Текст книги "Angel Fever"
Автор книги: L. A. Weatherly
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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 26 страниц)
18
“YOU READY FOR THIS?” SAID Bascal’s voice on the phone.
Raziel was in his office, going over maps for his upcoming journey to Mexico City. Annoyingly, it would take days to get there on the still-shattered roads. At least there hadn’t been a major snowfall yet, though it was now late November.
“Ready for what?” he said, distracted.
“The Angel Killers are still alive.”
Raziel’s head snapped up. “What?”
“Yeah, a group have been caught near Albuquerque Eden. They attacked some angels there, but missed one. When we went back and captured the AKs, we found a base they’d built up in the mountains.”
Raziel leaned forward, his posture hunched and urgent. “What about Fields and Kylar?”
“Don’t know yet – they weren’t there with them, at least. But listen, boss, these people have been trained. Just their bad luck one got away.” Bascal’s voice hesitated. “There’s more,” he said.
Raziel frowned while Bascal spoke, blindly taking in a Tiffany lamp across the room. “Just like Kara Mendez,” he murmured finally. Like Kara, and like those people in Mexico City, whose numbers kept growing. Why did this seem so inevitable?
“Yeah, exactly,” said Bascal. “I can tell you one thing – from the way they were acting, they sure don’t know we can’t feed from them. Anyway, they haven’t been interrogated yet – I thought you’d want to have that fun yourself.”
“Yes, thanks,” Raziel said grimly. “Have Albuquerque send them here. Immediately.”
Raziel hadn’t met a human yet who could hold up under enough pain. Apart from Kara, who was exceptional – he rather missed their little games. There was no time for such subtlety with the Albuquerque group, though.
There were seven of them; from hidden cameras, it was obvious how close-knit they were. Good. Raziel ordered two of them sacrificed immediately and made sure the others heard. Standing alone outside a door in the downstairs corridor, Raziel inspected his nails as the frantic, pleading shouts echoed and finally ended. This sort of thing was beyond crass, but necessary.
Finally he entered a room. They’d separated the AKs, and a girl – Chloe, he believed – sat huddled in the corner, crying. She flinched when she saw him.
“Do you know this girl?” he asked, holding up a photo of Willow.
Her face emptied of colour. “No, I – I’ve never seen her before,” she stammered.
Raziel smiled. “In other words, yes, you do. Everyone knows who Willow Fields is. Your lie is rather obvious, my dear. Where is she?”
Chloe looked sick. “I mean, I know who she is, but I don’t know her – not personally.”
Raziel perched on a table, one foot still on the floor;he swung his other leg casually. “You heard the screams, I suppose. Tracy and Paul, I believe, were their names?”
Her face contorted and she pressed her cheek against the wall, her throat working.
“It would be such a shame if anyone else had to die,” Raziel went on mildly. “Especially when this is all rather futile. We will find your intrepid leaders, you know. We can just do it with more deaths, or without. Which do you prefer?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered.
How tedious. Raziel held back a sigh as he took out his cellphone and dialled. “Another one,” he ordered. “And I think you’d better do it in here. Chloe doesn’t seem convinced yet of how serious we are.”
It took two more AKs in the end; Raziel was tetchily wondering whether he’d have to start bringing in random strangers off the street next. But Chloe finally broke, sobbing out that the Angel Killers were in Nevada. She didn’t know exactly where; they had an underground base in the desert north-west of Vegas, about a hundred miles out. And other groups of AKs had also been sent into the field, though she didn’t know where they were either.
Raziel held back a smile. He hadn’t even asked about that last part – they’d definitely made progress. He touched Chloe’s face, his fingers lingering. She was really a very attractive girl.
“Well done,” he said. “And now suppose you tell me why you and your friends are immune to us? Is it something the AKs did?”
She stared blankly at him, shook her head. “I…I don’t—”
She wasn’t lying this time – he could see her struggling with the definition of immune when her little group had just been decimated. “Never mind,” he said, rising to his feet. “You’ve done very well to tell me about your friends in Nevada, my dear. Very well indeed.”
“Please don’t hurt them,” she whispered.
“Never,” said Raziel. “Why, the very thought.” He left the room and closed the door behind him; as he strode back to his office, a church official joined him.
“Well?” the man asked.
“Take care of her and the other two – no need for drama this time,” said Raziel without pausing.
Back in his office, Raziel’s satisfaction faded as he realized his dilemma.
