Life After Dark: 6 (WTW Sequel)

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The route on I-70 toward Denver takes us through the Rocky Mountains. Probably the only uplifting thing I've seen since I woke up last night. The region is nothing but mountains, foothills, pines, and the winding stretch of the highway. The mountains themselves are enormous and snow-capped in the distance, but up close they look like sheer rock faces that seem to reach into the gray skies.

I don't need to ask anyone where we are anymore. We're west of the Rocky Mountains and it's taken us no more than seven hours to pass directly west into Colorado, which means we came from Utah, its neighboring state. My suspicion is confirmed when we pass the Utah state line sign. What we were doing in Utah is a mystery, but if I'm going to bother to ask questions, I'll just have to save them for more pressing issues.

As Marcus eases the van off the highway ramp, the kid in the blue-and-white letterman jacket, Jones, grumbles from the seat in front of me, "When are we stopping for lunch?"

"You've been pigging out on snacks for the last four hours," the girl next to him says.

"Fig bars and roasted almonds might be enough for a skinny girl like you, but I need real food." He leans his elbows on the edge of the seat in front of him. "Hey, Cap. Can we get something to eat? I don't feel like going to war on an empty stomach."

Marcus glances at him in the rearview mirror. "Since when have you ever gone to war? If I remember, you were almost shitting your pants when we were trapped with a Blank in that motel in Spokane."

I tune them out, processing this morsel of information. Spokane, Washington? We really have been around in the last eight months. I search my mind for anything about Spokane, hoping Willow didn't sweep all of my memories, and blow out a frustrated breath when that doesn't work. So much of my life is missing, and it feels a lot like I've lost a limb I never realized I needed so much. And based on what Davey said, I've lost a limb I never wanted to lose in the first place. If he was telling the truth—which is questionable, just like everything else in my life—did Willow act alone when she took my memories? Or is everyone in on it?

"We're stopping soon," Marcus finally says.

True to his word, we pull into a secluded parking lot near a small park shaded by trees. Pablo's van pulls in next to us, and I wait as everyone gets off our van before I start to do the same. "Wait here," Marcus says to me, holding up a hand to stop me.

I give him an incredulous look. My legs are cramped from sitting for that long and I'm itching for fresh air. "You're kidding."

His face tightens up more. "We need to work out a few things before you join us."

"Why?" I know he's doing this to make me feel excluded, but I'm not going to make it easy for him. I ignore the twinge in my gut, letting the hot waves of anger wash over it instead. His hostility took me off-guard at first, but I've had seven hours to think it over, to soak it in, to come up with a game plan.

Marcus's cold and cruel treatment is reminiscent of the way Sam always acted with me. Sam had nine whole years to hurt me, and I'm still feeling the effects of that pain. And some guilty part of me is grateful to be free of him. I refuse to trade one misery for another.

Marcus looks to Willow for an answer when she comes over to us, and she mumbles something about triggering my memories. "This has nothing to do with my memories," I say, crossing my arms as I brace myself for a fight. "Unless we've been here before, have we?"

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