Praying for Rain (Praying for Rain Trilogy, #1)(45)

But the words don’t come out of my mouth.

I’m too distracted by the shape of the mound in front of me. Bending over, I shove my hands into the wet pine straw, but they don’t disappear into the mulchy mess like they should. Instead, my fingertips jam into something large and hard just below the surface. When I brush the needles away, my mouth falls open at the sight of a large stone block … attached to another stone block with crumbling white mortar.

“Wes!” I shout, frantically uncovering the chain of stones. “Wes, I found it! I found the chimney!”

A split second later, Wes is at my side, kissing my temple and apologizing profusely as we work together to unearth the fallen chimney. Once we locate the base, he knows exactly where to look for the hatch. He turns and takes about ten steps away, like a pirate measuring paces on a treasure map, and then he drops the magnet. This time, there’s no bounce when it lands on the soft forest floor. Hopeful green eyes lock on to mine as Wes tugs on the rope. The metal disc doesn’t budge.

I stand, rooted to the spot, as he falls to his knees and begins clawing at the carpet of leaves and needles beside the magnet. As the surface of a rusted metal door begins to take shape under his determined hands, I feel as if he’s lifting a weight off of me as well.

We’re going to be okay.

I was helpful.

Wes will be happy with me again.

“Shit,” he hisses, uncovering a rusty old padlock secured to the side of the door. Giving it a tug, Wes drops it with a clang against the door. Bracing his hands on his thighs, he furrows his brow at the new challenge, as if he were trying to unlock it with the sheer force of his mind. After a moment, he nods. Then, he reaches into the side of his open shirt and pulls the 9-millimeter out of his holster. “Go stand behind that tree. I’m gonna shoot the lock off, and I don’t want you to get hit by the ricochet.”

With a nod, I scurry behind the nearest oak tree and feel my heart pound as I wait for the shot to ring out. I should be excited, but this sensation fighting through the drugs feels closer to dread. This is our last bullet.

What if he misses? What if he gets hit by the ricochet? What if—

The sudden blast rattles my eardrums as it crashes and echoes off the trees. When I open my eyes and lower my hands from my ears, I wait for confirmation that it’s safe to come out, but all I hear is the exaggerated squeeeeeeak of a metal door being opened.

Then, nothing.

With a deep breath, I peek around the trunk of the tree. Wes is on his knees, soft brown hair hiding his face, white knuckles curled around the edge of the open doorway. He did it. He fucking did it. And with hours to spare. Wes should be running around, shouting in triumph, but instead, he looks like he’s kneeling before the executioner. I can’t figure out why until I look into the void.

And see his tortured face staring back.





Wes


Water.

The entire … fucking … bomb shelter …

Is filled with water.

When I threw open that door, I didn’t see salvation. I saw the happiness drain from my own eyes. I saw the smile rot off my own fucking face. In my reflection, I saw myself for what I’d always been—helpless, hopeless, powerless.

Nothing.

I have nothing. I’ve accomplished nothing. I’ve survived a lifetime of hell for nothing. And tomorrow, I’m going to return to nothing, just like everybody else. I’m not special. I’m not a survivor. I’m a fucking sham.

“Go home, Rain,” I say, closing my eyes. It’s bad enough that I have to hear the words coming out of my mouth. I don’t want to have to see them, too.

“Wes.” Her tiny voice is almost a whisper as the straw rustles beneath her approaching feet.

I hold my hand out, as if that will keep her from coming any closer. “Just … go home. Go be with your parents.”

“I don’t want to,” she whines. “I want to stay here. With you.”

I lift my head as anger surges through my bloodstream. “You only have a few hours left to live, and you’re gonna waste them on somebody you don’t even know? What the fuck is wrong with you? I have nothing to offer you. No supplies, no shelter, no fucking means of self-defense!” I throw the gun in my hand as hard as I can past Rain and into the forest. “I can’t save you. I can’t even save myself. Go the fuck home and be with your family while you still have one.”

Rain doesn’t even turn her head as the weapon sails by. Her pleading, glistening eyes are trained on me and me alone. “I don’t care about any of that, Wes. I … I care about you.”

“Well, you shouldn’t,” I snarl, gritting my teeth as I prepare to break what’s left of my own sputtering heart. “I was just using you to help me get what I wanted, and here it is, in all its flooded glory.” I sweep a hand over the cesspool in front of me and let out a disgusted laugh. “So go the fuck home, Rain. I don’t need you anymore.”

The lie tastes like arsenic on my tongue and hits Rain with a force almost as deadly. Her mouth drops open, and her eyes blink rapidly as she struggles to process the poison I just spat at her. I expect her to argue with me. To come back with more teenage girl whining about whatever it is she thinks she feels for me. But she doesn’t.

She swallows.

She nods.

She tucks her head to hide her quivering chin.