As he’d long suspected, Willow was alive – alive – and was training new AKs. Even through his fury, Raziel felt a flash of hard pride – he’d known that no daughter of his could be vanquished so easily. But finding her might take a while, now that the angels’ psychic skills were so compromised; Chloe’s description could encompass hundreds of square miles.
And with all that was going on, Raziel didn’t have time to undertake the search himself.
He glared down at the map of Mexico. Unbelievably, there were now almost a hundred immune humans locked away there, with more being discovered every day. Through a sense of trepidation he hardly understood, he’d put off this journey for as long as possible – but now if he didn’t deal with it, word was sure to explode among the angels. For unless stopped, this immunity might just keep spreading throughout humanity, until angels were unable to feed at all.
It would be like a judgement.
Absurd. Even so, Raziel was gripped by a cold fear. The Council deaths had occurred in Mexico City, orchestrated by his own hand. What if this powerful, unknowing energy that he kept sensing was in response to that? What if the human immunities in Mexico City, in the Angel Killers, were somehow his fault?
No one can be allowed to know what I did, thought Raziel. Currently, not a single angel alive suspected that he’d been responsible for assassinating the Council. If they found out, it could be the thing to galvanize the despondent ones back into action, so that they banded together with those who already hated him – all of them united against a common enemy.
No, he had to go to Mexico City and could waste no further time about it – if there was any evidence against him to be found there, he had to suppress it. The problem of Willow would have to be solved some other way.
Bascal, he decided. Let him get a good-size gang together and go searching in the Nevada desert for the Angel Killers, using whatever psychic powers they still had left – the little thug would enjoy doing away with them immensely.
Raziel had just reached for his phone to give the order when it rang, vibrating under his fingers. And even though he was barely psychic himself any more, he felt a sense of dread.
He hesitated, then answered. The news that came, on top of everything else, was like a punch in the throat.
Pawntucket. His daughter’s hometown.
“Don’t let the news leak any further,” Raziel said finally; somehow he sounded in control. “I’ve got to go to Mexico City for a while first. I’ll be in Schenectady by the tenth – we’ll take care of them then for good.”
When he hung up, he sat very still. His fingers closed around a plastic pen; it bent and snapped. He had a flash of the willow tree from his dream, its branches blazing in the glow from his wings. And now he remembered where the real tree had been.
The knowledge chilled him; more than ever, he had the sense that everything was slipping from his fingers – and that it was all because of Willow somehow. Raziel’s jaw clenched. No. He would not be defeated.
He called Bascal and explained what was going on, snapping the words out. “Go to Nevada immediately and find the Angel Killers – leave no one alive,” he finished. “Do you hear me? No one.”
The clock read 8:41.
Still hugging my pillow, I stared blearily at the numbers – then it hit me, and I swore and scrambled out of bed.
For days I’d been having unsettling dreams I could barely remember, which kept me lying awake for hours. Last night had been the worst yet. Now I’d overslept; I had less than twenty minutes to help set things up for the simulation.
I threw on jeans and a V-necked black T-shirt, then brushed my hair with quick strokes. As I did, my crystal pendant caught the light, sparkling against my skin.
Two days ago, Alex had been dead for a year.
I put the hairbrush down and hesitated, looking at my dresser drawers. I didn’t do this very often. But now, though I was already running late, I pulled open the top drawer.
Tucked away under my socks and bras was a folded piece of paper.
There is no greater universe than holding you… For a change, my eyes stayed dry as I read the poem, and then Alex’s message at the bottom. I love you. Today on your birthday and always. Alex.
“I love you, too,” I whispered. I kissed my finger and pressed it lightly against his signature. As I put the paper back into place, my hand brushed a tiny package.
Even after all this time, I’d never opened Seb’s present. Suddenly curious, I unwrapped it – and found a flat beige stone about an inch long, exactly the same as a million other stones in the desert. Then I turned it over and caught my breath. The stone had a pattern, some fluke of nature: the figure of a girl with long hair and outspread wings.
An angel with no halo. Me.
I’d never thanked Seb for this; I’d just thrown it in my drawer unopened. Seb, I’m sorry. It’s beautiful, I thought, running my thumb over the stone’s smooth surface.
Sam stuck his head in. “Hey! You coming, or what?”
I shoved the stone in my pocket; a minute later, I was jogging behind Sam towards the training room. As we went through the main entrance, we were enveloped in chaos. The entire base was there – we had almost two hundred recruits now, all at different levels. That included some of our original AKs who’d taken longer with the energy work; most of them would leave in the spring.
