell, but James just didn’t want to say it. He felt awkward in the kid’s presence. He hadn’t felt like this in years. These days he was confident and somewhat slightly rude, as Court kept telling him. But this kid… there was just something.

 

“That and what I heard on the radio,” three times in five minutes on two and a half stations.

 

“Oh,” The kid said, flopping back on his seat and pushing his hair out of his eyes, looking, as James noticed, slightly dejected.

 

“We’ll be there in a couple of minutes,” he added, adjusting the mirror again to better see the kid in the back. He was sat back in the seat, staring out the window still with a dejected frown on his face. James had to stop himself from asking what was wrong, or, the more fierce impulse – to say something ridiculous to bring that dazzling smile back on the kid’s face. He was all points and sharp angles and the sad look did nothing for him, rather emphasising how his nose jutted out wrong and the sharpness of his cheekbones and jaw. When he was smiling none of that mattered. It was completely irrelevant, and it made them beautiful. James was surprised at himself, he didn’t usually like real aesthetics, he liked the worn, the previously loved, not the bright and new and beautiful of this exotic bird. But he couldn’t take his eyes off him.

 

The four turns to the main road passed unusually quickly and James felt his skin prickle the closer they got, while the buzzing in his head he’d managed to mute seemed harsh and very obvious all of a sudden. He didn’t want the kid to leave. Never the less, keeping him locked in the taxi was classed as kidnapping, and James wasn’t ready for that type of commitment. Nor did he see the kid coming close to the type that would suffer from Stockholm syndrome. Biting his lip he pulled over to the curb and pulled on the break outside the shop. The sun was fading, and a quick glance at the clock told him it was just over quarter past five. The air wasn’t quite as cold as it had been, strangely, and James was finding it hard not to rub at his skin with his nails. The kid was still staring blankly out the window, though now he was half -heartedly chewing on his thumb nail. James watched for a moment, tracing the curve of his gloss coated lips and how the fading light darkened the gloss. It was so tantalising, James shut his eyes, letting himself rekindle the feel of the kid’s breath on his neck, mint tinting the warm air perusing his skin, courtesy of the sweet rolling on his tongue… James’ eyes flashed open. What on earth was he doing? He coughed, clearing his throat again and taking the car out of gear. A ruffle of plastic and denim told him that his cough had snapped the kid from his stupor and James rubbed his chin, the bristle of his beard rubbing against his skin as he did so.

 

“We’re here,” he said unnecessarily, though the kid seemed to notice this for the first time as he said it. Blue eyes widening as they took in the red building and its yellow font, the glass covered in what looked like newspaper.

 

“Do you want me to wait?” he asked, surprised by his own voice taking control before his brain could second guess it. The kid looked away from the shop, blinking hard.

 

“Err, yeah. Thanks,” he said, finishing with a grin.

 

“So, do you want me to pay now or later?” he asked, hand digging into his bag. James waited for a moment.

 

“Later’s fine,” he managed to say. The kid nodded.

 

“Well I’ll he said. "I'll leave my bag in 'ere. It'll be easier I suppose. Just 'aving a look anyway." He seemed to be speaking more to himself than to James and James let it be, allowing the kid the zip his bag without saying another word. Thing was, he wasn't sure what else to say. His skin prickled uncomfortably.

 

“No worries,” he muttered, falling back against his chair. The shop unnerved him. Two days ago he’d never heard of the place. Now he couldn’t get rid of it, everything dragging him towards it and it seemed inescapable. It was only something he could relate to an execution, walking towards your own death and knowing it. Surely he shouldn’t feel so calm about it? But he did, it didn’t worry him at all. The calm before the storm he reminded himself as the door swung shut and the kid left the car.

 

Calm before the storm.

 

And the storm was about to hit.

 

^(*)^

 

Zipping his bag up, Nate took a quick glance at the cabbie under his lashes and his mask slipped long enough to allow his mouth to crease in a frown. It wasn’t often that Nate’s bisexuality raised its head. More often than not he was girls all the way, but there was something about this guy that roused something in Nate he hadn’t felt in a long time – or possibly, at all. When he did find someone he liked it most definitely did not involve a half grown beard and a sepia dress code. Though there was just something about this guy that made his stomach clench and make that odd feeling as though someone in the back of his head was clashing cymbals together - like one of those monkey toys - just get louder. It had been the oddest taxi ride he could ever remember, he’d spent half the time staring at his driver, lost in the man’s curls and imagining running his fingers through them, feeling his hair tickle his skin and breathing in the man’s woody scent. The rest of the time he’d spent trying not to do exactly that. Oddly enough, at this exact moment he found himself anticipating the ride back to Camden more than he did finding out just what it was about the Nabootique and why it seemed to be following him.

