Adrian's Undead Diary (Book 5): Wrath by Chris Philbrook Page A

fashion or another, and the idea of this being a night of endings for that relationship scared her. It frightened her. She didn’t know how to be alone anymore.
    Oudry turned and looked over his shoulder in the direction Michelle thought the airport was in. His white eyes fixated on the horizon, she couldn’t help but look to where he was. She saw nothing but the flat, empty terrain of western Africa. There was a slight bump where she thought the airport might’ve been, but it could’ve easily just been a mountain in the distance.  
    “Michelle Annabelle Lewis, tonight is the last night you will ever spend in Africa.”
    Michelle’s chest caught in surprise. She didn’t expect him to speak so suddenly. Especially not in The Voice. She replayed the sentence in her head and realized that just like the first time she’d heard it, The Voice was not aloud, but inside her mind. She didn’t know what to say, or how to respond, so she remained silent, and watched the boy as he continued to stare over his shoulder at the dark horizon.
    “By the breaking of dawn you will either die here, or The Warden will come in time, and begin his task of protecting you.”
    Michelle realized that her eyes had filled with moisture. She wasn’t even crying, just welling up with emotion. Her heart soared as the pit of her stomach continued to sink. She was everywhere emotionally. She wondered how she would know The Warden when he arrived, if he arrived.
    “You will know the Warden by his garments of white.”
    Michelle nodded at his silent, timely instruction. She was relieved her unasked question was answered.
    “ I can impart to you some knowledge this night. I can illuminate some truth. I can remove some falsehoods, but time is short.”  
    “Thank you.” Michelle whispered. Oudry turned to face her, and she was stunned. His white eyes had disappeared, replaced with eyes of striking, rich blue. Set in the face of the dead child they were powerful, and reminded her of the blue of a newborn’s eyes.
    “ You are familiar with the parables.”
    It was not a question. Michelle nodded at him.
    “There is a parable that has some truth that I will point out to you. How much truth it contains is yours to debate. In the Parable of Weeds the world is as a farmer’s field, and the people are as the crops. Evil grows amongst the people just as the weeds grow amongst the crops Michelle.
    The time has come that there are as many weeds as there are crops in the fields, and that cannot be abided. I have let the weeds run rampant now, and only the heartiest and most deserving of the field’s bounty shall survive this culling.
    But the weeds are cunning. They grow underneath the crops, taking the richness of the soil from below, and blocking the sun from above. Some weeds appear as beauty might, taking the form of a flower, tricking the world into leaving it be.
    I take no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but rather that they turn from their ways and live. Will they turn from their ways Michelle? Can you rebuild the field once more, sow it, and cultivate life, and joy, instead of death, waste and hatred?
    The weeds are taking the fields Michelle. You are one of three that are tasked with saving the bounty that is humanity, and culling the weeds that are the dead.”
    Michelle had no idea how to respond to that either, so she sat silently, absorbing it, eyes locked on the baby blue eyes of the Divine. Oudry’s voice was silent for some time, and Michelle gained the courage to ask a question aloud. “How do I do my part? My father told me I was part of The Trinity, and I was called the Savior, or the Soul. What does that mean?”
    Oudry’s tiny mouth cracked a smile. “The names you have been ascribed have no more meaning than what you give them. Know that you will succeed together, or fail together regardless of what you choose to call one another.”
    “My father said I was supposed to lead humanity to a better world? That I could