Out Of The Ashes (The Ending Series, #3) (14 page)

Which made the
whole situation so much worse, because I couldn’t do a damn thing.

I blinked.

But I
could
do
a damn thing. I could slip into Ray’s mind…into the minds of any other
creatures for miles around. I could hop from mind to mind until I found freshwater.

I leaned my cheek
against the side of Wings’s long face.
“I will try, Pretty Girl. I will
try.”

~~~~~

I was Ray.

I flew away
from the tainted two-legs den in circles. My quarry was not my usual prey, but
it was no less important. My quarry was water. Without it, she-who-flies-with-me
would cease to be. I had to find it. She-who-flies-with-me is part of me, now.
She-who-flies-with-me cannot cease to be.

I suggested
life-water, warm and thick and sustaining, but she-who-flies-with-me claimed
consuming such would make her ill…make her more likely to cease to be. That
could not happen.

I flew until
the sun neared the storm clouds on the horizon. I flew until my wings ached. I
flew until I had to hunt, or I, too, would cease to be.

I came “awake”
with a start. I’d been sleeping less and less as the days passed, spending more
and more time flying with Ray, or running with Wings or Cooper or Jack. It was
so easy now, so relaxing. Usually.

“Did you find
anything?” Jason asked. My head was on his lap, as it had been when I’d first
drifted away, and his fingers were stroking the wispy flyaways at my temples.
He looked down at me, hope gleaming in his eyes.

I glanced at the
doorway. It was still light out, but dimmer than before. I looked up at Jason.
“What time is it?”

“A little after
seven.”

I stared into his
sapphire eyes for a little bit longer, savoring the hope they still contained.
Because as soon as I spoke, I knew it would disappear.

Taking a deep
breath, I whispered, “Nothing close enough.” I closed my eyes and felt a tear
escape, sliding across my temple only to be stopped by his fingertip. “I’m
sorry.”

Jason leaned down
and pressed his lips to my forehead. “Me too.”

11

ZOE

APRIL 20, 1AE

Great Basin Desert, Nevada

I’d come to appreciate the cool
evenings in the high desert, a welcome contrast to the warm and wearisome days.
And after a day as long, hot, and emotionally trying as this one had been,
tonight was no different. The sun was finally setting behind the mountains,
offering the group and our animal friends a reprieve from the threatening sun.
I felt a slight sense of rejuvenation as the sun’s rays lessened, allowing
people to scramble around in their desperation to find water without the added
burden of heat.

Feeling useless and overwhelmed by
everyone’s mounting emotions, I couldn’t stay in the barn stewing in everyone’s
fear and anxiety any longer. So, leaving Sarah, Ben, and Sam to continue making
room for everyone to roll out their sleeping bags in the barn, I slipped away
to clear my mind, to harness my own emotions and rid myself of everyone else’s.

What are we going to do?

Stretching my legs, I walked to
the pump house, stopping just outside the crumbling doorframe so as not to
bother Jake as he, Carlos, and Mase cranked and banged on the piping and
machinery it housed.

“Carlos, there’s a roll of duct
tape in that bin over there.” Jake pointed to a storage tub resting by my feet.
I bent down and picked it up, handing it to Carlos. “And there should be a tube
of silicone, too.” On the outside, Jake was all calm confidence, but I could
feel his wavering ease beneath the surface.

“To seal up the cracks?” Carlos
asked as he took the bin from me.

Jake nodded and turned back to
Mase. “On the count of three, I’ll turn to the left, you twist to the right,
but be careful. I couldn’t find any piping to replace this one.”

Mase nodded.

“One. Two. Three.” Both men
wrenched and strained, Jake more than Mase, until finally the piping twisted
apart. I felt Jake’s wave of relief as he examined the intact pipe. Then his
relief fizzled. “Shit.” He ran a hand over his head. “I hope to God we have
enough silicone to fix this.”

Unable to watch frustration harden
Jake’s face, I wandered over to the workbench on the side of the barn, where Sanchez,
Grayson, Harper, and Biggs were standing. Inching my way into the circle, I
