Counting Down (10 page)

Abby wasn’t anything close to an astronomer or a physicist, but parts of what he had said made sense. Something about the information was oddly comforting to her as well. It was nice to know what was happening could be explained with science; measured and understood as being real and tangible instead of the product of some unseen, supernatural phenomenon.

There was a lot of theory and opinion, but neither of them was sure of many facts. One of the few things they could both agree on as being concrete was that for some reason Kyle had more power, or whatever it could be called, than Abby did; most likely due to him having been using his abilities for much longer. He could see into the future further and with more regularity. He also seemed to feel their connection more strongly. But Kyle was quick to point out that they were both clearly in this together. For some reason they had both been chosen to have the knowledge to survive.

Abby leaned back in her chair. “I think I know why my dreams only started recently.” She continued when Kyle looked over questioningly. “I have taken anti-depressants since right after I moved to New York. After we buried my mother.” She paused in momentary memory. “The first night I had a dream was the first night I didn’t take my pill.”

Kyle showed interest. “Why did you stop taking them all of a sudden?”

“Well it was the same night I broke up with Alex and things were weird. I just wanted to feel like a real person, someone who had normal emotions. I didn’t even cry over him.”

“Maybe you didn’t love him.” Kyle eyed her, observing her reaction.

Abby allowed herself a moment to think about that. Of course it was something she had considered herself. Maybe her relationship with Alex had simply been convenient.
He
was someone to spend time with;
to
have some kind of pseudo-intimacy with
.

“Honestly, if he hadn’t cheated on me I was probably going to cut him loose soon anyway.” She hesitated, looked down at her hands. “I’m not sure I’ve ever actually been in love with anyone. Everything I ever thought was real turned out to be something else.”

“What did it turn out to be?”

“I don’t know. But I never felt that special something, you know. I never felt really understood and cared for in some unconditional way.” She laughed bitterly. “Even to me that sounds stupid. I don’t even know what that would be like. If it’s real or just something I imagined love should be when I was a fanciful teenager.”

She took a swig of soda, echoed that bitter laugh. “Up until recently I just figured that my experiences were the way things were supposed to be. People came together, got physical, and that was it. I had grown to think that can’t-live-without-you feeling was just a byproduct of fairy tales and paperback romances.”

“I don’t think so.” Kyle’s face was thoughtful. “Maybe you just need someone to come along and woo you the right way.”

Abby smiled and tried not to blush. She took another sip from her coke can and let herself fantasize about the idea of being wooed the right way by Kyle.

They were becoming comfortable with each other very quickly. She had easily accepted that he simply knew her and she knew him. As odd as it was, regardless of how long or how little they had been aware of each other’s existence, they were steadily beginning to act like old friends who had only perhaps been apart for a while.

Kyle got up to get them each another diet coke from the fridge. “I think whatever it is that’s coming is going to get here at the stroke of midnight on the
twenty fir
st.” Abby couldn’t hide her sho
ck. Of course she believed him but s
he had thought they would have more time to prepare and more time to figure out the answers to all of their questions.

“You’re kidding?” She took the can from him and opened it. “That’s extremely specific. Are you sure it’s that exact time?”

“Yeah, pretty sure. That’s what my gut is telling me plus it seems to be the date all the ancient prophecies point to. It’s foretold by the Mayans, the Egyptians, the Cybil of Rome, Native Americans, the Bible, just to name a few.” He took his seat again and turned to her with intense eyes. “It pops up everywhere when you look into the end of the world. I don’t think we’ll be above ground after that. Actually, I’m planning on having Jim and Alex pack up the dogs and get moved into that thing by Thursday afternoon. I don’t want to take any chances.”

“Okay. Well that shouldn’t be too hard to explain I guess. They’re already looking at both of us cross eyed since I mentioned the glowing thing.”

Kyle picked up on her sarcasm and smiled. “We’ll figure something out. If we have to we’ll make up a story about falling asteroids or tell them some plot from a disaster movie.
You should probably be the one to break the news though because you already have a good track record with that sort of thing.
They’ll believe you. Plus, you’re prettier. I’ll just look like a raving mad man screaming that the sky is falling.”

She knew he was sort of teasing her and she returned his smile. “Sure, leave me with all the dirty work. Some friend you are.”

“What? That’s not a good deal?” His eyes widened in feigned disbelief. “I get to see the bad things and you get to break the news to your uncle and your clingy, hair gel obsessed ex boyfriend.” He laughed at the reference to Alex. “You get to look crazy and I get to stay the sensible voice of reason. Fair, right?”

She laughed open mouthed and nearly touched his arm, sitting so close to her own on the top of the table that she could feel the heat coming off of his skin. She caught herself, remembering their early conversation and not wanting to push their newly found friendship to a place perhaps neither of them was ready for.

Kyle noticed her gesture and let his laughter ebb. Looking into her eyes he slowly inched his hand across the small section of table between them. Just as Abby thought she was going to feel the warmth of his hand he drew away slowly, exhaling a deep breath that hit the skin of her cheek.

The awkwardness lasted a mere second before Abby was speaking again. “So tell me about the things you write when you’re not writing about disaster.”

Kyle’s face lightened and he took a second to sip on his soda. “Poetry mostly.
Freeform, stream of consciousness type stuff that I usually go back and clean up later.”

