Wander Dust by Michelle Warren Read Free Book Online

bare hands.
    Three symmetrical drops of blood fall to the snow. I reach for my lip and run my fingertip over a gash. “Perfect!” I growl to myself, and then I wipe my bloody mouth with my cardigan cuff.
    This might be my worst day—ever.
    My journey continues through the slush covered, city streets toward my next train connection. The relentless wind whips powdery snow through my hair and into my face, making my skin numb and my eyes dry and irritated. I shiver, now in complete understanding of the phrase ‘chilled to the bone.’
    Every so often, I dab my cuff to my lip, but the blood has stopped oozing. It’s probably a frozen scab by now.
    Tired of my chattering teeth, I decide to take a detour through the Marshall Fields building. Inside, tourists blissfully absorb all nine floors of shopping while I walk through, attempting to regain feeling in my body. I’m tempted to stop and shop, knowing it will improve my mood, but Mona will be worried if I don’t show up soon.
    Unwillingly, I exit the store onto State Street. After treading by commuters’ bundled shapes, I duck into the entrance for the underground L, being careful not to slip on the slushy stairs. Below the street’s surface, the temperature is just as cold, but at least the wind isn’t blowing.
    Sterile tiles cover the station walls. Buzzing fluorescent lights, with their putrid glow, suck the color out of every passing face. Colors here are bleak and depressing, the complete opposite of Miami. They will take some getting used to.
    I stop at a glass encased map to find the correct train platform. When my bare finger slides along the red line route, a reflection in the glass catches my interest, so I turn to confront it.
    A million shimmering flakes seep from a nearby darkened hallway. At first, they roll gently into the cold air and then faster as the seconds pass. Each particle finds a spot, but not on the floor as I expect. I watch, bound by their unexplained beauty, as the molecules solidify into a solid framework—a shape. Now that I see what they form, I’m confused and scared.

::6::
The Gang
     
    My jaw falls slack because there’s no way to contain my awe. The flakes have formed into a group of people—a gang. They take one step forward in unison. Steadying themselves and their eyes, their gaze falls like a fury on me.
    Confused by their presence, I focus on the short boy in front dressed in dark, dank clothing. He mouths something so slowly his lips articulate the sound of each and every letter, but I read them as though his silent words are as loud as a battle cry. “Kill her!” he yells with a snarl.
    The group accelerates in my direction. No, not just toward me, but after me! I hesitate for a split second as my brain computes the scene before me. They’re coming after me. Run!
    Sucking in a forced breath, I pivot to run in the only available direction, toward the packed train platform. I plow into oncoming commuters, now thankful for the lost bag that I should be towing behind me. My hands clench, and I rev my arms like a machine, willing my feet to pound the pavement faster.
    I just begin to gain ground when the oncoming crowd of commuters thickens like molasses, slowing my movements to an agonizing pace. When I look over my shoulder, the gang is closer now. My throat constricts at the thought of them catching me.
    With new determination, I dart around a corner. Mercifully, the wall of bodies part into a valley, and I dash through the divide, praying it will crumble behind me and block my attackers.
    Rushing forward, I vault myself over a set of ticket machines. My feet slam the ground on the other side. The landing sends piercing pain up my calves and into my knees, stalling me for a moment. Before I take off again, someone grabs the back of my cardigan. I pull forward, trying to get away, but their greedy fingers stretch my sweater like taffy.
    Instinctively, I turn to look at the person holding me captive. As I do, my palms and