Dupe (The Gift Book 6) by Marc Stapleton

Author:Marc Stapleton [Stapleton, Marc]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-05-02T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 29

It feels strange to be back under the sun again.

For the last week, I feel like I’ve been in a distant, otherworldly place. Snow and overcast skies; ceilings, air conditioning ducts and the persistent smell of sweat and cleaning products.

Now though, back here in Phoenix, I look up and see only blue above me. The sun is high in the sky, casting the smallest shadow over me, and it’s hot enough to get a sweat on, if I could persuade myself to hurry.

I walk across a busy block, feeling only the choking breeze from the passing traffic in my face. Everything is so spacious here; spacious, but lonely. Palm trees stand at either side of six lanes of irritable traffic, swaying gently with every truck that passes.

Every block seems irretrievably far from the last; every tall apartment building – a ubiquitous shade of beige, like the dirt or the sidewalk or the distant mountains – set aside from the others, giving the skyline a distinct ambivalence, like giants who can’t get along.

On every other block there’s a building site, unattractive to most of my senses, or a huge and empty plot of land, either filled with parked cars or a whole lot of fenced-off nothing, as though the landowners are hoping the price of dirt is soon going to skyrocket.

When I make it to Alessia – her small, dirty white rental car hidden between two larger SUVs – I can tell she isn’t enthused by the city either.

She sits in the driver’s seat of her car, slouched down in the seat in a manner most uncharacteristic of an elite special forces soldier. Her eyes are dull and inattentive, even as I draw closer, and there are several crushed cans of energy drink on top of the glove box.

It’s been two days since I made my escape from the prison via pipe bomb blast, and an entire day since we got back to Phoenix. I’ve had a chance to rest up, heal my body back to 100%, and change my face back to how it was before, so that Alessia can recognize me again. Still, it doesn’t seem to have helped.

I get as close as the driver’s side window before she even flinches, quickly turning her head and raising her eyebrows in surprise. She unlocks the passenger side, and I walk around and get in.

“Howdy,” I tell her, letting the massive tracts of dirt and distant arid hills get to my head.

“You took your time,” she says, as I slam the door shut behind me. It smells like takeout in here; stale pizza and greasy fried chicken. Alessia isn’t looking much better; she’s tired, with bags under her eyes, and her black hair is greasy, like she hasn’t washed it in days.

“I had to work on myself for a bit,” I tell her, my brand-new right foot twitching as I say it. “Anything going on?”

“Nothing,” she says, curtly. “She’s barely moved in two days. A quick trip to the grocery store or a phone call.

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