Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Then, suddenly, he goes still—a blackened silhouette against the raging inferno, arms outstretched as if in final supplication. Then, finally, he crumbles from his eerie pose, collapsing into the heart of the fire, ash mixing with ash, returning to the mountains that created him.
I turn to Aubrey, relief flooding through me.
“We did it,” I breathe. “It’s done.”
But as I reach for her, the ground beneath our feet shifts violently. The intense heat from the fire has destabilized the snow pack, triggering an avalanche on the slope above us.
“Oh, fuck. Run!” I shout, grabbing her arm and pulling her parallel to the slope.
We sprint away from the burning cabin, snow cascading down toward us in an unstoppable wave. The roar is deafening, like a freight train bearing down upon us. I pull Aubrey alongside me, both of us struggling through knee-deep snow toward the tree line.
I risk a glance and see a wall of white bearing down, gaining on us with terrifying speed.
We won’t make it.
Aubrey stumbles, her exhaustion from the fight finally catching up to her. I grab her arm, trying to haul her forward, but the delay costs us precious seconds. The leading edge of the avalanche is almost upon us.
“Go!” she shouts, pushing me away. “Jensen, run!”
Instead, I shove her toward a massive pine tree just ahead. “Climb!” I order, giving her one final push before turning to face the wave of snow, as if my body alone could somehow shield her from nature’s fury.
The avalanche hits me first, the force of it sending me tumbling. I manage to grab the trunk of the pine, anchoring myself as the snow rushes past. But Aubrey isn’t as lucky. Though she’d reached the lower branches, the sheer power of the snow tears her away before she can climb higher.
“Aubrey!” I scream, helpless as she’s swept away in a churning mass of white.
When the initial surge passes, leaving me half-buried but alive, I tear myself free and stagger in the direction I last saw her. The landscape is transformed, smoothed into alien contours by the avalanche’s passage. Even the cabin is gone.
“Aubrey!” I call again, desperation mounting as silence answers me. I search frantically, looking for any sign of her. A dash of color against the white catches my eye—the edge of her black jacket, barely visible beneath a mound of snow. I dig with bare hands, ignoring the pain as ice crystals tear at my skin.
She’s unconscious when I uncover her, blood streaming from a gash on her temple. Her chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, but her skin is already taking on a bluish tinge from cold and lack of oxygen.
“Stay with me,” I murmur, gathering her limp form in my arms. “Don’t you dare die on me, Aubrey Wells.”
I can only hope she’s still good at taking orders.
37
AUBREY
I’m dreaming.
In my dream I’m with Lainey, my mother, and my dad. It is the year before my mother died, the last family vacation we took. We drove to Santa Cruz for the first and last time. Lainey and I were so excited about the idea of the boardwalk and the pier, the amusement park rides and the cotton candy. I had just seen The Lost Boys on TV the week before and I was hoping I might run into some punky vampires, too.
But during the winding mountain drive, my father pulls off to the side of the road, overlooking the bay and the ocean and the horizon beyond. The sky is pink and orange, soft tones of a sunset. I don’t remember stopping before.
“This is where we leave you, kiddo,” my father says.
My mother gets out and opens the back door of the Volvo for me. I climb out, confused, and Lainey is somehow already at the stone wall of the viewpoint, holding her hand out for me.
I walk over to her, wondering what’s happening.
She grasps my hand.
Her skin is cold.
“See those clouds,” she says. “That’s where we’ll be.”
My father and mother join us, standing on both sides of me, hands on my shoulders.
Their skin is cold too.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“To where we belong,” my mother says, giving me a soft smile. “We’ll see you there too, one day, but not now. Now is too soon. You have too much work to do.”
“Work?” I say. But I’m just a kid. I don’t have any work, unless she’s talking about homework.
“You’re doing a good job,” my father says, grabbing my hand now and giving it a strong squeeze. “I know it’s not easy, but you’ve helped so many people.”
What is he talking about? Why are they all so cold? Why aren’t we heading down to Santa Cruz?
“Including me,” Lainey says, putting her arm around me. “You finally helped me be free.”
“I’m so proud of you, sweetie,” my mother says, leaning down to kiss me on the top of my head. “Now go and live the rest of your life.”