At the centre of the massive space sprawled an earthquake-ruined city. The set’s shattered buildings always made my stomach tighten. It looked way too much like an explosion site.
We were just about to start when there was a fizzling noise: the holograph machines failing. Again.
Sam groaned and went over with a guy named Eric, our computer guru. Everyone had been tensely poised; now the mood relaxed as the two of them huddled over the computer.
Suddenly I realized I was standing beside Meghan. She had on camouflage trousers and a black T-shirt, her rich auburn hair piled on top of her head.
“It’s like having a fire drill back at school,” she said as our eyes met. “Remember, we’d get to hang around outside for a few minutes?”
“And miss algebra if we were lucky.” I felt very conscious of the stone Seb had given me, nestled in my pocket. From the corner of my eye, I could see him across the room, talking with some of his students.
I hesitated, then decided to say it. “Meghan, listen…I was really sorry to hear about you and Seb. I’ve wanted to tell you that for a long time.”
She didn’t answer for a second. Then she sighed. “Yeah. Not my smartest move ever – getting involved with a guy who’s in love with someone else.”
I froze; I hadn’t expected her to just come out with it like that. Her voice went on, low and non-accusing. “But I couldn’t help it; I just…fell so completely in love with him. I really thought that someday he’d wake up and see how amazing we were together.” She snorted. “Stupid, huh?”
I licked dry lips. “So what happened?”
Meghan shrugged, her face creased with sadness. “Oh, I don’t know. After Alex died, Seb was so desperate to be there for you, and…well, I guess it made how we both felt pretty obvious, even if neither of us wanted to see it. Finally it got to where being with him hurt more than it made me happy. Time to call it a day.”
Oh. I cleared my throat, my cheeks on fire. “I always wondered why you didn’t hate me,” I admitted softly.
She glanced at me in surprise. “Why? It’s not your fault.” She gave a slightly bitter smile. “When I’m being extra-mature I know it’s not his either. He never lied to me, even though sometimes I really thought that…” She trailed off, then made a face. “Oh, who knows? Seb is complicated. And not my favourite topic of conversation, to be honest.”
She looked up and grinned suddenly, a real smile that lit up her face. “Hey! We’ve got lift-off!”
The holographic angels had appeared, hanging motionless in the air. I managed a smile too as people cheered. Deep down, I guess I’d always known that Seb wasn’t over me. I still hated hearing it.
Sam clapped his hands. “Okay, y’all!” he shouted. “We start in five, four, three—”
Everything else vanished as I grabbed my rifle, checking people’s auras to see who’d been caught off-guard. Then the lights snapped out, and we were plunged into battle.
As the angels started diving, I felt the familiar adrenalin rush. One swooped right at me – I got it in a single shot and then ran for the set, white fireworks exploding through the room. My heart was pounding as I crouched behind a wall and aimed; I pulled the trigger. This was the one time in my life when I felt – well, not happy, but alive again.
Then everything seemed to go into slow motion. My hands chilled, and I missed an angel entirely; its holographic body sliced through me. The buzzer signalling that I’d “died” went off as I lowered my rifle, my spine suddenly prickling. What was going on?
For a heartbeat I stood motionless, surrounded by shouts and the red pinpoints of laser rifles. Then by some instinct I looked up at the broad ceiling, shrouded in darkness.
And I knew.
Time snapped back into place. “Attack! We’re under attack!” I yelled. I scrambled from the set; ran for the door, and switched on the lights – the room flooded with brightness. I could hear Seb calling out too now; people stood gaping at us both.
“We’re under attack!” I shouted again, cupping my hands around my mouth. “The angels are almost here! Get a weapon – do something!”
I flung open the door and started sprinting towards the armoury. Oh god, I could actually feel them now, surging through the ground like ethereal arrows. Before I’d made it halfway down the corridor, I heard the sound of screams starting.
No! I whirled back towards the training room and saw that some of the more experienced AKs had followed me out. Sam was pounding towards me; Liz and Kara, Meghan, a dozen others.
“Don’t stop, we need real guns!” bellowed Sam, charging past.
I took off running again. We reached the armoury; Sam threw it open. “Grab as many weapons as you can carry, then get back in there!”
I swung a semi-automatic rifle over each shoulder, grabbed another, and then a couple of pistols. I shoved them in my jeans waistband with a hand that somehow wasn’t shaking.
