Locked (The Heaven's Gate Trilogy) by Day C.B

Author:Day, C.B. [Day, C.B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2012-07-23T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter 5 – Big City Traffic

Mom being who she was, I wasn’t allowed to sleep for long. It was not a good afternoon. My entire body was black and blue from my fall, and every step I took was a painful reminder of each rock and shrub I’d bounced against. A slight heat rash had wrapped around my torso and arms where Michael had carried me last night, and the skin where he’d held my hand was shiny. I realized with a start that the rash on my wrist had been from his touch, too – not my fall against the curb during my ill-fated run.

What was worse, I couldn’t baby myself – not if I wanted to keep my injuries hidden from my Mom. I was on edge, nerves taut. I needed to escape Mom’s watchful gaze and questions and sort things out on my own, so I took myself out for another run around the neighborhood.

I paused briefly at the top of the cul de sac, remembering Michael’s warnings and words about the “bird attacks,” but shook it off, desperately in need of the release.

I tried not to think too much about everything that had happened. Instead, I tried to empty out my mind, leaving no room for anything but the run itself.

The aftermath of last night’s storms lay all around me in the street. Fallen tree limbs and brush littered the asphalt. The creek that wound through the neighborhood was about to burst its banks – the rain had been much fiercer here. It was at once familiar and alien – as if the secrets I’d discovered had altered nature itself; as if the things I didn’t know still threatened me from the shadows. My body protested as I forced it to move. But the air was crisp and clean, even if the day was grey, so I pushed my fears and pain aside and concentrated again on the rise and fall of my knees, the rebound of my feet off the pavement. I soon fell into the rhythms and footfalls of my run, finding comfort in their sameness and letting the stiffness work its way out of my body.

I leaned into the curve as I entered the undeveloped section of my neighborhood and felt a familiar tingle – the tingle of being watched. This time, though, I wasn’t afraid. I stumbled to a stop, bending over to catch my breath, before I turned, a smile on my lips, ready to greet Michael.

The smile froze on my face as my father stepped from the woods.

Irritation and disappointment surged through my body, quickly chased by guilt. When was the last time I’d even thought about my father, let alone seen him? I thought to myself. Only to blame him for something he didn’t even do, I thought remorsefully, remembering the Valentine card.

“I hope you don’t mind that I came here, Hope.” He was holding his hat in his hands, looking almost penitent as he came closer to the road.

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