13
FOR FOOLS RUSH IN
A SECOND BRIDGE RAN parallel to the first, leaving a small gap of sunshine on the brown grass in between. Darwin and Teresa dashed through the light and back into the shadow. He slowed to a stop, keeping his grip on Teresa, and glanced back. No one was following them. Yet.
Ahead of them a storage facility surrounded by a chain link fence blocked their way. In one direction, the fence stopped just short of the river. In the other, it carried right through to the street. Both distances were too far to run if Rob started looking for them. Darwin looked around desperately, trying to find a quick way out. He ended up pointing to where the bridge met the ground.
“Come on, we’ll hide in here.”
Teresa pulled back, keeping her hand firmly in his. “We need to get away.”
“We’re not going to get around that chain link fence fast enough. Our only chance is to hide. Hopefully they won’t expect us this close. They’ll think we’ve run away as far as we can. Come on.” He pulled her hand again and she followed him. Before they got there, Teresa yanked on the pieces of rope he was holding. He stopped and let her cut the rest off. She threw the pieces toward the river. When she was done, they dashed to where the bottom of the bridge met the ground, crawling on their hands and knees into the dark recess. He could tell she was still hesitant as the smell of wet earth and moldy leaves surrounded them, and the temperature dropped.
“Rob will be able to sense us here. He did it before. This is such a bad idea.” The words rushed out of Teresa’s mouth in a tumble.
“I think I can block him. He didn’t seem that strong. Sensitive, but not strong. Plus, he doesn’t know I’m a Threader, he may not be looking that closely.”
“Dale knows.”
“She won’t tell him.” He didn’t know how he was sure, but as the words came out, he knew it was true.
He pushed her ahead of him, deeper into the darkness, forcing her to lie on the cold, wet ground. He pulled leaves and debris toward them, piling it up, hoping the dark would stop Rob from seeing them. When he lay down, placing his back to her, he threw more garbage on top of them until the smell of mildew and mold almost made him gag.
“And if you can’t?” The question came out forced and whispered.
He reached behind him and put his hand on her thigh. “I will.” He heard her sigh in response.
They lay there together, trying to breathe as quietly as possible. When the first shouts came from the camp, doubt stabbed through him. Would there have been enough time to run around the fence and keep on going? What if he couldn’t block Rob, or they had another Threader, or someone crawled into the narrow space to look? He moved his hand off of Teresa and began to concentrate. It was too late to change their minds, and he might have just gotten them both killed.
The Threads in the area came into sharp focus, and he pushed and prodded them, watching their response. The ones closest to him, close to the moist earth and rotten leaves, felt heavier than the rest. They were thick and sluggish, and he thought he felt a slight resistance when he tried to move them. He opened his mind further. They tasted dark. His tongue felt covered in slimy mud and small chunks of dirt and leaves. His nose tickled with the crawling of sowbugs and earwigs. His skin felt clammy in the cold, dank air.
He changed the Threads coming from him and Teresa to match what he felt and tasted.
But he knew it wasn’t enough. He could still smell the cloth texture of his and Teresa’s clothes, feel the scent of her over that of the leaves, taste the fear that they were both struggling to contain. He closed his eyes and slowed his breath, letting the quality of their dark corner wash over him until there was nothing else, taking the Threads of their hiding spot until they were part of him, part of who he was. The mold on the leaves took on a life of its own. He could sense the slow decomposition taking place. Under them, the dirt teemed with life, turning the debris into nutrients for the soil. Nutrients that would never be used by plant life in his small black corner of the world.
The Threads split into images: the dark corner he had seen before Teresa crawled in, their bodies pulled out and leaking blood into the ground, a faded Darwin standing over Teresa’s body. More images flashed through his mind, and he pushed them away, concentrating on the single image of the empty space.
As he focused on what he saw, he wove the pattern around them tighter. Where pieces of them rose to the surface, he moved the Threads lower and broke them into strands that were indistinguishable from the others. His world slowed, and he became the small angle between the rusted iron of the bridge above them and the dirt teeming with life below. His hands became the moldy leaves. His being became the black cold earth, and time ceased to exist.
Hands pulled at him and the dirt under him shifted. He fought to stay where he was, who he was. Dirt, bugs, compost.
“Come on, Darwin. Move. I can’t lose you now.”
