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McBrid stayed out of sight as he made his way to his father’s house. He tapped on the door, hiding in the shadows near the doorway. “Come on.” He knocked again and whispered, “Dad, it’s me.”
“Matt, what’s wrong.” Dad opened the door, his hair mussed from sleep but his blue eyes sharp with worry.
“Let him in.” Uncle Rob grabbed Dad’s shoulder, pulling him aside.
McBrid slipped inside, closing the door behind him. “My house. It’s gone.”
“Gone? What do you mean?” asked Dad.
He opened his mouth but the words were stuck in his chest. If he hadn’t come over for dinner and hadn’t fallen asleep...His knees buckled and he staggered backward, leaning against the door.
“Matt.” Uncle Rob grabbed his arm.
“Let’s get him to the living room.” Dad clasped his other arm and the two led him to a chair.
Uncle Rob went to the bar and poured an inch of whiskey into a glass before handing it to him. “Drink this and tell us what happened?”
He tossed back the shot, the burning warmth freeing his words but doing nothing to keep the fear from clawing at his throat. “I don’t know what happened. I went home and my house was gone.”
“What do you mean gone?” Dad asked again as he pulled a chair over and sat in front of him.
“Gone. There’s nothing left but rubble.” The haze in the air had made the night seem even more surreal.
“Fire?” Uncle Rob moved behind his father, resting his hand on Dad’s shoulder.
“No. I don’t think so.” He could see the scene but only in snapshots of time. “Nothing was burning. Just a lot of dust. I think it exploded.”
“How? Houses don’t explode for no reason,” said Dad.
“I-I don’t know, but this is my chance. I can disappear. No one would expect me to survive that.”
“They’ll expect to find remains,” said Dad.
“Yeah, maybe. I guess.” He didn’t want to think about that.
“I still know some people in the heritage department,” said Uncle Rob.
“What good will that do?” He didn’t need his history rewritten. He needed his future back.
“They have access to many things besides ancient texts.” Uncle Rob patted his hand. “Leave it to me. They’ll find enough remains to rule it a homicide.”
“Homicide?” The truth hit him like the splatters of blood against the glass when the Brush-Men were feeding—sharp and clear, unmistakable. He stood and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Dad trailed after him.
“To the lab.”
“That’s the last place you should go.” Uncle Rob stepped in front of him.
“I know.” Araldo, he knew that better than anyone. Conguise had tried to kill him. He’d always said as much but he’d never believed it’d happen away from the lab. “I have to get Charlie and Louis.” He hugged them both. “Go to the boat. Get it ready. If I’m not back in two hours, I won’t be coming.”
“Son...”
“I can’t leave them to die.” He couldn’t fail Charlie and Louis like he’d failed Fersia.