Jackie took it as a bad omen. Most people, upon beginning their journey and finding a dead body, would assume it was a bad omen. Jackie had arrived at the outskirts of the city by the crack of dawn. Charlie had left her with a small smile, and she knew it was rare and valuable, so she had cried a little. She had been trekking a few miles down a long straight road, the rising red sun at her back, when she spotted something. Amongst the reeds and grass, alive with the hum of cicadas, was a decimated car. Blood doused what remained of the windshield, and bits of fur and flesh were buried amongst the earth. She tentatively explored the area, making a square with her fingers and pretending to take pictures, like a detective at a crime scene. She stuffed her invisible camera away and replaced it with a just as invisible pipe.

She placed the pipe to her lips and took a long drag. "Strange... strange," she murmured. It was then she spotted the body, and the invisible pipe fell from her open lips.

She was rather unfazed by the body as she crept closer to it. She liked dead things, they didn't scare her like they did most people. She thought the thing living in people, the soul, was far scarier than some flesh and bone.

She examined the boy's face curiously. His eyebrows were pulled together, creating distressed lines above his nose. He had a handsome, young face, still filled with remnants of baby fat. His cheeks were bruised and dirty, his strawberry-blonde hair unkempt. A pair of glasses had half-fallen off his face, the lenses filled with dirt. Jackie noted the deer head lying beside him, and began to piece together what had happened, but decided announcing it to her indivisible associates would be rude. She peered down at his chest which raised and fell with slight hesitation.

"Hey," she whispered, poking at his forehead. "Are you alive?"

Oren's mind began to stir, the cells in his body waking up lazily. His ears turned on and he could faintly hear someone asking "Hello?" elongated by about fifty o's to get their impatience across. Slowly, Oren opened one eye and then the next, blinded by the bright sky. As his vision focused, he made out a girl hovering above him, blocking the harsh sunlight. He was surprised by her calm demeanor. She didn't look like a serious paramedic or a concerned citizen, she looked more like an animal trying to decide whether or not he was edible.

He sat up with a painful growth, his head collapsing into the palm of his hand. As he took in his surroundings, the field, the sedan, the deer, memories of the previous night began to submerge from the back of his head.

"A-Am I ok?" he asked, blinking, staring down at his bloody hands.

"How the hell should I know?" Jackie replied bluntly. She had never been good at talking to people, or maybe it was that people were just never good at talking to her.

Oren began to examine himself, flexing his fingers, stretching his arms and legs, taking his pulse. Tentatively, he got to his feet, light-headed but determined. He dusted off his clothes and hair, clapping the dried blood off his hand into red dust.

"What happened here, chief?" Jackie asked, returning the invisible pipe to her lips.

Oblivious to the character she was playing, Oren answered simply, "I was driving late last night and hit a deer." He rubbed his face, massaging the muscles, hoping to relieve some of the pressure building in his head.

His parents would kill him.

No.

No, they wouldn't.

And that was the problem.

Oren removed his hands from his face and stared at the wreckage. "Sorry, old friend." he sighed, gently touching what remained of the rust-red hood of the sedan.

"Where are you from?" Jackie asked, leaning over his shoulder.

"Westgate," Oren answered, gazing at her from below.

"Westgate Village?" Jackie repeated, a burst of laughter escaping her lips. "How the hell did you end up out here?"

She was right, the situation Oren found himself in was just as ridiculous as she made it out to be. Westgate Village was, by all standards, the nicest part of the city. The streets were always newly paved, the window glass crisp, even the street puddles were clean enough to see your reflection in. "You went from baskets full of daisies and white benches to..." Jackie motioned all around them, at the pale, lifeless wheat in the distance, to the long grass filled with ticks brushing against their feet. "...this." she finished with an involuntary chuckle.

Oren didn't say anything, his mind wouldn't let him process what was happening, and so, wouldn't let him formulate a response. Jackie shrugged, accustomed to being ignored, and began to walk back down the long road. "W-Wait!" Oren yelled instinctively, spinning around. "Where are you going?"

"I don't know," Jackie answered as if it were obvious. "I just want to get away from here," she said, pointing back toward the city. Oren hesitated a moment, his lips moving without words.

"I...want to come with...you?" he said awkwardly.

"Why?" Jackie chuckled.

"I...don't know," Oren answered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess, I'm just...unhappy there...and maybe somewhere else...I won't be?"

"Got any money?" Jackie asked, snapping her fingers.

"I think so..." Oren answered, confused, pulling out a wad of cash from his back jean pocket.

"Got a ride?" Jackie asked with a hint of growing thrill. Oren motioned to what remained of the sedan. "No ride, no ride..." Jackie repeated rhythmically, tapping a finger to her chin. "Well, soldier, as long as you can carry your weight 'round here, I don't see no problem with ya' tagging 'long." Jackie said in the voice of a drill sergeant, because she could, because she wanted to. Oren couldn't help but smile, but for why he did not know: some of it was out of excitement, some of it in awe, and some-most of it, from the same fearful curiosity that had urged him on last night.

His mind, his heart, his intuition, every single part of him, physical or not was blaring at him to turn around and find his home. He stuffed the wad of cash back into his pocket, hurriedly tied his shoelaces, and met pace with Jackie.