Page 42 of Runaways

I thought Noah was different. I thought we were all the same. But she's just likethem, isn't she? Just like all the other pests.

I reach for the dashboard, cranking up the volume, and the latest Gods of Tomorrow song blares from the speakers. Then I lean back in my seat, draping my arm out the open window, my fingertips tapping the side of the vehicle to the beat of the song.

"Not very stealthy," Silas shouts over the music.

"Doesn't matter, Silas. I told you—we're gods now, too."

He hits the gas and by the time the song ends, we're pulling into the parking lot.

I don't even flinch when we walk right past the police officers at the gate. I take down my hood and smile at the woman sitting in the ticket booth when I pay cash for our admittance.

Noah wouldn't have had any money on her—I don't think. But I don't think she would have tried to go through the front gate, and I have a feeling the scene would look a lot different if she'd shown up here screaming about mass murder and begging for help.

She's either hiding, or we beat her, and she's not here yet.

I scan the area, taking inventory of my surroundings. I haven't been here before—it's not really a place for people from our side of the highway. It's a decent-sized lake; a few boats float idly at its surface with a pier just to my right. The area where they've set up the carnival is paved over, and there's a small permanent stage at the far end where they have concerts in the summer. Now, it looks like it's being used as some kind of local talent show or school showcase. Younger girls wearing sequins twirl batons while their parents watch.

Not long from now, they'll be calling their friends and neighbors, saying,I can't believe we were that close to the murders. Andmaybe what could have happened to their children will haunt them for quite some time.

A boy can dream.

To my left, one of those rent-a-fences separates the carnival from the wooded area. I worry it'll be difficult to find Noah in a place like this, even for a god.

"I don't think she's here. We should watch the fence," Silas says. "If there were a dirty girl limping around here in a bikini top, she'd stick out."

"Right…okay."

Just as I could see the carnival from the house's balcony, I can just barely see the lights from the house through the trees from here. "I'll watch from there," I say, gesturing to the building housing the restrooms just behind me. "You should move down toward the midway."

He pulls his hood over his head before stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweats and walking off, and I backtrack toward the small, shed-like building, leaning against its back wall.

I grab a cigarette from my pocket and light it, and then I watch.

And watch.

I smoke it down to the filter, dropping it and grinding it into the blacktop with my heel.

What if I missed her? What if I miscalculated, and she ran out to the highway and someone picked her up?

Then Noah will be gone, and I'll still be haunted. She'll be fine, just like she has been for the past year. That's why I could never let her go. I can't wrap my head around how she coulddo it—how she could exist so easily as someone new, someone without me—while I had this horrible, dirty, twisted feeling in my gut after she left that I couldn't get rid of.

Maybe it's time to start combing the forest.

But just as I get impatient, she limps out from the tree line toward the safety barrier, shoving one of them aside before stumbling through the space she created and falling…right into Silas's arms.

seven

You Have Two Hands for a Reason

Noah

Almost there. I'm almost there.

My ankle is on fire. I gave up and crawled a couple of times, but the forest floor on my raw, skinned knees was worse…and slower. It didn't last long.

But I can hear it now—the sounds of the midway, music and people laughing. I can smell the popcorn and fried food; I'm going to make it.

And then what?the voice in my head presses.

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