Worth Dying for (A Dying for a Living Novel Book 5)

by Kory M. Shrum

  “Where’s the camera?” I ask Uriel who’s standing in the first aisle, eyeing the candy bars with a wrinkled nose.

  “Over your left shoulder,” he says, without looking up. “Is this food?”

  “Some people think so.”

  At last I see the camera. I reach up and rip it off the wall without using any muscle. It crashes to the floor, bouncing off the cashier’s face.

  “Oops, sorry.” My hand goes to my mouth reflexively.

  The bathroom door opens, the sound of a flushing toilet following someone into the store. I hear the footsteps but don’t see anyone until he reaches the end of the aisle. A very short old man wearing a flannel shirt and a star belt buckle appears beside a display of sunflower seeds and air fresheners.

  “Where’s Marge?” he asks, his mouth falling open in surprise.

  “She’s dead,” I say and squeeze his heart until he hits his knees gasping. Then I drag his body behind the counter out of sight.

  “She recognized you.” Uriel glances down at the open newspaper the cashier left on the countertop.

  I look up from the man’s body and follow his gaze.

  On the first page, it’s our pictures—me, Jesse, Ally, Gloria. Suspected Terrorists at Large.

  “Ugh! This is a shitty picture of me,” I whine, crumpling up the newspaper.

  “Would you rather they took your picture now?” Uriel asks with a snide sneer.

  I catch sight of my reflection in the glass of a lottery ticket dispenser and even in the pale reflection the jagged scar is hideous.

  “Good point. Celebrity is celebrity.”

  I’m wishing a second person would come out of the bathroom, someone else I can kill.

  Uriel grins. “Yes, you’re getting very good at it. Dispensing with the unworthy.”

  I arch an eyebrow. “Is that what I’m doing? I thought angels were supposed to condemn murder. And besides, these people aren’t anything to me. The only person I care about is in Arizona. And she needs me.”

  My heart flutters. Remember who your heart is.

  The only person I care about.

  “I never claimed to be an angel. But if I am, Satan was an angel, according to your mythology. Isn’t he supposed to be the evilest of us all?”

  “Yet more evidence that you’re an ancient alien,” I chirp, stepping over the cashier’s body. “One of these days I’ll get you to confess it outright.”

  He arches his eyebrows. “You will want to destroy the recording device in the back room.”

  “Okay,” I tell him. “And don’t think I didn’t notice that you changed the subject.”

  I march into the backroom, past rows of unstocked items and an employee bathroom. In the office, which I have to unlock from the inside, I find what Uriel is talking about. The camera was feeding everything to this recording station, a pile of VCR like devices, one on top of the other and three televisions showcasing the store from different angles.

  “The wire here—” Uriel begins.

  “Don’t care.” I yank the whole system out of the wall and throw it up into the ceiling. Then I slam it down on the industrial desk and up again. Then I slam it side to side, bouncing it off one cinder block wall then another, until there’s nothing to throw around but a pile of pieces.

  “Did that do it?” I ask.

  “Yes,” Uriel says, stepping back so I can get out of the office.

  “Good. We’re done here.”

  The red pickup, though beat-up, is actually in better condition than the white Camaro. Another strike against the Camaro is that it’s a stick, and I don’t drive stick. So I unhook the nozzle from the red truck and return it to the gas pump.

  I admit it isn’t luxurious. The truck smells stale and greasy, and the leather steering wheel is slick in my hands. And what the hell is the Putin Bobblehead all about? Couple the hideous vehicle with the fact that I hurt my face and I’m wearing ugly shoes and cotton clothes—I feel like I’ve reached a low point. At least I’m behind the wheel again. I’m in control.

  And none of these setbacks are going to stop me. I’m going to put this truck in drive and get to the base even if I have to drive through Hell to do it.

  Chaplain, I’m going to finish what you started.

  “How long do you think it’ll take us to get to Arizona?” I ask Uriel as I release the parking brake and move the shift into the drive position. He folds his wings against his back in the passenger seat, trying to get comfortable in the cramped space.

