Page 16 of Corpse Roads

“London,” Enzo answers crisply. “The authorities transferred you to the intensive care unit. You were found in the back of a construction truck, looked like you’d been travelling for days”

“D-Days?”

“At least. Where did you come from? Did you hitchhike?”

I lose my breathing for a third time, spiralling back into panic. It’s all too much. I’m glad I can only remember bits of how I got here. My bruised and beaten brain is keeping me safe.

“Listen to my voice, Harlow. I promise you that you’re safe. Whoever is out there... they won’t find you. I won’t allow it.”

“No… not safe. He’s coming.”

“Who’s coming?”

I try to sit up and fail, pain lancing back through me as I slump against the pillows. “I need to pray. I’m dirty… bad, bad Harlow… he’s coming…”

“Who? Tell me.”

The warmth and tenderness drains from Enzo’s voice. Staring up at him, his face transforms into someone else’s. Strong angles and handsome smile lines dissolve into cold, righteous fury.

Grey hair supersedes his glossy, black locks. Enzo’s tender, amber eyes dissipate, infected by ribbons of dark blue. So dark, it’s like I’m looking into the void. I’m staring at my father.

“I’m s-so sorry,” I whimper.

Pastor Michaels’ lips remain tightly sealed. He doesn’t need to speak. The sermons he espoused are forever scored into my brain.

Slamming my hands over my ears, I start screaming at full volume. Anything to get him away from me. The machines go crazy, adding to the chaos as I writhe and buck in the bed.

Loud voices sneak past the tight grip I hold on my imploding head, feeding into my sense of panic. Two hands grab my shoulders, pinning me down on the bed. The sharp scratch of a needle pierces my skin.

You evil little girl.

I’m going to find you, Harlow.

You’ll regret ever running from me.

I fall back into my memories. Deeper and deeper, lost to the ravages of years spent in captivity. This was a mistake. I never should’ve left. Pastor Michaels will kill me when he finds me, far more brutally than any of the others.

Whatever they injected me with begins to kick in. My hands slacken and fall to my sides while my head crashes against the soft pillow. Pain is fading back into numbness.

I try to keep my heavy eyelids open, but an almighty force is weighing them down. The last thing I see is Enzo, trapped behind a sea of frantic nurses, watching me with determination.

CHAPTER 4

HARLOW

DEAD LETTER & THE INFINITE YES - WINTERSLEEP

“Recovery from sepsis can take a while,” Doctor David explains. “We caught it just in time. It’s a miracle that you travelled alone with such a severe infection.”

“I was… h-hearing things,” I admit, studying my nail-less index finger. “This voice was telling me to keep going, no matter what.”

His blue eyes meet mine. “You were very brave, Harlow.”

“No. I’m not brave.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. You’ve survived something horrific. Give yourself some credit for getting this far.”

He resumes taking notes of the latest readings on the array of machines surrounding my hospital bed. The other nurse hasn’t returned after she forcibly sedated me.

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