Текст книги "Angel Fever"

Автор книги: L. A. Weatherly

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

14

THE GROUND TREMBLED UNDER my feet as the entire centre of the camp exploded. With a roar that shook the earth, buildings went up in a wild fountain of flame, cement, and smoke, brilliant against the blue sky.

“No!” I screamed.

I’d been sensing Alex’s rapid heartbeat – his near-certainty that he’d die. Now, for a brief, endless flash, his agony crushed me. Blown apart, wrenched into pieces – so much pain—

His heart gave a last weak beat…and then stopped.

Emptiness.

Before I could take it in, a wall of air slammed into me. I was knocked flat on my back, gasping for breath – dimly aware of rubble falling all around, thumping into the sand.

Muscular arms pinned me in place. “Keep down!” Sam yelled in my ear.

“Let go!” I cried, struggling wildly. “Let go of me!”

Somehow I got away and was running again, sprinting as fast as I could. It had all taken only seconds; now a terrible, chilly silence lay over everything. Debris lay scattered across the desert. A billowing cloud of dust and smoke rose from the camp.

The gate was half flattened, mowed down by flying shards of concrete. I scrambled over the barbed wire and lunged across the chain-link diamonds with a clatter.

“Alex!” I shouted as I ran into the enclosure. “Alex!”

Dust hit me, so thick I could barely see. Eyes streaming, I kept going, stumbling over the rubble-strewn pavement to the ruined centre of the camp, a scorched crater filled with debris and dust. Smoke drifted up into the sky.

Alex’s father’s house was gone. So were half a dozen buildings around it.

He could still be alive, I thought frantically, dropping into the hole. After the earthquakes, some of our AKs had survived for days trapped in collapsed buildings. Falling to my knees, I saw what looked like part of an angel’s wing drawn on a chunk of concrete – I barely noticed it as I hefted it aside, and then the piece after that, and another.

“Alex!” I called. “Please, answer me!”

As I dug, I scanned desperately. His energy always came so quickly – as if our love were an arrow leading me straight to him. Now there was nothing. I kept scanning, shaking so hard I could barely think.

Nothing. And I’d known that already…because I’d felt him die.

My mind flinched from the knowledge. “Alex!” I yelled again, still digging feverishly, bloodying my fingers against the dusty shards of concrete.

Slow footsteps came from behind me – the sound of someone dropping down into the crater. Then I felt Sam’s hand, warm and heavy on my shoulder.

His voice was ragged. “It’s no use, darlin’.”

“It is – it is!”

Sam crouched next to me. His eyes were red-rimmed. “Willow. Do a scan. The only ones still alive here are us.”

I shook my head hard, not even pausing as I dug. “No. No. You’re doing it wrong. He’s alive – he has to be.”

Then I saw it. My throat thickened, words leaving me. The piece of concrete I was holding slipped from my fingers, landing with a dull scraping noise. In a daze, I stretched across the wreckage to pick up what I’d seen.

Alex’s shoe.

A small moan escaped me as I turned it over in my hands – realized distantly that I was trembling. A battered once-white sneaker, now covered in dust and a streak of blood. I’d seen him put it on just yesterday, leaning over as he sat on the bed, his dark hair falling across his forehead.

An ice pick stabbed at my temples. The sense of being blown apart – his warm life-energy coming to an end. Oh god, I’d actually felt it.

I’d felt it.

“No!” The word tore painfully from my throat. I clutched the shoe to myself, hunching over it as I began to rock.

Without speaking, Sam pulled me into his arms. I dropped the shoe and clutched blindly at him, gripping his T-shirt – my hands like claws as I started to sob against his chest, my body heaving.

“I know,” he choked out, his strong arms tightening around me. “I know.”

After a long time, Sam helped me up and got us both back to the truck.

“What was he even doing?” I whispered hoarsely, staring at the remains of the camp. The smoke had all dispersed now and the dust had settled, as if the ruins had lain undisturbed for centuries.

In the driver’s seat, Sam scraped a hand over his jaw. I could sense he was trying to keep control. “Aw, hell, I don’t know.” His voice broke. “From what you said, something to do with using the earth’s energy field.”

I was still holding Alex’s shoe, my nails gouging into the leather. “Yes, but what? I wouldn’t have thought that was even possible!”

