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    Leak
    Leak
    Leak
    Ebook45 pages50 minutes

    Leak

    By J. Nichole Parkins

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    Her coworkers were dead—or so Lydia claimed. A simple coin toss had spared her life. On the run, she's fleeing across the country, trying to keep her family safe in a race against time and nature.

     

    Will their luck hold, or is it too late for them all?

     

    *This short story was originally published as part of the Thrill of the Hunt anthology.*

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJ. Nichole Parkins
    Release dateJan 31, 2017
    ISBN9781386290322
    Leak
    Author

    J. Nichole Parkins

    J. Nichole Parkins loves drama – as long as it’s fictional. She twists the real and unreal, weaving elements found in folklore and myth to create emotional reads with a punch. Mother of three, freelance consultant, and podcast producer extraordinaire, Jamee lives in a state of organized chaos. She fled south to escape the snow, although she spends the majority of her time avoiding the sun. Head in the clouds as often as it is behind a screen, she is never without a story brewing or a book (or three) in her purse. She can be found in quiet places, which is her natural habitat. Approach cautiously, she tends to run.

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      Book preview

      Leak - J. Nichole Parkins

      Chapter One

      I WRENCHED OPEN THE door. It flew backward and bounced off the wall, pieces of drywall crumbled to the floor.

      Shit, I mumbled under my breath. But I was more worried about finding my husband and getting the hell out of there.

      Jake! I’d tried calling him—nothing. No reply to my frantic texts either. Where the hell are you? My feet pounded on the hardwood floor as I searched the house. I was alone. Shit.

      Why wasn’t he answering? I needed to talk to him.

      There wasn’t time.

      I ran up the stairs and dashed into the kids’ room. Clothes were heaped in piles and strewn all over their closet floor, a rainbow of colors and fabrics. No wonder they were never able to find anything. Shoving the clothes aside, I reached out blindly, going by feel. My fingers brushed along the wall, the ridges of plaster harsh against my fingertips.

      Finally. I yanked the two suitcases free and tossed them onto the beds.

      I took a deep breath and struggled to organize my racing thoughts. Which items were the most important? What would they need?

      I looked around the room, more than a decade of memories stacked upon one another. Stuffed animals were shoved into corners and shelves alongside books of every genre. Framed awards shouted accolades from recitals and art contests.

      We’d have to leave it all behind. I swallowed the tears; there wasn’t time for grieving.

      I tore clothing from hangers, practical items, ones of quality that would last. Who knew how long we’d need them? I grabbed a mini sewing kit for repairs. Stores would be scarce where we were going—safe ones anyway. Jeans, flannel pajamas, T-shirts with funny sayings, tank tops, socks, and underwear, I folded each haphazardly, pressing them flat to make sure there was a decent amount of room.

      Our whole lives reduced to a single suitcase apiece. I wiped at the tears that escaped. 

      I grabbed each of their backpacks and stuffed them with notebooks, a few favorite books, and pencils. They could draw or write to stave off boredom. My hand hovered over their tablets. Indecision made me hesitate. They could use them for a while, it would help during the long drive. I threw them both in the case, aware of the valuable space they took up in each bag. The zipper strained against the pressure. A few hours of precious normalcy and quiet during the drive would be worth it.

      Flip flops fit easily in the spaces between the clothes. They’d take longer to outgrow. Their sneakers were with them at school; one less thing to worry about.

      I checked the time. I had two hours until school pick-up. Two hours to pack our lives away, find my husband, and get the hell away from here before the shit hit the fan.

      The kids were packed. Memories were left behind in drawers and on shelves. Maybe we’d be able to return one day, maybe things would be okay. Maybe...

      I was wasting time.

      I ran to our bedroom and tossed clothes

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