Angel Fire Read Online Free Page B

they were securely hidden, he ducked into the bathroom and grabbed up the eye pencil and hair dye stuff, shoving it all in the shopping bag it had come in, along with the long strands of my hair that had fallen to the floor. He swiped a motel washcloth over all the surfaces, removing any sign of the dye, and stuffed that in the bag too.
    Trying to stay calm, I fumbled for the black pumps that were the only shoes I had now. Then I heard what was being said on TV, and glanced up. My hands slowed and stilled.
    “...a dramatic new development which has just been released from law enforcement officials in Pawntucket, New York. This was the scene last night on Nesbit Street, at the former home of suspected terrorist Willow Fields...”
    Aunt Jo’s house appeared on the screen. I heard a ragged gasp; realized from someplace far away it had come from me. I sat frozen, my mind unable to process what I was seeing.
    The house where I had lived since I was nine years old was in flames.
    There was no doubt, even with the trembling footage that looked like someone had taken it on their cellphone – it was Aunt Jo’s run-down Victorian home, crackling and crumbling to the ground. Even the garden ornaments in the front yard were ablaze. I could just make out one of the gnomes, standing enveloped in flames like a weird fire spirit.
    The picture changed to blackened ruins, with firemen picking through them. The entire second storey of the house was gone, with only dark, skeletal fingers sticking up here and there. I stared at a smudged piece of lavender wall. My bedroom.
    “...cause unknown, though local police suspect vigilantes from the Church of Angels might be behind the blaze. Early reports indicate there were no survivors. The bodies of two women have been found in the ruins, thought to be Miranda and Joanna Fields, the mother and aunt of Willow Fields...”
    On the TV screen were two body bags on stretchers, being carried out from the house’s charred remains.

 
    I STARTED TO SHAKE AS the world thudded in my ears. On the screen one of the firemen slipped on the rubble; I stared wordlessly as the too-human-shaped bag shifted on the stretcher.
    “Willow!” Alex was crouching in front of me, his voice almost harsh as he gripped my shoulders. “I’m sorry, but if we don’t get the hell out of here, it’ll be us next. Come on !”
    Somehow I managed to nod. I couldn’t breathe; my entire body felt crushed by the weight of what I’d just seen. Mom. Mom . I got up and took the small photo of myself with the willow tree from where I’d placed it on the bedside table, shoving it numbly in my jeans pocket. It was all I had left from my old life now. Alex kept the TV on as he edged the door open, peering out. “It’s clear,” he whispered, half-turning and holding out his hand to me. “Don’t look like we’re in a hurry. But be ready to run.”
    No survivors, no survivors. The words beat through my skull as we walked to the parking lot, holding hands. The only people in sight were a couple unloading their things from a car; neither of them looked at us. As we reached the motorcycle, Alex handed me the helmet and shoved the plastic bag in the storage compartment. My fingers felt thick and clumsy as I worked the helmet’s straps.
    A police car was just coming down the street as we roared off in the other direction. I hardly noticed. I clung tightly to Alex; over and over, I kept seeing the two body bags. Had Mom come out of her dream world before it happened? Had she known what was going on? Oh please, no. The thought of her being scared and trapped, unable to get away, hurt so much I thought it might kill me. I huddled against Alex’s back as the cold mountain air rushed past, keeping my eyes closed and trying not to throw up.
    I’m not sure how much time passed; it could have been minutes or hours. But sometime later, once we’d crossed the state line into New Mexico, Alex turned off the highway and into a small town.