Will you ever learn to shut up?
As he climbed back into his rental, Rocko was assaulted by his constant string of thoughts.His brain was overanalyzing every minuscule event around him, memorizing locations, scenes, and people’s characteristics, spitting out facts, and more.For a far-too-brief moment back in the diner, he’d been free from the constant onslaught.Rocko couldn’t explain the anomaly, but he had a suspicion it had quieted down when he sat at the table in the restaurant.Weird, right?he mused.Was it something in the restaurant suppressing his overloaded mind, or something to do with one of the men he’d been sitting with?He groaned loudly.Please don’t let that fool Griffin be the reason.He’d rather have brain overload than suffer that fucker more than he had to.Now Apollo on the other hand…
Christ, he was a huge fucker.Brick had told him the guy was large, but he thought it might have been an exaggeration.Rocko had never met a man over seven and a half feet tall.His tight shirt did nothing to hide his muscles, but finding clothing that size must be a hell of a task.They’d probably have to be made to size.
He couldn’t help but notice the man filled out his worn jeans to perfection, and the big black boots he wore completed the imposing and dangerous image.Rocko thought the other man’s dark eyes seemed troubled, and he wanted to learn more about the surly man who seemed to carry the weight of the world on his broad shoulders.
Shit, I have to get my head on straight.The guy isn’t on the menu.
Griffin, on the other hand, was easy to read, an angry and volatile combination designed to keep everyone at arm’s length.Rocko understood that—he did the same.It seemed to be a common behavior among the survivors.
With a tired, frustrated huff, he waited for Apollo’s truck to drive by.He pulled behind them to follow them out of town.They turned down Interstate 22 and drove for roughly fifteen minutes before turning off to the left toward Lake Champlain.The chill in the air was intensifying as the sun’s warmth sank lower in the sky.After several twists and turns down gravel roads and through the thick wall of trees making up the forest around him, at times blocking out the sky, and once they went over a set of train tracks, Apollo’s truck slowed, suddenly turned, and appeared to vanish.
Rocko slowed, scanning the area thoroughly until he caught a glimpse of taillights through the brush and carefully maneuvered his rental through what could best be described as a game trail until, eventually, the trees opened into a large clearing.Rocko didn’t miss the many sensors set up along the perimeter, guessing they were the beginning of safety and security features surrounding this place.
Hell, Apollo had been right; Rocko hated admitting it, but he would never have found this place on his own.
The clearing was larger than he’d imagined and surrounded by walls of thick forest.There were three large buildings, a group of travel trailers, a row of fifth wheels, and other outbuildings in various stages of construction.He followed Apollo’s truck alongside one of the larger buildings and parked.
Multiple people began to emerge from the buildings and trailers, likely curious to check out the newcomer.
The group gathered around Apollo as Rocko steeled his nerves and stepped out of his truck.He could easily make out the personalities of a few team members.Those who confidently stepped up, and those who lingered farther back.His senses were working overtime, his brain on edge from cataloging all the new stimuli around him.Smells, sounds, expressions, bodily movements, locations of objects, buildings, temperature, wind direction…it was a full-on sensory assault.
The feeling of being the lone outsider crept into him, cold and sharp.Rocko embraced that pain and held it close just as he’d done since the day he was dropped off in the orphanage like a mongrel because of who and what he was, transferred from one cage to another.Where would he fit if he didn’t fit in here with his fellow survivors?This unanswered question plagued him without end, and by the expressions on the faces surrounding him, Rocko realized this place may not hold the answers he’d been desperately looking for.
He ground his teeth together and forced a smile.
CHAPTER THREE
Rocko
Anxiety and curiosity from the people around likely mirrored his own feelings.
Griffin moved to stand beside Apollo, his sneer firmly in place, making Rocko grin for a moment.It would be amusing to rile that guy on the regular.A shorter woman joined them, standing on Apollo’s other side.Rocko didn’t miss the puzzled expression she gave Apollo.Whatever was bothering her, it didn’t matter; they wouldn’t talk about it now in front of him.
“I’d like you all to meet Detective Rocko Owens.He’s the individual Brick has reached out to us about.He’ll be staying in one of the empty trailers for a couple of weeks,” Apollo said.“Show him around.”
Rocko noticed there wasn’t a “make him feel welcomed” tacked on to the end of his speech.He wasn’t entirely surprised; after all, Brick’s team hadn’t wanted him around initially either.That theme seemed to carry throughout his life.
Rocko figured that after these few weeks, he’d likely have to return to Florida and pick up where his life left off, still trying to find a place where he belonged, if possible.Apollo kept throwing out the two-week time frame; it was obvious his days were numbered, and the clock had already started ticking.
“Hello,” Rocko said with a nod toward the group.“Thank you for having me.”
A young woman stepped forward.Rocko guessed she might be Apollo’s half-sister, as seen in the pictures he’d reviewed in the prior case file.
“Hi, I’m Ellen, Apollo’s sister.Welcome to Chinandroga,” she said, holding out her hand.“My abilities haven’t manifested yet.”
Rocko was surprised by her blunt announcement, and he replied as he shook her hand.“Nice to meet you, Ellen.Chinandroga, the place between two waters, I believe that’s what it means.So, between Lake Champlain and Lake George.”
“Yes.It seemed fitting as Apollo’s Iroquois grandmother gave us the land, and Ticonderoga was derived from that original word.You’re up on your history.Or is it native languages?”
“Another side effect of my brush with the Noah Group is my insane memory.If I hear, read, or see it once, I’ll never forget it down to the slightest detail.”No matter how much I might want to.He wanted to match her openness, even if it was odd to him.“I can also find things or people, something that came in handy during my time as an Army Ranger.”
“Wow, that’s incredible.I could have used that memory trick when writing my exams,” she said.
“It’s got its benefits but also drawbacks.My mind continually races with information, whether I want it to or not.I wish I could shut it down at times, but I have yet to find the off switch.”
Though strangely, at this time, his mind wasn’t racing the closer he got to this group for some reason, like back in the restaurant.He could still pick out any piece of information necessary, no matter how obscure, but the constant buzzing in the background, like some fucked-up supercomputer, had stopped again.Something was affecting him, but what?Was it the area?The solitude?The fucking trees?