“I guess it wasn’t,” Sam said flatly.

I stared at the shattered buildings. When I spoke again, my voice was thin. “We can’t just…leave him here.”

Sam rubbed his forehead, looking forty-three instead of twenty-three. “There may not – be much left,” he said dully. “Anyway, it’d take us weeks to sift through all that. Unless…”

I shook my head woodenly. There was nothing left of Alex’s essence to latch onto.

Sam took a breath. “You know, this is…not really a bad place for him to be. He loved it here, growing up. He told me. And I think his father and brother are buried nearby.”

Any moment I’d wake up and find Alex in bed next to me, pulling me into his arms – his warm lips nuzzling at my neck. I shut my eyes hard. “Yeah, they are,” I said finally.

Inside, I was screaming – wordless, anguished screams, over and over. Alex was only nineteen. We were supposed to have a whole long life together. It wasn’t supposed to be that, instead, he’d felt forced to take some insane risk that he’d lied to me about.

Suddenly, I was shaking. What had it been? What had Alex thought was this important? Without thinking, I grounded myself and reached out for the earth’s energy field. The chaotic power roared over me as I tried to grasp hold. My angel was huddled deep inside me, stunned with grief; I felt her struggle feebly as the ethereal storm battered at us.

“Willow?” said Sam.

The force was whistling past, yanking at my aura – threatening to rip it away. Alex, what was it? Please, I’ve got to know!

“Willow!” Sam was shaking me. “Get out of it!”

With a gasp, my connection with the energy field broke. When I opened my eyes again, my cheeks were freshly damp. “I don’t know what he was doing,” I whispered brokenly. “I don’t know how to – to fix it.”

Sam was glaring at me, his eyes still red. “Christ, if that wasn’t a damn-fool thing to do! You think we want to lose you, too?”

I didn’t answer. Whatever Alex’s father’s plan had been, it was gone.

So was Alex.

I saw again the angels, invading our world and becoming unlinked. Alex, putting on a brave face, despite thinking it was his fault. None of this would have happened otherwise – he’d still be alive now.

The thoughts hammered relentlessly at my skull. “I’m going to Denver,” I said.

Sam turned his head and stared at me. “What for?” he asked after a pause, sounding wary.

“Because I have to find Raziel.”

“Willow, please start making some sense pretty damn quick, ’cause you’re freaking me out.”

My knuckles were white against Alex’s shoe. “This is all Raziel’s fault. He’s the one who unlinked the angels, the one who destroyed the Council and caused the earthquakes. Sam, don’t you see? It’s all him – everything bad that happens is him.”

“Yeah, that’s probably true,” Sam said harshly. “So what are you gonna do? March into his Eden and demand an apology?”

“No. I’m going to make sure he never does it again.”

Sam straightened and pulled the keys out of his jeans pocket. “You’re in shock,” he said shortly. “I’m gettin’ you home.”

All at once my voice was ringing through the cab. “What home? I am serious, Sam – I cannot just go back and do nothing! Alex is dead! Dead, don’t you get it?”

“Yes, I get it!” he bellowed back. “What you don’t get is that it would be goddamn suicide!”

“I am going to Denver,” I said. “You can come, or not – I don’t care.”

Sam gripped my arms hard. “Listen to me,” he growled. “If you want to go runnin’ off to Denver, fine; I can’t stop you. But you would be putting the entire team in danger, and probably killing yourself in the bargain. Do you think that’s what Alex would want? Do you think he’s watching from somewhere right now, sayin’, Yeah, go get him, Willow!”

Something snapped in me. “I don’t care what he’d want!” I screamed. “I can’t just do nothing!”

The truck was suffocating me. Somehow I got the door open and collapsed out onto the desert ground. I wrapped my arms over my head as I struggled to breathe, and felt some small part of my mind try to detach itself from this pain – from the low, keening noise I was making; the way I was rocking in place, fingernails clutching my scalp, lungs clenched tight.

Alex.

Sam came and kneeled beside me. I felt his rough hand rest on my head. “I’ll tell you what you’re gonna do,” he said. “Just what Alex said – keep on recruiting and training people. That’s the only hope humanity’s got now. We need you, Willow. You can run off and get yourself killed, but it won’t accomplish a goddamn thing.”

