Angel Fever

by L. A. Weatherly

Page 48

 

  Suddenly I couldn’t stand it; I had to get some fresh air. I quietly pulled on my shoes, then grabbed up the horrible pink parka I’d found, which I’d been using as a blanket. As silently as I could, I got up and slipped away from the food court and its sleeping forms.

  When I reached the mall’s main entrance, I breathed deeply, feeling the cold night breeze brush my face. I pulled on the parka and leaned against the frame of a shattered window as I stared out at the parking lot.

  And out of all the chaos and grief of the last twenty-four hours – no, the last year – only one thing was clear to me.

  I was going to Pawntucket.

  There were only twelve of us left. We had no base, no supplies. The teams we’d sent out had probably already been captured; it was how Raziel must have found us. Maybe the few of us left could keep on recruiting and even still train people somehow, but it wouldn’t make any difference.

  It was over…and I saw now that it always had been, from the second that Raziel unlinked the angels. No wonder Alex had felt compelled to take an insane risk.

  I let out a shuddering breath. Raziel had destroyed everything in the world that I cared about. Everything. Alex, blown to pieces. My mother, drifting for ever in her dreams. Sam and all my other friends. The hope I’d had, even if it had been pointless.

  He wasn’t going to destroy my hometown too. I’d die first.

  I stiffened as I heard someone behind me. I spun and winced, throwing up my arm as light blasted me full in the face. A shadowy figure lowered the flashlight, then switched it off.

  “What are you doing out here?” Kara demanded.

  My shoulders sagged. “You scared me. ”

  Kara shook her head crossly, her exotic features just visible in the moonlight. “Well, you scared me too – I woke up and heard footsteps in the mall and didn’t know whose they were. ”

  She propped herself against the window frame across from me, looking out at the parking lot. A large men’s shirt hung open over her tight T-shirt; she glanced down and fiddled with one of its sleeves. “So I guess you couldn’t sleep either, huh?” she said finally. “Took me for ever to drop off. ”

  I hadn’t expected sympathy. “I couldn’t drop off at all,” I admitted after a pause. “I just kept seeing…all of it. ”

  “At least you were there for it,” she said bitterly. “Running away wasn’t exactly my plan. ”

  “Sam was right, though,” I said, seeing again the moment when he fell. My throat closed, and I touched a shard of glass that hadn’t fallen from the windowpane. “Kara, listen – something’s happened. ”

  Her eyes narrowed as she looked sharply at me. “Why do I have this really bad feeling that you mean besides angels attacking and the base getting blown up?”

  “Don’t worry. It’s nothing that matters, probably,” I said. “Except to me. ”

  I told her what I’d seen. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. When I’d finished, she just stood there looking at me.

  “Pawntucket,” she said finally. “As in, Pawntucket, New York. Pawntucket, almost three thousand miles away. That Pawntucket?”

  “Yeah, that one,” I said. “I’m going there to stop Raziel. ”

  “Oh, great plan. Do you have any idea how much danger that puts the rest of us in? I’ve got ten other people to think of here, in case you haven’t noticed!”

  “Sounds like you’re the new lead,” I said after a pause.

  Kara’s face was set. “Yeah. I guess I am. And you know where we’re going. I can’t allow this, Willow. If anyone caught you—”

  “I won’t let myself be captured,” I interrupted.

  “Oh, right. And do you really think you’d hold up against torture if the angels got hold of you? Want to look at my hand again, and see some of the things they’re capable of? Some of the things dear old dad got off on?” Her voice shook a little.

  A cloud drifted over the moon, chasing shadows over the parking lot. “Maybe I’d hold up against torture, and maybe I wouldn’t,” I said quietly. “That’s not what I meant, Kara. I’ll say it again: I will not let myself be captured. ”

  I saw realization flicker in her eyes. For a long moment we regarded each other – and then, her expression hard, she reached for her holster.

  In the old AK house, Kara had locked us in the basement workout room to keep us away from the Council attack – had shoved us down the stairs and slammed the door shut without thinking twice.

  My pulse skipped. I took a step backwards, ready to send my angel flying out at her. “Do not try and stop me, Kara. I mean it. ”

  She raised a sardonic eyebrow and pulled out her pistol. She handed it to me butt-first. “Here,” she said.

  I stared down and took it in slow motion. Kara delved into her pocket for a spare magazine and gave me that too.

  “Leave,” she said intently. “Right now. The others can’t know why you’ve gone – or where. If there’s even the slightest chance that I can still do some good, keep Alex’s plan going, then I’ve got to do it. I do not want them tempted into leaving with you – I won’t let them be put into danger over this…vendetta against Raziel. ” Her eyes met mine, dark and burning. “But it’s my vendetta too. Kill the bastard. ”

  I nodded, my chest too tight to speak. For a second I wanted to hug her, but I knew from her expression that she wouldn’t welcome it. “Thank you,” I whispered.

  I stuck the pistol into the back of my jeans and stepped out through the broken window. I shoved my hands in my pockets and walked quickly away across the moonlit parking lot.

  I didn’t look back.

  I didn’t have a plan; it had all happened so fast. I needed a car, as soon as possible, and I broke into a jog as I left the parking lot, swinging onto the dark, wide strip of Highway 50. I was about to send my angel out past the abandoned restaurants and furniture stores in search of a residential area – and then came to a Shell station and the dark hulks of abandoned cars. Bingo.

  I walked briskly across the station forecourt, looking the vehicles over in the moonlight. One was a nineties-model Toyota, just like the car I’d had back home – old enough that I could hotwire it. Except that its fuel gauge had to be on empty, or it wouldn’t have been abandoned. My gaze flicked to the pumps, their digital screens blank.

  Okay, there had to be a tank under the pumps. Almost the second I’d thought it, I spotted the heavy metal plate that covered the filling point. I could siphon gas out from there, I thought – and then realized that, no, of course I couldn’t; not unless I had lungs of steel.

  There was a garage attached to the station; someone had forced open one of its doors. And suddenly I recalled doing maintenance on my Toyota – how I’d topped up the engine with oil.

  I ducked inside, bringing out my angel for light. As she hovered, I quickly found an old oil dispensing drum and unscrewed its hand crank pump. Then I found some rubber tubing and attached it to the end with duct tape. There – that should do it, if I was lucky.

  Stupidly, the pump was the easy part. It took me for ever to find a rusting Stanley knife, even longer to find an empty gallon jug to put gas in. With every second I was so conscious of the others only half a mile away. I had a feeling that Kara would be the only one who’d agree with my plan. If I didn’t get out of here, there’d be endless arguments, explanations.