 

Climbing out of the car, he shut the door, taking one last look at his driver, who had taken to zipping his jacket down a bit and peering out his window, almost as though he didn’t want to look at the Nabootique at all. That was odd.

 

Taking a deep breath, Nate turned to face the shop. It was exactly what Cash and the driver had said it was. While the overall impression of it was almost magical, the red paint seemed dull and the papers covering the glass windows and door seemed to sap most of the magic from it. Tentatively walking forward, Nate let his nerves take over. He had no idea what the hell he was doing. The monkey in his head seemed to be banging as loud as he could, but never the less the air seemed to tingle in anticipation and set about making each step that much harder to take. The feeling as though he was walking towards something he should stay as far away as possible from was acute, and even still he kept walking. Something just told him to keep going. Something that wasn’t loud enough to drown out the monkey, but all the same it was there and he felt it. He felt it and something told him to obey it rather than the warnings going off like New Years’ fireworks. Taking a deep breath he took one last step forward and pulled a notice from the front of the shop. The blank eyes staring back at him made him squirm and he turned away from the small turban wearing gaze awkwardly. The entire building seemed to be pasted in missing person signs. All of them, it seemed were the small man in the turban, or a picture of a tweed jacket balancing something that resembled a balloon, underpinned with the name Harold Moon. He blinked, staring at the balloon. If someone missed him so much, why would they not post his actual picture? Stepping back he looked at the wall. It was covered in posters of two of the three missing men, the guy in the turban and the Moon character with the missing face. Not a single poster bore the face of the third missing guy – the Nore or whoever he was. Though Nate noticed a multitude of torn corners stuck to the glass, reaching out he touched the closest one, it was brittle and reminiscently damp, as though attacked continually by the elements. It seemed the third guy’s posters had disappeared early on.

 

Biting his lip, Nate let the monkey’s bashing double as though trying to drown everything out in his head. Each breath he took seemed double the effort. His stomach felt heavy and taut as though someone had it clenched in their fist. Running a hand through his hair, he nervously reached out and trailed his fingers back over to the Moon poster. Why did no one miss him? Did anyone want him back? Was he as alone as Nate felt, before he disappeared? The overwhelming feeling of intrigue washed over Nate again. Would he be missed if he just upped and disappeared the way they had? If he just faded from existence which one would he be like? The guy with the posters everyone stole, the one everyone left on the wall or the one no one even cared was gone? Tears welled at his eyes and Nate clenched them shut.

 

A sudden crash from inside the shop snapped him back into reality. He froze, hand instinctively clenched over the notice, pulling it off the window to reveal a square of newspaper behind. A second noise, a creak, echoed through the glass and Nate shakily let his breath escape. Glancing behind him the shadow of the cabbie sat just like he had before; taking another deep breath Nate nervously stepped forward, boots clicking on the cement. Glancing behind him at the empty street his hand instinctively closed around the paper, clenching it tight. Another small sound echoed from inside and he moved forward, nervously reaching out and closing his other hand over the doorknob. Breathing hard, monkey suddenly eerily silent, he turned it. The door opened with a click and his breath hitched. The sudden jingle from the door’s bell faded out and his breath shakily escaped into the rapidly cooling air. Glancing back at the taxi, the hand on his stomach tightened once more and a small sound escaped his lips. Suddenly determined, he slowly drew the door open. He didn’t know whether the guy in the taxi was watching him, and he didn’t know why he felt so anxious whether he was or not. Breathing short and sharp, he slid inside. The shop was dark and the air was still and smelt heavily of dust. The shafts of light peaking through the paper on the windows picked up the dust particles in the air, making the entire place seem as though he’d stepped into another world. It was reminiscent of something from Disney – like he was standing in a room made of stars or magic dust, lights just dancing in the air. Another crash echoed from within the shop and Nate automatically froze again. A rough voice reverberated from where he could vaguely see the illumination of a light somewhere upstairs.

 

His eyes danced nervously around the room, taking in each small space. He wasn’t alone, someone else was here. There were two possibilities: one – they knew Naboo or whoever he was and may know why he couldn’t get the whole thing out of his mind, or they were the people who had killed Naboo and were cleaning up after themselves. Either option suddenly didn’t sound likeable and he took a step backwards. Though at that moment he noticed one of the posters from the front of the shop. A notice that bore a face altogether familiar. He stepped forward, reaching out for the paper. One look, that was all he wanted. One clear look – surely it wasn’t…

 

Three things happened in quick succession. The wind outside suddenly picked up and the door slammed shut. Nate froze, hand midway to touching the paper just as two sets of feet descended the stairs.

 

“OI!” one of them yelled, though no one moved. Nate knew he wasn’t breathing, but it was almost as though he’d forgotten how rather than anything else. The monkey in his head was suddenly banging away again, his heart pounding in similar time. It felt as though it was pounding somewhere between his chest and this throat, all intentions dedicated to escaping.