Eventually I managed to sit up, trembling. Sam gripped my hand, his blue eyes intense. “Alex loved you,” he said in a low voice. “He never thought you were a quitter.”

I couldn’t speak. All I wanted was to confront my father – blow his halo into nothing and hope he felt just a fraction of the pain that Alex had felt, that I was feeling.

But I knew Sam was right. And as I gazed at the ruins where Alex lay, something inside me hardened. I would fight the angels until the day I died, if that’s what it took.

“I’m not a quitter,” I said finally.

Sam put his arm around me; I leaned against his broad chest. He held me silently for a few moments, then kissed my head. “Come on, angel chick,” he whispered. “There’s nothing more we can do here.”

We got back into the truck, and Sam started the engine. I felt as if I were made of glass – one wrong move, and I’d break. As Sam glanced back at the wreckage, his face was set in stone.

“Goodbye, bud,” he murmured. “Hope to hell it was worth it.”

I couldn’t say goodbye to Alex. Not now, not ever. But I turned and watched the shattered remains of the camp grow smaller in the rear window, along with the sun sparkling off Alex’s truck.

I watched until long after they’d vanished, and the only things still visible were the low mountains on the horizon, etched against the sky.

15

SAM CALLED AHEAD WITH THE news. When we got back to the base, Seb and Liz were in the garage, waiting. All my senses were huddled inward, but I could still feel Seb’s concern – how desperate he was to help me.

“Willow…” he began hoarsely as I got out of the truck.

Deep down, I winced; I turned away without speaking. Liz had started crying as she stepped towards me. I returned her hug like an automaton.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” she said at last, wiping her cheeks. “You look exhausted.”

Sam was probably a lot more exhausted than I was; he’d refused to let me help drive on the way back. He’d been right, I guess. “I don’t need help,” I said faintly. “Thanks anyway.”

I had to be by myself when I went into the bedroom I’d shared with Alex – it wasn’t something I could face with anyone else present. Liz seemed to get it. “I’ll walk you there, at least,” she said.

She put her arm around me and led me out of the garage, leaving Seb standing wordlessly behind us.

Once alone in my room, silence enveloped me like a shroud. For a long time, I just lay on the bed, hugging myself. Finally, feeling like it was something I needed to do, I got up and put Alex’s shoe deep in our closet, laying it gently on the floor.

When I straightened, I stood gazing at his clothes. I touched a shirt – then dropped my hand. It was freshly laundered, with nothing of him in it. But still draped over our chair was the black long-sleeved T-shirt he’d had on before he left. I picked it up and buried my face in it, breathing it in.

Alex. The smell of his shampoo, mixed with the faint odour of sweat and his own scent – warm and familiar, slightly spicy. Still holding the shirt, I sank down onto the bed again.

The room felt so empty. As I watched, the digital clock changed from 22:07 to 22:08. Then 22:09, 22:10.

I stared, transfixed. Someone knocked on the door; I looked up blearily. “Yes?”

Liz poked her head in. “Hey,” she said, edging in and shutting the door. “I know you said you wanted to be alone, but…”

I didn’t reply. She hesitated, then sat down beside me on the unmade bed. The last time I’d slept between these sheets, Alex had been here. I’d been planning on washing them; now I knew that nothing on earth could make me wash away whatever essence of him still clung to the fabric.

“Willow?”

I looked up, suddenly aware that several minutes had passed. Liz’s eyes were concerned. She touched my hair. “Why don’t I stay here with you tonight?”

I didn’t want her here – not in the bed I’d shared with Alex. I ran a hand over the shirt in my hands. “No, that’s all right.”

“I don’t like leaving you, though.”

I felt too tired to answer, unable to summon up any interest in whether she liked it or not.

22:15. 22:16. “It never stops,” I murmured. Liz’s eyebrows came together. I gave a dull shrug. “The clock.”

“Oh.” She looked blankly at it, her face wan. Finally she wrapped her arms around herself. “I still just…can’t believe it.”

Me neither. Pain wrenched through me. Trust me, he’d said. And so I had. I hadn’t gone probing in his thoughts, because he’d asked me not to. What if I’d ignored him and done it anyway – could I have stopped this?

