Page 28 of Road Trip with a Vampire
So I did.
It was a short letter, written in bright red ink, in the same flowing hand that had addressed the envelope.
P—
You have not been replying to our emails, so we are resorting to UNUSUAL methods of communication to reach you.
We understand you needed some time off given how unexpectedly frustrating this work has been, but enough’s enough. We’re starting to worry you’re getting funny ideas. Meet us at the warehouse ASAP or we’re sending someone to get you.
—JR
At the bottom of the note, the sender had scrawledWarehouse #2and an Indiana address that meant nothing to me. The note’s threatening tone gave me flashbacks to my past life, a life in which I had frequently been on the receiving end of notes like these—and occasionally sent them myself.
I shook off the unpleasant memories.
“Blossomtown?” I asked, sliding the note back to him. “Where’s that?”
Peter rummaged through his duffel bag and pulled out one of those fold-up road maps you can get in gas stations. It saidINDIANAon the front in bright red letters. He put it on the table between us, then quickly unfolded it, spreading it out.
“There,” he said, stabbing at a spot of road a bit south of Indianapolis with the tip of an index finger. As though anticipating my next question, he added, “I don’t know how orwhyI know where this town is. I just do.”
If memory served, the last time I’d been to Indiana had been years ago for a college basketball game. All I remembered now was a sea of red jerseys, drunk college students, and an asshole coach who threw chairs. The experience hadn’t been a pleasant enough one for me to revisit the state.
“Do you know who this JR person is?” I asked.
“No idea,” he said, agitated. He tried refolding the map but quickly gave up, opting instead to crumple it up and shove it back into his bag. “I don’t remember anything about who I used to be. But I have a bad feeling about what might happen if I ignore their note.”
Me, too, I thought, but didn’t say. There was no missing the misery in his voice. My heart went out to him despite myself.
“What are you going to do?” I nearly put a hand on his arm—just to be reassuring—but thought better of it. No need to complicate matters by introducing comforting touching.
“WhatcanI do?” he asked. “I’ll go to Indiana, I guess.”
Alarm bells went off in my mind. If my own personal history was any guide, complying with bombastic requests to show up somewhere when you didn’t know who the requester was rarely ended well. “I get why you feel like you have to respond. But it seems dangerous to go there without remembering who JR is or why you’re being summoned.”
“I don’t disagree. But I don’t think I have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice,” I pointed out.
He shook his head. “This is the third note I’ve gotten from JR,” he explained in a low voice, as though worried other Perky’s patrons might overhear. “All three have been sent to my apartment with no return address. I ignored the first two. That may be why this note included a threat to come find me if I didn’t reply.”
And if they knew his address, that seemed like a not-so-empty threat. I could tell by the tension radiating off him that he realized this, too.
“Is there anything you can think of that might help recover your memory first?” I pointed to the envelope. “Seeing the name of that town…I mean, you at least recognize it as a place you’d once known. What else can you think of that might help you remember?”
He huffed in frustration. “I’d hoped my journal would help. It hasn’t.”
An idea struck me. “You’ve triedreadingyour journal. Have you tried visiting the places mentioned in your entries?”
A beat. “I haven’t.”
“Do you think it might help?”
He scratched at his chin, considering. “I have no way of knowing, but…” he began. He chewed on his bottom lip, lost in thought. Despite the current circumstances, my eyes fell helplessly to his mouth. To the scar just above it. Was this JR person somehow responsible for him getting it?
“But what?” I prompted.
“Itmighthelp,” he admitted. “It certainly wouldn’t hurt.”
