Drifters (Stars Edge: Nel Bently Book 2) by V. S. Holmes

Author:V. S. Holmes [Holmes, V. S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Amphibian Press
Published: 2019-01-14T22:00:00+00:00

THIRTEEN

Snow fell that evening. Not the fat flakes that heralded times with family and skiing. Instead, tiny, driving crystals pelted from the sky, hissing against the dry leaves. Within minutes everything had a cold, crunchy coating. Nel swore and flipped her hood up. She hadn't planned on snow. She hadn't planned on being on the corridors for so long, or not having a ride, or not finding Lin. It’s October. Who gets snow in October? A dozen other thoughts followed, on the hopelessness of the changing climate and bemusement over why Lin bothered with humans.

Snow-dusted leaves skittered from under her boot as she hauled herself up a hill. Her legs flew from under her and her hands scrabbled at the half-frozen road. A piece of ledge jutting from the rock caught her chin.

Anger roared from her winter-raw throat, petering into frantic laughter. This was ridiculous. She was willing to hike through the woods for these people. She wasn't willing to die. “You want me, you sick bastards? Come and fucking get me!” Her fingers were too numb to text without half a dozen typos, but she still flicked the phone open and pecked at the keyboard.

Fuck you. Fuck you all. You want me to show up at your damned base? Send a car and we'll talk.

It was impulsive, but she was done. Fighting, yelling, it was all she was really good at, but she was tired of both. Screaming into the void of her life exhausted her. She slumped against the nearest structure, pulling her legs up to her chest. Different anger bloomed in her heart, something cold and searching.

“Hey, She-Hulk. Remember to breathe. Stand your ground, remember to breathe.”

“You gonna tell me not to be so angry?”

“No, not yet. This is just the beginning, and sometimes rage is the only thing that burns bright enough to carry you through. Remember what the trick is?”

“Yeah. I'm always angry.” Her shivering moved deeper until it felt like even her organs shuddered from the cold. “Mikey, I love you.”

“Don't start with the doom talk. Trust me. They'll come for you. I know I would.”

“Well you're not fucking here, all right!” Snowflakes tapped across her upturned face. She rested her head on the cold metal of the structure looming overhead, black against a grey sky. If only she believed in prayer.

Four hours dragged as she walked off-and-on. If her body grew too tired and she stumbled more than stepped, she found a structure to rest. When her eyes lidded and her muscles seemed too warm for the weather, she forced herself up and continued to walk. Snow became the slow, soaking rain that drenched the soul as much as the skin. She staggered to a stop under a pine tree. Her feet were two unfeeling blocks, and her fingers burned from cold.

She pried her boot laces loose, peeling her socks from her clammy flesh. Her toes were hard, white knobs. She rubbed them harder, but could only feel the base of the last three.

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