It’s time, I thought. Finally, it’s time.
Meghan was pale as she loaded herself up. As Kara clicked in a magazine, I saw the scars where her tattoo used to be. I registered them in a blur as I raced from the armoury, ignoring the weight pulling at my shoulders.
Sam passed me, bristling with weapons. The screams grew louder with every step. As Sam edged open the training room door, they amplified. I gritted my teeth and followed him in – then stopped, the breath freezing in my lungs.
The room was a frenzy of angelic light. Hundreds of angels – hundreds, swooping, diving, tearing away life forces. Through the churning wings, I saw that at least half the AKs lay dead already, their bodies sprawled amid the fake ruins. Some of the ones left must have had real pistols on them – they were shooting frantically, aiming upwards.
It made no difference. We were hopelessly outnumbered. In a daze I saw another few AKs fall; realized that in minutes we’d all be dead.
Sam had taken only a few steps in. As the others appeared behind us, he whirled around, eyes blazing. “Get out – evacuate!”
Kara’s chin thrust out. “No way, Sam!”
“Do it! Each of you, take a weapon and leave the extras – go!” When Kara didn’t move, he tore one of the rifles from her shoulder. “What part of get the hell out do you not understand?” he roared into her face. Reluctantly, Kara obeyed; she and the others turned and started running back towards the garage.
“That goes for you, too, angel chick,” Sam said through clenched teeth. He was loading himself up with even more rifles; suddenly I could read his thoughts as clearly as my own. He’d go down fighting. There was no way he was abandoning the rest of his team.
I stared at him in a tangle of emotions…but most of all, relief.
“No, Sam,” I said quietly. I skidded one of my rifles across the floor into the fray, and then levelled the other against my shoulder as I reached within for my angel. “I’m mutinying, like Alex said. If you’re going down with the ship, then I am too.”
19
WHEN HE’D FIRST SENSED THE angels, Seb had gone sprinting for the holograph machines; he pulled the plug on the computerized angels and spun back towards the room. “Attack!” he shouted, adding his voice to Willow’s. “Get out, you need weapons!”
The door nearest him was closer to his bedroom than the armoury – he flung it open and started to run. In his dorm he snatched up his switchblade from the dresser.
It was less than a minute before he got back, but as he entered Seb stopped in his tracks, stunned. Dios mío, this was slaughter. He plunged into the battle anyway; as he ducked to grab up a pistol from a fallen AK, he shoved aside the sight of the girl’s empty gaze.
Suddenly panic gripped him. Meghan.
As Seb shot at an angel’s halo, he sent his own angel soaring upwards, searching for her vivid hair. One of the creatures came at him; he battled it briefly, somehow wrenched away. Oh god, where was she? All at once he glimpsed Meghan through the main doorway, running away with Kara and some others. The human Seb let out a breath as his muscles relaxed – and then he saw that Willow was still in here.
No! Seb started battling towards her, crouching and shooting as angels came at him. His own angel shielded him, whirling away to protect the others when he could. There were vanishingly few left to protect, though those few now had weapons and were doing their best. Seb took a split second to snatch up a rifle lying on the floor; it was a relief to have the weapon’s greater control.
Take that, you cabrón, he thought, blasting another angel into nothingness. There were so many, it hardly made a difference.
“Sam! Look out!” shouted Willow’s voice. Seb spun and saw Sam’s burly form fall in a haze of angels, his life force in tatters.
“No!” Willow screamed. Crying now, she stood over Sam’s body, shooting again and again; remnants of angels fell like snow as her own angel fought overhead. Seb reached the two of them somehow. He took a shot and dropped to his knees beside Sam; the Texan’s aura was faint, almost gone.
As Sam struggled to focus, Seb gripped his hand hard. “Get her outta here,” Sam gasped, clutching his fingers. “Please, man, get her out – don’t let ’em capture her.”
Before Seb could reply, the light had faded from Sam’s blue eyes. His hand went limp.
Seb didn’t let himself feel sorrow. He rose hastily. The remaining AKs had banded together at the other end of the room, firing upwards, bringing down angels. The creatures left were attacking the tiny group in a frenzy. Through twisting wings, Seb saw the AKs start to fall, one after another. In seconds, the angels would envelop him and Willow too.