My gaze fell on the desk, to the photo of myself as a child peering up through the branches of a willow tree. And I realized that I didn’t have any photos of Alex, not a single one. Why didn’t I?

“He’s really dead,” I said finally. My voice was small, defeated. Liz’s face crumpled; she pressed her head against my shoulder.

I hugged Alex’s shirt as I stared at the photo – my broad smile and sparkling eyes. It was like looking at someone from a different planet.

I couldn’t imagine ever being that happy again.

We held a memorial service a week later.

Liz and I planned it together: some of Alex’s favourite music and people sharing stories about him. I dressed up for it, wearing the black skirt I’d tried on in Liz’s room with a plain black top, and I told the story of how Alex and I had first met. I told it pretty well, I guess. People were smiling through their tears as I described how he’d barked at me, ordering me into his car.

It was so surreal. I felt like an actress playing a role: the grieving girlfriend. I almost started laughing; I kept wanting to say, Why are you all pretending? He can’t really be dead. And then I’d remember the feeling of the explosion thundering through me, and the truth would punch me in the stomach again.

Sam spoke, then Kara, who told a story about when Alex was fourteen. Her bruises were fading, and she’d cut her hair again; it lay sleekly against her head. As our eyes met briefly, I could sense the depth of her sadness. The fact that she’d once kissed Alex seemed so unimportant now. If I could have him back, I wouldn’t care if they had a red-hot affair, as long as I could hold him again.

The one good thing was that it turned out a few of the girls had taken pictures of Alex on their phones when he wasn’t looking. They printed them up on the computer in the office and gave them to me after the service. My gaze went instantly to one of Alex instructing the team: he’d been caught with a grin lighting up his strong-featured face, one eyebrow quirked.

I stared down at it. Alex. His tousled dark hair, his blue-grey eyes. And if I could look under his shirtsleeve, I’d see his AK tattoo…be able to run my hand up the firm warmth of his skin…

The girls looked at each other nervously. “Was it okay…that we did that?” faltered Chloe. “We just thought…”

I came back with a jolt. “Yes, it was okay,” I said, wiping my eyes. “Very, very okay.”

Soon after, Liz came over and squeezed my arm. “Are you all right?” she whispered. “You look like maybe you’ve had enough.”

She was right; the thought of having to endure one more tearful condolence was torture. “Yeah, I have,” I admitted faintly. “Can we get out of here?”

The corridor was silent as we left the rec room behind. “Back to your room?” Liz asked.

I shuddered, imagining its too-quiet emptiness. “No – not there.”

“Here, then.” She swung open the door to the library. My shoulders relaxed a fraction as I sank down at a table. It was quiet in here too, but that was okay – it was supposed to be quiet in a library.

“Thanks.” I propped myself on my elbows, rubbing my forehead; my brown hair fell forward a little. I’d worn it loose, because Alex had always preferred it that way.

Liz’s face was anxious as she sat across from me. I knew this wasn’t easy for her – she wasn’t exactly a nurturer – but she was trying. “Do you want anything? I could get you some tea.”

“No, I’m fine.” Fine – right. Neither of us said the obvious. “I just want to…not think for a while.”

She started to reply, then broke off as the door opened again. Seb came in and stood awkwardly, wearing trousers and a blue shirt. He’d shaved, I saw. His eyes were fixed on mine; there were dark circles under them.

“Willow, can we talk?” he asked.

I stared at him, wondering what there was to talk about.

“Please,” he added.

Liz glanced at me; finally I shrugged. “Yes, okay.”

She pushed her chair back. “Okay, well – I’ll leave you alone, then.” She picked up the photos of Alex. “I’ll put these in your room for you.”

It’s okay, don’t bother going, I almost said, but she’d already left, closing the door behind her. Seb sank down in her empty chair.

“Willow…oh, dios mío, I am so sorry.” He scraped his hair back; I could see the tension in his fingers. “I wasn’t sure if – if you wanted me, so I’ve stayed away, but I’ve been thinking about you every second, querida.”

And I hadn’t thought about him at all. It was almost funny. I let out a breath. “Thanks. I know you’re sorry.”

