Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 159500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 798(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 798(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
Road blinks. “Well, I didn’t know you were kinky like that.” He seems ready to say more, but his mouth shuts as he focuses on something far ahead.
A plume of smoke.
All at once, I’m hit by a mix of emotions that render me silent.
I know what this means.
I don’t want to believe it.
After a prolonged silence, Road speaks. “It could be anything.”
I nod, and we drive at the pace set by the bikes ahead of us. It could be anything, but I have a sinking feeling in my gut, and when I see fire engines gathered at the entrance to my property, the seat sucks me in as a part of me dies.
“Those shit-eating mongrels,” Road huffs, but no amount of cursing can undo what’s already happened, and as the bikes all stop close to my driveway, the charred remains of my home come into view.
Firefighters are still assessing the area, but I release my seatbelt with trembling hands, desperate to go see if anything can be salvaged. This is where I grew up. This was my sanctuary. This is where I spent my first night with Road.
I want to cry, scream, but I hold it in, just like I’ve learned.
I walk toward the house, dazed.
I have nothing.
The house is an ashen carcass, it’s blackened bones peeking out of the rubble, and flaky skin taken away by the wind. The fire’s gone, but since I live in the sticks, the fire service didn’t come before all this devastation could be stopped.
Road grabs my arm. “I’m sorry. Maybe we can still salvage something.”
I struggle to breathe. I realize I bit my cheek to not burst into tears when I taste the blood on my tongue. “M-my family photos,” I choke out, my vision blurry.
It’s as if the reality of my situation is only now hitting, and the punches don’t stop coming. I see Prophet going to talk to the fire crew.
“Breathe,” Road whispers, his palm massaging my back in wide circles. To my right, I see all the Vultures watching the carnage with somber expressions, but the whole world is behind a glass wall now. Road is the only one who can reach through it. He pulls me close, whispering words of comfort that don’t help in the slightest. Still, I’m happy he’s here, that I don’t need to face all this on my own.
My brain is screaming at me to make a joke, pretend in front of them all that it’s not a big deal, and that I can’t be broken. I’m so sick of having to be strong though when I feel as brittle as the charred wooden beams of what used to be my house.
“It’s not just the items,” I whisper. “This is how much they hate me.” Even my voice sounds alien to me now.
“That’s because they’re morons,” Road growls, cupping my face with both hands and pressing his forehead to mine. “They hate me too, so that’s good company.”
I know he’s trying his best to cheer me up, but my grief feels bottomless when I shudder in his arms. Until I saw my house burned to the ground, I don’t think I fully grasped that the life I knew has ended.
“Fuck… I need to sit down.” I take a deep breath of air carrying the scent of smoke, and Road doesn’t stop me when I sit right there, in the driveway.
“I’ll go inside and see if there’s anything we can grab, huh?” he asks, sinking to his haunches right in front of me. “Is that fine? Can I leave you for a moment?”
I nod as my brain whirs with all the things I had in that house that I’ll have to replace. Or will I? I don’t even live here anymore. My mind is such a mess. I slide my fingers into my hair in a useless attempt to try soothing my brain. It pulses inside my overheating skull, making me nauseated.
Road straddles my legs and pulls my face to his chest. “I’ll take care of things. I’m here.”
Footsteps come ever closer, and I flinch at the sight of motorcycle boots looming on the edge of my vision. Road stiffens against me. “Seriously? Now?”
Martin’s voice is raspy and full of anger. “I came here to be fucking nice! You don’t need to protect him from me!”
I nod, because maybe he’s a welcome distraction right now.
“We’ll get the bastards,” Martin says and extends a packet of cigarettes toward me. Which is a surprising peace offering I end up accepting. Road lights it for me, and Martin goes on. “The guys are asking if there’s anything in particular to look for.”
I take a long drag of smoke that is so different from the stench in the air. “Photos, documents, and these… if you find any of these ceramic chickens, put them to the side.”