Thomas's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

Thomas woke to the wrong kind of quiet. The fire was cold. The wind had stopped. He sat up on his elbow and looked at Emmy, who slept curled on the red bag with her hand under her cheek. Beyond her, the low stone wall that ringed the camp caught the moonlight in broken teeth. Then a shape moved through the gap in the wall, low and smooth, and the quiet broke. The first Vael came over the stones without a sound. The thin man was standing before Thomas understood what was happening. The Vael took him by the throat and the man dropped without a cry. The woman ran two steps toward the trucks and a second Vael caught her around the waist and lifted her off the ground. She kicked once. Then she was gone into the dark past the wall. Thomas grabbed Emmy by the arm and pulled her up out of the bag. "Run," he said. She did not ask. She ran. He kept his body between her and the gap and drove her toward the line of vehicles parked past the sleeping ring. His boots slid in the sand. A third Vael turned its head toward them, the antenna above its skull twitching, and started their way. The man who owned the blue pickup lay ten feet from the driver's door. His chest was open. His keys were still clipped to his belt loop. Thomas shoved Emmy toward the passenger side and cut left. The Vael lunged. Thomas dropped his shoulder and went under its arm, hit the sand on one knee, and tore the keys free with both hands. The clip snapped. He felt claws graze the back of his shirt. He rolled once, came up running, and threw himself into the cab. Emmy was already inside, pressed flat against the seat. Thomas jammed the key in and turned it. The engine caught on the second try. He put it in gear and drove. The Vael struck the tailgate hard enough to rock the truck on its springs. Thomas kept his foot down. The headlights swept the wall, the sleeping bags, the dark shape of the thin man on the sand. Then the camp was behind them and there was only the road and the dark. They drove a long time before Emmy spoke. "You left them," she said. Her voice was flat. Thomas watched the road. His hands were shaking on the wheel and he could not make them stop. "I got you out," he said. She looked at him and did not answer. He checked the mirror. No lights. No shapes. Only the dust the tires kicked up, settling back down behind them. He did not know where the road went. He drove anyway.