In The Afterlight

Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit. Fear rippled through me. How did I get this so wrong?

It was still pitch black outside, but we had already passed into the faint edge of the floodlights’ glow. There was a low curse from Cole as he turned and motioned us back with his hands. Vida pulled out a handgun and shuffled back on her belly, dragging Chubs with her, a hand knotted in his shirt.

The wind kicked up the back of my jacket, exposing my bare skin to the chilling air. To our left, the tin-like sheets of metal lining the tracks were rattling as if they were on the verge of exploding. Go slow, I coached myself. Don’t panic. Go slow. Sudden movements or loud noises would only draw the soldiers’ attention—

There was a crack, like broken bone as a whole section of the wall’s metal siding flew off, catching a burst of wind and flinging itself straight toward us. I ducked down, covering my free hand with my head, my brain already calculating how fast we’d have to get up and run once the sheet slammed into the tracks and started banging around.

But one pounding heartbeat...two...three...with the exception of the wind and my own heavy breathing, there was nothing but quiet. I lifted my head, catching Cole’s shocked expression as it morphed into relief, and twisted around to see why.

Liam had a hand outstretched in the direction of the huge piece of siding. It was frozen in place where it had struck the ground on its first, dangerous bounce, and was still angled toward us. The rusted metal stood upright, shaking like a strained muscle, but otherwise still. His face was a stony mask of concentration. I’d seen him lift and throw things much heavier with his abilities, but the force of the wind, and our exposure to it, was warring with his control.

Chubs shifted, but Liam said, quietly, “I have it.”

Cole snapped once to get my attention, pointing up at the freeway. The figures we had seen there, the soldiers, were moving again. The floodlights that were trained on us switched off, just as another military truck drove up alongside the two vehicles already posted there. It took me a moment to understand what was actually happening.

They’re there to swap out the cars and lights. Not to patrol; not as lookouts.

One of the Humvees rumbled to life, made a wide turn across the empty freeway lanes, and sped west. I kept my eyes on the shrinking taillights before squinting up toward the floodlights again. No movement. Gone.

Cole had come to the same conclusion. He rose slowly onto his knees, then his feet, waving for us to do the same. Liam let out one last grunt, using his abilities to lift the metal siding up in an arc over us and throw it in the direction of the Los Angeles River’s dry cement bed. He let his brother haul him to his feet, but pushed him away.

“For someone who sucks so bad at sports, those were some surprisingly decent reflexes.”

“That must be thank you in a language I don’t speak,” Liam said, his jaw set as he turned to look ahead. “Can we get moving?”

Cole stared at him a moment longer, his face unreadable. “All right. Let’s roll.”

By the time we reached Glendale on foot, the sun was up and shining over us. The area, despite being outside of the de facto perimeter the military had set up, was still close enough to the damage to have prompted either an official or panic-induced evacuation. There wasn’t a soul alive around us. Cole had gone ahead to scout the nearby streets just to be sure, but there was this feeling, an unnatural buzz along my skin, that prevented me from relaxing. I kept my head up, scanning every corner, the nearby roofs, even the horizon of Los Angeles’s ruined skyline for its source. What started as a billowing thundercloud of unease was becoming sharper, taking on more distinct edges. I was afraid it wouldn’t fully take shape until it was already raining down over us like knives.

The dusting of ash and soot out here had been washed into stagnant puddles by the rain a few nights before. I shook my head. It all just seemed...strange. The buildings weren’t wearing any open wounds; were stained a faint gray, not the menacing black of the inner city. I stepped over the cement block marking a parking space, and squinted at the building—a locked-up grocery store.

“There—” Cole said, pointing at something past the small shopping center. A parking lot. With its tall streetlamps on and flickering.

“Thank God,” Chubs said as we crossed from one parking lot into the next. He stared up at the lights like he’d never seen one before.

Liam was already moving toward the nearest dark blue sedan, pulling a bent, wire coat hanger from the black backpack slung over his shoulder. He jimmied the lock so quickly, Cole didn’t even catch on until Liam bent over the driver’s seat, pulling out wires from beneath the dashboard, trying to spark some life back into the engine by hot-wiring it.

“What?” Chubs called. “No minivan?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa—” Cole said as the engine finally sputtered to life. He pulled Liam out and did something that killed the motor. “Christ, who the hell taught you that?”

“Who do you think?” Liam snapped, ripping his arm out of Cole’s hand.

“Harry?” Cole let out a disbelieving laugh. “Don’t they take away your halo if you teach an impressionable youth how to steal a car?”

Liam’s look could have peeled the paint off the sedan. “Are you finished?”

“No, I’m just—” Cole was picking at a scab, I realized, and he didn’t even know it. “Harry. Harry Boy-Scout-Troop-Leader Stewart taught you. Why?”