Page 50 of Clear Path

Bodhi studied the image for a long moment then pulled out his radio. “Diana, come in.”

After a moment of static, Diana’s voice crackled through. “Go ahead, Bodhi.”

“I think I know where Rory is. Call for help. Have them send an ambulance to Company Row.”

He pulled himself to his feet and turned to Aaron, “Take me to Kovalic’s house.”

31

The Kovalic House, Company Row

Rory’s eyes fluttered open to darkness again. The air was still and stale. Pain radiated through her abdomen in waves, each one more intense than the last.

She tried to orient herself, making out vague shapes in the gloom—a chair, a rough-hewn table, a stone fireplace. Moonlight filtered through dirt-streaked windows, casting weak silver beams across the wooden floor where she lay.

This place felt familiar. A memory flickered through the confusion: an old man on a porch, light striping his weathered face, an excavator reflected in the window behind him.

“Edward Kovalic,” she breathed.

She was in the last house standing on Company Row.

How had she gotten here? The last thing she remembered was turning to see Evan in mouth of the cave. Then pain slicing through her middle as she fell.

More fragmented memories flashed in her mind. Dragging herself through undergrowth to the trail, drawn to this doomedstructure—a symbol of resistance, this last man standing against the tide of so-called progress.

Another wave of pain crashed through her, and she curled into herself, gasping. Barbed wire ripped through her intestines, tearing her apart from the inside. Her muscles spasmed and tremors ran.

Seizure incoming.

The tremors intensified, and darkness began to close in from the edges of her vision. Somewhere in the distance, voices called her name. Auditory hallucinations, she thought.

As she slipped out of consciousness, Rory’s last coherent thought was that she, like the homes being demolished, would return to dust.

32

Bodhi and Aaron sprinted onto the porch of the lonely house standing alone in a sea of rubble.

“Rory!” Aaron shouted.

The front door was unlocked. Bodhi pushed it open. The hinges creaked in loud protest.

“Rory Westin?” he called. His voice echoed in the empty house.

They rushed inside. Their headlamps created wild dancing shadows on the bare walls. And through an open doorway, the light fell on a crumpled figure sprawled on the wood floor.

“Rory!” Aaron rushed forward, but Bodhi caught his arm.

“Careful. Don’t touch her,” he warned.

Rory lay on her side, her body curled into a fetal position. Her fair skin was tinged blue, and her white-blonde hair was matted with dried blood. As Bodhi’s light swept over her, her body convulsed in a violent tremor then went rigid.

“She’s seizing.”

He dropped to his knees beside her. He tore off his fleece jacket and bundled it under her head to cushion her skull. Then he dug through his pack until he found the apple Will had givenhim that morning. It felt like a thousand years had passed since then. He used his pocketknife to cut off several tiny pieces.

“What should I do?” Aaron asked, his voice trembling.

“Use your satellite phone to get call for an update on the ambulance. Then radio Diana and let her know we found Rory.”

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