Free The Painting by Ryan Casey Page A

compromise it.”
    Donny nodded. He wasn’t too keen on Alsatians anyway.
    He stepped outside and inhaled the fresh, moist air.

    It seemed like they had been driving down the road forever.
    Trees lined either side of the road, deep green arms reaching up into the sky and keeping their secrets close to their chest. Reginald’s car was pretty run of the mill—a dirty red, two-seater with no boot. Donny wasn’t so sure whether that was merely a design choice or whether there were no such things as ‘car boots’ in Reginald’s reality.
    H.P. Sauce but no car boots. What sort of a place was this?
    “How long to go?”
    Reginald rolled his eyes. “You’re like an impatient kid.” He reached over to the dashboard and pulled a folded old map out, the pages curling at the edges through years of use. He opened it up on the steering wheel and squinted at it, keeping one eye on the road. “This map should take you on the route me and my wife used to walk. If you follow it, you’ll reach the place. It… it might appear differently to you than it does to me. It depends on what you saw before the gap, y’know? I can’t guarantee you’ll find what you’re looking for, or whether I’ve made a mistake, but I’ve done what I can.”
    “And I appreciate that,” Donny said.
    Reginald sighed, biting at his bottom lip and scanning the trees. The birds flew out above them as the road narrowed, dirt tracks forming at either side. Thus far, they hadn’t passed a single car.
    Not until Donny spotted the car approaching in the distance.
    Reginald was staring at the map as he accelerated down the straight road. He grumbled away and turned it upside-down. “I’m sure the… ah yeah, if I take you here you should be able to just follow the path and—”
    “You might want to pull over for this guy.”
    Reginald looked up from the map and at the oncoming vehicle. The map slipped from his hands and his cheeks went red. “Damn it,” he said. “Damn it.” He fumbled for his seatbelt with his shaking hand and clicked it into place with a few attempts.
    “What’s going on?”
    Reginald was breathing short, shallow breaths, his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel as his foot hit the brake. “Checks. Personnel checks. Just—just keep quiet and let me do the talking, okay?’ He opened the dashboard drawer again and scurried around for some more papers, loose receipts dropping to the floor of the car. He threw a little green book onto Donny’s knee. “If they ask, you just show them this, okay? It—it might not work but… but just try.”
    The black vehicle ahead flicked on its orange indicator and pulled up directly in front of Reginald’s car as he ground to a halt. Donny could hear Reginald’s shallow, nervous breaths as the pair of them sat in silence.
    A man stepped out of the side of the van. He was dressed in a blue suit with yellow patches on the shoulders and knees. On his head, a helmet, black-tinted glass covering his eyes and a mouthpiece in his face.
    Attached to his leg, a gun, almost the length of his thigh.
    Donny gripped the seat tightly and took deep breaths into his stomach as the guard approached. He could do this. He’d been through worse in the last few days. It couldn’t end here.
    Reginald wound down his window and the man placed his gloved hand on the side, the car tilting slightly with his weight. “Nice day for a trip to the woods, huh?”
    Reginald attempted a twitchy smile and forced a laugh, which was slightly too amused for the situation. “Of course, of course. Me and my friend here were just… we’re hikers. Just heading down for a walk.”
    The guard smiled and nodded his head. “Enjoy a bit of hiking myself. You been walking long?”
    Donny sat in his seat, staring out through the front window. It felt like pins were tormenting his skin. He had to be ready to run. He had to be ready to get out of the car and run.
    “Pretty much all my life,” Reginald said. “Always been a