He felt his body being dragged from the haven he had built for them, not by the physical feeling of being moved, but through the disruption of life around him. Fungi rolled between him and the dirt. Sowbugs scrambled to move out of the way, running helter-skelter into any covered cranny they could find. One squished under his hip and he could feel its life draining from the wet smear that remained.
Warmth and light struck his face, pushing away the Threads he had so carefully created. He pulled at them, forcing them back into the protection they both needed. Something hit his cheek, sharp and hard. Again. And again. The sting settled into a dull throb and his face flushed with heat as blood rushed into it.
“Wake up! Damn you, Darwin, wake up.”
Soft white Threads floated into his view, probing into his body, moving through his haze and around his brain. They pulled back suddenly, and he felt a hot drop of liquid touch his throbbing cheek and roll down to his ear, finally stopping as it met resistance from a strand of hair. The liquid smelled salty and familiar, but this was different. It felt like . . . Teresa.
The name nestled in his head. Teresa. His angel. He remembered the curve of her cheek in the sun, the feel of her hand in his, how her eyes seemed to look directly into his soul, making him want to be a better man. His lips moved, and breath flowed from his lungs through his vocal cords. “Teresa?” The barest whisper. He sucked in a deeper breath and forced it out again. “Teresa? My angel?” It sounded like a shout to his ears.
“Yes. Yes, I’m here. We’re safe now. Come back.”
A soft hand wiped dirt from his cheek and then came back, resting on his face. Another hand touched his other cheek, cradling his head in their warmth.
“We’re safe, Darwin. Wake up.”
He listened to the voice. Her voice. They were hiding. He had created a safe place for them. Someplace they couldn’t be detected. She said they were safe. The memory suddenly came into sharp focus. He’d created a cover for them, made their place invisible to . . . to Rob. They had been prisoners.
“Safe?” His voice came out raspy.
Another hot tear fell on him and one of the hands moved to wipe it away. “Yes, safe.”
He took a deep breath, washing away the musty smell he had held in place. He pushed at the sluggish Threads, releasing them from his hold. Some resisted while others fled back to the dark gap under the bridge. The ground under him felt warm. The dirt was still there, but there was a layer between him and it. Something different, no longer compost and bugs. It had less life to it.
He pushed harder and new Threads came into view. The hands moved from his face and a shaft of sunlight landed on his closed eyes. He fought the urge to scramble back to somewhere dark and safe, like an earwig exposed to sudden light. He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly.
The sunlight was cut off, forcing Darwin to focus his eyes closer. Light filtered through dark hair, creating a halo around the face of his angel. She smiled.
“It’s good to have you back.”
“Back?”
“I . . . I thought I lost you. The first day . . .” Teresa moved and the sunlight hit him again. “We’ll talk about it later.” Her voice had turned crisper, more professional. “First, we need to get some water into us. Do you think you can stand?”
“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” Darwin raised himself onto his elbows and pushed to his feet. The world spun, and before he realized what was happening, he was back on the ground breathing in the scent of the brown grass.
“That’s why,” Teresa answered. She reached out for him. “Let’s try that again. Maybe we can make it to the picnic tables.”
He stood again, this time with Teresa under his shoulder to help keep his balance. Together they walked back to where the tents had been set up, the square impressions still on the flattened grass. The picnic table they finally rested at had a piece of rope tied to one of the central supports.
He looked around the deserted area, squinting in the bright sun. “When did they leave?”
“Two days ago.”
He nodded and was about to ask another question before what she had said sank in. He stared at her. “Two days?”
Teresa just nodded.
“How . . . how long?”
“About three days total.”
He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. It came away smeared with dirt and rotten leaves. “Maybe you should tell me now.” Teresa’s stare examined him, and he could feel her assessing whether he was strong enough. “Just tell me, please?”
She sighed. “It was closer to dusk than I thought when we got away. Rob and Jacob and the other two came out pretty quick to look for us. They all ran right past, didn’t even look under the bridges. They came back maybe an hour later. I could barely see through the blind you had built, but I’m pretty sure they came back without Jacob, and I haven’t seen him since they left. I don’t know what they did to him. A few minutes later, the group was back with flashlights. I have no idea where they found batteries; we haven’t had any in San Diego for a couple of years. Anyway, they all came back. All except Rob. He just kind of walked around in wider circles from the picnic table. He spent a lot of time under the bridges, telling everyone to search while he just stood back. He walked right over to us in the dark. He even called someone over with a light to look. I . . . I swear he looked me right in the eyes, but they both acted like they didn’t see a thing. I didn’t understand how they could have missed us.