  “Before sunset on this day,” Uriel says.

  “Good.” My shoulders relax for the first time all day. “I can hardly wait.”

  Chapter 34

  Jesse

  “Oh. My. God.” I press my forehead to the glass window. “Could this place be any freaking creepier?”

  “At least it’s daylight,” Ally offers. “I’m sure this place is more menacing at night.”

  Early morning sun or not, the landscape is barren. There’s nothing for miles and miles in any direction. To the east of us sits a cluster of buildings that no one on Earth would call a “town” except the crazy fucker who named it Cochise.

  To the west is the large, desolate army base. The place looks like a square fortress of white limestone, stark and obvious in the landscape. The compound is enclosed in a solid wall, the same color as the rest of the buildings it protects. The wall must be at least twenty feet high.

  Gloria drives to the west side of the compound and parks the Jeep behind a big boulder about a quarter of a mile from the wall.

  “We’ll leave the car here,” Gloria says.

  “What if someone steals it?” Maisie asks, twisting in her seat to look around.

  “We are going into the compound, right?” I ask. I see Gloria’s drawing again, all the bodies tossed in the sand that could easily be the stretch of land between here and the enclosed army base.

  “Yes,” Gloria says, stepping out of the Jeep.

  “Well this isn’t ideal for a quick getaway.” Ally frowns and slides out of the Jeep too, leaving me and Maisie to look at each other with weary faces.

  Gloria nods in the distance, toward the end of this stretch of wall. “If you stay on this side, no one from the town will see the blast.”

  “Fine, fine,” I say and start marching toward the end of the wall. I’ve been walking for a full ten minutes, longer than a quarter mile between the car and the closest edge of the wall, and I still haven’t reached the end. The compound must be huge inside. Of course, once upon a time it had been a fully operational military base. But that was twenty years ago. I don’t think anyone has been here in years, not since Brinkley and Caldwell managed to expose the camps for the hellholes they were and got them shut down. Was Brinkley the last one to come here? Gathering intel on Caldwell from old records in hopes of finding anything that could bring him down?

  “You let the monster out,” I think aloud to Brinkley. “And here I am trying to stuff him back in.”

  Finally, once I see the end of the wall in the distance and know I’m about as far from anyone and anything as I can get, I decide to do it. I lean my body against the stone barrier and feel the warm rock through my clothes.

  Gabriel appears, a striking figure in the desert landscape. So beautiful in fact with his black suit and brilliant green eyes that my breath hitches at the sight of him. He watches me through dark lashes.

  The air around me shimmers, then kicks to life, sparking to flame.

  “Let’s keep the noise level down,” I tell him. “So one big explosion should do it.”

  The power rolls through me, making me grimace enough that my lips pull back and expose my teeth. My eyes pinch shut against the intensity. I can feel my jaw clench and unclench with each wave of power. All the muscles in my body do the same. I’m on the verge of screaming, when the release comes. The power flares, slamming into the barrier.

  The first explosion rips a giant crack through the wall, chunks of rock raining down on me unt
il I quickly erect my barrier to protect me from the larger flying rubble.

  So much for one and done.

  I reposition my body against the rock and pulse again. Immediately, I fall forward when the rock tumbles out from beneath me. I’m glad my shield stays in place, since I’m sure falling onto a pile of jagged rock, or concrete, or whatever the hell this shit is, would’ve hurt.

  When the dust clears, my shield fades. I collapse onto the rocks. The pain isn’t too bad, but a sharp jolt shoots up my knee into my hip. Another jolt shoots from my wrist to my elbow where I catch myself.

  Gabriel appears in front of me, his sleek black wings trailing through the sand. His back is to me as he surveys the carnage.

  Bodies. All over the place like red solo cups on a frat house lawn.

  There must be no less than thirty bodies littering the yard between the barrier and the closest building. They lay where they were slain, in various stages of decomposition. I’m super thankful that it doesn’t smell like death. The carrions have done a good job of carting away most of the flesh that would have created such a stench. As if he knew I was talking about him, a crow takes flight, lifting up into the sky, cawing his protest.

