“There’s a town about fifteen miles away.It’s not as badly ruined as the others we’ve been through.”
“Some of the towns survived somewhat intact?”the woman asked.
“Yes,” Corson replied. “Not many, butsome.”
“The rockslide will slow them down,” the mansaid.
“It will,” Corson agreed before glancing atme. “But hewillmake it.”
The man and woman moved aside some bags ofsupplies before settling in. Black goo coated some of the canvasbags, but hopefully the supplies within were still good. Corsonremained standing, his claws retracted and one of his arms hookedthrough the open window in the back of the truck to hold on.Gargoyle gunk splattered his face and clothes, but he didn’t pay itany attention as his eyes scanned the horizon with a ruthlessnessI’d never seen in him before.
Kobal sent him with mefor a reason, I realized.
I turned toward the other two. I’d beentraining with them before we’d left the wall behind, but there wassomething more about these two that teased at my mind.
Then, I recalled the woman with thealmond-shaped, ocean blue eyes, and black hair had been the one tosuccessfully chop off a demon’s hand during a training exercisewhen Kobal and Mac had still been trying to determine who would becoming with us on this journey. I’d been watching them at the timethe woman successfully managed to strike the blow against thedemon, when many failed.
After cutting off the demon’s hand, she’dbeen separated from the group of hopefuls and led over to standwith the man sitting beside her now. A man who had earliersucceeded in slicing the ear from a demon. At the time, I’d enviedthem their easy camaraderie as they’d exchanged smiles and highfives.
I extended my hand, fully expecting them tospurn it but unable to resist seeking out some of that camaraderiefor myself. “I’m River Dawson.”
“First Sergeant Erin Choi,” the strikingwoman replied and took hold of my hand in a firm handshake. The useof her rank to introduce herself was a sharp reminder that the restof the humans with me were far more military than I was, thoughthings had relaxed somewhat since we’d left the wall, or at least Ihadn’t noticed as many people saluting each other out here as I hadback there.
Erin’s sleek black hair, cut into a bob belowher ears, shone in the sun. She had dainty features, unblemishedskin bearing the hint of a tan, a slender nose, and full lips. Shewas about five inches shorter than me with a delicate build thatmade her appear fragile, but I sensed a wealth of strength in thehand holding mine.
“Nice to meet you.” I turned toward the manat her side and held my hand out to him.
He took hold of it and shook it briskly.“Sergeant Anselmo Vargas, most people call me Vargas.”
The gold cross he wore around his neck caughtand reflected a beam of light when he leaned toward me. Vargas’sblack hair was cropped close to his head in a buzz cut. Sweatbeaded across his deep olive skin and broad cheekbones. His eyeswere so rich a brown they were nearly black, but they held flecksof golden brown within them. He was about five ten and lean withrigid callouses on the hand gripping mine.
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
“You also,” he replied.
I released his hand and sat back against thetruck as I tried not to smile over the realization neither of themhad cringed or hesitated before shaking my hand. Maybe not havingKobal hovering over me was making them a little braver, or maybe itwas because I had flame-thrown a gargoyle into a wall to save us.Either way, I felt almost human again, as I finally got a taste ofthe normalcy I’d been missing so much.
Why?Ipondered as I drummed my fingers against my shins.What was so great about normal?
Nothing, I realized, at least not for me. Forme, attempting to be normal had meant years of trying to hide thethings I could do from others, years of stressing over being foundout and labeled a freak. It had meant four long years of fearingbeing discovered once the military started circulating flierslooking for people with special abilities.
Maybe I didn’t care so much about feelingnormal again, but more about feeling accepted by someone other thanmy brothers and Kobal. I’d come to actually enjoy the things Icould do. I may not be great at all of it yet, but I was learningand improving every day. Drawing on life gave me a rush and made mefeel connected to the world in a way I’d never felt before mypowers had grown. Throwing flames was a good way to stay alive.
However, I still missed people. Lisa had beenmy closest friend at home, but I’d had many others in my small townand I’d known almost everyone. The people there had respected meand cared for me even when my own mother wouldn’t.
I thrived on all the life interconnected andweaving around me in tangible waves no one else on this planetfelt, or at least that’s what Kobal said. I didn’t like feelingdisconnected to any of that life, even the humans who would likenothing to do with me.
Draping my arm over my legs, I stared at theodd combination of burnt buildings and thriving, green lifereclaiming the earth surrounding us as Hawk drove. Every once in awhile, I would glimpse wildlife moving through the small, slendertrees sprouting up beside the road. Amid some of the younger treeswere a few older, larger ones that had somehow managed to survivethe destruction of the bombs and the Hell unleashed upon theearth.
I wanted Kobal back, but it could be hours,possibly days before they were able to get around the blockage inthe road. I glanced toward the sky, half expecting to see one ofthose monstrous things swooping toward us again, but it remainedblessedly clear.
“Where am I going?” Hawk asked as he easedoff the gas.
“Go straight for now,” Corson replied.
Turning, I knelt in the back of the truck topeer over the top of it as we entered a new town. My eyebrows roseat the sight of all of the houses lining the road. A few of themhad blackened roofs and soot-stained walls, but most of themremained untouched. They were empty reminders of a better place andtime.
For some reason, these still standingremnants were lonelier to me than the burned-out and brokenstructures we’d passed before. I could almost see the people andfamilies who had lived here, hear the laughter of the children whohad run through the streets, and the voices of the neighbors asthey shared gossip over their white picket fences. There had beenbarbecues and sparklers, tears and drinks within these homes. Therehad been love before the war and the opening of the gateway hadbrought death.