Seb swallowed. “Tell me how I can help you.” He started to stretch a hand towards me, then seemed to think better of it. “Willow, I know things have been strange between us, but – please let me be your brother again.”

“Let you?” I stared at him in disbelief, not sure whether to laugh or cry. “Seb, I wasn’t the one who drew away and started ignoring you.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he said. “I was stupid, and wrong. I just…couldn’t deal with being around you.”

His hand lay clenched on the table. Looking at it, the night of the party came hurtling back: the way he’d buried his hands in Meghan’s hair and kissed her. And when he had, a brief, sharp emotion had stirred. I’d told myself that I’d just been surprised…but that hadn’t been it, had it?

The sudden guilt felt like it might cripple me.

“I see,” I said, my voice emotionless. “But now that Alex is gone, you can deal with being around me?”

He flinched. “That’s not what I meant,” he said softly. “He was my friend, Willow.”

I crossed my arms tight over my chest. “So…what? You want to look out for your friend’s girlfriend, now that he’s dead? That’s nice of you. I’m sure Alex would appreciate it.”

“Why are you—” Seb broke off in frustration. “I want to look out for you, yes. It’s nothing to do with Alex; it’s just what we are to each other – the link we share. Nothing ever changes that, Willow.” His mouth twisted. “Not for me, at least.”

“Right. And what does Meghan think about that?”

“It’s not her business.”

“She’s your girlfriend. I think maybe it is.”

Seb shook his head. “I didn’t come in here to argue with you, querida. I’m sorry; I’m just making things worse.” He started to get up. “If you need me, I’m here. That’s all I wanted to say.”

“Oh, wait, so you’re not going away after all?” I said, my voice so innocent that it was snide.

Seb stood very still as he regarded me, his jaw tight. “No. I am not going away,” he said.

I stood up too, my head throbbing – and all I could see was the camp, blown to pieces so thoroughly that I didn’t even know if there was anything of Alex left. How could I have been jealous over Seb for even a second, how?

I gripped the table edge; my voice shook. “If you’re staying because of me – then don’t bother, okay? Because I’m sorry, but the answer is no. You can’t be my brother again. Not now, not ever.”

I lay on my bed without moving, still fully dressed. Hours had passed – my brain felt dried out, numb. Propped onto the pillow next to me was one of the photos of Alex. I’d been staring at it for a long time.

His slow, lazy grin. The way his blue-grey eyes had lit up whenever he’d seen me. Even our occasional arguments were moments I’d give anything to have back now.

You promised, I thought bleakly. Alex, you promised that you wouldn’t put yourself in danger again without telling me. Were they just words? How could I love him so much and be so furious with him?

How could I be furious with him at all when he was dead? I shuddered and curled into the fetal position. Slowly, I traced my finger over his mouth in the photo.

“What happened?” I whispered.

Trying to take control of the world’s energy field – it was just insane. Had he wanted to die? I rubbed my temples with cold fingers. No. Alex wouldn’t do that, no matter what. But he’d done something else, hadn’t he?

That emotion I’d sensed when he kissed me before he left: I hadn’t been able to place it then, but I could now. It had been goodbye. Not Goodbye, I’ll see you soon – something far more final. He’d known exactly what he was doing, and what the odds were.

And he’d told me to trust him and left anyway.

With a wordless cry, I wrenched myself up and hurled the pillow across the room. It smashed into the desk, sending the lamp clattering to the floor.

“How could you do this to me?” I screamed. “I wouldn’t have you back now for anything. You lied to me; you broke your promise!”

The black shirt lay nearby; I screwed it into a ball and threw it too. It landed in a puddle of fabric. Not nearly enough. I lunged off the bed after it, started to tear it in half, and then reality hit me: This is almost all I have left of him – and I began to cry instead.

“I’m sorry,” I sobbed, clutching the shirt to my chest. “Oh, god, Alex, of course I’d have you back – I want to die without you…”

I lay on the rough carpet and cried until there were no tears left. Finally I sat up and slumped wearily against the desk. My eyes felt gritty, swollen – my hair wild and tangled. Around me, the room was silent, the lamp still lying where it had fallen.

It would stay there until I picked it up: I lived alone now. I could rage, scream, cry all I wanted – Alex would never hear me, and he’d never come back.