Find Me: Lost And Found Part 21

"I was. Maybe I'm rethinking that life."

Rethinking life - wasn't that what I'd been doing every day for the last year? "Okay, let's get on the d.a.m.n plane."

It was small and cramped inside but with enough seating for our group plus a few more. The empty seats were littered with bags. Lou came back to ensure we were all secured, including Lily in her car seat and Zoey who was leashed to the seat next to me before closing up the hatch and returning to the c.o.c.kpit. As the plane barreled down the open stretch of highway, I imagined standing on the hill above the lake where Fin and Ana's bodies were buried. I had said goodbye to them with the promise that one day I would return. With my eyes closed, I pictured the note inside the cabin, pinned to the counter under a whiskey gla.s.s.

My Dearest Connor, I know you looked for me. I looked for you too. By now you know the cabins are empty and there's too much to explain in a few sentences. There's an address on the back of this note that I hope you will go to. When you get there, follow the instructions for the CB radio. Someone will be listening. You should know that I found what I was looking for but lost it. Connor, you were right. We shouldn't have gone. I'm so sorry... forgive me. Please be careful - the dead are still watching but it's the living you have to worry about now, because I set the City on fire. They're free now, baby...they're all free. Please hurry up and find me.

I need you to come back to me. I love you. - Riley The End of Book 2

The Story Continues in Book three...

The thin mattress squeaked beneath my body as I rolled from side to side in an attempt to get comfortable, but everything about the small room was foreign to me, including the full-size bed. A pale night-light flushed the lower half of the room, tinting the white walls a yellowish color that reminded me of used toilet water. All of the concrete floors were laid atop heated wiring that kept the hard surface warm, but the coldness of the s.p.a.ce still eased its way into every room and reached for me like invisible cold hands. The sleeping quarters didn't have windows and I missed the fluttering of the cabin curtains and creaky windowsill more than I imagined possible.

It was strange sleeping underground. There was always a chilly draft, though the temperature was carefully controlled. It was as if the earth itself leached all warmth from our little concave of man-made tunnels like a thief and didn't stop the crime until it stole the warmed breath from my lungs. The others said we would get used to it, but I doubted that. I came from a place where it was warm even in winter. People weren't meant to live under the dirt like rodents. Only three weeks had pa.s.sed, and yet I felt as if I had been locked in the dark for years.

With a long groan, I pushed up and swung my clothed legs over the side of the bed, wincing as my bare feet touched the cool ground. The solar power was at its weakest just before five in the morning, which meant the heat system under the poured concrete was slowly losing its power. The socks I kicked off before falling into bed the night before were nowhere to be seen, so I padded across the room, and stood on the small area rug, digging my toes into the plush tuffs of balled cotton while rifling through the dresser. After pulling on thick, white socks with padded soles and an oversized sweater, I quietly opened my door and peeked into the hallway. The only sound was the hum of a generator down the hall and my feet softly padding along the polished floor.

For the third morning in a row, I found myself upstairs in the community library before dawn, cold and alone. Curled into a ball, buried as deep into one of the plush chairs as physically possible, I sat with a book balanced on my knee and blinked wearily at the printed words. After reading the same paragraph twice, I looked up and stared at the windows that lined the round room like the arc of a rainbow. They were ground level and too small for even a child to crawl thru; their only purpose was to allow light into the s.p.a.ce during the day, yet still go almost undetected from outside. The wind roused the loose dirt and weeds and I jumped when a tumbleweed blew across the gla.s.s, darting in and out of sight as it scratched along the windows and eventually bounced out of view.

"A storm's coming," Jacks said softly from the doorway. He held a wiggling Lily in his arms and itched his scruffy chin with the bottom of her bottle as she sucked greedily from it.

I smiled at the two of them - father and child. After patting the chair next to me, I draped my book over the arm of my own chair and turned my body to face Jacks as he settled into the adjoining seat. With my eyes closed, we listened to the soft sucking sounds that Lily made as she ate. Such innocence. Such simplicity. Such perfection.

"Is she sleeping better?"

Jacks contorted his face into a myriad of expressions until I laughed. After a heavy sigh, he leaned down and kissed Lily's forehead. One of her tiny hands flailed above her head until it landed on his nose. She squeezed until Jacks winced and when he pulled away from her grasp, his nose was Rudolph-red.

I laughed. "That's new."

"She just learned how to yank. My nose might not survive her first year," he chuffed.

Even though I was happy for the new addition, my heart ached watching sweet Lily, and it ached for my own children. Before Jacks noticed, I turned away to hide my hot tears. Oblivious to my hurt, Jacks whispered softly to the baby before raising his voice slightly.

"Riley...do you think you'll ever have another one?"

My voice was trapped in my throat so I shrugged my answer. If I could have another child, would I? With Connor being lost, there was no one I'd even consider sharing that experience with. After casually swiping my damp cheek, my eyes once again drifted upward to the sand that pelted the heavy-duty windowpanes high above us.

Yeah, a storm was coming all right. A big one from the looks of it...

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS.

My family is amazing. I thank you for your patience, understanding and excitement for my writing. Without you all, I would not be where I am now in my career. I love you Shane, Rory and Foxx. A big thanks must go out to my supportive extended family and friends. Thank you, Mom for reading my work. It means the world to me.

Liana Mark - thank you for your time editing this book. It has been a pleasure working with you. I appreciate your patience and enthusiasm more than you know. I look forward to our future work together.

Deb Rogers - I love everything you do. Your covers are amazing. Thank you for your artistic work, creative inspiration and patience doing the cover for this book! Much love to you!!

Thank you to the amazing Beta Readers: Erin Lang Enochs, Jessica Bailiff, Jennifer Spell Wedmore, Stacey Taylor and Cat Alley. I appreciate your enthusiasm and interest and am so glad you all enjoyed the book.

M-7 - I love each and every one of you: Kristie Haigwood, Miranda Stork, Tara Wood, Lindsay Avalon and Caroline Levy. You lovely women complete me as a writer. FACT.

Writing is a pa.s.sion, of course, but it would not be as much fun without the wonderful support of my readers, TMD fans and the M-7 Street Crew. You are ALL amazing and my work is for YOU.

ABOUT the AUTHOR.

Trish was born and mostly raised in San Diego, California where she lives now with her family and pets. She's been writing short stories and poetry since high school and began her first book, 'I Hope You Find Me' in December of 2011.

When Trish isn't writing, she's homeschooling her amazing daughter and mildly Autistic son, reading whatever she can get her hands on, or enjoying the Southern California sun. As a strict Vegetarian, Trish holds a special place in her heart for animal rights and dashes into the backyard weekly to rescue lizards and mice from Zoey, the dog.

TRISH'S BOOKS & COLLABORATIONS:.

FIND ME Series.

I Hope You Find Me.

Lost and Found.

THE STATION Series.

Dying to Forget.

Dying to Remember.

Dying to Return.

ANTHOLOGIES.

Via Moon Rose Publis.h.i.+ng: Once Upon A Twisted Time (Hawke & the Beast).

end.