 

“It’s him,” someone whispered, though Nate barely heard it.

 

“You sure?”

 

“Yeah.” Someone’s boots clicked on the lino as they stepped forward and all of a sudden Nate resumed the feeling of his body and the situation found the action part of his brain.

 

The lock on his body suddenly disappeared and only one thing passed through.

 

 Run.

 

Ignoring the poster he’d set his intentions on, he turned and made for the door.

 

“GET HIM!” someone yelled, but he didn’t hear it. Every part of his body was screaming at him to run, to get out.

 

The world seemed to slow, each beat of his heart taking a lot longer than it should. Slamming the door behind him, he yelled something to the cabbie from where he was standing. Something in his head told him the others in the shop were just steps behind him. One foot in front of the other he sprinted towards the car, breath hitching in his throat.

 

His fingers felt numb as he fumbled with the door of the car. His head was pounding, in time or against the monkey he wasn’t sure. All he could hear was the constant noise. Adrenaline rushing through his body at speeds unimaginable just seconds before.

 

“What is it?” the taxi driver asked as Nate threw himself into the front seat.

 

“I don’t know! Drive – just drive!” he yelled. The driver stared at him blankly for a moment.

 

“DRIVE!” Nate yelled and he didn’t know what did it, whether it was the anxiousness of his voice or that the driver had seen whoever they were come tearing out of the shop behind him, but never before in his life had Nate felt so comfortable in the sound of screeching tyres on bitumen.

 

“What’s going on here?” the driver yelled, catching up very quickly to Nate’s hysterics.

 

“I have no idea! Just go – keep going, please!”

 

“Yeah fucking hell I will. – What the fuck is that - that carpet doing?” the guy’s voice strained as it swore, foot firmly pressed down on the accelerator and eyes wide as they stared in the rear view mirror. Nate swivelled around and his jaw dropped.

 

“Fucking Christ!”

 

“Yeah say that again! What the hell have you got me into?”

 

“Don’t fucking know meself!” Nate muttered, he felt strangely close to pissing himself laughing or something. Carpets didn’t fly. Guys didn’t wear dresses (most of the time) and he didn’t get chased by them.

 

Turning around the hand on his gut clenched tight again.

 

“Go – they’re catching up! Turn or something! Just turn! TURN!” he screamed. His heart was pounding. He wanted to be sick and start crying all at once. He felt like a fucking baby, but he didn’t really care. The car screeched as it turned and Nate clutched frantically at the seat as he was slammed against the door by the force of the turn.

 

Trying to clamber back into a sitting position, the car swerved again and he fell forward, the hand that was trying to hold himself upright stopping his head from slamming into the front dash, but only just.

 

“HURRY UP!” the cabbie yelled at the car, one eye on the road the other in his window. Nate spun around, peering out the window to see the carpet just meters away. Black hair and outlandish clothes riding the Oriental rug staring out at him hungrily.

 

“Turn!” he yelled, pointing to another off street just ahead.

 

“TURN!” he screeched again as they got closer – the cabbie seemed unable to think all of a sudden and Nate reached out instinctively and turned the wheel. The car careened to the left and he lost sight of the carpet. The car mounted the curb with a thump that shook Nate in his seat again, but his breathing was so sharp and the adrenaline in his veins so acute he barely felt his shoulder collide with the glass.

 

“In there!” he yelled pointing to an underground car park. People. There had to be people somewhere.

 

The driver’s thoughts seemed relative to Nate’s and he obeyed, driving over the curb a bit to swerve into the underground park. Tyres screeched as they tore around three bends before the car jerked to a stop between a SUV and a commodore.

 

“Fuck,” Nate heaved, he was close to hyperventilating, he was sure. He felt drained, weak and scared as fuck. His hands were shaking and the monkey was quiet again, as though his fear had told the damn thing to fuck off. He needed a drink, something strong and lots of it.

 

Nothing was said. The car was quiet, both of them altogether lost in their own thoughts and both waiting, listening out, for the carpet and its burden.

 

“What the fuck did you do?” the driver heaved all of a sudden, breaking the silence with each word interrupted by a heaving breath.

 

“I have no idea,” Nate replied. “I have no fucking clue.” The car fell silent again as they both strained to hear. Nothing came and neither moved. They didn’t trust themselves.

 

Nate looked from the dash, where he had been staring, to the cabbie, who was still gripping the steering wheel tight.

 

“I’m Nate,” he said and the tension broke. He wasn’t sure who started laughing first, but a second later they were both  heaving, clutching their sides and practically roaring.

 

“James,” the cabbie smiled and Nate couldn’t help it. He beamed and in his head the monkey started clapping again.
 

 Part Four: It's not meant to be fun, being on the run, right?

