The Gathering by K. E. Ganshert Page A

diminishes. The barking resumes, only instead of coming closer it fades off to the left.
    “They must have doubled back.”
    “Come on, let’s go!”
    The men chase after the dogs. And the dogs are running away.
    Luka pulls me out of the cleft and up into standing. A strange tail of light—like the dancing spots that come after staring directly into the sun—trails off into the direction the dogs ran.
    “What is that?” Jillian asks.
    Link stares after the glittering spots as they slowly fade away. “I don’t know, but we have to get to the tracks fast.”
    “Can you make it?” Luka asks me.
    The second I bear weight on my foot, pain stabs my ankle like a red-hot fire poker, but I bite back my grimace and nod.
    He takes my backpack. “Are you sure?”
    A train whistle blows in the distance.
    No, I’m not sure. But there’s no time for injuries. Gritting my teeth, I break into a jog, doing my best to hide my limp. We skirt around the outer limits of Greeley as the train whistle grows louder. Our jogging turns into a run. The pain in my ankle is nearly blinding. We come out into a clearing, where the freight train rumbles along the tracks.
    Link and Jillian’s run turns into a sprint. Link tosses his bag into a rail car, grabs onto a handhold, and swings himself in. So does Jillian. I try to catch up, but my legs are shaking so bad I can’t go any faster. Tears sting my eyes. I will never make it. But Luka is right beside me. He locks his arm around my waist, pulls me forward, snags a handhold and sweeps us both up into the railcar.
    Dark spots swim in my vision. Cold sweat prickles across my skin. My stomach rolls. I cover my face and clench my teeth and try to take even breaths, but the pain is unbearable.
    Luka crouches beside me. He rolls up my pant leg, so gently I can barely feel the touch.
    “Did she break something?” Jillian asks.
    “I don’t know.”
    Their voices grow more muffled, like I’m hearing them underwater.
    “It looks broken.”
    “How is she going to get anywhere?”
    “I’ll carry her.”
    It’s the last thing I hear before passing out.

Chapter Seventeen
    One Final, Fading Snippet
    “H is name is Agent Michael Bledsoe,” a familiar voice says. “According to his profile, he’s been working for the FBI for ten years. Married for eighteen. He and his wife have two daughters. Their oldest is seventeen.”
    “Our age.”
    The floor beneath me rattles.
    I open one eye. I’m staring up at a metal ceiling. Sunlight filters inside the strange box, painting everything too bright. My body cries out in pain, the worst of which throbs in my ankle. Memories shift like bits of glass inside a kaleidoscope.
    The FBI agent in Greeley.
    Being chased by two German shepherds.
    Sliding down a ravine.
    The blast of mysterious heat.
    Hopping on a train. Or rather, Luka hopping me on a train.
    I spot him in the corner of the railcar, doing push-ups fast and quick, like he’s racing someone. Maybe he’s racing himself. Maybe he thinks enough exercise will chase away the things that haunt him. Or get back the things he’s lost.
    “Hey.” Jillian sits up on her knees. “You’re awake.”
    Barely, and I’m not sure I want to be. Never in my life have I wanted a dose of pain medication so badly. My head pounds. My ankle burns. Every muscle in my body aches. I try to push myself up, but a groan slides past my lips.
    Luka pushes all the way up to help me.
    Gritting my teeth, I lean back against one of the walls of the railcar. “How long have I been out?”
    “A few hours.” He hands me a water bottle.
    I twist off the cap and take a long drink. When my throat no longer feels like the Sahara Desert, I notice some things. Like how the dirt from the scrapes in my palms has been cleaned away, and ointment rubbed into the cuts. I push up the sleeves of my hoodie. My elbows are bandaged.
    “I patched you up with Jillian’s first aid kit.”
    Touched, I look into Luka’s eyes. They’re as green