a year. I was supposed to give it back to him when I chose him above all others, when I was ready to make my life with him.
I’d intended to.
Jack was . . . dead.
Not forever.
Something else was in my pocket . . . His letter! I snatched it out. The drenched paper disintegrated in my trembling hand, and I could only watch it. He’d left me this letter, urging me to go with Aric, to live in a place with sunlamps and food and safety.
Because I love you, Jack had written. This might be the most noble thing I’ve ever done. Noble, for the record, cuts like a blade to the heart.
Why had I never told him I loved him? In all the months I’d known him, I’d never said those three words.
I didn’t grieve the letter, because I was going to go back in time. It would never have been lost. I shoved the ribbon back into my pocket. One day, I swore to God, I would give it to him. I pushed on with even more determination.
Finally I reached a cluster of brick buildings—the only things left standing here after the firestorm of the Flash. I limped toward the middle of them. In what must have been the town square stood a monument: a man on a horse with trash wrapped around him. Wasn’t it always a freaking man on a freaking horse?
By the light of my glyphs, I read the plaque: GREEN HILLS, INDIANA
My heart stopped. My glyphs sputtered. Indiana???
A completely different state from the fort’s location. Reaching Tess might take a week—if I had transportation, fuel, and directions.
I sagged against the monument, and tears welled.
Crying is a waste of time, Evie!
Tick. Goddamn. Tock.
I wiped my wet sleeve over my face and raised my chin. My plan was still sound. I’d find Tess, and then I wouldn’t rest until she could reverse time—by months. By years! Hell, I’d go back to before the Flash and save my mom and Mel!
Step one was getting a vehicle for the journey. Step two: fuel. Step three: directions.
I had a mission. I would be like Lark, with her single-minded focus. I would have strength and fortitude. I imagined myself as a horse with blinders on, seeing only the road before me. Nothing else mattered. I would bury my grief and destroy anything that got in the way of my mission.
Vehicle.
Fuel.
Directions.
Any vehicle near this town would be sunk, stuck, or swept away. I needed to get out of the path of that flood. I needed highlands. I turned toward the foothills.
I ran.
Holding my injured side, I fought the resistance of the water, moving my legs through sheer will.
I ran until I splashed out of the edge of the receding flood. I headed upland toward the line of rocky hills. A road snaked through them. I followed it.
My deadened legs tripped. I lurched forward; only one hand to catch me. I face-planted onto a shelf of stone.
Tick-tock. I scrambled back up. Spat blood. Blinders on.
I ran.
3
Day 389 A.F.?
“Who let the dogs out? WHO? WHO? WHO?”
Even over the freezing winds and drizzle, I heard a song blaring from over the next rise.
Maybe I’d gone crazy and was having—what had the mental-ward docs called it?—an auditory hallucination. Likely. I hadn’t slept in days. Hadn’t stopped running.
Get to Tess. Get to Tess. Get to Tess.
Though I was filled with purpose, my glyphs had dimmed, my abilities on the fritz. Regeneration was agonizingly slow—my arm had regrown just a couple inches, and the wound in my side still gaped. My broken bones weren’t knitting. Exhaustion threatened to consume me.
But my mind was all-powerful. My mind told my body not to stop, and it obeyed. The ribbon was a talisman that kept me moving.
Aric had said I possessed untapped potential. I drew on anything—everything—I had. I reminded myself that Demeter had scoured the earth looking for her daughter, never resting. My search for Tess would be just as relentless.
I ran toward the music. Music meant people. People meant victims I could rob.
Over the last several days, I’d become one of the bad guys, a black hat, threatening the few survivors I’d encountered (even though all I could manage was the merest show of a vine).
Do you have a map? I would steal it from you.
Food? Hand it over.
I like your backpack. It’s mine now.
To keep myself alive for Jack, for Aric—and for Richter—I’d become the monster lurking in the shadows.