Comments

[crowson75.livejournal.com]

This is getting more and more intriguing by the chapter. I really like this. Such a good story.

(One little thing; the writing on this entry came up on my screen as really small and I would hate for that to put people off reading it).

[silver-falcon24.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much!!! And i think ive fixed that font mishap - thank for letting me know anyway!

[monooccularcat.livejournal.com]

I agree. Original and intiguing.

[silver-falcon24.livejournal.com]

Thanks!!!!

[thecatinthetree.livejournal.com]

*waits tensely for next bit*

[meobnal.livejournal.com]

I was literally holding my breath in places! I'm creeped out in a very good way.
The inklings of howince!love were ♥

[silver-falcon24.livejournal.com]

Well i hope you're breathing now! And i'm glad you're creeped out a little. Part Four should be coming soon, and it just gets worse, sorry. :-P
As for the inklings - i quite enjoy shoving the Howince love in there, so im double happy you're enjoying them too.
thanks for the review!

[gracefulstalker.livejournal.com]

I could cry at how good this is. Seriously. It's.so.good.

[silver-falcon24.livejournal.com]

Wow! I'm blushing now!
Thank you so much! <3

[naget-innle.livejournal.com]

well, you've already had me gush all over it, so you should know how much you adore it.

I was hoping to catch you online tonight - i've got the beginning of Your Fic *wiggles eyebrows suggestively* awaiting your approval.

love love love

The Admiral.

[jackiethomas73.livejournal.com]

this is a really good story, I can't wait to see how it turns out.

[girlanachronizm.livejournal.com]

wow, I'm really getting into this! It's so exciting, almost like a thriller but funnier and sexier. Wouldn't this be a great idea for the Boosh movie as well? I would love to see that!

[huntingsnarks.livejournal.com]

Your writing makes me so happy at the quality, and the plot makes me jealous at the ingenious originality, and I LOVE IT. Look, capitals = true appreciation. This is awesome. Your car chase made me all excited, and the phwoar hotness with the two boys in the taxi on the way to the shop...

Keep it up. :)

[huntingsnarks.livejournal.com]

Um, I meant to mention just quietly - not that it really interrupts the story much, but there's this section that's all underlined, and there's a sentence clinging on the end that doesn't quite make sense...

Just thought you might want to find that or whatever. xx

[silver-falcon24.livejournal.com]

Thanks for pointing this out. Oh LJ, why must you try me so? You have NO idea how annoying it is getting my formatting on here the same as in Word, lol.
I'm pretty sure I fixed it, so thank you! XXX

[silver-falcon24.livejournal.com]

Quality? BAH! What quality?! lol. But while I am quite proud of my plot, its SO HARD, OH MY GOD. Notice the caps? :P I'm glad you enjoyed it though! If you enjoyed that particular hotness you'll enjoy what comes next... actually I think that's in part five... either way there's more fun to come. :D
Thanks for the review! XXX (You were in for a bit catching up so far! You should be glad you didn't lag behind any further, the next two parts ARE HUGE!)
<3

[violence4.livejournal.com]

Ooh, this is really good! You're really good at suspense, the bit in the shop was brilliant.

[silver-falcon24.livejournal.com]

Thanks, hopefully it wont bum out in later chapters! That's my fear at the moment, lol.
I'm glad you liked it though. <3

[spice-merchant.livejournal.com]

aaaaaartfghjklm;

bloodyHELL
i dont know how to react
THIS IS EPIC

[silver-falcon24.livejournal.com]

Hehe, yeah, hopefully not only in word count.
Glad you're enjoying it! <3 Cause this fic OWNS MY LIFE right now, lol.

[booshbesotted.livejournal.com]

lurviees it <3
so much I invented a new way to say love (see above) ust for this fic :p Do u feel honoured? no? Fair enough, bah ha ha!!!
*scarpers before you call the police*

[silver-falcon24.livejournal.com]

Haha, I shall continue, if only to resolve your ust. :P

*pulls out mobile, regardless*

[booshbesotted.livejournal.com]

But I'm gone! No wait.......!! *runs away for real*

[splatterdick.livejournal.com]

This fic is addicting as all hell.

[buff-iroh.livejournal.com]

Catching up on all the chapters I'd missed! This fic is great. Very intriguing, original and well written.

The guy with the posters everyone stole, the one everyone left on the wall or the one no one even cared was gone? Tears welled at his eyes and Nate clenched them shut.

This actually made me tear up. Not kidding. :(

[silver-falcon24.livejournal.com]

Naww thanks! :( Sorry for making you well up!
HE CARES, HE JUST DOESN'T KNOW WHAT ABOUT YET.
I'm glad you're enjoying it, though! it's long, isn't it! haha.
<3
I hope you enjoy the other parts!