The Things We Bury - Part 2: No Big Apocalypse [Completed]

Chapter 5: From the Ashes (Part 5 of 7)

A "Welcome to New Mexico" sign passed by on the side of the interstate, marking a psychological line in the sand which Emily never thought she'd cross. The sickness growing in the pit of her stomach ratcheted up a notch and her blood temperature dropped a degree. She could almost hear Maxwell in her head saying, how could you abandon him again?

And how could you leave him with Queen Bitch, her conscience added.

What the fuck had she been thinking? She must be out of her mind letting that woman take care of Aaron while she went on this fool's errand.

She should go back.

Emily scratched her forehead with the gunsight. The cold metal felt good against her temple. The rubbing was almost hypnotic.

"If you're going to blow your brains out, would you mind not doing it in my car," Nikki said.

Emily jerked the pistol away. Pointing a loaded gun at your own head was definitely a bad idea, but Emily was no longer certain she had any good ones. The further they got from home, the more time Emily had to reflect on how truly terrible her judgement had been lately.

Lately?

Or was it more accurate to say always?

It seemed that in her life there were mistakes and then there were momentous fuck-ups. Time would tell what this decision had been, although she was already fairly certain which way the coin would land.

She could always tell Nikki to turn the car around. She should tell her to go back. But Emily would look like a total lunatic—and maybe she was. It wasn't normal to waiver from one deep conviction to the opposite in barely an hour. She had fought so hard to convince Nikki to go after R.J. She had begged, appealed to her sympathy, played her weaknesses, even not so subtly threatened her with the gun. How, was she supposed to say forget all that, let's go home?

Emily needed to suck it up and accept her choice. In a couple of days, it would be over and she would have Aaron in her arms again.

She needed to do this.

She owed people.

When she was in trouble,  Max had saved her and brought her home to Aaron. Now she had to return the favor and save him. Maxwell would never forgive himself if he killed Amy. Emily had to stop him from making a huge mistake. For all their sakes.

Amy might not have been blood but Emily had learned that family had little to do with what ran through a person's veins. Could she live with herself afterwards, if she sat by while the girl she watched grow up was killed?

Emily wouldn't have felt so much trepidation, if she hadn't turned to Lauren for help. In hindsight, it would have been better if she had summoned Satan to her living room and sold her soul. It would have been a far less repugnant arrangement and likely a cheaper one.

Emily tried to tell herself that it wasn't her fault. The Agency's was to blame for keeping her in the dark. Maxwell's should have answered her calls. Gracie's should never have planted the bug in her ear—ask your boyfriend. Who else did she have to turn to? She was given no other choice but to call Lauren.

Lauren was the only other person she knew who had connections and could find out what was happening. And she found things out remarkably quickly.

"That whole search for the girl is a smoke screen," she had said on the phone when she called back. "Orders are to kill both of them. And it seems that your horrible Agent Wiley is leading the hunt."