  The rest of the bodies look… mummified.

  “What the hell happened here?” I ask, pulling myself to standing. The rubble shifts beneath me as I slide off the mound onto the soft earth. I bump into Gabriel and find him solid. I’d forgotten he could do that. Never around Rachel or Maisie, of course. But when it’s the two of us, his body can feel as real as Ally’s.

  The back of our hands brush and his feathers twitch. The tie around his neck deepens to a midnight blue.

  “He wanted blood from everyone who had harmed him.”

  “So he has been back here.” I lean against Gabriel’s arm. I keep expecting him to disappear, to vaporize like a shimmery heat on the horizon. But he remains as solid as the rock I blasted through. “Maybe this place won’t have the effect on him that we are hoping for.”

  “He will be unnerved,” Gabriel assures me. He stretches back his left wing and encircles me. It darkens out the bright desert sun for a moment, enveloping me in a thick shadow. “I am worried for you.”

  “Worried?” I snort.

  “Worry or concern,” he says, looking down at me as he uses his wings to curl me closer to his body. “I believe those are the words your people use to convey this sentiment.”

  A feather brushes my cheek, giving me chills. “You told me this would work. Are you saying you’re not sure if Caldwell—”

  “Caldwell does not concern me,” Gabriel says. “You concern me.”

  I push the soft black feathers out of my face before one of them stabs me in the eye. “We talked about cryptic messages, Gabe. If you want me to understand something, you have to articulate the entire idea, remember?”

  Gabriel considers my face for a moment. And the longer that he stares at me the more reality thins and I realize I’m looking at another being. Not an angel. No, not an angel but a—

  “It will be difficult for you,” he says and the desert comes into focus. “You will choose Alice, I believe. But it will be very hard for you.”

  His wings spring open in a great whoosh and the air kicks up around me. He disappears entirely as Ally and Maisie clamber through the hole created by my blast. His dramatic departure blows sand into my eye. I pinch it closed, blinking furiously.

  “Not cool!”

  Maisie shrieks and slides on the rubble, dropping the fat pug in her arms. Ally grabs her elbow at the last moment to steady her.

  I blink away tears. It takes a moment before I can see both Ally and Maisie clearly.

  It will be very hard for you to choose.

  Chapter 35

  Rachel

  “But you must kill her,” Uriel says, his vehemence apparent. Wind from the cracked window blows back his fiery locks. It’s strange seeing him appear so real. Jesse and I talked about that once. We compared notes trying to decide exactly what these so called angels were. I must admit, my idea of the ancient aliens appearing as a benevolent force never seemed more correct than it does now.

  My affinity for Thundercats can’t be overlooked. After all, if you were a crazy alien trying to brainwash a girl into doing something insane, wouldn’t you appear as her childhood hero? Why else would a so-called angel come to me in this ridiculous get up?

  “Something’s changed.” I stare at the endless highway stretching before me.

  I imagine Brinkley holding Jessup by the shoulders the day they checked me into the asylum. I was kicking, screaming, thrashing. But before they sedated me, I heard Brinkley console her: We’re a team. If we have to, we sacrifice for the team.

  “You want Earth to burn.”

  I give Uriel a sharp look. “Don’t be dramatic.”

  He raises a malicious eyebrow. “What do you want? Truly?”

  I look out at the road, Cochise 15 miles.

  We’re a team. If we have to, we sacrifice for the team.

  We were a team. What are we now? What is Jessup to me now?

  “Your desires change so rapidly within your own mind, that I do not comprehend them,” Uriel goes on. He doesn’t bother to look out at the road. He continues to stare at me with his brow furrowed. We could be driving through hell, a trailer park, or a battlefield. He seems equally indifferent to the landscape.

  I consider his words for a heartbeat longer until I have my answer. “I want Caldwell dead and that last little piece of Chaplain erased from existence.”

