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CHAPTER 26
Phoebe
I REMEMBER there was cold, and then there was heat. Lots and lots of heat, pressing down on me as though it had taken a single, human form and sat on my chest, pinning me to the bed and toying with me.
Had that been the flames? Or had that been something else?
There was more heat. There was waking, and then there was the state between, where everything ran together like colors down a drain, sifting out of my mind, moving away with the flow of the tide.
I remember, very specifically, knowing that I was going to die. There wasn’t fear — it was too late for fear — just an utter certainty. In fact, a kind of calm descended on me. Dying was out of my control. All I had to do was lie still and let it happen.
But then there was weight against my own, and death receded into the background, angry that it’d been cheated. There was warmth again, only now, the warmth didn’t feel like it danger, it felt like home. I wanted to wake up, to see the warmth, but my eyes seemed taped shut, my mouth stuffed with invisible socks of dry heat.
There was something hard beneath me again. Why was this all so confusing? Why had death left? I’d just been getting used to her.
“Phoebe,” a familiar voice said, its low tones rasping. “Phoebe, please, I’m begging you, wake up.”
A mouth was on mine, lips that tasted like soot and sweat, that clamped down on my own as if spasming with fear.
I came to all at once, like the priest was pulling me out of the water post-baptism. The world cramped in around me, each piece anxious to make itself known, everything demanding my attention.
Above me hovered a man, tears and grime streaking his face.
The name came to me as though it were inscribed on my tongue.
“Carter?”
He sat back on his heels, shutting his eyes and murmuring something I could not hear, before leaning back over me.
“You’re alive,” he said.
I reached up with one weak, shaking hand and wiped the tears from his face. “Yes.” And then, “You saved me.”
He shook his head. “I was the one who put you in danger. I was the one who brought Meghan here, who — Phoebe, I’m so sorry. I abandoned you. I knew what she was capable of, and I abandoned you. And that was after I myself made you her target. Where’s Jo-Beth? She wasn’t with you.”
Life was resolving around me. Memories were coming back into place, understanding and insights gleaned from existence were settling into their carved out hollows. I was reemerging from the depths of the great beyond.
And I knew that Carter was referring to Meghan, and I knew that he was wrong.
“Jo-Beth went for a walk, but you came back for me,” I said. “That’s what matters.”
“Phoebe, I have so much to say but right now… we need to get the fuck out of town.”
Wordlessly, he lifted me up off the ground. I nestled into his chest as he jogged forward, my head bumping against him.
“What’s wrong!” someone screamed.
Henry, my brain supplied.
I was deposited into the seat, and Henry’s small hand fell on my face. “Daddy?! What’s wrong with Phoebe!”
“Phoebe’s gonna be all right,” Carter said, trying to maintain his composure. “Please sit still. Daddy has to drive now.”
Turning to me, Carter asked, “Do you know where Jo-Beth went?”
“Miss Keller’s,” I managed to say, though it felt like cotton had been knitted to my tongue. “Jo-Beth went for a walk and she said she was going to Miss Keller for some food.”
The truck jerked ahead, and Carter slammed the wheel. “Shit, I’d forgotten. We’ll have to switch cars at the garage or something, we can’t fit four in this seat, it’s not safe. Godammit!”
“It’s fine,” I reassured him, trying to sit up and failing.
“It’s not fine. I don’t see Meghan, but she can’t be far behind.”
Oh. That seemed like a good point.
Carter’s truck lurched back and forth across the highway. This couldn’t be safe, but what other choice did we have? Better a zigzagging truck than an ex-wife who was out for blood.
Carter stopped in front Miss Keller’s. I could see Jo-Beth nursing a cup of coffee and reading her book with her backpack beside her.
Turning to me, Carter asked, “Are you able to get her from inside? I want to keep the truck running.”
I nodded and moved clumsily out of the truck, my legs quivering beneath me as blood flow resumed. Under normal circumstances, I probably would’ve been confined to a bed for hours, but this was life and death.
Stumbling like a drunkard, I scrambled headlong to the entryway, throwing my body against the glass. I slammed on the window with one hand, not sure I had the dexterity of my fingers had returned enough to manage the door.
