Page 157 of Faultlines

Something shifts and I can’t explain it. Every muscle in my body tightens before my brain catches up. Jake isn’t listening anymore. He’s looking through Claire. Like he’s already made a decision.

His right hand disappears into his jacket, and my eyes follow it automatically.

Wallet?

Phone?

He’s leaving.

Thank—

Metal catches the hallway lights. Claire’s eyes flick downward, and for the first time since this started... she loses all color. She takes one instinctive step backward, and says something but I never hear it.

Jake shifts his weight, and my body is already moving before the knife does. I don’t remember deciding. I only remember the sound of my shoes hitting the tile. I don’t remember crossing the room. One second, I’m at the end of the hallway. The next, I’m throwing myself at him. My shoulder slams into his chest, sending us crashing sideways into the wall. The knife flashes again.

Jake fights harder than I expect. Something slams into my shoulder.

Hard.

Like I’d been hit with a baseball bat.

My arm suddenly won’t cooperate. I look down and the knife is buried in my shoulder. The bastard stabbed me. Blood soaks through my shirt. The pain is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced and the room tilts violently.

Claire is kneeling beside me. She’s pressing a shaking hand against my shoulder while the other grips my wrist like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go. She has a terrified expression.

“Stay with me,” she says, her voice trembling.

“That seems… dramatic.” My voice sounds foreign.

Tears stream down her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you. I love you so much,” I tell her, the words a desperate whisper.

Opening my eyes is like swimming through wet concrete. I’m vaguely aware of movement beneath me: a stretcher with squeaky wheels. Paramedics. Someone asks my name, someone else tells me to stay awake. I try to concentrate but it’s impossible. The hallway spins and the last thing I remember is Claire’s face.

The next time I wake, machines beep steadily around me, and my shoulder feels like a burning cinder block. I lie there, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember. Then it all rushes back.

Panic floods through me, and I try to sit up. The sudden movement sends a fresh wave of blinding pain.

A familiar voice cuts through the silence. “Sit back before you rip something.”

I turn my head to find Reid. He looks tired but relieved.

“Claire?”

“She’s okay. She’ll be back. We made her take a break.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

SEISMIC SWARM

Claire

Blood stains my hands and clothes. It’s smeared across my sleeves from where I pressed against Ethan’s shoulder, trying to staunch the flow. Every glance at the blood transports me back to that hallway and the cold linoleum beneath my knees. I hear the girls screaming, Jake shouting, and then Ethan, throwing himself between us. I see the knife disappearing into his shoulder.

The waiting area is too bright, and the floor has been polished to a shine that makes everything look wet. A nurse in squeaky shoes hurries past, then another, and I notice they all cradle their coffee cups against their chests. A man two seats down is watching a loud video on his phone.

I sit in a hard, plastic chair, fixated on the double doors at the end of the hallway that swallowed Ethan an hour ago. Each time they hiss open my heart leaps.