Unchained Memory (The Interstellar Rescue Series Book 1) by Donna S. Frelick

Author:Donna S. Frelick [Frelick, Donna S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: INK'd Press
Published: 2015-02-24T05:00:00+00:00

That first leg of the trip was brutal, an hour backtracking to Bluefield to pick up U.S. 460, then more than three hours of weaving through the dark on the looping curves of two-lane U.S. 219. We had been battered both physically and emotionally before we even set out. By the time nine o’clock rolled around, I felt like I’d spent hours hauling in canvas on a ship in a storm-tossed sea. The grief we were both feeling had blown up a hurricane neither Ethan nor I felt like shouting over. We hadn’t exchanged a word since Clay Fork except to verify directions.

I was so tired I could hardly speak when I called a halt to our flight. “Hey, there’s a town called Marlinton coming up. I say we stop for the night.”

Ethan sat up and looked at me. “Yeah.”

We slowed as we came into the tiny town—one or two restaurants closing up at this hour, a darkened gas station, a convenience store blazing lights. We passed a bridge over the Greenbrier River and followed the river out of town again without seeing any place to sleep. I’d begun to think we were out of luck when I saw a massive sign for the Marlinton Motor Inn on the highway at the edge of town.

“Thank God.” I turned into the parking lot. The place looked busy and well-maintained, though it wouldn’t make anyone’s Most Romantic list. The sign said “Vacancy,” so as far as I was concerned, all systems were go.

I rolled to a stop in front of the office, and Ethan went in to take care of registration. I stretched some of the kinks out of my back and felt the fatigue sinking into my arms and legs. I’d be in bed soon, after a meal and a hot bath, with this day from hell behind me. I could wrap my arms around Ethan, and he could wrap his arms around me, and we could forget about our aching hearts for a few hours.

Things would look a lot brighter tomorrow after a good night’s sleep.

I watched Ethan walk back to the car, and was reminded just how long a day it had been. He moved like an old man after hours of immobility in the car. He limped, and he held his left arm bent and close into his side, protecting the ribs that were undoubtedly cracked underneath the badly bruised muscles. God, I had forgotten—he hadn’t complained, hadn’t said a word about any of it since we rounded that bend in Ida’s drive and saw there was trouble.

He climbed back in the car, the slightest grunt his only concession to the pain. “Two-twenty-seven. Around the side.” He nodded to indicate the direction. He leaned back slowly in the seat and took a deep breath.

“You okay, babe?”

“Sore.”

“I’ll bet. We’ll get you fixed up here in a minute.”

I started up the car again and drove around the side of the building, looking for 227. It wasn’t hard to find, toward the center of a second wing looking out onto a farm field.

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