Chapter One
Jake
The first time I heard the song, “Face of an Angel” I’m driving down Main Street on my way to Lissie’s. I remember the air feeling cool and slick on my face. It’s one of perks of living on the coast. Along with the hot bikini’s that turn up every summer in my surf shop.
I grab a couple of burgers and get back on the road. The fries are crying to me . I reach over and string a few into my mouth. Greasy heaven.
I turn up my ipod.
A white hot flash hits me.
I don’t really remember anything after that.
No pearly gate , no big guy with a white beard.
Just a cold, hard brick wall I find myself propped up against. I feel down my arm, slowly wiggling each of my long fingers. I’m thirsty.
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I sleep in a tunnel under this bridge me and Lissie use to ride our bikes to. We’d park ‘em on the side and run down the hill, crashing through the rocks. I’d get there first and roll up into the tunnel waiting for Liss so I could spring out at her. She’d take her time, hoping I’d give in and sit like a punk ‘til she made her way down. The look on her face never got old.
I slump over onto my belly, and push up to what I call a stand these days.
I feel slick saliva, drooling down the corners of my mouth, sticking to my chin. It is just so juicy. I lick the corners of my mouth and savor it’s sweet rusty flavor. I run my hand down my leg and swipe off this sticky mass and find that it’s kind of endless. Like oatmeal. It just keeps stringing off my fingers in cold green clumps.
I take inventory of what I got left today. My eyes, a nose, check. Jaw opens, closes. Awesome.
It seems colder tonight than usual. I stretch out and take a slow step out onto the rocks. I feel an odd tickle craw down my left arm.
Crap.
There’s my hand. Just lying there, fingers spread wide open. I don’t know which is more terrifying. Watching my brains seep out of my head , or seeing my hand just lying on the rocks.
It actually looks alive down there, like it’s reaching up to me hoping to jump back on.
I look up and take another slow step forward.
This may take a while.
Chapter Two
Emilee
Turn of the lights. Lock up. Go to the basement and stay there. And Em..PLEASE DON’T DRINK FROM THE FAUCET..
My text from Sam.
I put my phone down and grab candles out of the cup board. Canned beans tonight. Yay. Sam keeps us stocked with the kind where the hot dog is hidden somewhere in the middle. He gets too freakin’ anxious. I grab the matches, lock the door, and flip the switches. I use my tiny flashlight to help me find my way to a candle and I strike a match, grab a few magazines and make my way down three stairs into our basement. It’s my hang out for nights when Sam decides I’m better off here than up there.
