Pines

* * *

 

Standing on the sidewalk, Ethan thought the town seemed quiet for late afternoon. He couldn’t hear a single car engine. Nothing, in fact, but the sound of birds cheeping and wind pushing through the crowns of three tall pines that loomed over the hospital’s front lawn.

 

He walked out into the middle of the street.

 

Stood there watching, listening.

 

The sun felt good and warm in his face.

 

The breeze carried a pleasant chill.

 

He looked up at the sky—dark blue crystal.

 

No clouds.

 

Flawless.

 

This place was beautiful, no question, but for the first time, those mountain walls that boxed this valley inside instilled something in him other than awe. He couldn’t explain why, but they filled him with fear. A dread he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

 

He felt...strange.

 

Maybe he’d suffered an injury. But maybe not.

 

Maybe being detached from the outside world now going on five days was beginning to take its toll.

 

No iPhone, no Internet, no Facebook.

 

It seemed impossible as he considered it—to have had no contact with his family, with Hassler, with anyone outside of Wayward Pines.

 

He started walking toward the sheriff’s office.

 

Better to just leave. Regroup. Reevaluate from the other side of those cliff walls.

 

From the comfort of a normal town.

 

Because something here was definitely off-kilter.

 

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