Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 104729 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104729 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
When I don’t answer right away, she turns to look away from the flames and at me instead.
“You don’t have to lie to me, Alaric.”
“Probably,” I admit.
“Because of this storm?”
I nod. “The chance that anyone will be looking for us or even know where to look was already slim. But if the weather keeps up like this, it could be days before we can do anything about it.”
“If the storm lasts a few days, do we have enough food to last in here?”
Again, I go quiet. “Alaric.”
“I’ll give it to you straight. We don’t have enough dry wood to last over two days. We have food, but if we eat it all, we’ll basically have to start from scratch before we can leave.”
“We are fucked.”
“Not necessarily. It could end at any minute. It could be a fast, tropical storm.”
She gives me a look that tells me she isn’t buying what I’m selling. Good, because neither am I. By the look of the clouds …
“It’s a hurricane, isn’t it?” She cuts into my inner thoughts with exactly what I was thinking.
“The clouds looked that way.”
“And how long do hurricanes last?” She levels me with a stare, a hard stare that demands me to be honest.
“If it’s fast-moving, then a day or two, but typically, a week.”
“And if it’s terrible …?”
“Weeks.” My words hang heavy in the gloomy cave. “I’m going to blow out the fire,” I finally say.
“Why?” But she knows why. Tonight, even with the storm battering outside, it’s not cold. We already used it to dry her clothes, the rest will have to naturally dry, but it’s not worth the risk. Since it’s almost time to sleep, we can’t waste it.
“Okay,” she whispers.
“Come here,” I say, and her mouth forms an O.
“Without the fire, we will have to share the blanket.”
If she wants to object, she doesn’t. Instead, she scoots over to me.
This won’t be the first time we have slept next to each other. Normally, we take separate sides of the raft and gravitate toward each other in the middle of the night.
When she’s beside me, I move to remove my shirt.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“You’re naked under there. Let me give you my shirt at least.”
She inclines her head and then nods. “That would be smart. Can’t really share a blanket if I’m naked.”
“I mean, you could …”
She laughs and reaches for my shirt. When our hands touch, I let my fingers linger longer than I should. She doesn’t pull away at first. Instead, she watches where we touch. Then she must snap out of the trance because she’s moving away so she can put my shirt on. While she dresses, I put out the fire, and then I’m back in the raft with her.
“Thank you,” she says as she lets it drop over the blanket. Once she’s fully submerged in it, she lifts up, and the blanket drops away from her once naked body. “We should go to bed.” I open the blanket, and she slips in. My arm is around her shoulder, and she is tucked into my chest.
“Sleep,” I say as I kiss her hair.
She mumbles something, but I’m not sure what. It sounded like a thank you, but then I hear the soft inhale, and I know she’s asleep.
Exhausted from the day.
I’m not faring much better because with Phoenix in my arms, protected, I feel at peace. I listen to her breathing, and before long, my own breaths match hers, and I too succumb.
33
Phoenix
It’s dark.
There are so many people. My hand is in my mother’s hand as she walks up to a familiar man. Uncle Michael. He’s not my actual uncle, but he’s Daddy’s friend.
“Sarah.” I hear my name, but I’m not sure where it’s coming from. My hand drops from my mother’s, and suddenly, I can’t see anyone. Everyone is too tall. I move to find a higher ground to see.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
Rapid sounds over and over. Dust and smoke fill the air.
People scream.
Where’s my mom? My dad.
Then I see him.
He’s on the floor, gun lifted in the air. His finger keeps moving, but nothing happens. In front of me, on the ground, is my dad’s other gun.
He’s screaming for me to grab it. To fire. To save my mother. That’s when I see her. She’s lying on the floor, a man standing in front of her.
Before I know it, I’m grabbing the gun, my small hands wrapping around it. My mom looks at me, begging me, pleading with me.
I lift it, but I’m so scared.
I can’t breathe. I can’t move.
Frozen in place from fear.
The man shoots my mom, then my dad, and I do nothing. Nothing but scream.
My eyes open, but I can’t see anything. Where am I?
“Shh,” I hear from beside me, and that’s when I notice the warm body holding me. The arms wrapped around me.