Wings to the Kingdom (Eden Moore 2)

Whatever it was or was not, I didn’t like it.

“Malachi, you said your car broke down. What car are you talking about, and where is it?”

“I bought it. For five hundred bucks, cash. I knew it wouldn’t last forever, but I hoped it would get me as far as here. And it did, so I guess I can’t complain. ”

“Fine. I’ll complain for the both of us. Where is it?”

“Around on the other side of the hospital. I pushed it off the road and into the trees so no one would hear me coming. When I tried to leave, it wouldn’t start. I don’t know what’s wrong with it. But I’m not going back to it,” he added quickly. “I’m not walking back up there. No way. That’s where he was. He was wandering around, talki

ng to himself. No way. They can have the thing and sell it for scrap. I’ll eat the loss. But I’m not going back there. ”

“Yeah, yeah. I heard you. Not going back. But I don’t suppose you had a crowbar or anything in that car, did you?”

“No, I don’t think so. ”

“You’re not just saying that because you’re afraid to go back there?”

“No! Eden—”

“Okay, fine. Of course not. That would be too easy. Okay. Then this is what we’re going to do: You and I are going to find a branch, or a sturdy stick, or something like that. It can’t be too big, but it has to be solid enough to lever that rim away from the tire. Got it?”

“Uh-huh. ”

“Good. Now stay close,” I ordered, implying that I didn’t want him going all girly on me, but the truth was less noble. I was getting nervous too. That rushing, rumbling sound that was neither engine nor water was getting louder in my ears, and I didn’t like it. It made my head feel stuffy, and almost sleepy despite the adrenaline that I knew must be coursing through my heart.

“You don’t hear anything?” I asked him again.

He shook his head. “Just the river. It’s right on the other side of these trees. ”

“The river,” I repeated. I didn’t believe him, but there was no sense in both of us acting panicky, so I kept my concerns to myself, swallowing them back with a sigh. “This sucks. ”

“I’m sorry. ”

“I know. Be quiet. ”

“Okay. ”

“Stay close,” I told him again. I pointed the light at the ground and let him grip the back hem of my shirt. “All we need is one good stick, and then we’re out of here. ”

“I think we just missed the shift change. ”

“What?”

“The shift change. At the hospital. Everyone who’s coming or going has probably done so by now,” he said, twisting his fist in my shirt. “Unless they’re late. ”

“Good to know,” I murmured. “But still. Let’s hurry up. ”

I swept the beam back and forth on the ground at my feet, kicking leaves and rocks out of my path as I went. The rushing noise came and went, close and far depending on how I turned my head. It was as if I were trying to tune into a radio station whose signal was too weak to come through clearly.

“This is ridiculous. ” I pushed my feet through another foot or two of undergrowth and stopped. “Everything is too small and twiggy or too damn big. Maybe we can pull something down off a tree or something. ”

“I don’t think we should do that. ”

“Why?”

“I really don’t think we should disturb anything out here. Eden, are you sure we have to do this? Your car didn’t look too bad. Can’t we just—”

“No, we can’t. We’ll blow out a tire before we even get back on the road. And what did I say about keeping quiet?”