Gods of the Dead (Rising Book 1) by Tracey Ward Read Free Book Online Page A

out onto the floor. In the back behind it is a big black box and when I pull it out I knock out more cash in front of it. Along with a passport.
    “Is that yours?” I ask absently, dropping the heavy box to the floor with a thud.
    She picks up the passport and flips it open. “No, it’s my mom’s. Mine is in my room. I was supposed to go with Dad on his trip to Japan but I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay home for Christmas so I hid mine and said I couldn’t find it.” She carefully lays the passport back in the safe. “Pretty dumb idea.”
    “You didn’t know what was going to happen.”
    “No, but I fought with him before he left. I didn’t stick around to say goodbye. Now I can’t get him on the phone. He’s probably dead.”
    I pause, not willingly to look at her. “Where’s your mom?”
    “Dead. Like for years and buried kind of dead. Cancer.”
    “Sorry.”
    “It’s okay. She would have hated you.”
    “A lot of people do,” I chuckle.
    “Not because you’re my dealer—“
    “Delivery man,” I correct. “Not a dealer.”
    “Anyway, she would have hated you because you’re ethnic. She was super racist.”
    “Nice.”
    I pop the top on the box and smile. It’s full of boxes of shells and two matte black handguns. I’m not good with guns, I don’t know their names or their calibers. I only know how to load them, aim them, and fire them. Knives are more my thing, but I appreciate the efficiency of a gun and this is definitely a time when I’d prefer fast and clean work. I pull my gun out of my pocket and pop out the clip. I check the chamber, find it empty, and put it on the floor next to the clip.
    “Come here,” I say, waving Sienna over. She kneels down on the floor next to me and I hand her my gun. “This is yours now.”
    She hesitantly picks it up and weighs it in her hand. “It’s heavier than I thought it’d be.”
    “Keep it pointed at the ground. It’s empty, I checked the chamber and the clip is out, but treat every weapon like it’s loaded.”
    I go through a quick tutorial with her, showing her how to sight a shot, the strongest and most accurate way to hold and fire, and finally how to load it. She doesn’t like the feel of it, I can tell, but she wanted a gun. Now she has one.
    Hopefully she doesn’t shoot me with it.
     
    ***
     
    The helicopters have multiplied. There must be six of them circling the city because it seems like there’s almost always one overhead. Emergency sirens blaze by and car alarms are creating a crazy symphony outside. People are in the streets shouting at each other, running and fighting, and every now and then you hear a gun shot. Sometimes more.
    By the time night falls Sienna and I have gotten more or less used to the noise. In the afternoon we rushed to the windows every time a firetruck went by or a gun went off, but now we try to ignore them. We lay low and keep our heads down. I convinced her to take a Valium when I saw her hands had started shaking so bad she couldn’t bring a cup of water to her lips without spilling it. It brought her down far enough that I sent her to bed, told her I’d take watch. I doubt she’s sleeping, though. She looks at her phone constantly, sends messages that don’t get replies. She’s worried about her dad and her friends and I try not to get involved in a conversation about them because I don’t have the problems she does. I don’t have anyone I’m hoping will survive this other than myself and her.
    “Can I lay with you?”
    I sit up halfway on the huge white couch in the living room to look back behind me. Sienna is there, her hair down and her body wrapped in a blue blanket that comes down nearly to her bare feet. She looks exhausted.
    “Yeah, sure,” I grunt, falling back down and gesturing to the other half of the couch.
    She surprises me when she comes to lay on her side next to me, resting her head on my shoulder and fanning the blanket out over the top of us.
    “Oh, you meant