“That sounds nice. I’d like to read it sometime.”

“I wouldn’t categorize it as nice. Most of it lately is pretty dark, considering the circumstances of my life these days.” He smiled but it didn’t register in his eyes.

He brought his hand up to his chin, nonchalantly rubbed a thumb along his bottom lip in thought. Abby felt her pulse
suddenly go to eleven
and had to consciously keep her mouth from hanging open.

They met eyes again and Kyle leaned forward a little in his chair. “What about you?” he asked. “What do you usually paint when it’s not the end of the world?”

Abby needed a minute to collect herself before responding. “Oh. I prefer figurative stuff. Mostly portraits, but I have an aversion to realism so it’s not what people typically think of as portraiture. Well not really.”

“
I’d like to see it… your personal work. I have a feeling it’s something I would like to hang on my walls.”

Abby smiled. “Well the next time you’re in New York you could come by the ga…” She stopped short. Most of her paintings were now sitting under the sea. There was no gallery to visit, no walls that held her canvases. “I mean I can show you my portfolio on my computer some day.”

Kyle’s face changed, his expression softening.
His hand inched closer to hers again. Abby watched with anticipation as his fingers wrapped tightly around hers. She stopping breathing for an instant as his hand slipped into her smaller one. She closed her eyes, felt the calluses on his palms, the product of years of hard labor on the farm, and let out her breath in short gasps. All at once an overwhelming feeling swept through her like she was being drowned in a pool of raw, potent emotion.

Neither of them was prepared for the jolt of power that flew through them with that one little touch. It was like putting the last cable on a car battery to complete the circuit and jump it back to life.

Visions immediately started flowing between them until Abby found that she was standing back in that place of her dreams and staring up at the grassy hill. There she saw Kyle, dressed in the priest’s clothes, his bare chest exposed under necklaces as he held aloft his sacred staff.

Their eyes met and Abby realized now that it had been Kyle’s eyes she had been staring into every night since the dreams began. She all at once knew who he was and more importantly who she was. This was not some random vision. What she had been experiencing as a dream was in actuality a memory of another time, another place, another life.

The man she saw on the hill was more than just Kyle Windstone, her uncle’s closest friend and business partner. He was more than the attractive Kansas farmer she had just met. The man she saw was intensely powerful and the chosen holy man of her people. Their people. He was her priest, her friend, and her lover. He was everything to her and when she looked at him she saw her past, her present, and her future all hidden within his flickering green eyes.

The priest opened his mouth and his voice rang out over the land:

When blood drops upon the Earth, the Destroyer will appear, and mountains will open up and belch forth fire and ashes. Trees will be destroyed and all living things engulfed. Land will be swallowed up by the waters, and seas will boil.

The Heavens will burn brightly and redly; there will be a copper hue over the face of the land, ‘followed by a day of darkness. A new moon will appear and break up and fall.

The people will scatter in madness. They will hear the trumpet and battle cry of the Destroyer and will seek refuge within dens in the Earth. Terror will eat away their hearts, and their courage will flow from them like water from a broken pitcher. They will be eaten in the flames of wrath and consumed by the breath of the Destroyer
.

In those days wisdom will be revealed; the few will be gathered for the stand; it is the hour of trial. The dauntless ones will survive; the stouthearted will not go down to destruction.

Suddenly she felt herself floating, scenes passing her on all sides. She moved back through time in a flash. She saw Kyle. No, that wasn’t his name, she thought. And the sound suddenly surfaced on her tongue. “Callum.”

She watched as if an outsider, witnessing the moments of contentment in their small home, hearing the sound of their children laughing. It was all so far away, faded as though she were looking through a pane of foggy glass.

He called her name, reached out to her in the night.
“Aislynn.” She knew his face, his voice, his touch. She had always known him.

When they returned to the present moment they were standing. Their hands were still joined and suddenly so were their lips. It wasn’t a sweet, tender peck of a kiss. No, there was nothing polite or controlled about this kiss. It was hungry, piercing,
and
laced with desperation.

Kyle held Abby’s face with one hand and trailed up her curves with the other, plastering her body to his like a second skin. When she let out a moan he quickly drew away and dropped to his knees. Pain contorted his features while he cradled his head in his hands. He was hurting but Abby had no idea why. There was no blood, no mark on him at all.

“Kyle! Oh god, are you okay?” Abby reached out to steady him, to comfort him, but he pulled away and put his hand up to stop her.

He looked up with watery eyes. “Please. Not yet. Please don’t touch me again. Just give me a minute.” His voice was strained, high in pitch as the pain pulsed in his words.

Abby sat back, resisting the urge to wrap him in her arms and care for him until the pain subsided. Her heart wrenched as she watched him suffer and her vision seemed to jump back in forth, flashing images of the past and the present in the same moment. As she looked down at him he was the priest in her vision one instant and Kyle Windstone the next until there was suddenly no separation between the two. She clenched her eyes closed, opened them again. When her sight fell again on the man before her she saw someone she already knew, someone she loved. Kyle and the man she remembered as Callum were one in the same.

At least a full five minutes passed before Kyle lifted his head and opened his eyes to meet Abby’s. She couldn’t read his expression through the remnants of pain.