Page 116 of Waves of Fury

And then I get going because I wouldn’t put it past the little punk to try to do just that.

I like my balls, thank you very much.

The smile from my lingering memory is quite literally smacked off my face. A flash of pain across the bridge of my nose dizzies me, causing me to stumble and fall to my knees with a grunt.

A stop sign.

The wind damn near knocked me out with a stupid stop sign that continues to tumble through the air on a journey to take out its next unsuspecting victim.

Rubbing at my nose, I pause to make sure it’s not broken. Thankfully, it doesn’t bleed. I’d wanted to keep my clothes free of filth and blood as long as possible—at least until Ransom.

As I regather myself, I scan my surrounding that I’d been aimlessly passing through while lost in memory.

Nothing on this stretch of interstate.

Desolate land. Abandoned vehicles. Random debris.

I need to find a place to rest. The wind has really picked up, which is worrying. Plus, dark storm clouds have rolled in with the vicious wind. Up ahead, I see a small bridge situated over the interstate. Not the best shelter, but it’ll do.

Rain begins to pelt me, so I run full speed ahead. My stomach grumbles angrily, ready to eat, but I ignore it in my efforts.

Under the bridge, I hit the jackpot. Someone abandoned a minivan underneath and it seems like a good spot as any to spend the night. I dig through my bag to retrieve my flashlight and carefully check in the windows to make sure I won’t have any surprises.

Aside from a few stale French fries smashed into the carpet near the car seat that’s strapped in and fast-food trash littering the van, it’s safe. Locked but safe. I locate a rock and bust out the front side window so I can unlock the vehicle.

Once I get it unlocked, I open the back hatch. Wind whips through the vehicle, stealing trash from inside the van and taking it on a journey down the interstate. It takes a minute of fumbling with the seat latches until I figure out how to push the back ones forward, giving me a decent-sized area in the back to lie down on. I crawl into the van and pull the hatch shut.

The whining wind is the only sound.

It gets old quickly.

At least when I was walking, I had the soothing sounds of my shoes hitting the pavement. Right now I feel as though I’ve sealed myself into a silent tomb that’s seconds away from being buried in a sandstorm.

No sand comes.

The rain, though, decides to come down in buckets. I’m thankful, again, that I went with my gut and found this place. Had I tried to continue on and gotten drenched in the process, I’d have been pissed at myself.

I dig around in the backpack until I find dinner. Beef jerky sticks and Skittles. Grunting with displeasure, I quickly down the food and then search for my sweatshirt. I fold it into a neat square to use for a pillow. Once my head is resting on it and I’m stretched out as much as one can be inside the back of a minivan, I try to shut off my mind so I can sleep.

Thoughts of Tyler creep back in against my will.

“Stop it,” I chide myself. “Stop thinking about him.”

The part of me I’m apparently talking to doesn’t answer. Thank God for small miracles. I’ve barely been on my own a day and I’m already losing it.

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to focus on Uncle Mason and Aunt Beth’s farm. It was always such a bright place in my memories.

My aunt made the best lemonade. I once asked her what her secret was and she laughed, saying, “Crystal Lite.” As a kid, I thought it was a woman—a magical one at that. I never put two and two together until I went grocery shopping on my own for the first time when I’d moved out. There, among the energy drinks and Gatorade and Kool-Aid was Crystal Lite. I’d laughed out loud, much to the annoyance of a woman shopping nearby.

Hopefully, my aunt and uncle are okay. They, like my immediate family, were always preparing for the worst. I know if I can just get to them—and to see Knox—everything will be fine. We’ll survive until Gerty the asteroid’s lifetime of wrath finally takes out our planet once and for all.

Again, my mind goes back to Tyler. An ache forms in my chest and no matter how hard I rub at the place over my heart, it doesn’t go away. Writing that letter to him was beyond difficult. Saying goodbye felt so…wrong.

I swipe at a stupid tear that leaks out of my eye as I stare up at the dark ceiling in the van. The faint odor of greasy fast food makes my stomach turn.

I miss him.

God, how I miss him.

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