While Mom was still away at work.
Id heard the front stoop creak, and instantly knew who had come.
That I was trapped.
That I was trapped.
In my own home.
Thats just not how it worked anymore.
But my anger simmered near the edge of control.
I took a calming breath.
All that separated me from a monster whod come to snatch my life away.
Silence stretched, then another muffled step.
I tensed, prepping for battle.
I knewexactlywhere he was standing.
How his weight was aligned.
So why the delay?
I thought furiously, cycling through possibilities.
Was he wait- ing me out?
Could he possibly believe I didnt know he was there?
The first shot exploded through the door.
High and left, but I panicked just the same.
A gun this time.
I dropped into a crouch, options rapidly dwindling.
I darted toward a grimy, dirt-streaked square of glass over- looking my single bed.
I never sensed the trap.
The second bullet punched through the closet, slicing into my right shoulder and spinning me like a top.
I gasped in pain.
Fell against the bedside table.
The third shot tore into my chest.
Pain tinged everything red.
Hed been waiting for me to flee.
Happy birthday to me.
The door slid open.
A man entered, tall and thin, with coal-black hair cut short.
Narrow, elegant nose.
He wore the same unadorned black suit as always.
His work clothes, I supposed.
Behind the opaque lenses, his face was utterly expressionless.
That always got to me.
What kind of human could do such horrible things, yet show zero reflection of them in his features?
The black-suited man stood over my punctured, broken body.
I croaked, as my heartbeat lost its rhythm.
Wed been through this before.
Always the same question.
Im sorry, he said quietly, taking aim directly between my eyes.
I wasnt going to scream.
Id done it before, and refused to give him the satisfaction.
I wasnt going to beg either.
Id learned that didnt get me anywhere.
But I wanted an answer.
More gurgle than words.
Liquid was filling my mouth, hot and wet.
The hole in my chest burned like a sliver of the sun.
I knew a response wasnt coming.
So, ever so slowly, marshaling my last remaining strength, I lifted my left arm.
Go to hell, I whispered, choking on my own blood.
A thunderous bang, followed immediately by another.
Long time no see.
Part One
MIN
1
Monday, September 18, 2017
My eyes slid open.
Birds zipped by overhead, squabbling as they rode the updrafts.
Inhaling deeply, I smelled huckleberry and red cedar, mixed with the indescribable sharpness of evergreen trees.
Pine straw was jabbing me in the back.
A sour tang filled my mouth, like Id been sucking on pocket change.
Just a tenderness to the scar on my left shoulder.
Exactly like last time.
And the time before that.
And the ones before those.
A glance at the sky told me it was early morning, but not the same day as before.
Though I knew it was pointless, I tried to remember how Id gotten there.
But I was grasping at smoke.
Thats not how it worked.
I simply felt pain, died, and then woke up again.
I liked saying it out loud, as if challenging the universe to argue the point.
No acrid stench of panic sweat.
Not a misplaced thread to evidence the .45 caliber slugs that had ripped through my body.
The faded garments looked and felt the same as always.
I shivered, and not from the temperature.
My breath misted in the gusts swirling down the mountainside.
Fall mornings at this altitude are no joke.
Its a wonder I hadnt frozen to death while lying there exposed.
I snorted in a most unladylike fashion, then hugged myself close.
Yeah, itd be a shame if I died, right?
At least I dont think so, anyway.
I age normally, even though I have this curious habit of dying and coming back to life.
Im not like a ghost or vampire, either.
Those guys areun-dead, or so Ive been told.
If theres ever a zombie apocalypse, head for my town.
Go any farther north and youre in Canada.
People make the trip, however, since the town is surrounded by national parkland.
A few magazines have named Fire Lake the most beautiful vacation spot in America.
Not that I cared that morning as I crept down the mountainside.
I had one goal in mind: to slip back home without being noticed.
It took ten minutes to reach the first houses.
There I paused to tighten my sneakershad I been wearing them when shot?
before slinking into a park area north of town.
I scurried along back roads, skirting the neighborhoods above the main village.
I had no intention of telling anyone what had happened.
Not after my experiences as a child.
I was cold, hungry, and demoralized.
Desperate for a shower.
An emergency sit-down with my psychiatrist would qualify as torture.
I already had a little blue pill.
Dr. Lowell hadnt believed me when I was little.
No one had, not even Mom.
My horrifying memories were the product of a troubled mind.
I wasnt saying a word.
Reaching the business district, I hurried west, toward the rougher end of the valley.
The typically vibrant neighborhood felt deserted.
I passed small-but-charming hotels with no signs of guests.
Most of the vacation houses had their shutters locked up tight.
The streets had an almost ghost-town feel.
