THE PANGEA CHRONICLES . BOOK 1.. 107.9°

105. 9°

104.7°

US HWY A1A

Jupiter Beach, Florida

2 September, 2019

1030 am

.... Dr. Warren Grayson, Chief epidemiologist with the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta, has confirmed that Pangea has caused three hundred fourty-two fatalities in the Birmingham area, with unknown numbers continuously being infected. However, reports from Pensacola, Florida, of sixteen cases have not been confirmed.

"We are doing all we can to inhibit the spread of H3N9, but we need the public to be vigilant as well. If you..."

"Jesus Christ." With a sigh, Desiree clicked off the radio, and pushed her charging adapter into the cigarette lighter. She'd let her phone almost die waiting to get a good enough signal, but the Florida coastal road she'd decided to take had proven a dead zone. It didn't matter. There wasn't anything in the world she was going to let stop her now. No towerless area, or dead battery, or long, hot trip in an old Mustang would keep her from getting the answers he promised.

'He' was the charismatic and self made extreme sport god, Jameson M. Knight. A thrill seeker with no fear and a great head for business, he'd found a way to make his need for adrenaline extremely profitable. To Desi, however, he was always Jaime, the subject of so many envious dreams Sammy had shared with her. Many nights he'd talk for hours, explaining all the reasons why he envied Jaime so, and why he would follow his idol anywhere.

Tired from the last four hours on the road, Desi pulled into a rest stop to stretch her cramping legs, and her mind drifted back to the night before that stupid jump.

"Why, Desi?" He had said, his eyes red with hurt. "Why not be happy? This will be something so big for us-both of us."

"No, Sammy," she'd said impatiently, "this is all you. More of that same conversation. More of nothing ever being enough."

He'd sat there, staring at his shoes, rendered speechless by her blatant anger. Time and again she'd rewritten in the pages of memory what she said next. Over the last two months, that scene had changed drastically, from what was really said, to what she wished she had.

"Sammy," she said, her palms on his weathered face, "don't you see it? I love you so much, just the way you are. I love the way you sing to me at night, and hold me when I sleep. I love the way you always make me smile, even when I'm so down. I love the fact you listen, and are happy to do it."

Her lips pressed against his, softly tingling with he had felt for her. "But most of all, Sammy, I love knowing, that no matter what, you will always be there."

Such a beautiful way to express her heart. To have him see that she loved him as she always had. If she'd just swallowed her pride and said that, they would have held each other close and drifted away to sleep. Desiree Parker was a feisty one, though, and never ceded when she knew she was right.

"You know what, Sammy?" Her real words echoed through her mind, loud and painful. "When you get yourself killed tomorrow, it won't be because of me."

The coldness of her words clawed like icy fingers from deep in her stomach, and grabbed tight her heart. The crushing emptiness flowed over her again, just as it had every day since he'd been gone. Not bothering to notice if anyone could see her, nor caring if they did, she pounded her head on the steering wheel and began to cry.

The ping of her phone roused her from her despairs. Using her thumb, she opened the message and inhaled sharply, and steeled herself for the knowledge she was about to receive.