Angelfall (Penryn & the End of Days 1)

“Prepare? How?”

“I found something for you to change into at the last house. And Ill need to change my appearance too. Leave the details to me. Getting past the guards will be the easy part. ”

“Great. Then what?”

“Then its time to party at the aerie. ”

“Youre just full of information, arent you? I wont go unless I know what Im getting into. ”

“Then dont go. ” His tone is not ungentle, but the meaning is clear.

I grip the steering wheel so hard, Im surprised it doesnt crumple.

Its no secret that were only temporary allies. Neither of us is pretending that this is a lasting partnership. I help him get home with his wings, he helps me find my sister. After that Ill be on my own. I know this. Ive never for a moment forgotten about it.

But after only a couple of days of having someone watch my back, the thought of being on my own again feels. . . lonely.

I clip the open door of a truck.

“I thought you said you could drive this thing. ”

I realize Ive been pressing on the accelerator. Were weaving drunkenly at 40 miles per hour. I pull it back down to 20 and force my fingers to relax.

“Leave the driving to me, and Ill leave the planning to you. ” I still have to take a calming breath as I say this. Ive been mad at my dad all this time for leaving me to make all the hard decisions. But now that Raffe is taking the lead and insisting on me following him blind, it churns my stomach.

We see some ragged people along the side of the road here and there, but not a lot. They scurry away as soon as they see our car. The way they stare, the way they hide, the way their furtive, dirty faces peer at us with burning curiosity brings to mind the hated word: monkey. This is what the angels have turned us into.

As we get closer to the city, we see more people. The path on the road is less labyrinthine.

Eventually, the road is mostly cleared of cars, although not of people. Everyone still looks at the car, but theres less interest, as though a car moving on the roads is something they see regularly. The closer we get to the city, the more people there are walking on the road. They look around warily at every sound and motion, but theyre out in the open.

Once we enter the city proper, the damage is everywhere. San Francisco got pummeled along with a lot of other cities. It looks like a smoldering, post-apocalyptic, melting nightmare out of some Hollywood blockbuster.

Coming into the city, I catch glimpses of the Bay Bridge. It looks like a dashed line across the water with a few crucial chunks missing from the middle. I’ve seen photos of the city after the great quake of 1906. The devastation was staggering, and I’d always found it hard to imagine what that must have been like.

I don’t have to imagine anymore.

Entire blocks are charred rubble. The initial meteor showers, quakes and tsunamis only caused part of the damage. San Francisco was a city that had rows and rows of houses and buildings built so close togeth

er you couldn’t fit a piece of paper between the buildings. Gas pipes burst and caused fires that raged unchecked. The sky was choked with blood-tinged smoke for days.

Now, all that’s left are the skeletons of skyscrapers, an occasional brick church still standing, lots of pillars holding up nothing.

A sign proclaims that Life is G_od. It’s hard to tell what product the sign was selling because the sign is singed all around those words as well as on the missing letter. I assume the sign used to say Life is Good. The gutted building behind it looks melted, as if still suffering the effects of a fire that just won’t stop, even now under an alien blue sky.

“How is this possible?” I dont even realize I say it aloud until I hear my voice choked with tears. “How could you do this?”

My question sounds personal and maybe it is. For all I know, he could have been personally responsible for the ruin around me.

Raffe stays quiet for the rest of the drive.

In the middle of this charnel, a few blocks of the financial district stand tall and shiny in the sun. It looks almost completely undamaged. To my utter amazement, there is a makeshift camp in the area of the city that used to be South of Market, just outside the undamaged portion of the financial district.

I weave around another car, assuming it is dead, until it suddenly lurches in front of me. I slam on the brakes. The other driver gives me a dirty look as he drives past me. He looks about ten years old, barely tall enough to see over the dashboard.

The camp is more of a shanty town, the kind we used to see on the news where refugees flocked by the thousands after a disaster. The people—although they arent eating each other as far as I can tell—look hungry and desperate. They touch the car windows like we have hidden riches in here that we could share with them.

“Pull over there. ” Raffe points to an area where a pile of cars are stacked and spilling onto what used to be a parking lot. I drive the car there and park. “Turn off the engine. Lock the doors and stay vigilant until they forget about us. ”

“Theyre going to forget about us?” I ask, watching a couple of street guys climb onto our hood. They make themselves at home on the warmth of our car.

“Lots of people sleep in their cars. They probably wont make a move until they think were asleep. ”

“Were sleeping in here?” The last thing I feel like doing with all this adrenaline rushing through my veins is sleep under glass surrounded by desperate people.

“No. Were changing in here. ”

He reaches to the back seat and grabs his pack. He pulls out a scarlet party dress. It’s so small that at first, I think it’s a scarf. Its the kind of shapely and tiny dress that I once borrowed from my friend Lisa when she talked me into going clubbing with her. She had fake IDs for both of us, and it would have been a fun night except that she got drunk and went home with some college guy, leaving me to find my way home on my own.

“Whats this for?” Somehow, I dont think he has clubbing in mind.