Strange, even that early.
Then, with a wince, I remembered what day it was.
The Announcement is tonight, genius.
Think that could be it?
September 18, 2017.
The most anticipated press conference in history.
We find out if the Anvil will kill us all.
It was a measure of my own problems that Id forgotten the one tormenting everyone else.
I crossed a footbridge, then turned right onto Quarry Road, heading back upslope.
The road dropped behind the ridge, and I turned left onto a gravel driveway plunging out of sight.
Fire Lake may be romanticized for its beauty, but the brochures arent discussing my neighborhood.
My mother and I shared a depressing tan- and-peach unit slumped in the far corner.
Early risers were puttering about, watering plants or coaxing dogs to do their business.
But no one spared more than a passing glance.
It wasnt that kind of place.
The gazes I did meet carried an unspoken anxiety.
I bristled at the tension.
Yes, humanity was in danger of extinction.
I knew the aw- ful truth.
If the Anvil struck the planetat any anglealmost nothing would survive.
Doomsday might be at hand, and wed find out in just a few hours.
But I couldnt deal with both things at once.
Not after what had happened in my bedroom.
Ive got my own problems.
My steps slowed as I drew close to home.
Id been gone nearly twenty-four hours this time.
In all the deaths before, Id never missed an entire night.
She might not even be here.
Mom had been working the graveyard shift for three weeks, pouring coffee for the glory of minimum wage.
It was possible Id beaten her home, but there wasnt a car to tip me off.
We didnt own or need one.
I couldnt remember the last time wed left the valley.
Mom walked into town every day, same as me.
I studied the stoop for signs.
Wet foot- prints on our grubby welcome mat.
But nothing outside the trailer caught my attention.
Then a shudder passed through me.
The black-suited man was here.
He came right through to end mylife.
Anything I detected could behisdoing.
It took me several moments to calm down.
Then, disgusted with everything, I lurched forward and pulled the screen door wide.
Keys on the counter.
Her iPod was connected to a pair of desk speakersour redneck stereoand Adele was crooning softly in the gloom.
The TV was off.
Our router blinked at me from across the room.
Id demanded Wi-Fi to live, and had finally gotten my wish the day I turned thirteen.
An odd-numbered birthday, so safe, and not unlucky at all.
One of the few that had actually been pleasant.
Not that we paid for Internet service.
There were dozens of tourist businesses in the valley.
Nobody noticed a little stolen bandwidth.
Mom and I usually swiped ours from the ski resort straight east.
Even our cable was hooked up under-the-table, thanks to a friend.
Her door was closed.
My room was at the opposite end.
I crept across the living room, wincing with every creak.
The irony wasnt lost on me.
Reaching my door, I paused to examine it.
The metal slats looked exactly as they always had.
I slid the door open.
The track failed to squeak for the first time I could recall.
My heart skipped a beat.
I rarely discovered mistakes.
Inside, my room was in perfect order.
Shoes in a haphazard pile under my desk.
The carpet was clean.
No damage to the closet, walls, or floor.
My fifth murder, erased.
Like it never happened.
I waited a minute, then yawned theatrically, opening my door and trudging to our shared bathroom.
It didnt take long the living room stretches only twenty feet.
We could pack up everything and move inside of an hour, though wed probably just leave the stuff.
I paused a moment, staring into the mirror.
Saw the ghost of my mother, thirty years ago.
Some things you dont want to see.
No ones ever accused me of being a fashion maven.
I shoved books into a backpack and arrowed for the front door.
The town had decided that school would remain open this week, and first bell was in thirty.
The knob was turning in my hand when my mothers door screeched open.
Her head poked through the gap.
One look, and I knew she wasnt fooled.
Questions burned in her watery gray eyes, but she held them back.
Promise me youll be home for the Announcement.
Mom was short and slim like me, with long, stringy hair going white at the roots.
Pale skin, pulled tight over birdlike features and a thin-lipped, frowning mouth.
Everything about her seemed fragile and overused, like a wildflower that never got enough water.
I silently cursed the deadbeat father Id never even meta daily tradition upon seeing my mothers weathered face.
Then I cursed myself.
Because I just wanted out of there.
Try as I might, at moments like this I felt nothing more strongly than .
That my mother had allowed her life to reach this point.
That the same could happen to me.
Shame blossomed inside me.
Moms stare was unrelenting.
Promise me, Min.
I dont know where you .
and on your birthday, again .
Neither of us wanted to go there.
Her voice firmed like it used to years ago.
Id like for us to be together, come what may.
Ill be home, I repeated.
One foot over the threshold.
She nodded gravely, retreating back into her elevator-sized bedroom.
The screen door slammed as I hurried down the lane.
