"I know," she says.
"Right. You would know if you saw it." I'm struggling to draw air into my lungs. The street is wobbling up ahead. The lawns and trees, too. They undulate like they're behind heat waves in the desert. Checking the rearview mirror, I see that it's the same behind us. And above us. The shimmering is happening all across the sky.
"Any ideas on what's next?" I ask, though I'm not sure I want to know. We fell through the ground into one of my worst memories. What's next can't be good.
Daryn shakes her head absently, her attention elsewhere. She leans toward me, ducking to look at the roof of the yellow bungalow. "Gideon … "
I turn to see what she sees.
Someone is up on the roof, standing right at the edge where Dad stood that day.
It's a woman I've never seen before-but I know who she is.
Daryn's mother is in a white dress that blows in the breeze. Her shoulder-length hair is a lighter blond than Daryn's. Her complexion's lighter than Daryn's honey-colored tan, too. But she has Daryn's long legs and straight posture. And like Daryn, there's a quiet challenge in her eyes. Not hostile. Just daring you to put anything less than your best foot forward.
She steps to the very edge of the roof. She looks ready to jump.
"Mom?" Daryn says. "Mom!"
Fear crashes into me. Daryn yanks at the door handle. "It's locked! Gideon, it's locked!"
My side is locked, too. The lock is mechanical but it won't give. I slam my shoulder into the door. Daryn is screaming and hitting the driver's-side door, and there's no sound worse than the raw fear in her voice.
"Gideon, how do I get out? How do I stop her?"
I don't know. It kills me that I don't know. I keep throwing myself against my side, smashing my shoulder into it. It feels like it's made of concrete, and suddenly I know we're not meant to get out. Nothing we do will change what's going to happen.
Huge black clouds are tumbling across the sky. They come like waves, casting shadows across the street and the house, plunging us into instant twilight. Gusts roll past, lifting leaves and blowing them across the lawns.
In just seconds it's growing dark. The houses at the end of the street disappear. Then the ones closer to us.
"Don't do this, Mom," Daryn pleads. Her mom has inched closer to the edge of the roof. "I'll come home. I'll come home. I'm coming home, Mom."
I grab Daryn's hand. I've never felt more useless.
The last thing I see before darkness takes everything is the flash of her mother's hair as she steps off the edge-a gold flame that burns bright, then snuffs out.
In the silence of the truck, all I hear is Daryn's breathing and mine.
"Oh, God. What just happened?"
I can't answer that. I reach over and pull her onto my lap.
"Gideon, I don't understand. What happened? Did she jump? I didn't see. I didn't see her fall."
I bury my hand in her hair and bring her forehead to mine. I'm glad she can't see my face in the darkness. I went through this. I lived this. I did see my father fall. I don't want her to feel this. I don't want her to know this pain, too.
The truck begins to shake. We instinctively latch on to each other.
Here we go.
I hear the sound of metal bending and groaning.
Something rough and dry snakes over my wrists. Then my ankles. The smell of dirt invades my nostrils.
Roots. I'm being shackled by roots.
They twist around my legs and arms. Twist around Daryn, too. I feel us being plucked up. Lifted off the seats of the truck. I hold on to her and we keep rising, up, up, up. Like the hellacious fall, but in reverse.
Dirt falls over me. Into my eyes and my mouth.
Daryn coughs. I'm hacking too, trying to clear my throat, when we're thrust up violently.
We push through a wall I can't see-a wall that hits me everywhere. Then we break into air, cool air, daylight surrounding us. Trees all around.
Airborne for an instant.
A lifetime.
Then we come down hard. Daryn lands square on my chest; my back hits earth that's sealed shut behind me. Around us roots slither into the ground like retreating eels, disappearing.
Jode and Marcus run up, weapons drawn, cursing. Ready to do anything to help.
I'm still trying to make sure it's over. Whatever it is.
Daryn rolls away from me, still coughing. She brushes her hair out of her eyes and sits up, looking at me.
"It wasn't her," I tell her. "It wasn't real."
Empty words. They do nothing to ease the devastation on her face.
There's not a single thing in the world that actually seems worth saying.
I feel like I failed her. Like I should just walk away. At the same time, I feel like pulling her into my soul.