Sins of the Soul

Then she became aware of a weight pulling on her shoulders, like it had suddenly appeared there when, of course, it had been there all along. The backpack was exactly where it had started out. On her back.

Gratitude and relief surged. She closed her eyes hard, and clenched her teeth against the urge to sob. She dropped her forehead to her crossed arms and crouched there, slowly counting to sixty, letting herself have that much time, and only that much time, to wallow.

Then she pushed herself up onto her knees and painstakingly dragged the pack off her shoulders.

It took her a few tries to get the plastic fastener open, and another few tries for her trembling, numb fingers to work the zipper. Then the bag was open and she pulled out things. A sopping wet fleecey. Sealed plastic baggies of snacks. A water bottle. She was careful to pile everything nearby. It was dark. She couldn’t see a thing. And she had no desire to lose any of her treasures to the blackness.

At the bottom of the pack was the plastic bag with her running gear in it.

Stripping off her sopping clothing was painstaking work. Her jacket. Her T-shirt. Her jeans took forever. She didn’t even have the strength to worry about what the darkness concealed. She figured that if it was so dark that she couldn’t see whatever might be out there, then whatever might be out there couldn’t see her either.

And if it could…well, it would get an eyeful.

At last, she was out of her wet clothes and dressed in her dry ones.

Exhausted, her only thought was sleep. But she forced herself to spread her wet things flat so they had a hope of drying at least partially while she rested. Then she rummaged for a protein bar, tore it open and bit off a hunk. Chew, swallow, repeat, until about half was gone. She rewrapped the remains and tucked them away in the pack. Curling up to conserve heat, she fell into an uneasy sleep.

When she awoke, the sky was a red saucer, smeared with clouds limned in burgundy. The ground stretched flat in all directions, a dry, cracked, red-brown plane sliced by a crimson river.

There was no sign of Alastor. She didn’t want to let herself think about that. About him. But worry nagged at her.

She laughed grimly. He was a soul reaper. He wasn’t the one she should be worrying about. He’d probably opened one of those portals and headed for home the second the going got rough.

Unfortunately, there was no part of her that actually believed that. She wished she did. It would take away one worry. But in her heart, she knew he wouldn’t just leave her here.

He’d fought to save her. Jagged memories of the river came to her, of him clinging to her hand, keeping her head above the swirling torrent, dragging her up again and again and telling her to breathe.

She swore she remembered him heaving her out of the water, pushing her to dry ground before the current tore him away.

But maybe that was all a pretty fantasy.

Either way, he wasn’t here now and she was the only thing she could rely on.

Same shit, different day.

How long had she slept? She glanced at her watch. It wasn’t working. With a laugh, she hauled out her cell. No reception.

No surprise.

She didn’t think she was Topworld anymore.

Hell, she almost expected to see some food and drink with little signs attached that read, “Eat me” or “Drink me.” Or maybe a white rabbit would run past muttering about being late. Nothing would surprise her now.

Tipping her head back, she looked at the sky. No sun, so no way to measure time. The way her stomach was growling made her think she had been out of it for quite a while.

She ate the rest of the protein bar and some nuts and raisins. Brushed her teeth using a bit of her bottled water. That made her feel better…almost normal, in fact.

She checked her wet clothes. Dry now. The jeans were stiff, as was the jacket. Another indicator that she’d been asleep for hours. She rolled everything into tight cylinders and tucked what she could into the plastic freezer bag before shoving that into the bottom of the pack.

Then she took measure of her situation. She had the water bottle that she’d already opened. She had one other in her pack. She had enough food that she could stretch to last her for a few days, but the water might be a problem.

Her gaze slid to the river, bright-red water under a bloodred sky. Was it drinkable? Did she dare?

Something niggled at the back of her mind, something bad. But she couldn’t think what it was right now, so she didn’t focus on that, but rather the question of whether to stay put or to walk.

Staying put meant she was waiting for something. Or someone. Playing the pathetic princess holding out for rescue wasn’t her style. Besides, she had no idea what had happened to Alastor.

There was a really good chance that rescue wasn’t coming.

“Okay,” she said aloud, just to hear a voice, any voice, even her own. “Walking it is. Which way?”