Episode 03 | Atalaya Mountain
Zoe winds her way up Atalaya Mountain, the world around her bathed in silver light from the full moon and stars that seem impossibly close. Alexander hadn’t lied—the view is breathtaking. The sheer vastness of the night sky makes her dizzy in a way that feels almost euphoric, as if she’s dissolving into the moonlight itself. *Am I losing my mind?* she wonders, feeling a strange, weightless freedom she hadn’t anticipated.
She’s seen countless full moons in her life, but they’d always felt fleeting, something she’d see again and again. But tonight, a melancholy thought settles over her: *This could be my last moon.* A pang of sorrow wells up, and suddenly, everything goes black.
“Zoe… hey, Zoe… did I promise too much?” She blinks, coming back to herself to find Alexander’s voice, warm and familiar, pulling her back to reality as he makes his way up the hill.
“No… you certainly did not.” She smiles, patting the empty rock beside her. “Here, sit.”
He settles in beside her, and for a while, they simply sit together, letting the silence fill the space between them, comfortable and unhurried.
After a while, she speaks. “Why am I here, Alexander?”
“Philosophical question?” he asks, a faint smile playing on his lips.
“That too… but I mean my role at the lab. I still don’t get it.”
Alexander shrugs. “Honestly, I’m not fully briefed either. It’s above my pay grade. But they think you’re special—and so do I.” He gives her a teasing wink.
She rolls her eyes. “Pffft.” She blows a small raspberry, trying to laugh off his words, but she feels a rush of vulnerability. “Believe me, I’m nothing special. Just a trailer-park kid on the run from her ex.” She bites her lip, instantly regretting her outburst. *Why did I have to say that?*
Thankfully, Alexander lets it slide without comment, and she relaxes, grateful for his tact.
He clears his throat. “By the way, did you notice that your bike makes a funny clattering noise? Cam chain tensioner, maybe?”
“Yeah… probably.” She sighs, realizing she’s overdue for a mechanic’s visit. “I’ll have to find someone around here to take a look.”
He shrugs, casual but insistent. “Let’s just load it on my truck and drop it off at my friend’s garage. I can text him, and he’ll take a look tomorrow. I’ll give you a ride to work, too.”
She hesitates, but the clattering sound has been nagging at her. “Only if it’s really no trouble…”
“Already done,” he replies, glancing at his phone. “He’s expecting it.”
They sit together a while longer, letting the cool night air settle over them. After twenty minutes, they get up almost in unison and head down to load her bike onto his truck.
“Are you sure it’s not too inconvenient?” she asks, glancing at him as they secure the straps.
“Positive.”
As they climb into the truck, Zoe checks her phone, only to find her battery has died. “Do you have a charger?” she asks. “I need to call Mia. I left my sketchbook at the diner this morning and wanted to check if she’s still up.”
“Yeah, check the glove compartment. My power bank should be in there.”
.
Zoe opens the compartment, but instead of the power bank, a pack of syringes tumbles out. Her heart stops, a deep-seated panic flaring up inside her. She freezes, the image of those syringes searing into her mind. Suddenly, memories she’d tried to bury resurface, clouded by adrenaline and fear.
“Stop the truck! Stop the fucking truck!” she yells, her voice frantic. “I want to get out!”
“Zoe, what’s wrong? We’re almost home, maybe two minutes…” Alexander’s face is a mix of shock and confusion, but he pulls over, alarmed by the terror in her voice.
The moment the truck stops, she throws open the door and stumbles out, running blindly into the night. She trips, falling hard onto the gravel, and begins to cry, her breaths coming in shallow, panicked gasps. Alexander rushes after her, his voice steady yet cautious as he approaches, unsure how to help.
“Zoe, please… let me get you home. You’re safe.”
She looks up, her face twisted with anger and betrayal. “Get away from me, you… you lying junkie!”
He stops in his tracks, stunned. “Zoe, what? What are you talking about?”
“Don’t pretend. Hiding syringes in your truck? How cliché is that?”
“Zoe, those syringes aren’t mine.” He speaks slowly, a tinge of frustration and hurt in his voice. “They’re for my cat, Toni. He has diabetes. I just picked them up from the vet—I can show you the receipt, or we can go there tomorrow if you want.”
She stares at him, the weight of his words slowly sinking in. Her anger and fear begin to dissolve into shame as she realizes she may have overreacted.
He takes a step closer, his tone gentle. “Please, Zoe… let me help you up.”
She nods, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry… I’m just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m damaged goods, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he says, reaching out a hand to help her up. “But I don’t want you going home like this. Come over to my place. I’ll make you a coffee—the flavored one you like, with the milk shot. You can meet Toni. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, but at least let me make sure you’re all right before you’re alone. Would that be okay?”
She nods, wiping her tears. “Yeah… I’d love a coffee. And… I love cats.”
They exchange a quiet look, both understanding there are stories left untold, yet finding comfort in the small connection between them. He helps her back into the truck, and as they drive, Zoe sits silently, berating herself under her breath. *Get a grip, you psycho. And keep your mouth shut.*
But as they pull away, a small part of her feels a flicker of hope—something she hasn’t felt in a long, long time.
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