“Wait! Stop!” Brynn shouted between panting breaths. His lungs burned. His legs burned. And though the sun was dipping below the rim of the canyon, putting the structures around him into shadow, Brynn could feel the rock’s residual heat, even through his boots.
The girl kept climbing.
“You know they can’t understand you, right?”
I linger in the shadows of the antechamber door. Of all the places a lady should never be, a dank, dark, and—I wrinkle my nose—malodorous cave tops the list.
You’ll chicken out. The mysterious peddler’s voice haunts me. Turn and run like the spoiled princess you are.
I clench my fist…
Excitement skitters across my limbs as I peer over the tops of all the other trees. I can see six-year-old Ruby Sue get off the school bus in front of her house and run straight into the woods. Toward me. Her friend.
Here in the easternmost part of the Berkshire Mountains…
They say the word Kentucky means “dark and bloody ground.” And I believe it—after all, that’s where my blood has been for years.
I floated among the branches of towering trees. Dew clung to the bluegrass below, which made it seem even more vivacious and alive.
Funny how grass had more life than me.
The clown bolted from the trailer across the open space to the big top and hurdled over the velvet rope at the entrance. Serella only had time to sputter “Hey!” before he was inside. Two men wearing FBI vests followed. She unhooked the rope without a word. Damn. Probably another drug dealer.
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“We hit this gas station”—I point at a crease in the map spread out over the RV’s dining table—“grab food, toilet paper, gas—”
“And slushies,” Martin chimes in.
“—and slushies. Then we hightail it to the monument, here.”
I survey my crew. Martin, my younger brother, looks like a…
Moonlight glistened on the Bahamian waters surrounding South Beach. Waves lapped the shore and plantain tree shadows snaked across the sand. Pastor Shantel paced, anxiously scanning the horizon as immigration officials scrambled along the beach. A flash of blue and gold in the clouds caught her eye. Weird.
Shantel stumbled into…
She swept into town like the swirls of dust that haunted the desert plains, a lonely traveler like a bounding weed, and struck out to seek what was lost.
The town, its decrepit buildings leaning into the incessant south winds, swiftly spread the name of Mellie Rembrandt. Nobody forgot a name like Rembrandt…
The world swayed around me like the ocean waves, but I couldn’t feel the water’s calming caress. Pain pounded in my left temple. My eyes refused to focus. I tried to swim, yet I couldn’t lower my arms from over my head. And my tail… where was my tail?
I wiggled my toes…
Vince was grateful for his wetsuit, even though the frigid waters of the Potomac still stung as he rolled out of his boat that fated January morning. He gasped. Instantly, his bones began to ache.
I’m too old for this.
The sign plastered on a buoy read, “POOR VISIBILITY, STRONG CURRENTS.”
The inspector tapped on the microphone. A sharp burst of static filled the room. “All right. We have Prisoner WVM-01 here for questioning. Please detail for our records your involvement in the Silver Bridge Accident on December 15th, 1967.” He flicked on a floodlight, and I blinked behind my night vision goggles.
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Of all the places to be stuck during a layover, he’d been told Earth had to be the worst.
But Garxlix had once spent a Galactic Center year on the gas planet Murlkoqluq waiting for a connecting flight. This was just eighteen Earth hours.
Though he would have rather waited at the landing area
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