Undisclosed by Jon Mills Page A

evenings. But doing school in the day, working at the store immediately after until late, was starting to catch up with him, and he was pretty sure Rick was struggling too. Rick had been helping for years—he had always been there to help—but there was only so much a person could do before even they would decide to call it a day. Bills; nearly every single one of the envelopes contained final notices.
    Travis exhaled, tired and frustrated at it all. The day’s sun had all but vanished; all that was left were some faint red and orange streaks in the evening’s sky, as if someone had set fire to the heavens. The downtown wasn’t big, everything within walking distance, and by the time they had wrapped up, most if not all of the other art galleries, antique stores and shops had closed, leaving only a few restaurants and pizza stores lit up.
    Lost in his thoughts, Travis turned the corner and nearly dropped the handful of mail as he ran into his father. His father’s face was flushed and covered in sweat and he was breathing like someone who had just completed a long-distance run.
    “Ah, there you, okay, we need to go.”
    Snagging two of the envelopes he held against his side with his elbow, Scott grabbed them and recovered his composure.
    “Yeah, I’ve just got to get my phone, it’s inside. I said I would call Mom when I had locked up.”
    Scott grasped his arm firmly. “No time, Travis, get it tomorrow.”
    “What?”
    The truck was still idling. “Get in.”
    “Okay …” His voice trailed off, and as he father moved around, he quickly dashed back and locked up the front door, still leaving a light on inside, and then returned, jumping into the other side. His door slammed instantly, nearly severing his leg as his father pulled away, barely giving him a chance to close it.
    Travis furrowed his brow as he tried to get comfortable. “You okay, Dad? You seem a little—”
    “Yeah, yeah … I’m good, I told you I have to run a quick errand and I should have been there ten minutes ago.”
    They were heading east along the 502, heading out of the town. His father was unusually quiet, muttering to himself as he kept his eyes ahead. He would glance frequently in his mirrors looking concerned, as if someone was tailing him. Not quite sure what was up, Travis chose to ignore it and ride it out. Once they were out of the town, the heat of the truck kicked in like a warm sauna and Travis could feel a strong wave of tiredness hit him. The further they traveled out of the city the fewer lights and cars passed until it was just them. Travis was beginning to wonder where on earth they were heading. There was nothing out here, just open road and desert. They had just passed Los Alamos airport; any further and it wouldn’t be long before they would be in White Rock
    “Where’s your phone, I gotta call Mother, let her know I’m gonna be little late.”
    Scott reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone.
    “Here, make it quick,” he said as he handed it to him.
    “You know you’re acting a little antsy tonight, right? It’s kinda freakin’ me out,” Travis scoffed, as he tapped away on the phone. He brought it up to his ear and turned towards his father to ask him when they could pick up his bike from the pound, when—
    That was the last recollection he had.
    The next was searing pain shooting through his body and the sickening taste of warm blood—his own blood. As he drifted in and out of consciousness, he felt sick to his stomach, disoriented and confused as everything including himself was in disarray and upside down. Only his seat belt kept him place and it wrapped around him so tight that it felt like it had torn through his clothes. Shattered glass was everywhere. He was covered in it, some he could feel embedded in his skin like razor-sharp claws. The entire front windscreen was gone and the smell of scorched metal filled his nostrils.
    He squinted. Ahead of him a bright light blinded his