Angel Burn (Book 1 Of Angel Trilogy)

Chapter 43| FACE ON

Chapter 43| FACE ON

Normal POV

IT TOOK HOURS to get out of the Sierra Nevada, with its winding mountain roads and hairpin turns. Each minute that passed felt like an hour too long, beating at Natsu's temples. Even so, he grimly resisted the urge to gun the accelerator and take the sharp turns at a hundred miles an hour. He had to actually get there, not go hurtling off the side of a mountain. He drove with his hands tight on the wheel, taking it as fast as he dared. Finally he reached the highway and floored it, relieved to be moving quickly at last.

For the next twenty hours, he just drove, stopping twice for gas. Catching sight of himself in a men's room mirror, he hardly recognized his own image— his eyes looked dark, haunted. The thought barely registered before he was out the door again, heading back for the truck. Evening turned to night and then day again as he crossed Nevada and Utah, finally heading into Colorado. He was making good time, and very, very marginally Natsu felt the sick tension in his gut recede a notch. He still had to cross the Rockies, but it should be all right; he should make it with time to spare.

Half an hour into the Rockies, the truck got a flat.

Pulling over to the shoulder, Natsu got out and stared in dull disbelief at the left front tire. He checked the trunk; the space that should have contained a spare was empty. No. He slammed the trunk shut; the temptation to just keep driving on the rim was nearly overwhelming. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. OK. Don't panic. He'd still get there. He had time for this.

Soon a truck appeared. Natsu lunged to the side of the road and waved him down. He thought at first the guy wasn't going to stop, but then he slowed, pulling over to the shoulder a few hundred yards down the highway. Natsu jogged up to the cab. The trucker had rolled his window down and had his elbow propped on the door, gazing out at him.

The words came in a rush. "Hi, I've got a flat, and my cell's not working— do you think you could call a garage for me?"

The man was heavyset, with bright blue eyes that reminded Natsu of Gray. He glanced back at the truck. "You might have a hard time finding one open on a Sunday, up here. But I'll give you a lift, if you want— there's a restaurant about ten miles away; you can make some calls."

Sunday. Shit, he'd forgotten it was Sunday. Natsu looked back at the truck himself. It sat leaning to one side with the Rockies framed behind it, obviously undrivable. "Yeah— yeah, thanks," he said hurriedly, climbing into the cab.

The restaurant was brightly lit, with piped-in music that throbbed at his skull. It took Natsu almost an hour on the pay phone to find someone who could come out, and then almost two hours more of waiting, his muscles stiff with tension, until they arrived. By the time the tire was finally changed and he was behind the wheel again, the digital clock read 2:46. The Church of Angels' service would begin in just over an hour; Lucy would be attempting to disrupt the gate in just over three. The thought clutched at Natsu's stomach; he still had to get over the rest of the Rockies. I'll make it, he told himself, pulling back onto the road and accelerating hard. I'll make it or die trying.

Soon he was deep in the mountains, on a twisting highway. The route was familiar to him; he'd been to Colorado many times. Natsu blew out a breath. He should be in Denver by around four thirty— he'd have time to spare.

But then the traffic stopped.

He was about twenty miles outside of Denver when it happened. For the last hour or so, the stream of cars on the highway had been steadily increasing, slowing him down. His hands tight on the wheel, Natsu kept glancing at the clock, trying to reassure himself that he still had time, even with the traffic.

The flow of movement became slower and slower, until finally he was hemmed in on all sides by cars creeping along in fits and starts, no faster than about five miles an hour. Finally they just ground to a halt altogether. Natsu sat staring at the unmoving cars, his heart thudding wildly as the minutes passed. Ten minutes. Then fifteen, with no movement at all. Christ, what the hell was going on? And then it hit him, like a drench of arctic water.

Everyone was going to the Church of Angels. Tens of thousands of them, all heading in the exact same direction he was.

Natsu got out of the truck and jumped up onto the hood. His blood froze. He was on a slight rise; he could see miles of unmoving cars stretched out before him, glinting in the sun. Far ahead, people were standing outside their vehicles with the doors open, looking as if they'd already been there for hours. He was still more than fifteen miles away; it was a quarter past four now.

He wasn't going to make it. Luce would die alone, thinking that he hated her.

No. No.

Natsu leaped off the truck and flung open the passenger-side door. His gun was in the glove compartment; he grabbed it and shoved it under his T-shirt. Then he started to run.

Dimly, he was aware of cars and people moving past his vision. He kept his eyes on the road ahead, feet thudding rhythmically on the shoulder. At the gym, he could run almost eight miles in an hour. This was harder— he was on a hilly road; the mountain air was thin. It didn't matter. Setting his jaw, Natsu ran faster, pushing himself. After a few miles, he abandoned his jacket, throwing it to the side of the road.

He lost track of the time. There was only the endless concrete and running and the frantic beating of his heart. Finally he came up over a rise and saw two motorcycles parked on the grass to the side of the shoulder. A man and a woman were standing beside them, looking like they'd stopped to rest; they were pulling on their helmets. On the highway, the line of cars stretched out, as unmoving as ever.

The couple stopped mid-motion, watching Natsu in amazement as he jogged up to them. He put his hands on his thighs, gasping for breath; he could feel the sweat coursing down his face. "What— what time is it?" he panted.

The man had long brown hair in a ponytail, a braided goatee, and sunglasses. He took a cell phone from the pocket of his jeans. "Five twenty-seven," he said.

No. Oh, God, no. "How far to the Church of Angels?"

The man made a face. "Ah, dude, you're not one of those, are you? I don't know, five or six miles?"

Natsu's blood pounded in his brain. Half an hour. Luce might die in just over half an hour, and he wasn't going to make it in time; he wasn't going to be there for her.

"Here," said the woman, handing him a bottle of water. She was short, with a round face and long black hair, and was staring at him in concern. "You look like you need it."

His hands were shaky; he gulped down half of the water at once. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he handed the bottle back and said, "I've got to get to the cathedral by six o'clock— I've got to. Do you think you could give me a lift?"

The man shook his head with a grin. "Sorry, we're heading down to Colorado Springs; we'll be taking the next exit off. I can give you a tip, though— the angels aren't really coming, so you don't need to bother."

"No!" Natsu struggled to sound halfway calm; knew he wasn't managing it. "It's my girlfriend. I've got to get to her; she's in trouble. Please, I've got to be there— it's life-or-death, I mean it."

The smile faded from the man's face. "Well— I sure wish we could help you, dude, but. . . "

"What do you mean, life-or-death?" broke in the woman, her eyes wide.

L/N: That's the third update so please vote or comment. And if you get the title of the chapter, comment...