Excerpt:
Above her, thunderclouds raced with the wind, boiling in the evening sky. Meg quickened her steps. With the backpack securely fastened across her back, she looked to the ground, counted every step, and marched on.
By the time she reached the church, she breathed a sigh of relief just at having found the village. But as that notion crossed her mind, a finger of lightning split the sky. Thunder cracked a few seconds later, and within a few seconds more, fat raindrops fell on and about her.
Meg picked up speed. She hated storms.
Running now, water streaking down her face, she raced past the cluster of houses. Dusk rapidly overtook her and she had to squint through the rain and the dark to see the road in front of her. Moving as quickly as she could, she finally came to the Y and bore to the right.
She ran against intermittent flashes of lightning, the howling of the wind through the scrub pines and bushes, the boom of thunder, and increasing rain. She was half-afraid to admit her fear, even to herself.
So, she ran. Searching through the black mist, she looked for a light, something, to indicate houses, buildings, anything that could shelter her. She saw nothing.
Finally, determined not to let her frantic mind take over, she wondered if she should turn back. At least she knew where the other houses and the church were and they could offer shelter.
She stopped in the middle of the road in desperation. Wanting to cry, ordering herself not to, she stood, her arms limp at her sides, and stared straight ahead.
What in the hell have I gotten myself into? In one day I ' ve found out my best friend is dead, escaped from the mob, changed my identity and my hair color, and traipsed through a rainstorm to find shelter in a place where I know no one, and they don ' t know me. Or even expect me. Am I insane?
In the next instant, the night lit up and a roar crashed all around her. Jumping, Meg glanced about. Illuminated within the electrical storm, she saw it. To her right stood an old, white clapboard house. A porch ran the entire width of it and Meg thought to herself that at the very least, she could get shelter from the storm there.
Running, she let her feet take her in the direction of the house. Lightning flared again just as she neared the steps. Stumbling onto the porch, Meg raced to the front door and pounded on it. Relief flooded through her.
"Anyone home?" she shouted frantically.
She pounded again. Silence.
"Excuse me? Is anyone there?" She called out as she looked into the dark house through the small windowpanes in the front door. She saw no movement inside.
Stepping away from the door, she let her shoulders drop, refusing to think of the situation as desperate. Okay, Meg, there ' s a nice chair over there. At least you ' re out of the rain. Maybe you can get a little sleep. And in the morning, you can figure out what to do .
Resigned, she turned from the door and headed toward the chair. A squeak, then a clank of metal sounded behind her. Meg halted. Within a few seconds, the outside screen door opened a crack. Meg slowly turned, and stepped forward. "I ' m sorry to disturb you, but I need some help."
The door opened wider and a man stepped out onto the porch. "Meg?" The hesitant voice sounded all too familiar.
Lightning flashed and Meg clearly saw the man standing on the porch - Smyth Parker.
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