Cold Fire [SAMPLE]

[37]

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

The distance from the school gates to Caden’s car has never seemed so long, so wide. Even in the mass of students, I still feel as though any second could be my last, as though those people are about to jump out and finally finish what I presume they came to start.

But we make it to the car without any incidents, without any more sightings, and I get the horrible feeling that they want us to get in the car, that they want us to feel trapped by four walls of metal and glass.

Before I step in, I scan the crowds for Lauren and the women who had been watching her, but the woman’s gone, and Lauren is surrounded by friends. Maybe the lady had been looking at someone else. Maybe she had just wanted me to think she was watching Lauren.

I really hope so.

I get into the passenger seat, Sarah slipping into the back, and Caden puts the car into reverse. It’s strange that I’ve become so accustomed to his blatant breaching of the law. Someday, It’s gonna backfire and I can only hope that I won’t be there when it happens. The police hate me enough already, I don’t want to give them further reason to throw me out of the country.

We’re out on the road and have left the school behind in no time. The streets quickly start to empty out, becoming less and less filled with cars and people as we head deeper into the jungle of quiet residential streets and further away from the crowded main roads and congestion accompanied with peak hour traffic.

We turn onto a particularly deserted street and Caden says, “I think we must have left them all behind.” He doesn’t need to expand – we all know what he means.

I hear movement behind me, and I turn to see Sarah looking out the back window. “I think we did,” she says. “I mean, I can’t see any cars following us and I can’t imagine they could’ve kept up on foot.”

“What if they can teleport?” I ask, remembering Patrick’s ability.

“Let’s just pray they can’t,” Caden says, and our eyes catch as he turns his head. “For all our sakes.”

Caden and I are so focused on each other that we don’t see the man until Sarah screams, “Watch out!” And suddenly, everyone’s eyes are on the road – on the man dressed in a dark jacket and jeans who has calmly stepped out in front of the car. Caden slams on the breaks. Sarah yells. I squeeze my eyes shut.

The car jerks to a stop, then silence. Cautiously, I flick open my eyes. Somehow, Caden has gotten us to stop a few metres before the man, and now the world is filled with a before-and-after kind of silence, where our breaths are loud in the sudden quiet, where our heartbeats still throb like drums, where our eyes are latched onto the person before us.

He takes his time to meet all our eyes, and I can feel the seconds slowing down, turning into minutes, into hours, into days.

He raises his arm. A bird chirps in the distance. The breeze is blowing gently, a large hand caressing the world. Caden’s squeezing the cushioned car seat. I’m trying hard not to ignore the instinct telling me to run. But like time, I’m frozen, trapped in this endless moment as the man’s arm gets higher, his hand unfurling like a blooming flower to reveal his forward-facing palm, and the bad feeling inside of me grows, pushing at my instincts, nudging me closer and closer towards an edge – an edge that borders the timeless world of shaky heart beats and frozen limbs, and the place of movement and action.

And then, something orange and glowing starts to form on the man’s palm, a bright growing eye in the centre of his hand. I’m conscious of Sarah saying, “What is that?” but only barely. I can hear the gears turning in Caden’s mind as realisation dawns on him, but only just. And then, suddenly, Caden’s shouting, “Get out! Get out!” and he’s jumped over that edge and into the realm of movement. He practically throws open the driver-side door and I can’t help but follow him, my instincts taking over as I yank off my seatbelt and shove my own door open. I don’t have time to grab any of my things – my phone, my school bag – all of it remaining inside the car. I don’t have to time to make sure Sarah gets out. I don’t have time to see how far Caden gets from the car. I don’t even have time to think. Everything is just one foot in front of the other, one movement before the next. There’s nothing else. There’s no before and after, no today and tomorrow. I’m breathing and I’m here and I have to make sure it stays that way, I have to make sure–