However Long the Night

Chapter Twelve

Two days later, his phone lit up and his social feeds screamed: "Local boy killed in boating accident." Pete's easy smile filled his screen, and Will broke out in a sweat. Swearing under his breath, skin crawling, he threw his cell across the room, startling his mother as she loaded her dinner plate in the dishwasher.

"Will?"

"I can't right now, Mom. I'm sorry." Scooping up his phone from the corner, he made a beeline for the stairs, and fled to his room.

A couple of minutes later, the inevitable knock came.

"Honey, are you okay? I don't mean to pry..."

His mouth a grim line, he opened the door and passed her his phone. The breaking news had been shared over a hundred times already.

Her jaw dropped. "Oh my God. I remember he came over here a few times. Oh, Will..." Pulling him toward her, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He closed his eyes; he was hollow inside.

Taking a step back, he moved to his bed and looked out the window. Fireflies were blinking in the dusky garden below.

"I need to be alone for a while if that's okay. I might as well just call it a night."

"Of course. Call down if you need me. Please. I love you, honey."

"I love you, too."

He heard his door click close and the sound of her footsteps became quieter as she walked slowly down the hall.

Slumping back on his bed, he stared at the ceiling. Cold fingers pinched his heart.

Pete's dead.

He'd hoped that he'd somehow read his number wrong. He knew he hadn't, but he'd still hoped.

Why him? He didn't deserve it. Why me? How am I supposed to live like this?

Alex's death had been a tragedy, his dad's heart attack was frightening, and Pete's accident was an exclamation point. Will had seen life snuffed out before, and the repeat performance felt like an omen of things to come.

Resentment grew claws and scratched the inside of his stomach as he imagined what the coming years would bring. It was difficult enough to avoid 1s at seventeen – what would he as the years passed, and almost everyone he knew was a 1? Would he be forced to watch in silence as they flickered off, one by one? Or would he fold into himself and away from others just to avoid the pain?

A vision of Uncle Matt's face bubbled up in his brain again. Will wondered if he was destined to follow in his uncle's solitary footsteps, or if he'd stick things out in Reese, only to become crushed by the consequences of his morbid gift over time.

And, if Uncle Matt could see the numbers, did that mean there were others in their family who'd seen them, too? Were the numbers hidden somewhere in their genes, waiting to infect each generation with anxiety and fear along the way? Will squirmed at the thought. There was no way to know, unless his uncle came back to Reese and Will found a way to ask him. If he was going to broach the subject, it would have to be face-to-face, with no paper trail to concern his parents if Matt decided Will was crazy for asking. Shivering, he pulled his warm quilt over him and closed his eyes.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed on the mattress beside him.

Skye: Shel told me about Pete. I'm so sorry.

Will: Thanks. I'm not sure what to say.

Skye: Anything I can do?

Will: I wish there was. I appreciate you reaching out. I just need to let it sink in.