L.L. Foster - The Awakening

"For crying out loud." Gaby rubbed her tired eyes and tried to decide how to send him packing. She'd been stupid to let him get so close, to let him think he could question her and tag along at will. The inner turmoil built, reminding her that she had a job to do. "Look, I'm going out and no, you don't need to know where. It doesn't concern you."

Sparse brows rose high, showing bloodshot blue eyes half concealed under his shaggy brown hair. "Which means you think it's too dangerous for me?"

"I don't think it, Mort. I know it."

"Oh." Visibly tamping down on his fear, he straightened his scrawny frame. The amateur tattoo on his shoulder looked even more absurd with his attempt at bravery. "I'm going with you anyway. You might need backup."

"No, I won't." She flattened a hand on his bony chest and gave him a decisive shove.

He stumbled, almost fell on the steps, but caught himself. "Gaby?"

Belief in her purpose cauterized any regret she felt for attacking him. "I managed to live twenty-one years without your help, Mort. I think I'll be fine one more night."

"God only knows how you've managed."

"Yeah," Gaby agreed, "He does."

"Oh." Mort gave a sickly frown—and turned to pleading. "Let me go with you, Gaby. Please? Even with divine intervention, you're not invincible."

Fool. Gaby looked heavenward. "Forgive his ignorance. He doesn't realize Your influence."

Giving credence to that claim, the internalized smoldering of power heightened, making her faster, more agile, and Gaby leaped down the remainder of the stairs with ease.

"You're staying here, Mort, and that's that. Don't argue with me, and don't even think about trying to follow me." She gave him one quick glance. "I guarantee you'll regret it."

"Wait." The rapid thumping of Mort's descent on the stairs echoed behind her. He dogged her heels as she went to the laundry room to judge the distance to the small casement window that someone had recently used to sneak in. She'd fit, but just barely.

For once, her slight build was a blessing.

Dredging up an image of Dr. Marton, she surmised that he must have hired someone to vandalize them. The big doctor never would have squeezed his bulk through such a small opening.

While Gaby dragged over a broken chair and hoisted herself up to reach the lock, Mort asked, "What are you doing?"

"Taking a back way out. Regardless of what I always say, Luther isn't an idiot—and neither am I. I won't underestimate him."

Trying to see her face, Mort circled to the side of her. "What does Luther have to do with this?"

Gaby opened the newly installed lock and shoved the window wide. "If I try to leave through the front door, he'll follow me."

"Why?"

"Because he doesn't trust me, that's why." The dominant perimeters stretched, inflating her abilities, making her teem with energy.

Setting her every nerve on fire.

Soon she'd be sick with the potency of it—but she welcomed the physical intrusion, knowing that she'd made the right choice and that God would be with her on all she did this night. He'd guide her, and as she'd told Mort, he'd keep her safe. In turn, she'd keep Luther safe, and hopefully Bliss and Morty. Because of her, they'd be able to continue in their secure little world.

It was the others, the evil involved, who had reason to fear. Not Gaby.

"Once I'm out, lock this and leave it locked. I mean it, Mort."

"I don't want to be alone here, Gaby." Hands shaking and voice weak, he admitted, "I'm scared."

Busy judging the size of that window, Gaby said, "Be a man, damn it."

"Why don't you be a friend?"

Stunned at the outburst, Gaby turned and caught Mort in her sharp-eyed glare.

He put a hand to his head. "Jesus, Gaby. While you're off hunting down one monster, another could be hunting for you. Here !" He held out his hands in entreaty. "What if one of those things shows up and I'm the only one around? I can't fight like you. I'm not as brave as you. I don't—"

Pushed by urgency, Gaby leaped off the chair and grabbed Mort's shoulders. While evil threatened, she knew better than to concern herself with one individual.

But this was Mort.

And he was… a friend.

She had to find the most expedient way to placate him. "I promise you'll be fine. I know these things, Mort, remember? But if it makes you feel better, there's a gun in my room, You can hold on to it until I get back."

A rush of color leached from his pallid face. "A… a gun?"

"I keep it tucked away in a special box in my bedsprings. Go on up and get it. It's already loaded, and the safety is off, so be careful."

He shrank back. "But… I've never touched a gun."

Damn him for holding her up. "You aim and shoot. That's all there is to it. A couple of bullets will stop anything, even monsters. Just try not to hurt yourself, okay?"

"Maybe you should take it with you?"

"No." Again, Gaby bounded up onto the chair. "It makes too much noise, especially in the woods."

"Woods?"

Her vision fluctuated, going inward. Only with an effort did she clear it. "I'm out of time, Mort. If you want to help, go out front and see if Luther is still hanging around. If he is, make sure he doesn't trail me."

Sounding more sick by the moment, Mort asked, "How am I supposed to do that?"

"Talk to him. Keep him busy. Pretend I went upstairs to bed."

"You want me to lie to him?"

He made it sound like corrupting the innocent would be the worst of her crimes. "Fine. Don't help. But at least back off and let me do what we both know I can do!" To keep from having it snag on the narrow sill, Gaby removed the knife and leather sheath and held both in one hand. "I'll be back before you know it."

"Right." Misery etched every line in Mort's face. "Bloody and dazed and sick."

"Maybe. Now shut the window behind me." Weapon in hand, scraping her arms, nape, and spine in the process, Gaby wiggled out. Luckily, Mort kept the back lane mostly cleared, so there weren't any broken bottles to cut her on her clumsy climb from the window.

The window dropped shut behind her, and she heard the latch snap into place.

Churning motivation kindled through her veins, pushing her, urging her to haste. With only moonlight to guide her, Gaby went to the alley that connected the lane to the street, and peeked out. Streetlamps left a yellow glow on the hot pavement and concrete.

Making note of ordinary things outside God's command wasn't easy, but she managed to scan the area for Luther. She saw no one, but she wasn't one to trust mere eyesight anyway. Just because she didn't see Luther didn't mean he wasn't there.

Before the twisting ache took complete control, Gaby needed to make some headway. She needed to put a lot of distance between her and anyone who might detain her.

Ducking back out of sight, she reattached her sheath and with the familiar nudge of her blade at her back, crept two blocks down along the back lane. Moving in near silence, she went right past a druggie who didn't notice her and sidled by two thugs in deep conversation.

Once she'd left the apartment building behind, she cut toward the street. Staying in the shadows, she broke into a fluid run. It was dangerous, being here in the open where someone could try to interfere. But with each second that ticked by, the exigencies of the moment sharpened.

Events took place—with the doctor, with Luther… perhaps with her. Under His influence, Gaby could only decipher her purpose, not the why of it.

The pain became a ravenous craving, gnawing on her soul, obliterating all things peripheral. Surroundings faded away to nothingness. They held no import, not when God had need of her service.

And yet… a tiny worm of awareness remained, squiggling through the agony.