“Even after everyone left, Rob stuck around. I think he stayed under the bridge most of the night. He must have noticed something. I guess I fell asleep at some point. When I woke up, the campsite was down and everyone was walking away. I saw Dale put a backpack in the long grass behind the tree by her tent just before the whole group left.
“You didn’t move, though. I wanted to get up, but I was too scared to. You wouldn’t talk to me when I tried. I thought maybe you knew they were still around, even though I couldn’t see them. Maybe Rob had stayed behind, hoping we would come back or something. I don’t know. Maybe the backpack was a ruse.
“I started getting worried, and then the Skends showed up. There were three or four of them, I think. I only saw one really good. They just kind of stood there and waited. A couple of minutes later the others showed up. Definitely Qabal, by the look of those idiotic blue jackets they wear. They poked around the campsite for a while and then took off in the same direction Rob and his crew went. They didn’t even come near us.
“I was too scared to do anything until I had to pee so bad, I couldn’t have stayed where I was even if I wanted to. I washed up in the river a bit and came back, and that’s when . . . that’s when I noticed you were . . . I don’t know how to describe it. You just weren’t there. Our hiding spot was empty. I ran around looking for you, calling for you.
“I came back and started digging through the leaves. That’s when I found you. You were still there. You were there all the time. I . . . I cleared the pile from around you, but you didn’t respond. You started disappearing again. The leaves and dirt just built back up over you.
“I tried to use my training, to See if I could find some sort of injury or bring you out of your . . . your state. That’s when you completely disappeared. I knew you were right in front of me, but the place we hid just became another dirty hole. I freaked out. I started screaming and pulling out whatever was in there. I finally grabbed your arm and dragged you out here. You . . . you wouldn’t wake up.” Her shoulders started shaking.
Darwin slid down the bench and moved closer to her. He raised his arm to put around her and ended up just patting her on the back. Teresa leaned in, resting her head on his shoulder. Her tears flowed and he could feel his shirt soaking them up. He did put his arm around her then, pulling her into a full hug as the sobs took over.
When she was done, they just sat there for a while. He kept his grip on her. He wasn’t going to let her go until she was ready.
“You must think me such a wimp.” Her voice came muffled through his wet shirt.
“I don’t,” he said. “I don’t know what I would have done, if I could have kept my cool as long as you did. I don’t think I’m that strong.”
She pulled away and he let his arms drop. The cool air washed away the heat between them, and a small piece of him wished she were still crying.
“Thanks.” She stood and walked through the flattened grass where Dale’s tent had been, toward the tree behind it.
“Come on,” she said, wiping her eyes, “let’s see what Dale left for us.”
He watched her walk away and shook his head. She was the strongest woman he had ever met.
The pack was his, filled with spare clothes and canned goods. Teresa’s was missing, so they had lost half of their food. After they did a quick inventory, she shoved some of his clean clothes into his hands and pushed him toward the river, wrinkling her nose. She stayed at the picnic tables. He got the hint, stripping and cleaning up the best he could in the freezing water. He threw his old clothes into the bushes by the riverbank.
They didn’t stay there that night. Crossing the river using the old overpass, they chose to continue heading south. According to Teresa, Rob and his group, followed by the Skends, had headed northeast, maybe following where Rob thought they had run, maybe just heading back to the bigger group Dale had hinted at.
He wished them luck. No one deserved what the Skends and the Qabal could do. Not even Rob.
They finally figured out where they were, at least. Oregon. By Darwin’s best estimate, it would take them over three months to walk to San Diego, if they were lucky. More if they avoided the bigger cities, and recent experience told them it was a pretty good idea.
He didn’t know if the Skends had left anything intact in San Diego, but they would deal with that when they got there. They followed Commercial Road out of Salem until they hit Interstate 5, the long empty road ahead of them.
The days turned into a monotony of cold nights and dreary days. Each night they stopped at another empty farmhouse or dilapidated barn, opened a cold can of food, and ate in silence. After the paltry dinner, they would huddle together under their thin blankets and try to sleep, only to wake up early the next morning to eat and start the process over again. Nighttime was the best for Darwin. It was when he could hold Teresa and listen to her soft breath as she slept.
