Sharp pain stabs my hand, and I curse. I dust the dirt off my palm to inspect the cut, my gaze trailing to the offending object poking out of the ground. “Shit.”

With an unsteady hand, I push pine straw and leaves aside to reveal the bleached bone. A terrifying realization that it doesn’t belong to an animal seizes me, and I glance around, knowing exactly where I’ve stumbled.

This is a graveyard.

What’s left of Alex’s subjects that couldn’t be dissolved by chemicals lie here, waiting for the earth to decompose the remains. An ill feeling sweeps through me. I would’ve been next.

With sheer willpower, I’m back on my feet and running toward a thick row of trees. I reach the other side and, nearly falling to my knees, I find a black truck. Oh my, God. There’s really a fucking truck. I get the door unlocked and hoist myself into the driver’s seat. My hands shake as I key the ignition.

The engine cranks.

I close my eyes in relief. One second to center myself, then I drive the truck through the cut of the forest.

Once I’m free of the woods, I steer onto a paved road and a frantic laugh tumbles free. I have no idea where I’m going or where this road leads, but it’s not important. For the first time, there is absolutely no plan—just the desire to keep going.

I drive until the last wave of adrenaline is depleted from my system. I sense a hard crash coming on. My eyelids are heavy, my body is beginning to ache. Every cut, bruise, and injury makes itself painfully known. I turn the stereo on to find a song to keep me awake and distracted.

I always liked music. It was entertaining. Although I never understood how people were so moved by it they invested so much time and energy into learning to play an instrument, or became emotional enough to cry…

An ache builds behind my eyes as the sorrow in the woman’s voice bleeds through the speakers. She sings about loss and heartache, and my own proverbial heart pangs in sync with the beat. My chest tightens, my throat clogs, and I tap the brake to slow the truck.

I pull off to the side of the road. “Jesus Christ, Blakely. What the hell?”

The song crescendos, and I grip the wheel, my fingers throbbing from the pressure. I see Alex’s face right before the flames engulphed the room. I feel the anguish he felt as I told him his experiment had failed. A searing flame thrashes my insides with an overwhelming surge of…guilt? Remorse? What?

Some savage emotion rocks through me, and the only thing I can do to make it stop is scream. When I finally stop, my breaths ragged and chest on fire, the cab of the truck becomes eerily quiet.