Echoes From the Moon (The Token Book One) by Nathan Hystad

Author:Nathan Hystad [Hystad, Nathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Woodbridge Press
Published: 2024-02-06T00:00:00+00:00

PART THREE

THE FUNERAL

1

The birds chirped, drawing Rory’s gaze. The sun’s rays clung to the perfectly manicured hedges at the far end of the yard, and she noticed how damp the grass was. Somewhere in the distance, the sounds of underground sprinklers caught her ear, and she considered shutting the window.

Instead, she tried to ignore it, and closed her eyes. She pictured the man grappling with Waylen, and felt the trigger depress as she shot him. Rory couldn’t remember how many times she’d fired, but in her memory, the chamber clicked empty as he lay on the kitchen floor bleeding. The image froze, and Waylen paused in motion. The analog clock on the wall no longer ticked, and a drop from the faucet hung in the air, pausing before it splashed into the empty sink.

Waylen? she asked, and the lapse faded while the agent rushed to the back door, stepping over the broken shards of glass. Rory followed him, and they were suddenly transported to the Moon. Her feet kicked up gray dust, and she halted when Waylen did. From nowhere, Silas appeared, staring at the hole before them. Inky black mist clung to the outer edges, and Rory glanced past her own shoulder, expecting to find her grandparents’ house. Instead, the lunar module filled her view. She gazed at the Helios 15 spacecraft’s blinking light from fifty miles away.

Silas reached for the hole, but Rory snapped out of it when someone knocked.

“Come in.” She rubbed her bleary eyes and spun in her chair to see her father carrying a tray with coffee and a croissant.

“It’s chocolate drizzle, your favorite,” Oscar said, and set the tray onto the desk.

“Thanks, Dad.” Rory exited her manuscript, which she’d been unable to add a single word to since returning home late yesterday afternoon.

Without comment, he sat on the bed, hands resting on his lap. “You’ve been through a lot.”

Rory took a bite of the breakfast pastry and spilled a few crumbs onto her jeans.

“I’m sorry about Kevin, Pumpkin. And then this Jack character… I didn’t know anything about whatever your grandfather was hiding. I remember that whiskey bag, but he used to tell me it held his secrets, and he’d say it so casually, I never questioned him. He was like that. Grandpa Swanson had the power to disarm anyone with a kind phrase or a simple expression. I should have sold the house, and that damned…metal bookmark would be gone.”

“Then it would have ended up in someone else’s possession. I’d rather the FBI keep it.”

“Rory,” Oscar whispered, and the mattress squeaked as he leaned forward. “I’ve set up a meeting with a therapist.”

“Dad, I’ll be okay.”

“You shot someone, Rory!”

She shakily placed the croissant on the plate. “You don’t think I’m aware of that? Dad, it’s been a day. Can you let me process things so I can move on?”

He crossed his arms defiantly. “We shouldn’t go to the funeral.”

“Dad, he was your godfather.”

“I don’t care. They brought something back that almost got my daughter killed.

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