She continued backing away toward the entrance of the cave, dimmer now with the sun having disappeared over the mountains. There was a part of her that wanted to beg for mercy, swear fealty, tell him that she would do whatever he wanted if he swore to take it back, tell her he didn’t mean it, tell her that he wouldn’t do that to her, not after all they’d been through. But her rage at that moment was still stronger.

She stopped where she stood, a few feet from the exit. “Go on. Do it.”

He continued to watch her, hardly moving at all except to more solidly place himself between her and Obelus. She tried to reach past her own emotions to see if she could tell what was going on with his, but she couldn’t. Hers were too strong, too staticky, and either way, the wall was too thick.

She took one step back, then another. He didn’t stop her. Two more steps and she was in the passageway. Then she ran into the forest with no clue as to where she was or where she was going.

He didn’t stop her.

10

10

The only clues she had as to where she even was were that it was on a fault line (which, in California, good luck narrowing that down), and it was nearish where Enola Gay’s Martian horn of terror had blasted. So she was somewhere in the several-hundred-square-mile mountain wilderness between Temecula and Mexico. Cool.

She tried at first to go downhill, but the problem with that tactic was that it tended to turn back into uphill if one stayed in a straight line. That, on top of trudging through the thick underbrush of the cold mountain, made progress slow. The temperature was dropping quickly, and her coat was designed for brisk coastal winters, not mountain regions prone to actual snowfall.

After about an hour, the sun had nearly set, and she was becoming genuinely afraid. Fortunately, as the sky faded from pink to light blue, she found a winding paved road hugging the side of the mountains and followed it downhill. She still had no cell phone reception by the time her phone died.

Cora was not prepared for how dark it got, especially with the lack of moonlight this evening. The mountain was dark and freezing and terrifyingly silent, not even the distant sound or even light of civilization. There was some light pollution that probably came from the San Diego suburbs, but it was so far away as to be functionally meaningless. Barely able to see the road, she continued forward, following the texture of the road beneath her feet.

I should call Sol. I should tell Sol.