Passengers: An RWN Original Story - The Lakeland Striker

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Tag#1

Brendan Sawyer: Loner, Perceptive, Light Sleeper
Prompt: Roses
Word count: 986
Warnings: Slight language
**As part of a round robin collaboration found at: Rebel Writers Nirvana**

Brendan walked quietly into the terminal and up to the counter. The woman eyed him curiously as he asked for a ticket on the next bus leaving Bridgeport. “Where are you headed?” she asked with a fake smile he saw right through.

“It doesn’t matter just get me a ticket on the next bus,” he repeated his orders. He didn’t need to be lied to again by another pretty smile; he just wanted to get out of there. She handed him the ticket and told him to have a great trip.

“Yeah, thanks,” he replied as he sauntered off towards the gate with his backpack in hand. 

He dropped it near his leg and lit a cigarette. “Damn it!” he cussed noticing it was the last in the pack. He stood watching the people boarding the bus, the smoke from his cigarette swirled around his head as he blew it slowly from his lips. He took in another deep draw and tossed it to the ground as he checked around behind him. If the note he’d left on her pillow didn’t prompt her to come looking, she’d proven his point.

He was surprised he had a seat far enough away from the other passengers where he could really stretch his legs and enjoy the ear piercing screams of Adam Gontier, lead singer for Three Days Grace. And there it was, a woman with a child who was inconveniently seated right in front of him. Great, he thought. This trip just got longer. 

Why parents refuse to control their kids in public was beyond him, but he had other things to think about. Things that were bigger than flying off and accusing this woman of being a bad parent. Besides, he didn’t want to draw too much attention to himself. The whole point of this trip was so he could disappear.

Brendan leaned back in his seat and turned on his iPod, patting the top zipper on his backpack to ensure his ‘safety net’ was still close by. If all goes well he wouldn’t have to use it; but that was never an option.

He pulled a picture from his bag and slowly traced the outline of her face. A smile curved his lip as he thought about the day he’d met her and the way she completely changed the person he was into the man he wanted to be.

Though their age difference was nearly a decade long, he being 30 and her just hitting 23, it was never an issue. She understood him, complemented him well; it was as though they were made for each other.

“Whatcha watching?” Aryana asked slinking into the room and dropping into his lap.

“When Animals Attack: Pets Edition.”

She glanced up at the clock and smiled as she stole the remote. “America’s Most Wanted is on!”

“Hey!”

“Oh come on! You enjoy that show just as much as I do.”

She laughed and turned her attention to the screen.

“Police are still searching for the man dubbed the
Lakeland Striker and they are asking for your help.
If you have seen this man please call the hotline
at 1-800-CRIME-TV. Remember: You can
remain anonymous.” 

Brendan sighed and looked over at his guitar before pulling up from the couch and heading towards it. “That again?” she smiled as he turned to her with a frown.

“You’ll regret that when I make it big.”

“No I won’t because you’re taking me with you. Listen to this one: this guy they’re looking for kills his victims and leaves roses on the body.”

“Oh yeah? Sounds like a romantic,” he laughed and plugged in his amplifier. He moved towards her, turned the television off and pulled her upright. “I wrote something for you.” She smiled huge and drew her legs into her chest.

“Your entrancing ways made me fall
you hold my helpless heart in your palm
wishful eyes, lined in illusions and promises

anticipation of moments yet to come.” 

“Hope was briefly dancing in the light in your eyes
flickering flames burned bright gently taking me again
and there were silky sensations your hand on mine
that beautiful crimson fury crying for your touch.”

She sighed and motioned him towards her. He placed his guitar on the stand, pulled her from the sofa and carried her to the bedroom.

The next morning Brendan’s mind was made. He would make something else of himself; become everything he needed to be for the life he wanted. He packed his suitcase and started out the door bumping into a new neighbor on his way to the elevator.

“Hey I’ll give you what I have in my pocket for one rose,” Brendan said pulling out his wallet and motioning towards the bouquet in his hand. He counted out the twenty crisp one dollar bills he’d just stuffed in the billfold.

“You serious man? It’s just one rose.”

“Please. I don’t want to leave my girl without a nice goodbye. Twenty bucks for one flower.”

“You got it dude,” the man smiled and made the exchange. 

Brendan placed the note and the rose on the pillow beside Aryana and exited out the front door. His only possession clutched tight in his hand as he made his way to the bus station.

And now here he was on a bus to destinations unknown trying to make a new life and build a career in something he unexpectedly came to love. He had no idea what awaited him but anything was better than a life hoping or one spent hiding who you really are.

“Hey you catch the news in the terminal?” the man in front of him asked his neighbor. “The Striker claimed another life. Found her in her apartment an hour ago. Poor girl was only 23 years old.”

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