Disclaimer...

There has been some confusion about Ava's name. To the one person who brought it up, she was Avery but when they ran away she just changed it. Same with Scott/Drew... Probably because my irrational fear of stalkers bled into my writing.

One Year Later

Micah laid quietly in his shallow grave, the blackness behind his eyelids unceasing and eternal. His chest, disfigured by the tattoo of a snarling dragon, was unmoving beneath his slender fingers. Dirt filled his mouth and his nose.

The clap of thunder made his yes snap open, his heart thud painfully behind his ribcage. He thrust his hands upward, against the loosely packed dirt, clawing out from his place in the ground.

A bird squawked loudly, offering encouragement as he pushed his head through the grass, like some deranged infant emerging from Gaia's womb. His hands shook with the effort, and once he was free he vomited in the grass.

The bird called out to him again, forcing him to look up. After the blackness of the earth, even the clouded night made his eyes burn and tear. Clutching his stomach, fighting the urge to empty his stomach once again, Micah stood, holding desperately to the trunk of a tree the bird perched in. It cocked its ugly head at him, ruffling its oily black wings.

Without warning, it took off, flapping strongly through the night air. Micah took a moment, gaping stupidly after it, before stumbling through the thick weeds, towards the lights of the city, far away.

His thought swarmed madly, until he could focus on only one thing.

Ava, he repeated desperately to himself. I'm going to find you. I'm going to kill him.

...

Sara opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the harsh glare of the sunlight. Unwillingly, she stood to pull down the blinds, staring across the hot expanse of desert. Back in bed, Drew rolled over, holding a pillow over his eyes to block the unforgiving light.

Sara walked from the tiny bedroom to the kitchenette, turning on the coffee machine and checking the refrigerator. To her disappointment, it contained only a quarter of a gallon or soured milk, two small, blackened tomatoes, and an opened can of flat beer. She checked the coffee can beside the couch, which contained a few dollars and a red button.

Sitting on the couch, Sara wondered for the millionth time if she had made a mistake. From her seat, she could see Drew, sprawled across the bed, dark hair falling over one eye. He was snoring softly, his long arm dangling off the edge. Tears burned the edge of her eyes, her bad one aching.

Sighing, Sara put on her sunglasses, pouring a cup of lukewarm, frothy coffee, and going out the torn screen door to sweep the front sidewalk. As usual, the gravelly parking lot was deserted. Except for their loud neighbors, no one ever stayed at the Stardust Motel. Hot wind blew the dust in a small whirlwind around her knees, and Sara hastily stepped inside, before it could get through the door and all over the shag carpet, which was a bitch to clean.

"Hey." Drew was sitting up in the bed, blinking at her. His hair was tousled, and dark shadows marked his chronic insomnia. "What are you doing?"

"Dust storm last night." Sara whispered, leaning against the closed door. "I thought it might look better if I cleaned off the steps."

Drew squinted at her, as though she were disappearing. He stifled a sigh and heaved himself off the bed, moving stiffly over to her. He cupped her chin in his hands, kissing her full on the lips and pressing his forehead to hers.

"I love you." He whispered finally, playing with a strand of blood red hair.

It took Sara a moment to reply, but she forced the words out.

"Me too."