"What?" Lyse asked. "I'm sorry. I wasn't listening."
"Let's find Dev and the girls and . . ."
Niamh broke off, eyes on Lyse.
"I can't," Lyse said, fighting back hysteria. "There are just too many of them. I can't bear it. I'll lose my mind . . ."
Niamh didn't reply. Just stood there, surveying the butchery that lay before them. They stayed that way for a long time, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Niamh knelt down and began to examine one of the bodies, her long brown hair hanging down like a curtain across her face.
Lyse saw that there were also dead Shrieking Eagles mixed in with the other women, and some of The Flood's combat troops had been taken down in the melee as well, recognizable by their black camouflage fatigues and guns. They may have been on different sides, but in death they were all united. It was clear that none of these deaths had been easy ones.
"What do you think happened?" Niamh asked. "When do you think it happened?"
"I don't know," Lyse said, because she had no idea where they were in the timeline. Had they been gone for hours? Minutes? Days?
"I can't . . . I just . . . I can't . . ." Lyse began, but her mouth was having trouble finishing the sentence.
"Easier to live in denial," Niamh said with no judgment in her voice. She was just stating a fact. "To just pretend that none of this happened. That everything was okay again."
"You're closer to the truth than you know," Lyse said, thoughtfully. "There's no need to pretend . . . not when it's so much easier to just go back in time and make sure it never happens in the first place."
Lyse smiled, knowing that this was only the first stop on her journey. It was a moment in time, meant to remind her of what would happen if she didn't succeed . . . and Lyse did not plan to fail.
Evan
The landscape was dark and oppressive and Evan had been walking for miles-at least, it felt like miles. It was hard to tell time or speed or space here because the emptiness of the desert was unwavering in its sameness. He'd stopped calling Arrabelle's name long ago because it had begun to seem like a moot point. It was becoming very clear that Arrabelle wasn't here, and that screaming his throat raw wasn't going to bring her back.
There was a part of his brain that said she'd been taken away because he hadn't wanted to be with her. He'd planned on telling her soon. That, though he cared for her, he didn't . . . no, couldn't . . . be in a relationship with her. He just couldn't be a partner to anyone. Couldn't give her what she needed emotionally. He was happy with his life . . . with who he was . . . he couldn't be put in a position again where he had to defend his right to be himself.
He knew she would protest, tell him that she loved him and wanted to be with him no matter what-and then he would have to tell her the truth. That he'd been in love with someone once, before he'd met Arrabelle, and that the person he'd thought he loved-and who he'd thought loved him back-had left him when they'd discovered more about Evan than they'd wanted to know.
He'd thought the pain he'd suffered would go away-but the rejection had opened a wound deep inside him. One that would not heal. He would tell Arrabelle the story. He would make her see that no matter how much he cared about her . . . he could not be vulnerable like that again.
"Arrabelle!" he called out, the gesture futile. "Arrabelle, please! Wherever you are, listen to me!"
He stopped walking, just stood there in the semidarkness, swaying on his feet, and then he sat down in the sand. But that wasn't good enough . . . he lay back and let the sand fill in around him, slipping inside his clothes so that the tiny granules scratched at his skin.
He stared up at the sky-there were three moons the size of cantaloupes circling each other. He reached up, wanting to touch them with his hands, but they were too far away . . . so far away that to claim them, he'd need a spaceship and the ability to travel at light speed.
"Arrabelle," he said, her name soft on his lips. "Where are you, Arrabelle?"
She didn't answer him, but it almost didn't matter anymore. He was content in the knowledge that no matter where she was, he was with her in spirit. This was how he'd expected to go . . . alone . . . and now it was happening. Just as he'd imagined.
"Arrabelle, if I'm being completely honest with myself here-and that's something I should be, honest with myself, because why lie to me, right?" He said all this out loud. "Besides, there's no one else here to lie to anyway."