The Resurrected Compendium Read Free Page A

the dream, but even as she got to her feet and gripped the back of the seat to keep herself steady, she was unable to force herself to wake. And she wanted to, because though this wasn’t yet a nightmare, it felt well on its way to becoming one.
    The chug-chugging got louder. The train hissed and steamed. She was riding in a dragon.
    The train lurched, and Abbie stumbled forward. Strong hands caught her, kept her from falling, but when she looked up to see who it was she could find nothing but darkness. Something reeked, the stench thick in her nostrils. Choking. It smelled of blood and shit and puke; it was the stink of lying in a ditch on the side of the road in your upside-down car while you waited to die.
    The EMTs would load her on a stretcher and take her to the hospital. It would be her first ride in an ambulance. They would not bother with a siren, because she was already gone. There was no white light, no tunnel, no chorus of angels or parade of loved ones waiting for her. She’d left everyone she loved behind her in that ditch, long ago.
    “Abbie.” Someone shook her, then again. “Abbie, wake up. Now!”
    Not the voice of God. Not a doctor. Abbie clawed her way up and out of the dreams to find Cal bent over her, his hair so shaggy and in such disarray she moved without thinking to push it off his face. He captured her hand, his grip too tight. Mouth a frown. Expression urgent.
    “Get up,” Cal said. “We need to get into the bathroom.”
    “What?” Blinking, the taste of beer and sex furry on her tongue, she couldn’t focus. He was shouting, she realized. He had to shout over the sound of the train.
    Not a train.
    The wind.
    Cal pulled her out of bed. He was naked. She was naked. Together, they stumbled across the grotty carpet. She stubbed her toe on the leg of the bed, but there wasn’t time even to yelp. She wouldn’t have been able to hear herself over the roar of the wind if she had.
    In the bathroom, Cal didn’t even pull back the curtain. He pushed her into the tub. Abbie’s knees hit the cold, slick porcelain, and this time it was hard enough to shove a cry out of her.
    Then he was there with her, his body covering hers. Warm. Slick with sweat. She remembered how they’d moved against each other and how he’d touched her with those strong hands, but there was nothing sensual about the way he grabbed her now. Cal pushed her down, down, down, her cheek against the bottom of the tub. Her teeth cut into her skin. She tasted blood.
    He might’ve been shouting something, but she couldn’t make out words, just rough, hoarse shouts. Her own screams bit at the inside of her throat, but her clamped-tight teeth wouldn’t let out a single sound. Cal pushed her down harder, harder, even though this tub was barely big enough for one, not large enough to hold two even if they were in an intimate embrace as they were now, intimate but graceless, nothing kind or generous about it.
    The tub rocked.
    The floor creaked. The walls strained, rattling the light fixtures so fiercely the glass globes covering the bulbs fell onto the linoleum floor and shattered. Abbie could see nothing, but the song of shattering glass was a noise she knew well enough to understand.
    This was…something. Her brain wanted her to understand what was going on, it wanted to clear itself of the haze of alcohol she’d once again been so cruel to subject it to, but though fear could always give the appearance of sobriety, nothing but time would clear her bloodstream of her favorite sweet poison. She was drunk. She was a drunk.
    Silence didn’t drop over them like a blanket or a hammer. The sound of the walls shaking in their foundation eased and the hoarse chuffing cacophony of the runaway dragon train faded and left behind the equally hoarse sound of Cal’s breath in her ear. It warmed her cheek, just like his bare flesh warmed hers. It seemed wrong for her to be so chilled, but then Abbie realized she was also soaking wet.  
    As