She shrugged free from his grasp. “I need to talk to him. He knows Ash. He might be able to tell us where she went,” Becca said. Her words slurred, her tongue becoming heavy against her mouth. The pounding in her head was growing stronger. She blinked again. In the distance, she saw her. She saw Ash.

“There she is. Ash,” Becca shouted. No words came out. She could see her girl standing in the middle of the street, cars whizzing past. She would get hit if she didn’t move. Becca tried to scream Ash’s name to warn her. She couldn’t speak. It felt as though her throat were closing up.

“Becca, what’s wrong? Can you hear me?” Christian’s words were muffled, as though they’d been put through a filter. “We need a medic over here,” she heard him shout.

Becca fought to speak, every word a struggle. “Keep… looking… find… Ash,” she gasped as Christian’s face blurred, the roaring in her head growing louder and louder until, mercifully, her world went black.

ASH

ASH

The yellow taxi lurched toward Seventh Street, the sky a ghoulish shade of gray, black storm clouds looming in the distance. Horns blared, LA drivers already preparing for the impending deluge, their manic, kamikaze driving in full effect.

She’d planned to take the train, but something was going on in Hollywood and they weren’t running. Ash waited for almost forty minutes and then said to hell with it. She rushed back up the stairs and flagged down a taxi. Traffic in LA was always out of control. Today it was next level. Ash wasn’t sure what was going on until she heard the driver muttering about the president’s visits and wasting taxpayer dollars.

Ash could hardly sit still, anxiously eyeing the meter, watching as the bill crept toward fifty bucks. She let out a sigh of relief when she spotted the bus station in the distance.

“I’ll get out here,” she said, knowing she could get there faster if she walked. She tossed the driver a fifty, and jogged the rest of the way, reaching the entrance of the bus station, the giant blue Greyhound sign greeting her. Located in an industrial run-down area of LA, there were no trees or flowers, nothing, only car repair shops, liquor stores, and abandoned buildings. Ash anxiously looked around, searching for Mo and the others, knowing they were only a few blocks from Skid Row.