The end of the world was the least of her worries
She has secrets.
He has even bigger ones.
The unlikely pair journey across a crumbling country, facing unpredictable and frightening perils with each mile they crawl.
Along the way, they discover the biggest danger they’ll ever face is themselves.
Targeted Age Group:: adults
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
This story came to me while I was driving across Pennsylvania for work. By the time I reached my destination 300 miles away, I had the entire story in my head and began writing it. Three months later, it was done and a road trip story was born.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
Like most of the characters in my books, they are based on people I know.
She wondered how many of them wanted to rape her.
She scanned each and every one of the brutes. Thin men and fat men and all kinds of lean muscle and blubbery fat in between. Short men and tall men and all kinds of heights in between. Bald men and long-haired men and all kinds of coifs in between.
When they looked at her, she could see the lewdness in their light eyes and dark eyes and all the colors in between.
They all wanted to fuck her. She could tell.
That’s how Raygen Smith saw the world, distilled through an ugly prism, each color representing a deadly sin.
Men owned the uterus—at least that’s what her momma told her.
Raygen possessed one, which made her no more than a thing. She was just another incubator with legs and the sooner she spread them the better.
Her momma told her that, too.
Raygen zipped up her snug, gray hooded jacket as far as it would go and looked down at her chest to make sure her pierced nipples weren’t jutting into the fabric. She didn’t want to encourage the lustful hoard that surrounded her in this terminal.
She had ditched her phone and felt strange without it. She relied so much on the thing for, well, almost everything. The time. The weather. What her few friends were up to on Instagram. What her momma was up to on Facebook. And music—country and hip-hop and death metal and all the genres in between. It was one of the few things that made her forget and allowed her to just be.
Now she was without it and felt as though she had severed an appendage, as if she were half a girl. Hollow. Incomplete.
She watched others who were in the terminal waiting to board the 6:55 a.m. flight from Billings Logan to Dulles fiddle with their phones, their brows knit together, lips pursed, fingers pecking away at screens with increasing desperation.
She knew what that meant.
There was spotty service. Maybe none. She found that slightly alarming.
Raygen’s chest tightened. She always had a sense when things were about to go to shit. Practice, she supposed.
This Shit Sense sent a tingle to the very tips of her fingers and toes. It tickled the back of her neck. Trapped the air in her lungs. Made her stomach hurt.
She was beginning to feel all those uncomfortable sensations now.
The Shit Sense coming online.
The sound of hundreds of cell phones chiming in unison startled everyone in the terminal. Faces became awash with light from their screens, their widening eyes rolling over the words as their mouths slacked open.
A screech from the loud speakers further flustered the throng. A slightly garbled announcement reverberated throughout the airport.
“All flights have been grounded by order of Homeland Security.”
Raygen sighed and raked her spindly fingers through her multi-colored hair.
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