  “You are not strong enough to destroy him. You will have to kill the others first, if you hope to achieve that.”

  A memory surfaces from the inky depths of my mind. I was in my new apartment in St. Louis. The setting sun had just touched the river and it was as if it was dissolving into the water, melting into a stream of red, pink, and orange. The uppermost part of the sky was already turning a darker violet. I remember in that moment wondering where they’d put Chaplain’s body—I hadn’t known at the time as I do now, that the partis simply incinerate to ash when their power is absorbed.

  I sat there wanting to see his body, wanting to put an ear to his chest and make sure there was no heartbeat. I still want that.

  Brinkley knocked on the door of my apartment, calling out in the gruff voice I miss so terribly much, and I told him to come in.

  He didn’t come in alone.

  Trailing behind him was this scrawny kid. She hunched over slightly, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest. Part of her hair had been singed off on one side but was regrowing. She looked like she’d just walked out of Hell, literally, ash marks and fire scarred to prove it.

  “This is Jesse,” Brinkley said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “She’s the newest member of our team.”

  I arched an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

  “I’d like her to bunk with you until we can set her up with her own place,” Brinkley said. What he didn’t say spoke volumes: I wasn’t expecting this anymore than you were, but we’re doing this anyway. Throw me a bone here.

  “And I’d like her to shadow you in the Hutch replacement Saturday,” he went on. “Show her how it’s done.”

  How it’s done. So she had NRD and wanted to be an agent. I gave Jesse another once-over. She didn’t look like the kind of overzealous kid who might sign up for this job for the sheer morbidity of it. So she was here because, like me, she was running away from something worse.

  “Hi Jesse,” I said at last, climbing off the sofa. “You can put your stuff in here.” I pointed toward my bedroom.

  “I don’t have any stuff,” she said.

  I expected her to burst into tears by the strain in her voice. But her jaw set tight and her chin lifted a little higher. So I’d been right. She was a survivor.

  “I’m going to give Jesse some money to get started. I know tomorrow is your only day off, but I was hoping you’d take her shopping, show her around the city. Get her a bus pass
and all that.”

  “I can do it myself,” Jesse piped up.

  “St. Louis can be a little rough,” Brinkley said. He’d always been overprotective. “It’d be nice if Rachel can give you an idea of the better parts of town before you go off on your own.”

  “Don’t worry,” I told her, sensing her annoyance. “I’m not your chaperone. You can do whatever the hell you want. But I hope you’ll let me come with you because I love shopping.”

  “I hate shopping.”

  “Then you definitely should take me along. Unless you want to wear the same pair of underwear forever.”

  That got a smile out of her.

  “Cherry Coke float?” I asked. “I’ve got the Coke and the vanilla.”

  She hesitated, looking for the catch. “That’d be awesome.”

  Brinkley gave me an appreciative smile. “I’ve got to get back to the bureau and process her paperwork. Call me if you need anything.”

  “Yes, dad.” Brinkley wasn’t fooled by my tone and I was glad he didn’t take it personally. I wanted the kid to warm up to me.

  When the door closed, Jesse sat on the bar stool and watched me make her float. Two scoops of vanilla and half a can of Cherry Coke. I slid it across the counter with a teaspoon.

  She frowned at it. “This is a tiny spoon! Don’t you have anything bigger?”

  “Desserts are best enjoyed with small spoons. Trust me.” I nodded at the float when her brow creased. “Try it.”

  She did and nodded. “You’re right.”

  “And it’ll last longer,” I added, before moving right into better topics. “You can have the bed tonight. You look like you need a good night’s sleep. Besides, I sleep like the dead no matter where I pass out. So the couch will be fine with me.”

  “I can’t take your bed,” she said.

  “You can and you will,” I said. “The only problem here is you didn’t laugh at my joke ‘sleep like the dead’…get it?”

  She gave me a pitiful smile. “You need better jokes.”

  “See if I make you another float!” I said and tried to steal her glass.

  She slid away from me. “No, no. I’m sorry. This is so good.”