It was too dark to see her, but he didn’t need the light to know what she looked like, to remember the shape of her nose or the strength of her chin. In the morning they would talk for a bit, figuring out how far they had come, how much they would walk that day, before they left the relative warmth of each other.
The houses they stayed at were usually stripped bare and falling apart, but they searched anyway. Any scrap of food or drop of water was saved, placed into the small rusted Radio Flyer wagon they’d picked up from another abandoned yard.
Every night Darwin practiced working with the Threads. Before Salem, he had tried everything that he could think of. Now he approached the process with trepidation. What if he overstepped his control again? What if he made a mistake, and this time, Teresa wouldn’t be able to bring him back? And yet, things were different. Despite his fears, the Threads were brighter and more responsive to his touch, the images came easier and held more detail.
He kept a constant watch on the Threads. The skill he had learned the night Enton died became easier with use, and his newfound strength expanded his radius until he was no longer surprised by how Carlos and Wally had detected Qabal a half a mile away, though most of the time he only monitored a smaller circle around them.
It saved them once. They were plodding down the middle of the southbound interstate following a path created by animals when he felt the Threads shift. They ran to the overgrown ditch, dragging the cart behind them, and hid, waiting almost a full five minutes before a group of six men and women walked past in the opposite direction. He had no idea if they were friendly or not, but the risk of finding out was too big to take.
They passed small communities along the way, smoke rising from chimneys and the occasional screech of children playing. They avoided them as best they could, pulling the wagon through stubbled fields and furrowed soil. The memory of Salem and Rob kept them as far away from humanity as they could get. It was a skill Darwin had perfected over the years.
It took almost four weeks to get to California, bypassing any bigger cities and scavenging for anything edible along the way. They crossed the border in the late afternoon, reading the sign with a glimmer of hope. State borders usually had rest stops close by, and that might mean fresh water and maybe something to eat. If there wasn’t any large population group around, they figured their chances were pretty good.
They pushed on, agreeing to stop there for the night. Half an hour later they sank into the sun reflecting off the wall of a small building. It wasn’t a rest stop, but it would do.
“We’re not going to make it, are we?” asked Teresa.
“As long as we can keep getting water from the farms, we should be okay. Maybe we should have followed the coast, it would have been warmer. More places to find water, maybe.”
“And more places to find people.”
“Yeah. They can’t all be bad, though. You weren’t,” he pointed out.
“Do you really want to take the chance?”
He knew she was right. Past experience had taught them that lesson. But he also knew that at some point, they might not have a choice. He pushed himself to his feet and held out a hand for her. “Come on, let’s check if there’s any water left here, and find a place to sleep. Maybe we’ll find some food!” Their supply was dwindling dangerously low.
“You still need to practice.”
“Not tonight, I’m too tired.”
It took them over an hour to search the several small buildings in the complex, starting with those closest to the highway. They were careful to not leave an obvious trail in the overgrown space. The liquor store—apparently the only reason for the small clump of buildings—had been destroyed, the windows smashed and walls torn down. The only thing that still looked intact was a sun-faded pirate statue, one foot resting on an overturned keg, and a small sign that read All Star Liquor.
Their search of the property led to a small bathroom tucked in one of the back buildings. The place had obviously not seen a person in years. Layers of dirt and animal droppings covered the floor and the boxes of food stashed there. On the shelves were tightly wrapped sleeping bags and blankets that had seen better days. Mice or rats had eaten through the wrapping and nested in the soft filling of the sleeping bags.
To Darwin, it looked like a stash set up for holing, a place Threaders could rest before their next hole. It also looked like no one had used this site in a very long time. They grabbed the three cases of bottled water stacked on the floor and put them into the Radio Flyer before deciding it was safe to spend the night. With the condition of the stash, there wasn’t much chance of some holers stumbling in on them.
They chose the house in the corner of the property, clearing the floor of mouse crap and dirt the best they could. It had been ransacked, but the windows were intact. It was better than most places they’d stayed. Teresa opened two cans of beans, smiling as she handed one to him.
“A full can to celebrate reaching California. It’s no name brand, we finished the good stuff off a couple of days ago,” she said.
He took the spoon offered to him and started eating, remembering that he used to care about the brand. It was more food than he’d had in a while.
“After this, you practice.”
“Yes, Mom,” he said, knowing she was right.
“Don’t you dare. If you start thinking of me as your mother, I’m taking a different route home.”
