Read Online Kismet by Beth D. Carter - Free Book Online

stomach rumbles, and I realize have to pee. So before Kris can open his mouth and decline the offer, I jump in with a smile and a nod.
    The little girl from earlier, the one I had saved, comes up to me at that point, and takes my hand. Had she been watching us, following us this entire time? I search the many faces for her father but can’t find him. She tugs on my hand, so I follow her.
    “ Cómo se llama ?” I ask her.
    “Isabel.”
    She chats the entire way to the “bathroom,” which happens to be several outhouses down a narrow tunnel that branches off from the main subway tube. I guess in its day, it had been an access tunnel or even a maintenance port. It’s tiled like the main area, but the walkway is all concrete. Cracks fan out in all directions like a spider web, and I have to wonder how safe this little tunnel actually is. The outhouses are crudely built lean-tos with a very strong smell of lye hanging in the air. I wrinkle my nose. Isn’t this stuff poisonous?
    I hold my breath and do my business, making sure not to touch anything, because I don’t see a sink anywhere. When I’m done, Isabel escorts me back to the main room, where the smell of food starts to tantalize the air. My stomach rumbles, and Isabel laughs, pulling my hand and leading me to a home built of fiberglass siding. Her father is in front and gestures for me to sit.
    The food he offers isn’t much, just beans and bread, but it fills my belly. The man chats happily about the rescue, knowing his daughter will be safe out of the terrifying gloom of Los Angeles. I sincerely hope that this family finds a great life somewhere.
    After my meal I thank Isabel and her father and then go searching for Kris. Various people point me in the direction of another side tunnel, thankfully not the one leading to the indoor outhouses.
    I follow the tracks all the way to what I assume used to be a subway platform. There is even a faint flicker of light here, keeping the complete darkness at bay and making me very happy.
    Kris sits on the only usable bench. Most of the walls have tumbled into rubble with the roof caved in by whatever building had been on top, but there is a nice little nook that lends a certain stretch of privacy. I am not surprised that Kris is here, because he is, after all, a loner. Not exactly antisocial or a misanthrope, but a man who has lived most of his life in a shell of his own making without any idea on how to break free.
    He doesn’t look my way, but by the tensing of his shoulder, I know he is aware that I’ve just invaded his sanctuary.
    “What does it feel like?” Kris asks in a low tone. There is a slight echo through the tunnel.
    “What does what feel like?” I sit next to him.
    “Your visions.”
    “Oh. They don’t feel like anything. It’s kind of like a video screen is playing over what I’m seeing, but not hindering my eyesight. It’s very hard to explain.”
    “Like your brain is divided in half?”
    “Yeah,” I say, “kind of. I usually have a slight headache afterward, but nothing I can’t handle.”
    He grows pensive again, his brows bunching up over his dark eyes. “Shalana is going to talk to her people,” he says gruffly. “You’ve saved them. Everything you told me, Evie—you were right.”
    I don’t need to answer. I can hear the wonderment swirling in his voice, and this response is all too familiar. I’ve dealt with it before, but I don’t want wonderment or reverence from him. I want acceptance; I want understanding.
    “You’re some type of angel,” he whispers.
    Okay, time to cut this shit out.
    “Listen, Kris, I do believe this foresight came from some higher power,” I tell him, reaching up to cup his face and turning it toward me. Surprisingly, he doesn’t pull away. “I’ve seen the ugliness of what men can do to each other, and I have to think that, with such empty darkness, I was given a measure of hope for those who have none. But I am not an angel.” I stress this.