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Hunter sat there for a full minute and wondered what to do.
Unfortunately his brain kept replaying the previous night.
Fire.
Gunshot.
Calla.
The music from the cartoons was like water torture. Hunter rubbed at his eyes again, suddenly worried he was going to be sick.
He needed to find out what had happened, whether they were still in danger.
He stumbled off the couch, leaving the boy there. The front door was locked, but he threw the bolt and stepped onto the porch.
Rain coursed down from the dark gray sky, slapping against the siding and running in rivers down the driveway. It had to be very early, because he didn’t sense motion from any of the houses on the street.
Wait—maybe he still had his phone.
No, his pockets were empty. But blood stained the waistband of his jeans and streaked down one leg.
Hunter stepped onto the front walk, letting the rain hit him. He put a hand out. No power in the drops; just a normal storm.
“I thought the only person crazy enough to stand out in the rain was Chris.”
Hunter turned. Gabriel stood in the doorway, wearing sweatpants and an old T-shirt. His hair was rumpled from sleep. He didn’t look panicked, but he looked tired.
About thirty questions came to mind, but Hunter said, “Who’s the little kid?”
“James. Hannah’s son.”
That meant nothing to Hunter. “Who’s Hannah?”
“Mike’s girlfriend. You’ve seen her; she was one of the firefighters at the police station last week. She stayed at the carnival to help, so Mike brought him here.” Gabriel paused. “You want to come in out of the rain or what?”
Hunter realized he’d just been standing there, feeling rain trail through his hair and run in rivulets down his chest.
But the rain felt good on his shoulder, so he didn’t move. “What happened? How did I get here?”
“Do you remember the carnival?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you remember the fires?”
Was Gabriel kidding? They were permanently etched on the insides of Hunter’s eyelids. “I remember the generators. I had to climb down from the Ferris wheel.”
Gabriel glanced back in the house, then pulled the door shut. “That kid hears everything.” He leaned back against the doorjamb. “Do you remember getting shot?”
Hunter froze. “I got shot?”
“Yeah. In the shoulder.” Gabriel looked out at the gray sky. “And no offense, dude, but you weigh a f**king ton.”
That left Hunter with more questions than answers. His shoulder hurt, but he sure hadn’t missed a bullet hole.
That meant one of them had used power to heal him.
“Go clean up,” said Gabriel. “I’ll make coffee. School’s closed for the day, so . . .”