stared down at the three maps they had unfurled and laid out, overlapping one
another.

“If we go south,” Sanchez said, “we’ll
find more shelter—caves and such—but there’s absolutely no indication of there
being any water.”

“We know there are three bodies of
water here,” Harper said, pointing to an aerial map of the westernmost side of
the desert.

“True,” Grayson said. “But we
don’t know if they’re saltwater or—”

“We can’t steer clear of possible
water because we’re assuming they’re salt ponds,” Harper said. “It’s a chance
we might have to take…”

With thinning patience lacing each
of their voices, I left the four of them to debate which route to take. There
were no words of advice I could offer, and I decided hanging around would only
worry me more and aggravate them further.

I passed Dani, who was lying
quietly in Jason’s arms inside one of the stables. I could feel her mind in
both an awakened and hibernating state. Jason glanced up at me as he held her,
amplifying her Ability as she no doubt soared or roamed or slithered around
with her animal friends in search of water.

With heavy limbs, I schlepped to
the edge of the farm, found a lone juniper, and nestled myself against it. Had
our day not been filled with death and turmoil, I might’ve thought the storm
clouds looming over the mountains miles and miles away might be our saving
grace, but instead, I felt as if we were being taunted, teased. Even the sunset
that stretched across the expanse that separated us from our salvation seemed
to have a greater meaning. It was truly remarkable, a melody of reds and
yellows and oranges so vibrant and alive I couldn’t help but wonder if it was there
as an accompaniment to our swan song.

“There you are,” Tavis said as he
strode up behind me. “I was wondering where you’d run off to.”

I smiled, knowing it didn’t reach
my eyes, and scooted over so he could plop down beside me. “Where have you
been?”

Tavis nodded back to where the
herd stood languidly. “Helping Becca and Camille give the animals what little
water we could.”

“Water,” I said quietly. “It’s so
close…” My eyes fixed on the dark clouds moving even further away from us as
the breeze picked up.

“True. Wouldn’t it be nice if the
breeze was moving in the opposite direction…”

I nodded.

With a sigh, I gazed out at the
most barren stretch of land we’d stumbled across yet. There was less scrub
brush, fewer trees and cacti. Instead, jagged, crumbling rocks and cavernous
mountains seemed to stretch out as far as I could see.

A deep humming and what sounded
like yodeling startled me. I turned to Tavis. His eyes were closed, his legs
crossed in front of him, and his palms were facing up.

“What are you doing?”

He opened one eye and looked at
me. “It’s a rain chant the Aborigines used back in the day when they thought
the gods would hear their pleas.”

“A rain chant?” I listened more
closely. “What are you saying?”

“I’m calling to the rain, asking
it to come and replenish our bodies, to provide the sustenance we need to
thrive and continue on our journey.”

I looked at him askance. “Really?
It sounded more like gibberish to me.”

Despite Tavis’s efforts, he
chuckled. “It was. I was just joking.”

I hit his shoulder. “That’s not
funny.”

“Ouch,” he groaned and rubbed his
arm, but he was grinning.

“Well, then stop joking around.” I
nearly started laughing as his smile grew. “This is serious stuff.”

“Yeah? More serious than everyone
dying of the flu? Of the world coming to an end? Of Crazies and Re-gens and—”

“I get it,” I said. “But yeah. A
little bit. This could be it for us.”

Tavis shook his head. “We’ve all
weathered worse. We’ll figure something out.”

Although I wasn’t sure how Tavis
could be so certain, so upbeat, he was. For a man who had absolutely no idea of
his family’s fate back home in Australia, he had an ever-optimistic air about
him.

He climbed to his feet. “Come on,
let’s go see if we can help the others.”

Standing, I dusted off my backside
and straightened, affording one last glance behind me. It was probably my
imagination, but I could’ve sworn the wind had shifted.

“Come on,” Tavis called, and I
followed after him.

