Page 2 of Surge of Fire

I don’t mention she has a weakness for almost every good-looking guy, because I’m not a bitch. “It’s not like I’m going to do anything about it. I might scratch the eyes out of any girl who goes after him, but, otherwise, I’m powerless.”

She huffs. “You’rehardlypowerless. I can show you how to give him a blow job that will leave him begging you for more.”

The guy in the seat across the aisle from me, a guy Ithoughtwas asleep a second ago, leans over. “Uh, you could practice on me.” His gaze is locked with mine, and I swear I want to melt into the seat.

Dahlia looks him dead in the eye and says, “Come here.”

His eyes widen, and he leans in closer.

She smacks him on the forehead. “Bad nerd! Gross nerd! Go back to sleep!”

He slinks back into his seat, and I look at her in shock. “Bad nerd? Aren’t we all nerds?”

“If you don’t punish them, they won’t learn.”

She’s talking about men. I’ve heard this rant before, so I cut her off, lowering my voice, since apparently the big-eared guynext to us has super hearing. “What do you think I should do? Seriously?”

Glancing back to my phone, she zooms in on his crotch. “I think you should ride that thing until he stops thinking of you as a friend, and starts thinking of you as a tight va–”

“Dahlia!” I grab my phone and close the photo, trying to think about what the hell to say now.

Suddenly, something changes in the air, and I stiffen. Everyone is still talking or sleeping. Nothing appears any different, and yet, I can senseit. Like the second before an animal attacks. It’s like the world around me is holding its breath while trouble approaches, and every muscle in my body has grown tense in preparation for it.

“What’s wrong?” Dahlia asks, her voice uncertain.

I shake my head, staring all around, trying to figure out why my instincts are screaming. And then, I know. Ifeelit.

Racing for the front of the bus, I slide across the floor, worried about being standing when it hits. “Earthquake,” I whisper to the driver, trying not to startle him or freak out the bus full of college students.

“Earthquake?” he repeats to me, his big gray brows lifting, like he doesn’t believe me.

Before I can answer, it suddenly feels like a giant has pounded the road. The driver slams on his brakes, and the bus fishtails. The road is slipping and sliding in a circle around us, and everyone is screaming. I’m holding onto the metal that connects the seat to the floor, my body snapping around like a flag in the wind.

And then we stop.

The sound of my heartbeat and the panting from everyone on the bus fills my ears, but I leap to my feet, my gaze darting all around me. This mountain is infamous for its quakes. It’sthe reason half of us are on this bus. But that gut feeling that something is still wrong is churning in my stomach.

Grabbing the door handle, I open the door, needing air and silence to think. The driver is slumped over in his chair, although he doesn’t look injured, just in shock. I climb out of the bus, staring around the quiet road and then up at the mountain. Some of the space around me is highlighted by a street light, the rest by the moon and stars, but still, I’m squinting, trying to figure out what the hell is bothering me.

There’s a rumbling. The ground shakes beneath my feet.Is it the aftershock?

No, this feels… different. Wrong. My damned instincts are screaming like mad. I see a tree bend above us. Birds rise into the sky, their shadows dark against the moon and stars.

And Iknow.

Racing back into the bus, I shout, “Go! Go! Rock slide!”

The driver doesn’t move. So I pull him out of his seat, practically tossing him into a seat, take his place, put the bus into drive, then slam my foot on the gas. Glancing at the door, I curse. In my hurry, I’d left it open. The wind whips through the vehicle, tearing at me while I try to keep us going, and the students scream, clinging to their seats.

Rocks come shooting from the mountain, rolling behind us, crashing over the edge of the road and down into the abyss. The rocks are all around us, and I’m steering the best I can, trying to avoid the dangerous obstacles. A big one comes so close I think it’ll go right through the open door and kill me, but I maneuver around it, sending the bus turning and sliding again, everyone crying out in fear behind me as they’re thrown about the bus.

Then I’m not thinking. I’m just doing. Slowing. Shooting faster. Playing Leapfrog with our lives. The air fills with screams of terror.

I have no idea how much time passes before the rocks pass. The road changes, leveling out in front of us, and the screaming in the back of the bus silences. It seems that we’re safe.

Hell.

I slow us down, put the bus in park, and walk back to my seat, legs shaking.

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