Willow started to run towards the fight. Seb grabbed her, holding her back. “No!” she cried as she struggled. “Let me go! I’ve got to help—”
Her angel flew at him – his own angel fended her off. The human Willow was strong for her size but no match for him; Seb got her arms pinned and half carried her towards the door as she fought. “I swear I will knock you out and put you over my shoulder if I have to,” he said through gritted teeth. “Come on. It won’t bring Alex back if you die.”
She went rigid – and then seemed to crumple. Looking at the motionless Sam, the final moments of slaughter across the room, she nodded mutely. He gripped her free hand, and they ran for it.
As the door closed, the corridor went startlingly silent, the only sound the drumming of their feet. Seb took the heavy spare rifle from Willow’s shoulder as they ran and slung it over his own. Both their auras were grey, shrunken.
“They’ll search the base for us,” Willow panted. “I don’t know if they realize who we are, though – I think I got all the ones who saw my angel; they might think we’re dead already.”
As they passed an open storage room, Seb glimpsed a few tin cans lying on the floor: Kara and the others must have managed to grab some supplies. With luck they could still be in the garage.
Seb sent his angel to go signal that he and Willow were coming – but hadn’t flown half a dozen wing strokes before he whirled mid-air, senses prickling.
A small flock of the attackers were rounding a corner behind them, their ethereal wings slicing through walls as they jetted down the corridor.
Willow had felt them too; she turned around holding her rifle, running backwards a few steps as she let loose a volley of shots. Her angel appeared and went flying off to meet them head-on.
Seb twisted backwards as he ran, jaw tight as he fired again and again. One down. Another one. He felt his angel pluck his switchblade from his jeans pocket and then jet into the fray.
Seb could sense the exact moment when the remaining angels decided to retreat for reinforcements. Willow knew it too; he could feel her alarm – there were still over a hundred angels in the base. Without speaking, they redoubled their efforts.
In the air, sparks flew as his angel’s wings beat against his opponents’. A glimpse of a beautiful, furious face – a hissed oath as Seb’s angel struggled his knife towards the halo. The blade sliced through, glowing white; as the angel screamed, Seb’s angel was already hurtling away to another one. On the ground, Seb was still firing, running after the retreating angels to bring them down.
Willow’s angel was battling another female, straining to reach its halo. A burst of shattered brilliance as she succeeded. The human Willow gasped. She stumbled and fell, her rifle clattering to the ground, and gaped upwards at where the angel had been.
The last remaining angel was watching her with a sudden frown. Seb’s angel lunged at him. Their wings clashed; Seb’s angel lifted his switchblade – and then stopped, stunned.
The energy he was touching felt almost like his own.
The angel hovered as they gaped at each other. On the ground, Seb froze in recognition. He had no memories of the angel who was his father…yet had no doubt that this was him.
Willow got up, looking shaken; Seb had the fleeting sense that it was from more than just the attack. “Seb, what—” She broke off as she realized.
The angel shifted to his human form. Like Seb, he wore jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Still aiming his rifle, Seb stared. He’d always thought he’d gotten his high cheekbones from his mother, but he saw now they could as easily have come from his father. The angel’s shapely mouth was also Seb’s – the strong angle of his jaw. Only hair and eyes were different: both dark brown.
“I…didn’t know there was another of you,” the angel said in a strangled voice.
And just as Willow’s father had taken on the English accent of one of his past victims, Seb could now hear his mother’s Sonoran tones. He swallowed hard, trying not to shake.
The angel took a hesitant step forward. “Can…can I ask your name?”
He wasn’t sure why he answered. “Seb,” he bit out. “Sebastián.”
“I’m Zaran.” The angel shook his head, gazing at Seb. “I didn’t know. All these years…” He trailed off. “Your mother was very beautiful,” he added. “I started to really care about her. I tried to leave her alone…”
A sound came like the rushing of a wind tunnel: angels approaching, more than they could ever hold off. Seb felt Willow’s urgency as she tugged at him. “Seb! We have to hurry!”
Zaran glanced over his shoulder. A sudden resolve appeared on his face; he changed back to his angel form. “Go – leave,” he ordered them both. “I’ll say no one’s down this way.” He soared off down the corridor.
Seb’s hands felt hot on the rifle. All the times he’d thought about what he’d do to his father if he ever met the cabrón, and he’d just stood there? Told him his name?
“Seb!” Willow was pulling with both hands now. “Come on! Do you want to die?”
Still cursing himself, Seb turned, and he and Willow ran, faster than ever. Seconds later they skidded into the garage. No sign of Kara and the others; two of the biggest trucks were gone.