He saw a blush start to rise on her cheeks before she turned away. He felt his own face follow suit. “Don’t worry, that’s not going to happen.” Teresa was as far from the images of his mother that still haunted his dreams as you could get.
They ate the rest of their cold beans in an uncomfortable silence. When he was finished, he threw the empty can out the door into a clump of bushes and sat back on the floor beside Teresa. He slowly built up his defenses, knowing where the conversation was going to go.
“You don’t talk about your mom too much,” he said.
Her spoon hesitated partway to her mouth. “Neither do you.”
“Mine died, a long time ago. We . . . we were in a car crash. I made it, and she didn’t. I thought of looking for her in this world, but I don’t know how—or if—that would work out.” It was more than he’d wanted to say. He didn’t tell her it was his fault, that he had been driving.
She placed her hand on his arm, rubbing it slowly. “I’m sorry.”
Darwin gave his stock answer, already feeling the guilt rise to the surface. “Don’t be. Like I said, it was a long time ago.”
“My mom taught me everything I know about healing. She’s very good at it, you know. Everyone back at Chollas says they’re lucky to have her and my brother. He’s older than I am, and already a full healer. He wanted to stay behind, to send me to SafeHaven instead. He said the experience would be phenomenal. Mom insisted he go with her, that she needed another full healer.” Her voice hitched, and she drew a deep breath before carrying on. “What if . . . what if the Skends hit SafeHaven again? What if they didn’t make it?” Silent tears fell down her face.
“SafeHaven was probably the best place to be if it happened. They have a bunch of great fighters. They know how to deal with Skends. Besides, those monsters were coming after me, and they seem to know where I am. Remember Salem? They caught up to us there. Your mom and brother are fine. They’re probably more worried about where you are than any stupid Skends.”
“You’re probably right. No! You are right. We’ll get back home, and I’ll introduce you to them. They’ll like you.” She lifted her hand from his arm and rubbed away the tears. “Now, go practice.”
Darwin fought the sudden urge to lean in and kiss her, pushing himself away instead and standing. He found a corner and sat with his legs crossed.
The spider web of Threads he monitored constantly popped into sharper focus. He pushed them into the background again and began following the other Threads around him. He always started his practice sessions by relaxing and getting a solid view of the area. Riding the Threads that flowed through the room and across the rest of the property helped him focus. He was back at the highway they’d just left, smelling the residual heat rising from its surface and tasting the faded paint of the white and yellow lines, before he dropped off and followed an intersecting Thread back.
The talk of SafeHaven made him think about Enton, and the memories that came were pleasant. In a way, Enton and Bill were similar to him, and memories of one easily moved to memories of the other, creating a pattern and recognition between the two. Both were older, both were smart and knew how to use the Threads. Both were teachers. Both were dead because of him.
The pain of losing Bill burned through him again, and with it, the loss of Enton. He relived the day Bill had died, standing helpless as Rebecca’s Thread tore into him, felt Michael’s grip on his arm pulling him away while Rebecca lay on the ground. He still felt the tearing in his head when Michael had pulled him through the blue net around the Qabal building.
He hoped she was as dead as Bill, but he doubted it. If she was alive, he had no doubt they would meet again one day.
He wondered what had happened to Michael, to Carlos and Wally, Mellisa. She was the one who had been so nice to him when he first showed up in SafeHaven. Before the Skends attacked. He had liked Carlos too. He could still remember his sense of humor, sharp and sarcastic. Carlos always had a quick smile. Were they hurt when the Skends showed up in San Diego? Were they even alive? What were they doing without Enton there to guide them?
Filled with concern, he struggled to remember more. If they didn’t make it, it was his responsibility to keep their memories alive. It was important, at least for him. They had all helped him escape the clutches of the Qabal, physically or mentally. He owed them. Carlos’s face was round, not fat, but circular. There were wrinkles at the corners of his eyes from laughing and smiling and spending so much time in the sun. His short hair always stood straight up.
Where would he be right now, if he was still alive? Darwin tried to picture him in San Diego, but it didn’t feel right. Carlos would be in SafeHaven, trying to rebuild and keep the school alive. Maybe even taking over from where Enton had left off. He could almost see him now, poring over the list of damaged houses, checking off what work was done and what was left.
The image of Carlos working grew sharper, images replacing Threads. Darwin could see him looking up with a puzzled expression. Carlos stood, throwing his chair to the floor behind him.
