Page 67 of Property of Quake

I glance at Junior, then at the goat, then back at her. "Nah."

She rolls her eyes at me, and Melissa smacks my arm playfully. It all feels very comfortable, very… perfect.

Maybe that's why unease begins creeping up my spine. When something is so good, it hurts that much more to lose it.

I've spent years learning to trust my instincts, and right now, they’re screaming. I take in my surroundings, searching for anything out of place, but there’s nothing.

Nothing by my gut telling me something is wrong.

As the afternoon progresses, I try to put the worry out of my head, but I can’t.

Every security checkpoint reports normal activity. Every volunteer reports normal activity. Every brother assigned to monitor the grounds reports normal activity.

So, everything is normal, right?

WRONG!

I eventually find myself standing near the entrance watching people come and go. Zombie joins me after a few minutes.

“What’s got your panties in a wad?”

"I don't know.” The answer, while not complete, is honest because I can’t put my fucking finger on what’s bothering me.

He studies the crowd, following my gaze every time it shifts.

"Still thinking about Carrie?" he asks.

"Yeah."

My VP nods. "Me too."

Makes sense. Neither of us likes loose ends. Shit, no KOAMC brother worth a damn likes loose ends. And Carrie is one hell of a loose end.

Eventually Lyric joins us, and his gaze sweeps the carnival. "Turnout looks good."

"Better than good,” Zombie adds.

"Sacred Haven should do all right,” Lyric says.

I nod. The fundraiser has exceeded every projection we made. Sponsors showed up, donations poured in, families turned out in force. Everything we hoped for happened. Almost every problem in Whitney’s financial reports has a solution now. That should make me happy.

And yet…

A shout from across the field draws my attention, and I stiffen. The voice belongs to Melissa.

“Look, Quake!” she yells.

I relax only when I see that she’s at the face-painting booth with Stella, and a butterfly decorates her cheek. The sight is adorable.

Settling back into monitoring things from the entrance, the afternoon drifts by. One hour becomes two, and two becomes three. Slowly, people begin filtering toward the exits.

The carnival isn't ending yet, but the busiest period has passed. I eventually find myself helping dismantle one of the vendor tents. I’m focused on my task, putting the last of the poles into the bag when I hear my name again, only this time it’s not yelled.

It’s spoken with an urgency that has every nerve ending in my body going alert. I turn and see Whitney closing the distance between us. The moment I catch sight of her face, I know my instincts were right earlier… something’s wrong.

Whitney’s pale, terrified, and there’s no trace of the happiness from earlier.

"Whitney?"