“You need to drive,” Seb said shortly. Meghan had given him a few driving lessons, but he didn’t trust himself right now. He punched the elevator button as Willow dived into one of the remaining trucks.
When they reached ground level, both door and gate stood gaping open. Outside, it was snowing. Willow hurtled them onto the dirt road. The snow fell in big flakes that whirled towards the windshield; twisting in his seat, Seb was relieved to see it covering their tracks. The truck’s clock read 9:22. The simulation had started at nine.
All those people – almost the entire team. Seb clenched his jaw, refusing to drown in what he was feeling. Then apprehension flickered; he could sense that the angels had finished searching the base.
“Hurry – we have to hide,” he said.
Willow’s cheeks were white. “I know – I feel it too.” She lurched them off-road and steered the truck behind a large boulder. Angling them quickly into the shadows at its base, she killed the engine. In seconds, snow coated the windshield with tiny kissing noises, hiding them.
With no warning, the low roar of an explosion came, rumbling through the ground and vibrating right up through them. The car keys jingled. Willow gave a small cry, pressing her hand against her mouth; Seb swore impotently in Spanish.
The gas storage tanks under the pumps. They’d torched them. In a psychic flash, he could actually see it: the head angel changing to his human form and smirking at the others.
Watch this – the perfect finishing touch. A lit match – a shift back to his angel self before the flame had even hit the fuel. Hemmed in by a hundred tons of stone, the explosion would have surged through the base like fiery lava, scorching everything in its path.
Dully, Seb realized that the angels had erupted up out of the ground and were soaring away through the sky now, heading east. Including his father. By the time Seb could no longer sense them, the truck’s interior had grown shadowy, its windshield covered with blue-white snow.
After a long pause, Willow cleared her throat. “Maybe…maybe we should try heading north,” she said in a tiny voice. “If we’re lucky, Kara managed to get into the office and grab the coordinates for the Idaho base.”
Seb nodded. He felt numb, frozen. “Yes. Good idea.”
As it turned out, the others weren’t far ahead – they’d seen the angels and also pulled off-road to hide. Willow caught up and sent her angel cruising over the lead truck to signal it was them.
There was a tense moment when Seb wondered whether Kara was going to gun the accelerator – what had just happened probably hadn’t lessened her dislike of half-angels much. Then she waved a slim brown arm out the window.
The three trucks convoyed north. He and Willow had lapsed back into silence, keeping their auras distinctly separate, their thoughts just as distant. Even so, Seb was aware that Willow had locked away her anguish for now and was thinking fretfully about Pawntucket, her hometown.
He almost asked about it, then bit back the words. Willow had made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him, not even his friendship. There were times now when Seb felt the same about her – there was a limit to how much hurt he could take from one person. Even one he was in love with.
In the truck ahead, he could just make out a rich pile of auburn hair. Meghan. Seb’s fist tightened on his thigh. Oh god, what must she be feeling, having witnessed that slaughter? With an effort, he resisted sending his angel out to check on her – she wouldn’t thank him for it.
The snow dwindled until it was only a dusting on the desert floor. Sixty miles outside the Reno ruins, they reached Fallon – more of a ghost town now than a dark town. Willow followed the others to an abandoned shopping mall. The main entrance had been shattered; Kara drove her truck right inside, and they all parked in the food court.
“What happened?” demanded Kara as everyone got out. “Are you two the only…?”
“Yes,” said Seb; his voice came out harshly. He explained what had happened, aware that he’d purposefully spoken before Willow, to spare her the pain. He sensed the group’s mood dampening further, their auras becoming more shrunken. Meghan stood hugging herself, a rifle hanging over one shoulder.
When he finished, Kara had gone almost grey, though her expression hadn’t changed.
“Well, at least you and Willow made it,” she said finally – and to give her credit, she sounded as if she meant it.
She turned to the others. “Okay, we’ve been here before, and the place has been pretty picked over, but you can still find some things. Go in twos and threes, keep scanning, and take whatever you need. When it starts getting dark, come back to the trucks. We’ll spend the night here, then keep heading up to the Idaho base in the morning.”
Surreal was an English word Seb had learned only recently. The rest of that day fitted the description. While images of slaughter screamed through his head, he went from store to store, searching. Two girls from one of his classes went with him, sticking close, and he talked to them automatically, somehow managing to smile and be comforting. Yes, what a hero.
