End of Days (Penryn & the End of Days #3)(18)

And everyone would have thought that was perfectly normal.

I lift his arm to see what’s on the paper he’s holding. I don’t want to take it out of his hand, because whatever it is, it must have been important enough for him to get it out and grip it as he’s dying.

It’s a torn and stained piece of paper with a kid’s crayon drawing. A house, a tree, a stick figure adult holding the hand of a stick figure kid. Scrawled along the bottom in shaky block letters are the words ‘I Love You, Daddy’ in pink crayon.

I look at it for a long time in the shadowy light before I put his hand back down gently on his chest.

I drag him as carefully as I can until he’s lying flat on the carpet instead of on the pile of mannequins on the tiled floor.

There’s a backpack nearby that I also bring and set beside him. He must have taken it off when he started to feel bad. I rummage through and find a water bottle.

His head is warm and heavy on my arm as I tilt it for the water. Most of it spills out around his lips, but some of it trickles into his mouth. His throat reflexively swallows, making me wonder if he’s completely out.

I put his head down, making sure there’s a folded jacket to cushion it. I can’t think of anything else to do. So I leave him to his business of dying.





14


I find the most normal clothes I can for Paige. A pink shirt with a sparkly heart, jeans, high-tops, and a zip-up sweater. I make sure everything but her shirt is a dark color so she won’t be seen at night. I also make sure that the sweater has a big enough hood to shadow her face in case we need to go unnoticed.

For me, it’s black boots, black jeans, and a maroon top that will hide the blood that’s bound to stain it. I just hope that blood will be someone else’s instead of mine. I might as well dress postapocalyptic practical. I also grab a down jacket that’s as light as a . . . I put it down and pick a dark fleece jacket instead. I’m not in the mood for angel reminders right now.

Raffe has found a baseball cap and a dark trench coat that covers his wings. He looks good in a baseball cap.

I mentally roll my eyes at myself. I’m such a dork. The world is coming to an end, my sister is a man-eating monster, there’s a dying man in the store with us, and we’ll be lucky to survive another night. And I’m here drooling after a guy who doesn’t even want me. He’s not even human. How messed up is that? Sometimes, I wish I could take a vacation from myself.

I shove his coat and cap into my backpack with more force than necessary.

By the time we get out of the store, the angels are gone. Raffe moves to hold me for flight.

I step back. ‘You don’t have to. I’ll catch a ride with one of the locusts.’ I have to force the words out. The last thing I want to do is be in the arms of a scorpion-tailed monster.

But Raffe has made it all too clear that this – whatever this is that we may or may not have between us – is a nonstarter. He’s made it clear that he’s leaving. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that trying to make someone stay with you when he doesn’t want to is a recipe for heartbreak. Just ask my mom.

I clench my teeth. I can do it. So what if it’s utterly creepy to walk into the arms of a nightmare creature with a needle-sharp stinger that almost killed you? A girl’s gotta have some scrap of pride, even in the World After.

Raffe watches me as if reading my thoughts. Then he looks at the locusts. His lip curls as he assesses them, his eyes scanning from their thick legs to their insectile torsos to their iridescent wings. He looks at the curled stingers last.

He shakes his head. ‘Those wings are so flimsy I wouldn’t trust them to carry you. And those overgrown nails – you’d catch an infection if they scratched you. You can ride one when they improve on the design.’ He steps forward and, in one smooth motion, lifts me into his firm embrace. ‘Until then, you’re stuck with me being your air taxi.’

He takes flight before I can argue.

There’s a wind blowing from the bay, and it’s pointless to try to hold a conversation. So I relax my muscles and tuck my face into the curve of his neck. Maybe for the last time, I let his warm body shelter me.



As the sun sets, I catch a few fire glows below us, probably hidden campfires that got out of control. They look like tiny candles in a shadowy landmass.

We have to land four times on the way south to avoid being seen by angels. I’ve never seen so many in the air before. Raffe tenses every time we spot the flying formations.

Something serious is going on with his people, but he can’t get anywhere close to them, much less get involved. With every passing minute, I can feel his urgency to get his feathered wings reattached so he can dive back into his world.

I try not to think about what will happen in my world when he does.

Eventually, we fly over the Resistance headquarters – otherwise known as Paly High. It sits like every other deserted group of buildings, with no indication that it’s anything special.

In the parking lot, every car faces the street so it won’t have to do a U-turn to get out. Assuming Obi’s escape plan has been executed properly, the cars are gassed and ready to go, with keys in the ignition.

As we descend, I see bodies hunched behind tires and trees and lying out in the open like the dead. A few people scramble here and there in the moonlight, but they look the same as people moving everywhere else in the World After. Obi has done a nice job of training people not to bring attention to their headquarters, even though the camp must be overflowing now that they’ve rescued the Alcatraz refugees.