“Darwin? Darwin! Where are you?” Carlos gestured wildly and Mellisa came into view. “Locate him.”
Darwin felt more than saw Threads touch his face before taking off through the wall.
“Carlos?” The image wavered, and suddenly it was as though he was looking through a murky pool of water. He could see Carlos send a questioning look to Mellisa. She shook her head.
“Darwin, concentrate. Keep doing what you’re doing. We can’t lose this link.”
“But . . . what’s happening?” As Darwin spoke, the image sharpened again.
“Damned if I know, but keep doing it. Tell me where you are.”
“We’re . . . we just crossed into California. We’re at the rest stop on Interstate 5. It’s called the State Line, I think. I—”
“Darwin, who are you talking to?” Teresa asked.
Her words shattered the image.
“Darwin?”
“I . . . I don’t know. I was . . .” He turned to look at her. “I was talking to Carlos in SafeHaven. It was like we were in the same room together.”
“Did you tell him where we are? Are they coming to get us?” The look on Teresa’s face was filled with hope.
“I told them. I don’t know if they’re coming—” Alarms started going off in Darwin’s head. His constant background monitoring of the Threads jumped to the foreground. The familiar taste of cloth slid across his tongue. He threw up the shields he had been practicing, hoping it would hide them, and jumped to his feet.
“What?”
“Someone’s here.”
“It’s them. It’s got to be them.” Teresa ran to the door and threw it open. A steel-blue Thread jumped across her path at chest level and stopped her in her tracks.
“What did you do that for?”
Darwin jumped to his feet and pulled her back in the room, shutting the door behind her. Never mind what, it was the how that bothered him more. He had no idea.
“Let me go.” Teresa twisted in Darwin’s grip and he released her.
“What if it’s not Carlos?” he asked.
“Who else could it be?” She moved toward the door again.
“Anyone else. It could just be a coincidence. It could be that the Qabal saw what I did. We need to hide until we know.”
He could see the realization dawn on her, the anger on her face replaced with recognition of what she had almost done.
“We can’t stay in here,” she said. “There’s not enough room to move, just in case.” She scrambled for the cart.
“Leave it. We need to move now.” Darwin raced for the side window and threw it open, pushing the screen to the ground outside. He helped Teresa out before jumping and landing beside her.
Together they ducked and ran through the deepening gloom to a row of stunted trees ten feet away.
Back at the house they could hear a door open, and a shaft of light fell from the window. Voices carried in the still night air.
“Are they here?”
“No, but this is the right place. I recognize the color of the walls.”
A shadow cut through the light, followed by a figure leaning out the window.
“Darwin? Darwin, it’s us.”
It was Carlos’s voice. He was here, and they were going to be all right. Relief flooded through Darwin faster than he could lower his shields. His breath rushed from his lungs and he sucked in another, coughing on the mix of adrenaline and relief. He stood, holding Teresa’s hand, and stepped from the trees. “Over here,” he said.
“Well, don’t just stand there, come on back in.” The door was open when they reached it, and Mellisa rushed forward and gave Darwin a sweaty hug, almost lifting him off his feet before her grip gave way. She must have been the one to hole here. He dropped Teresa’s hand and returned the hug.
Carlos waited his turn. When Mellisa let go, he stepped up and shook Darwin’s hand solemnly. “We weren’t sure we’d see you again. Welcome back.”
Darwin grinned. “Thanks!” He dropped Carlos’s hand. “Umm, this is Teresa. She was with us when the Skends hit San Diego.”
“Nice to finally meet you, Teresa. Your mom will be thrilled we found you. We have a lot to discuss, all of us. Let’s get home first, though.” He turned back to Darwin.
“Enton . . .” Darwin couldn’t put his thoughts into words.
“We know. We found what was left of him in San Diego.” He turned away, ending the conversation abruptly.
Carlos created a hole and they stepped through, ending up somewhere in a forest. When they all got through, he closed it and opened another one to SafeHaven. It wasn’t lost on Darwin that Carlos had created two holes back to back. He wondered if Mellisa had done the same to get to them.
They ended up in the same building Darwin had first seen the last time he’d been holed to SafeHaven. Carlos stepped through as the hole closed and leaned against the wall, breathing and sweating heavily.
Mellisa stepped in, taking Darwin and Teresa to be looked at by healers, and finally for a long hot bath. By the time they were done, they’d already been in SafeHaven for a couple of hours and exhaustion sucked at their bones.