Aaron knew Sam was not familiar with the airspace or else he would not have headed directly toward the towers near Cedar Hill. It was pretty clear that he had spotted the towers a bit too late to avoid them, especially with Aaron cutting him off every time he attempted to change direction. Sam began to curve to the left, and Aaron pulled around to give him two choices: straighten out or experience a mid-air collision. As he ducked back the other way, Aaron countered. If he was going to get out of this situation, he would have to show some true piloting skills and find his way around the towers--and their guide wires.
Once the plane disappeared over the tree line, Cadence began to count. She wasn’t sure why--it just seemed like the right thing to do. “One, two, three,” she thought to herself. For the second time that day, she heard the jolt of an aircraft making hard contact with the ground, followed by a plume of smoke beyond the trees. “Ten, eleven, twelve….” She felt Meagan’s hand in hers, absently listened to Sam begging to be shot on the ground behind her. “Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen…” heard Pam’s vehicle coming to a stop not far away. “Twenty.” It had been twenty seconds, and nothing. She felt tears at the corners of her eyes, and slowly began to walk in the direction of the downed plane.
Cadence stood in the shower for almost an hour, letting the warm water beat over her, hoping it would somehow bring clarity, though it didn’t seem to be helping. The ride home had also been hours of contemplation. Why had Elliott defended her to Sam and then tried to have her thrown off the team? Why would Sam be so angry about Henry’s death that he would kill a Guardian and try to wipe out their entire team? How could anyone be that angry? What would have happened if Alex had shot Jamie? If Aaron hadn’t of been able to jump clear of the airplane? And then there was the question she’d been asking most frequently for almost nine months: where the hell was Giovani?
Aaron was clearly holding back a laugh, which infuriated her a bit more. However, he had the ability to even her emotions out, and she could feel that he was doing that as he said, “We did what we needed to do. We got Sam; Jamie’s fine. You’re fine. I’m fine. The plane… not so much. But that wasn’t your fault.”“If I had gotten to Sam before he got in that plane…. Damn pothole.”
Dusk. The time of day when shadows began to knit themselves together, when darkness intertwines with the last fading spindles of light; the time of day when eyes play tricks and forms shift into unfamiliarity. Far better than the pitch blackness and complete uncertainty of night, dusk still seems somewhat trustworthy, as if nothing dangerous could happen--not yet; the last few rays of translucent light surely provide a barrier from the evil of night. At least, that is what most people tended to think. One of the things that Steven Gibbon liked best about his extracurricular activities was the look of shock she always expressed at realizing he was near, and the time had come. He really couldn’t describe just how incredible it felt, how the adrenaline danced in his veins in those first few seconds, be
The blonde waif was waning. In fact, this might be the last time that she was able to serve as a reserva de sange. It was a pity, too, because not only was she somewhat attractive, despite having wallowed in filth these past several months, her blood was rich and sweet. It had a certain quality to it that was difficult to find, and when the locals had dragged her in, Giovani had been pleasantly surprised at their good fortune. If this feeding killed her, however, he would have to resort back to one of the others, and none of them had satisfied his craving the same way as the dirty blonde. Of course, they would have to replace her, and there was always a chance they could get lucky again and pluck an equally delectable sample off the street, but it wasn’t likely; specimens such as
“My eyes are seriously starting to burn,” Lucy Burk complained, rubbing both eyes with her fists. “I don’t know how much longer I can stare at this grainy footage.”“Take a break,” Cassidy suggested, tossing a pillow at her friend’s head. “We aren’t going to be any use to anyone blind.”“I’ve been taking a break fo
The bleachers were as packed as any high school football game Cadence could ever remember, and as a cheerleader, she had attended more than her fair share. Both the visiting Bulldog fans and the hospitable Tigers had showed up in their respective colors, air horns a’blazing, ready to cheer their teams on to victory. Unfortunately for the Bulldogs, school spirit would only get them so far, and the Tigers had come out to an early lead of 14-0. By the start of the fourth quarter, they had increased their lead to 35-7, and Cadence wanted to give the majority of the credit to the tight end, number 82, Brandon Keen.
“The lady knows her football,” Brandon laughed. “That’s good. That oughtta make your boyfriend pretty happy.”Cadence fought back a snicker. “Um, okay,” she said rolling her eyes and glancing over her shoulder. Aaron was still sitting on the bleacher where she had left him, pretending not to be paying attention, but she knew he was. “He’s more interested in football than football,” she explained, using an exaggerated British accent on the first term.