Watch Over You by Mason Sabre Page B

Thirteen
     
    Tara trailed behind Devan. She didn’t know what his destination was or how far they had run. She didn’t even think to take a mental note. As she held onto Devan’s hand and followed him blindly, heart and logical brain argued. Her mind devised so many scenarios, but her heart overruled - it knew what it wanted. Something in his eyes said that he was sincere. Maybe it was the fear he had displayed himself. That was real. His panic had been evident, but he was one of them. She couldn’t ignore that. It meant something. It had to. She should have been afraid of him, but for some inexplicable reason, she wasn’t.
    They slowed when they reached a path. It was old and abandoned. Weeds scrambled over each other and sprouted up through cracks. Moss covered the edges; free to roam where no one had evidently stepped in a long time. Something was familiar to her, yet as she fumbled through the memories in her mind trying to locate the source, she came up blank. Devan swung the gate open, and it squealed a sullen protest. Years of neglect had caused the red paint to peel off, allowing rust to take generous bites of the metal beneath. Tara did know this place. She knew she did…but it wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. An old concrete fence surrounded the premises. Bits of the posts were missing, chipped away from time and the elements. Rusted poles formed and supported the structure. Tara recalled that there had been sharp points reoccurring along the top of the fence, but many of them were now smashed away. The once neatly cut grass was wild and tall. Litter and discarded bags scattered the grounds. It had been a community centre, a long time ago, bursting with life and activities. A place that people had come to for comfort and friendship, not just the events that were being held. It pained her heart to see the windows boarded up. Even the main double doors that were originally painted blue with a pretty flower decoration were nothing more than rotted wood and weathered memories.
    Images of the past fluttered into Tara’s mind as she took everything in. There was always a woman at the steps that led up to the front.  What was her name? Marie? She would sit there in her chair with her bucket for collection. She’d sit there all day just reading her book. She’d stop and chat with the people coming and going. The picture brought a wistful smile to Tara’s face as she mentally walked through her memories.
    After a moment, her smile turned to a frown. It couldn’t be this place, though. It was impossible. That place was miles away. In her old life - gone from this one. It was at the other end of the country, nestled in the heart of Devon. Not north of England, where she lived now. She missed it so badly. Maybe one day she could go back; that was if her heart could stand it. She loved the way people were down there. She missed her home, but Eric had been worth giving it up.
    Devan pushed down on the handle of one of the doors and found it wasn’t locked. Shoving it open, he pulled Tara in after him. “Should we be here?” Uncertainty laced her voice as she surveyed her surroundings. It was just as she remembered, freeze-framed from a long time ago. It looked the same. Felt the same. It even smelt the same. The only thing that was missing was the life that used to thrive within these walls. Folding tables were stacked at the side of the small stage. Chairs were piled three high along the walls. “It can't be,” she whispered again. She let go of Devan’s hand. “It isn’t possible.”
    He didn’t speak to her. He was too busy dashing about the place, checking doors, checking the windows, even though they were boarded up. Back and forth he went, carrying chairs  to barricade the double doors. He found an old broom and wedged it between the handles. “We should be okay for a little while,” he muttered to himself.
    “I don’t understand.”
    “I don’t think they will find us here yet. Maybe we can