It can’t go any other way.
It’s already been written. Some stories refuse to be erased.
All that’s left is to turn the page.
Chapter Twenty-Four
No One Leaves
Morning was supposed to be a fresh start. The sins of the day before should have washed away. It doesn’t always happen that way.
The storm had crawled off past the horizon, moving on to wash another location clean. It left the island shivering. Puddles mirrored a sky the color of bruised flesh. The road to the airport had been beaten up—shoulders shaved away, and eucalyptus leaves plastered to the dirt like wet confetti.
Efrain drove the airport jeep with both hands steady on the wheel, his jaw set. Zach rode shotgun, his hair damp from the fog, his knuckles nicked and healing. They didn’t speak much. The engine did all the talking, climbing, and complaining as the road twisted through the hills.
“It could’ve been worse,” Efrain said. “We still have a road.”
He didn’t sound convinced it would stay that way, but they pressed on.
Zach scanned the washouts, the low fog threading through sage. “For now.”
They crested the last bend. The airfield opened before them, looking like a tornado had rolled through.
Efrain braked and let out a long sigh. “Damn.”
Debris littered the runway. No one would be landing until the mess was cleared.
“I might want to take back my offer to help,” Zach said halfheartedly.
“No takebacks,” Efrain said, pulling forward to park.
They exited his jeep and walked toward the patio where the diner, tower, and offices sat. Efrain led, turning the corner.
He stopped so abruptly that Zach bumped into him.
“Holy shit,” Efrain whispered, horror threading through his voice.
“What—?” Zach began, stepping past him.
He froze.
Where the broken sign had once hung, there was now a woman suspended from its remaining beam—dress shimmering faintly in the breeze, head bowed, hair hiding her face, feet dangling like she was mid-dance.
Candy.
“No,” Zach breathed. “Not again.”
Efrain swallowed hard. “We have to call this in. Don’t go any closer.”
“This can’t be happening,” Zach whispered, taking an involuntary step forward before registering he was moving.
Efrain grabbed his arm. “Zach. Stop!”
Zach barely heard him. Shock blurred everything. The wind rocked her gently. There was no obvious blood—the storm had washed her clean. She was on display.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking.
Efrain’s radio crackled. “Avalon dispatch. Go ahead.”
