jagged split—broken on the night she died, the other half lost.
The tip of the pendant dug into my palm as I squeezed it. Kovac’s blinding smile was etched clearly in my mind.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The drive did little but bottle up every question and fear and drop of anger. Each one swam around inside of me like I was its own personal lagoon.
When I was a kid, I’d always imagined doing this—leaving in the middle of the night with only one bag that I could take with me. We’d done drills. We had MREs and weapons stashed all over the house. Ria told me he was a Prepper. I thought he was just a little crazy.
Now I knew the truth.
Ria glanced back at me in the visor mirror. She’d been crying and was trying to reapply her makeup with the backup she kept in Nate’s glove box.
I pretended not to see her; the static waterfall of the wind rushing past filled my ears and drowned out all conscious thought. I preferred it that way.
She flipped up the visor and stared out at the road. “This isn’t the way to the safe house.”
“We never told you about this one,” said Nate, speaking for the first time since we’d left.
“Big surprise there,” I growled.
We turned onto an unmarked gravel road off the highway, and Nate flicked his lights off even though he continued to drive for fifteen minutes. I could only guess how he could see the road.
When the roar of the engine finally ceased, an old abandoned church loomed into view. The wood siding was worn gray by the desert sun and harsh rain. A few of the square panels in the windows were missing, and the paint on the double doors had been clawed away. Even the cross on the steeple was about to fall over.
Somehow, a church being the safe house didn’t surprise me. Grandpa was always superstitious like that.
And now I know why.
When I looked up at it, I didn’t feel reassurance—like there were angels watching over us. I had one literally at my side, and all I felt was heat seep out of my skin as I thought that if all this was true—angels and God and everything else Grandpa believed—then God just let one of his most faithful followers die.
Personally, I liked it better when I assigned the blame to natural selection, to chance. It was cold, simple logic.
God was colder.
“Think we could sleep in the car tonight?” Ria stared up at the decrepit church with her nose wrinkled as Nate grabbed our bags.
“Negative,” he said, marching straight up the steps and through the doors.
Ria saluted him sarcastically and followed, glancing back to see if I’d smile.
I didn’t.
I stepped over the dusty threshold and inhaled decay. Every breath of wind whistled through the cracks in the siding. The pews were covered with musty sheets, and the podium on the small stage was smashed to kindling.
“We will sleep here tonight and leave at 0500. I’ll continue to try and contact the headquarters in L.A. and Austin to see which one wants to take us.”
“What are you going to do, pray to your angel buddies? No need for cell phones?” I said, dropping my bag to the floor, knowing I was acting like a toddler and not caring one bit.
He pretended not to hear me and started pulling the sheets off the pews. I half expected a flutter of pigeons to attack us for destroying their home.
Instead, dust billowed out and surrounded us.
I coughed and buried my face in my shirt sleeve for relief, until I realized what dust was already there—still there…forever.
My tongue curled to the back of my throat, and I gagged as images of blinding white light flashed through my mind again and again. I smelled him on me, his burnt hair and skin and bone. It would never come off.
I jerked into a sprint out of the church. I pulled my collar away from my neck before it choked me to death. I gasped as acidic bile climbed my throat.
Nate grabbed my arm, but I wrenched it from him, a scream gurgling out as I ran up a nearby hill. The hot night air was like a fog my lungs strained to
The tip of the pendant dug into my palm as I squeezed it. Kovac’s blinding smile was etched clearly in my mind.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The drive did little but bottle up every question and fear and drop of anger. Each one swam around inside of me like I was its own personal lagoon.
When I was a kid, I’d always imagined doing this—leaving in the middle of the night with only one bag that I could take with me. We’d done drills. We had MREs and weapons stashed all over the house. Ria told me he was a Prepper. I thought he was just a little crazy.
Now I knew the truth.
Ria glanced back at me in the visor mirror. She’d been crying and was trying to reapply her makeup with the backup she kept in Nate’s glove box.
I pretended not to see her; the static waterfall of the wind rushing past filled my ears and drowned out all conscious thought. I preferred it that way.
She flipped up the visor and stared out at the road. “This isn’t the way to the safe house.”
“We never told you about this one,” said Nate, speaking for the first time since we’d left.
“Big surprise there,” I growled.
We turned onto an unmarked gravel road off the highway, and Nate flicked his lights off even though he continued to drive for fifteen minutes. I could only guess how he could see the road.
When the roar of the engine finally ceased, an old abandoned church loomed into view. The wood siding was worn gray by the desert sun and harsh rain. A few of the square panels in the windows were missing, and the paint on the double doors had been clawed away. Even the cross on the steeple was about to fall over.
Somehow, a church being the safe house didn’t surprise me. Grandpa was always superstitious like that.
And now I know why.
When I looked up at it, I didn’t feel reassurance—like there were angels watching over us. I had one literally at my side, and all I felt was heat seep out of my skin as I thought that if all this was true—angels and God and everything else Grandpa believed—then God just let one of his most faithful followers die.
Personally, I liked it better when I assigned the blame to natural selection, to chance. It was cold, simple logic.
God was colder.
“Think we could sleep in the car tonight?” Ria stared up at the decrepit church with her nose wrinkled as Nate grabbed our bags.
“Negative,” he said, marching straight up the steps and through the doors.
Ria saluted him sarcastically and followed, glancing back to see if I’d smile.
I didn’t.
I stepped over the dusty threshold and inhaled decay. Every breath of wind whistled through the cracks in the siding. The pews were covered with musty sheets, and the podium on the small stage was smashed to kindling.
“We will sleep here tonight and leave at 0500. I’ll continue to try and contact the headquarters in L.A. and Austin to see which one wants to take us.”
“What are you going to do, pray to your angel buddies? No need for cell phones?” I said, dropping my bag to the floor, knowing I was acting like a toddler and not caring one bit.
He pretended not to hear me and started pulling the sheets off the pews. I half expected a flutter of pigeons to attack us for destroying their home.
Instead, dust billowed out and surrounded us.
I coughed and buried my face in my shirt sleeve for relief, until I realized what dust was already there—still there…forever.
My tongue curled to the back of my throat, and I gagged as images of blinding white light flashed through my mind again and again. I smelled him on me, his burnt hair and skin and bone. It would never come off.
I jerked into a sprint out of the church. I pulled my collar away from my neck before it choked me to death. I gasped as acidic bile climbed my throat.
Nate grabbed my arm, but I wrenched it from him, a scream gurgling out as I ran up a nearby hill. The hot night air was like a fog my lungs strained to
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