“Just some things I picked up in New Orleans a few years back,” she said and smiled. The smile was not one of amusement or happiness. She set the bag down on the table and unzipped it. When Sam started to reach in, she slapped his hand. “Hands off, buddy. I got this.”
"I... I guess you're right. Here. This is all I've got." Silver reached behind one of the ripped up and dusty couches and pulled out a small sack of caps. It seemed to be enough, but Sam could hardly tell, considering she didn't even know what caps were. "Thanks for getting him off my ass, but now get the hell--" she stopped when the door to her house opened again, and the two of them turned their
“I’ve almost breached their valve wall,” Killian’s fingers briefly stilled as she listened to the Eleven’s voice on the other end of the small device in her ear, before continuing their furious movements across the laptop. “I’m tracking her progress through the hospital.” She said in response to whatever had been said on the other end of the transmitter, adding in a clipped tone before Eleven could comment again. “She isn’t in any real danger at the moment, so stop interrupting and let me finish this.” Eleven of course knew that Killian was stretching the truth to suit her needs (in this instance getting her to stop with the inane question), but she also knew that if there was any real imminent danger Killian wouldn’t have started the hack
Allanon clued everyone in on what they’d seen and heard from other druids and witches in the area as soon as they arrived. “The hunters arrived this morning. They have brought with them ten trackers and are now searching for you and Tegan. As far as we can tell, they are in an uproar over Beorn going missing too. So far, they do not know he has jumped from their side. The dark ones are going on the assumption that we have done something to him.” He pushed his thick, blond hair back. “We are hoping they keep thinking it. If they know you are helping us, I believe all bets are off for the humans as well.”
Mother kisses the top of Clem's head and calls for Dad to bring her school. He sets his newspaper down and gets up. He walks over to me and kisses me on the forehead and grabs my hand, giving it a firm squeeze. This is an odd gesture to me seeing as affection is not necessarily allowed in our city. Apparently it is a form of self-indulgence, which is frowned upon in Rauhallinen.
Phelps and Umonakalisi reached the bottom of the stairwell, stopping just long enough to catch their breath, but with the location of their foe unknown, Phelps opened a crack in the door just wide enough to hear the silence of the empty corridor. They were alone. Their prey still alluded them, and both men burst through the doors, setting off at a sprint along the passageway. Within thirty seconds, the signs on the walls announced the beginning of Hangar G. Phelps slowed. He searched for an entrance. Then, he stopped beside one of the huge maintenance doorways and pressed the access panel. The door remained unmoved.
constantly picked flies out of my milk pail and had to be careful that one wouldn’t land in my opened mouth. I once killed a fly by smashing it between my lips. I became desensitized to the tingling of their legs dashing up and down my skin. Maybe that’s how I built up an immune system that tolerated germs and made me less susceptible to getting sick. Like how a child would hold out a finger for a butterfly to land on, I would do that same with my hundreds of fly friends. The continuous buzzing sound of the flies throughout the farm almost became therapeutic to me.
The desert air was cool that night. Scattered shards of moonlight cut through the thick overcast, like spotlights sweeping the arid landscape. Luckily, I was posted with Raymond. He was far less chatty than the other group members. We were stationed on the eastern wing of my group’s watch zone, where we were responsible for disposing of any ‘foreign invaders’. That was our mission, kill all who try to cross the border. At least that's what my dad told me. The padded butt of my AK-12 assault rifle was firmly nudged into my shoulder, feeling as if it was attached to me after two hours of sitting. I fidgeted with the safety out of boredom, something Dad had told me not to do. It was my twelfth outing with the group, as I had only turned