Page 32 of Heart of the Sun

“I’ll come with you,” Charlie whispered.

“I’d prefer you didn’t.”

“If there are people inside, and the light says there are, they’ll recognize me,” Charlie said. “I’m a ticket inside any door in America.”

Tuck was facing the other direction, so I couldn’t see his eye roll, but I swore I heard it. “You’re also a prime robbery victim if the people inside are so inclined,” Tuck pointed out.“I’ve been considering taking you for ransom myself.”

“What?”

Tuck ignored him, inching a few more steps forward. He’d been joking about the ransom. But he wasn’t wrong about Charlie—and me for that matter—being vulnerable to robbery should we stumble across the wrong people. Despite the strange combination of clothing I’d been forced to wear to keep warm, our attire was clearly expensive, and I was currently cradling a very high-end suitcase.

Charlie and I watched as Tuck carefully removed his duffel bag, set it on the ground, and then moved slowly and stealthily toward the break in the trees where the light was shining through.

He stopped, and then reached up slowly and moved a tree bough, before leaning forward. Through the larger gap, I could see the edge of concrete on the ground. A driveway?

Tuck let out a heavy exhale, dropping the branches back into place and turning toward us. “It’s not a house,” he said.

My heart plummeted, and I walked to join him. “What? No. What is it?” I’d take any kind of shelter at the moment. Any kind ofcivilization.

Charlie came up next to me and Tuck glanced at both of us before stepping through the trees. We followed, the flock of birds I’d made myself believe sounded like chickens rising into the sky in a sudden flap of wings. “It’s a substation,” Tuck murmured, walking forward. “Or it was.”

I blinked, looking around at the smoldering equipment that had been surrounded by a chain-link fence that now lay charred on the ground. “A substation?” I asked, a lump of deep disappointment settling in my gut. No house. No electricity. No shower. No chickens. No eggs or coffee. Just a smoldering pile of metal and concrete. I felt like crying.

“This was probably one of the fires we saw from the sky.”His eyes met mine. “There were lots of fires burning though,” he said, his expression deeply troubled. It startled me because Tuck rarely looked troubled. Even in extreme situations like running back into a plane to collect valuables, he’d appeared nothing but completely resolute.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“I don’t know exactly.” He paused. “Except that there’s no way this didn’t affect the electricity in this area. It must be down for miles around.” He moved forward. “The one silver lining,” he murmured, nodding to a dirt road, “is that that road has to lead somewhere.”

chaptersixteen

Tuck

“That road might go on for thirty miles,” Charlie whined. “What the hell do we do now?”

I didn’t attempt to provide an answer, instead turning my back and taking a slow walk around the station that had once been part of the electrical grid.

This situation disturbed me. I considered what it might mean. What if instead of an electric storm, some other, more monumental natural event had occurred that brought down our plane? The lightning might have been a result, not the originating factor. And then whatever it was also hit a bigger station in these parts and then spread? Were substations connected? I thought I’d read somewhere that they were, but I didn’t know exactly how. What if this had been caused by a…meteor or a comet or something? I glanced up. Because the sky was stilloffand it had been since we’d crashed, streaky and strange-colored which had to mean something. Or was this targeted?Some type of bomb or attack? Jesus, for all I knew, we were at war right now.

Maybe we’d emerge somewhere and immediately be drafted. At least then I’d have some direction.

Stop. Stop being dramatic and full of self-pity.

The truth was accidents happened all the time that sparked localized catastrophes. My mind was spinning, attempting to work through what I knew so far. But at this point, I could only guess.

“What are you thinking?” Emily asked, coming up beside me.

My guard went up, slamming into place. “What do you care what I’m thinking?” I blurted as though she’d read my secret, pitiful thoughts about the backward direction of my life.

Her head turned toward me as she blinked, and I was pretty sure I saw hurt mixed in with the confusion in her expression. But then she pulled her shoulders back and held her head higher. “I was only asking if you had any ideas about what might have happened to this place,” she said. “I’m standing here too, Tuck, among the ashes. The least you can do is talk to me.” Her voice shook on the final few words, and she whipped her head forward again so I could only see her profile.

The leastIcould do?The least you could do is give me the benefit of the doubt over Charlie.But why should she in all honesty? My life choices hadn’t exactly made it easy to trust my judgment. I let out a slow breath. Whether I was justified in my bitterness toward her or not, I didn’t have to be rude. I’d already determined that I owed it to her parents to get her to safety, and since that was my decision, I could act cordial until then. Emily and I were at odds, but she also surprised me sometimes with her depth of feeling, like the night before when she’d stood crying in the woods over Russell’s death. As I’d cared for her wound, the moment had felt…almost intimate and maybe I was extra irritated because I wanted to stay mad at her, but there were these times where protectiveness and affection and unwanted emotions regarding Emily snuck up on me.And some part of me welcomed it. But another part wanted to growl with frustration.

I glanced over my shoulder to see Charlie with his phone raised to the sky again, walking in circles. I almost rolled my eyes. He hadn’t even gotten it to turn on. How was raising it to the sky going to do anything? But…hell, it couldn’t hurt to keep trying. Maybe the dirtbag would end up getting reception somewhere along the way and have the last laugh.

In this case, I hoped he would.

I turned back to Emily, who was staring out at the dirt road in front of us and the sky that stretched beyond. I seriously hoped Charlie wasn’t right about this road going on for thirty miles—or more—but it was definitely possible. I didn’t see any tire tracks whatsoever, so either weather had erased them, or no one came out here very often at all.

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