With all three of us sitting at the kitchen table and staring at a road map of the entire United States, I steepled my fingers and leaned my chin on them.
"From Orlando to Denver is about 1540 miles; tack on another 20, and we get to Columbine. The way I see it, there are only two logical methods of travel we can use."
"The first is, of course, driving, but given that it’s a 23-hour drive, and that’s without traffic, we would be cutting it extremely close, but it would give us wheels on the ground and limit our paper trail to almost nothing so long as we were careful to avoid cameras and paid in cash at gas stations."
"And I assume option two isn’t going to be flying, considering we would need to book last-minute tickets at the airport." My father interjected.
"Correct, not only would it leave a paper trail due to having to present identification, but if something happens and we need to give probable cause for being present, it won’t work. Sure, I could always use my Talent, but that will only get us so far if we end up in legal trouble."
"Option two is actually running the entire way there, given that we can comfortably move about 100 to 120 miles in a full sprint. As long as we continuously down Potions, we can make it to Colorado in about 12 to 15 hours."
"Nope, not doing that. FUCKKK running 1500 miles, that’s a hard pass for me. Roadtrip, I vote roadtrip." Throwing his hand into the air like a kid in school, Brenden annoyingly interrupted me, causing both Dad and I to turn and look at him with judgemental eyes.
"What…" Flinching back from the double glare, Brenden dropped his hand into his lap and stared a little too hard at the map as if trying to make us ignore his previous statement.
"It’s a shame the Vette is only a two-seater; if It had any kind of back seat, we could blaze our way there in it, so we would need to take the 4-runner instead, Taylor; what are the odds of you getting us out of traffic violations if I speed once we hit the open road?" ignoring Brenden, my father asked.
"Honest, probably 50-50; if the cop is paying attention to our license plate instead of the road and our car, then I can probably draw his attention long enough to use Coersion on him, but again, 50-50." Answering truthfully, I shrugged my shoulders and suddenly imagined shoving Brenden in the trunk of the Vette.
"I mean….we could always just force Brenden into the trunk of the Corvette; it’s not like we have any luggage to worry about…right?" I said with a twisted smirk.
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"Woah woah woah, hold up, don’t even think about it…Dad…Dad, you won’t let him try that…right…RIGHT?" With panic in his eyes, Brenden’s head snapped from me to Dad and back to me again.
"Well….it’s a pretty decent idea, and I can definitely get us there quicker in the Vette…"
"Dad….Dad, come on, think about all the good times, DAD; I’m the baby of the family; you couldn’t hurt the baby…Dad….DAD! DON’T HUMOR THAT ASSHOLE!"
Brenden’s screams echoed throughout the house and only fell second to the boisterous laughter coming from both Dad and me as we chased him with rope, threatening to tie him up like a pig, but in the end; it was only a means to pass the time…because an hour later, the three of us were on the road, in the 4-runner.
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"I can’t believe you two assholes really threatened me like that," Brenden stated while hugging his pillow in the back seat.
"Can you really blame us though? You are such an easy target." Dad said as he only half paid attention to the road. With our enhanced reflexes and perception, any one of us could practically be asleep at the wheel and still drive flawlessly, not that we would….never know when a stray Talent Skill would head toward us.
This was precisely why I had Brenden and Dad reel in their Particle signatures; sure, it felt like trying to hold in a fart for a long period, but it was better than accidentally alerting a random Returner that we were nearby.
As with all road trips, the hours seemed to tick by annoyingly slow, so much so that I even had Dad and Brenden do their Circulation Skill Cycles using the enormous amount of Particle stones I had in my inventory.
And SURE, I may have literally just said I didn’t want them flaring particle signatures, but while they were doing so, I was on high alert just in case.
Regardless, the trip went by without any incident, and after only 18 hours, we arrived in Denver, the closest major city to Columbine.
While Dad checked us into a hotel, Brenden and I stood not far away with backpacks on and a suitcase that was visually supposed to be for our father.
’How many times have you done this? Like, I know you went to London and Scotland, but how many other "trips" have you gone on…’ Utilizing the telepathic connection I set up between all three of us, Brenden asked.
’Technically speaking, it was three hotels, five plane rides, and two trains; everything else was by cab or town car.’ I responded casually.
’And you brainwashed everyone each time?’ Dad chimed in after receiving our room keys and guiding us to the elevator.
’Nah, I had you do all the check-ins, and for that, I just gave a few nudges with my talent.’ I said with a shrug while reaching over and pushing the fifth-floor button in the elevator.
’And then what, just left him behind to his own devices?’ Brenden asked.
’Pretty much; I had Dad believing he was on vacation and single, and from there, it was pretty easy, especially since Dad is a horn dog.’