~~~~~

A thundering rumble
startled me from sleep. I sat up and peered around at the rest of the group as
they too began to stir in their sleeping bags.

“What was that,
Babe,” Sarah said groggily.

Another,
not-so-far-off rumble shook the ground beneath me.

Nobody said
anything for a heartbeat…a breath.

“Is that
thunder?” Dani said, scrambling as best she could with one hand to get out of
her sleeping bag.

“Easy, Red,”
Jason said as he climbed out after her.

I sat still in my
sleeping bag, listening, too scared to hope amid everyone else’s mounting
excitement that our prayers had been answered.

Sam ran by me,
Cooper running after him toward the sliding barn door. With a grunt, Sam helped
Jason and Jake push the door open.

Becca and I
simply looked at one another. After another rumbling peal of thunder, a
cacophony exploded in the room as everyone chattered and clambered to their
feet, me included.

We crowded in the
doorway, one by one, and stared into the early morning, waiting with bated
breath.

“There’s no
rain,” Becca said, and she stepped outside, staring up at the inky sky. Jason
and Dani followed, then Tavis and Sam, Sarah and Biggs. Soon everyone was
outside but Jake and me; he sidled up beside me, his arms crossed over his
chest.

“Come on,” I breathed.
“Maybe you need to do another rain chant, Tavis,” I called half-jokingly, but remembering
the way the wind had shifted hours before, I couldn’t help but wonder if his
ancestors had really been listening.

Tavis only
shrugged. “Rain,” he jestingly commanded the clouds overhead.

There was another
deep rolling of thunder and the whistle of the breeze zipping past my ears, but
there was still no rain.

Plip. Plip-plip.

I heard the
hollow sound of raindrops on the roof, and those standing out beneath the
clouds held out their hands.

“Oh my God!” Dani
cried. “Jason, it’s raining!”

Everyone stood
there in silence—in disbelief—as they stared up at the sky.

After a flash of
lightning, everyone seemed to stir from their stunned trances. Jason wrapped
his arms around Dani, lifting her feet off the ground and laughing as he
twirled her around. As the rain poured more steadily, Dani howled with laughter.

Hooting and
laughing
resounded, and
I
could see the outlines of my friends in the predawn light, streaming raindrops
glittering all around them.
Jack and Cooper
frolicked in the quickly forming mud puddles, barking and yipping.

Jake stared down
at me. “What are you waiting for?”

“Oh, I’m fine, I’d rather watch—” Before I could finish,
Jake
crouched down and heaved me over his shoulder,
eliciting squeals of laughter and shouts of profanity I hadn’t meant to let
escape my lips as he stepped out into the rain.

“Such language,” he admonished,
and I only laughed. Despite my reservations, the rain felt good, rejuvenating.
As was usual when touching Jake, I saw a collage of memories, most notably one
of him tossing me over his shoulder down by a lake and carrying me into a
large, plantation-style home while I squealed and wiggled in his arms.

“I think I’m going to be sick,
Jake.”

“You always say that,” he said,
and as he loosened his hold on me, I pushed against his shoulder and slid down
his chest. The fabric of our shirts bunched between us, but I was too excited
and relieved to care. Jake grinned down at me and tucked a strand of stringy,
wet hair behind my ear.

I saw the memory of us in a creek,
of me in his arms, skin against skin, and I took a step away from him. “One of
these times I’m actually going to throw up on you,” I joked. Then I caught a
glimpse of Tavis and Sam on the outskirts of our early morning celebration,
staring up at the clouds. Tavis was dumbfounded, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’ll be right back,” I told Jake,
placing my hand on his arm as I stepped past him and weaved my way through my
jubilant friends. “Tavis,” I called to him.

He turned to me and shrugged.

I widened my smile. “You did
this,” I said loudly over the rain and pointed skyward.

He shook his head. “I made up that
rain chant, it wasn’t real.” I could hear the confusion in his voice and felt
it muddling his mind. “It wasn’t real,” he repeated. “It’s just coincidence…”

I knew Tavis didn’t fully believe
that. “You sure about that?”

He sighed and shrugged.

“You did a rain chant?” Sam seemed
confused.

“Not really, no.” Tavis held out
his hand, pouring rainwater collecting in his palm.

“I felt the wind shift, Tavis. I
saw the water move when you walked by it back at the retention pond…I
know
you did this.”

I could see Sam’s head whipping
back and forth between us. “Try to make it stop,” he said. “Then we’ll know.”

Tavis’s eyes remained locked on
mine.

“Let’s wait a little while,” I
said. “Just in case you can’t make it start back up again…”

And that’s exactly what we did.
After our water jugs were filled, the troughs overflowing, and we’d played in
enough water to satiate our fear of dehydration, Tavis made the rain stop,
leaving everyone in complete, awed silence.

“She was right!” Sam said. “You’re
not a Crazy after all.”

I laughed at Sam’s quick tongue,
and before I knew what was happening, Tavis was hauling me up into his arms for
a giant bear hug, so relieved he’d been able to help save us all.

“I’m not sure I would’ve put two and
two together,” he said, a renewed lightness to his voice I appreciated.

I laughed. “That’s what friends
are for.”