Inspirational quotes by Kirby Howell.
I opened the door of my mother's stand-alone wardrobe and let the smell of her wash over me. I loved having this one unspoiled part of her left just for me. I leaned forward, slipped my face in between the hanging silks and chiffons. Her scent was warm and possessive. If my idea of home had a smell, this would be it.Home. Mother. Oh God, please. My face crumpled, and my knees gave out. I pitched forward into her hanging clothes, grabbing at her blouses and dresses, smelling of gardenias and dusk. I fell to the closet floor, pulling some with me. I toppled amongst her shoes; stinging eyes squeezed shut, mouth frozen open in a silent "O." They were out there somewhere, their lifeless bodies, still and cold, and they would never be coming home again. I curled my legs inside the wardrobe and pulled the door closed, shutting myself away with her memory.
I stopped looking at the cars after the first few miles. Once I started to see past the exteriors, I saw what lay inside some of them and felt the urge to sprint to the nearest freeway exit. Some people had tried to outrun The Plague by leaving town. They hadn't realized the illness could still find them in their cars, and now the 405 was one of the largest graveyards in the world. I thought for a moment about all of the other cities across the globe that probably had scenes just like this. My eyes stung, wondering if my mother, my dad, or any of my friends were in similar graveyards.I made the mistake of glancing into an overturned Volkswagen Beetle as I passed and saw a pair of legs clad in jeans and white Jack Purcell sneakers in the shadows of the car. They reminded me of Sarah's shoes. The man who laced those up that morning hadn't realized he wouldn't be taking them off again.
He pulled me back to him, stroking my hair as if to calm me. Tears sprang to my eyes and melted into the water around me. I didn't want to die. But people died every day. What hope I had for heaven's existence faded away, and I realized I would simply disappear.
Given the chance, would I go back? Back to the time when my parents were alive? When my biggest problem was a past-due paper? When I didn't need to know how to take care of myself, ride a horse, or defend someone I loved? Back to the time when I didn't know Grey?
You're going to wake up one day, and you're gonna realize he's moved on. He'll quit trying to win you back. And you'll regret it. And if there's anything The Plague taught me, it's that there isn't time for regret anymore.
The two men's eyes widened when they saw me charging toward them. One of them dropped his hold on Grey, letting him sway dangerously over the edge. Both men reached for their guns, but it was too late. I was nearly on them. Fortiter.I slammed into Grey, my momentum carrying us over the low edge. I briefly heard Karl shout, before the wind filled my ears. We were falling fast, and the pavement rushed up at us at an alarming speed.
Shad ignored my sudden lack of interest. "Stop overanalyzing and be happy. You should try the Shad lifestyle, Miss Winters. It's more panda bear and less porcupine.""Huh?""More black and white and cuddly, and less, well... alone and pointy.
I yanked hard on the reins, and my horse's hooves slid on the linoleum as he skidded to a stop, nervously snorting and tossing his head at the cramped quarters he'd suddenly found himself in. The Frontman stood in the hallway between me and Ben, holding him at gunpoint, but his head was turned to stare back at me, eyes wide with surprise at seeing a teenage girl on a horse in the kitchen.
Our group pressed west on what was left of Highway 93, toward the pass leading to Las Vegas. Sand covered the road in loose drifts so deep the horses' hooves sank into them. The metal highway signs were bent low by the strong wind, and above us, billboards that once screamed ads for the casinos were now stripped of their promises of penny slots and large jackpots. The raw boards underneath were exposed, like showgirls without their makeup. Some signs had been blown over completely and lay half-buried under mounds of sand, like sleeping animals. Cars dotted the highway, their paint scoured off and dead tumbleweeds caught underneath them. Their windows were fogged with death, and despite my effort not to look, my eyes were drawn to the blurred images of the still forms inside. I tried to concentrate on the dark road ahead of us instead.
His touch was like an electric current that ran through his fingers into my cheek and down the back of my neck.I took another step back, away from him. "Don't do that," I whispered and hated the part of myself that died for his soft touch. "Why? Why do you do things like that if you agree we shouldn't be involved? It's confusing and... and you make it so much worse." My words tumbled over each other as they poured from my mouth.He didn't reach for me again. His blue eyes were sad.
The only bright corner of my heart, where nothing seemed to hurt, was where Grey was. When I thought of him, I could see a future where I could be happy again, where I might not be just like I was before the Crimson Fever, but at least a version of myself that felt whole.
I used to be Autumn Winters, daughter of an actress and an architect. I had been one of three living in this home, but now I was just Autumn Winters, and I was alone.
The temperature of my blood dropped several degrees, and I took a step back. My heart quickened. "Storm?" I prompted, looking at the boxes on the dock labeled "non-perishable.
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