“Can you at least clean the blood off your hands?” Rhys finally exhaled, looking like he was going to vomit.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize . . .” I dug the first-aid kit out of the glove box and ripped open an alcohol pad.
I braced myself for the sting of the alcohol on my index finger, but it never came. Wiping off all the blood, I found nothing there. Not a scratch. I could’ve sworn I sliced my finger on the edge of the aluminum, but I could’ve sworn a lot of things lately. I guess this is what it meant to be a conduit. We needed to find Mom soon so she could fix me. I didn’t know how much longer I could take this.
I crammed the first-aid kit into my backpack, then pressed the side of my head against the glass, watching the woods blur into an endless stretch of brown and green. Rhys had slowed down to pass another buggy when an old wooden billboard caught my attention. THE RAPTURE IS COMING was written in large block lettering. Perched on top of the sign were two black birds. Crows. The harbinger of death.
One for each of us.
8
WRECKED
“YOU HAVE REACHED your final destination.” The voice blared over the GPS, startling us both. We’d been on desolate back roads for so long, I think we’d forgotten what technology sounded like. We moved forward another ten feet, then the GPS signal died. It wasn’t a gentle wane; it was abrupt, like we’d just fallen off the face of the earth.
“No. No way,” Rhys said, squeezing his phone like he was strangling it. “This is a joke.” He squinted through the bug-smeared windshield.
I pulled over into a makeshift lot full of old rusted-out cars.
Beyond that stretched nothing but corn. Miles and miles of corn.
Rhys flung his phone at the dash. “I told you we wouldn’t be able to find it.”
“This has to be it,” I said as I scanned the area. Obviously, it hadn’t rained in some time, giving the landscape a muted palette, much softer than I’d expected. There was something so familiar about the surroundings, but I couldn’t put my finger on it—maybe something from a dream or a Wyeth painting.
“I need to use the restroom,” Rhys said.
“Be my guest.” I glanced over at the towering stalks as I picked up his phone and tried to find a signal.
“No . . . I mean really use the restroom.”
I dug out some paper napkins from the discarded bag in the backseat and handed them to him.
He eyed me skeptically. “Are you serious?”
“Everybody poops, Rhys. There’s even a book about it.”
“Just don’t talk about it,” he hissed as he took the napkins and got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. He walked off toward the corn, shoulders hunched, looking completely mortified.
I cut off the engine and found myself staring at hundreds of abandoned cars—every decade was represented. It seemed odd to have a car graveyard in the middle of nowhere, but I guess it was as good a place as any.
I rummaged through the center console, hoping to find gum or a breath mint. My mouth felt like the inside of a Dumpster. Tic Tacs . . . score. I popped a couple and looked through the rest of the contents—a pair of sunglasses and a tin of lip balm. And I thought I was low-maintenance.
I dabbed the balm on my lips and glanced at myself in the rearview mirror to see if it made any improvement, but all I found were dark blue irises lined with thick black rings—like Katia’s—like shackles.
I put on my mother’s sunglasses. They looked glamorous on her, but they made me look like a bug.
We’d been driving for nearly twenty hours, and my body felt welded to the seat. I was exhausted, but still felt the adrenaline pumping through me—that and a ton of caffeine.
The instant I got out of the car to check on my brother, my hair began to frizz and stick to my neck. I had pulled the black silk ribbon from my pocket to tie my hair back when a rogue breeze kicked in and blew it from my hands. I watched it hover in midair, graceful as a dancer, weightless and free. The black strand swooped in front of me before drifting into the maze of abandoned cars.
I hurried after it, my footsteps kicking up clouds of dust as I moved in and out of the stacks of twisted metal.
I took in a deep breath. The smell of rust, rubber, and oil filled my lungs, but there was something deeper underneath, something infinitely more appealing. Dark fertile earth, sandalwood, fresh rain, strawberries, a hint of tang.
I maneuvered around a column of hubcaps, following the ribbon as it plummeted like an arrow into the waiting hands of the man standing before me. He wasn’t really a man, maybe about eighteen or nineteen, but he was the kind of beautiful that made me think I might still be hallucinating.