Read On Black Wings for Free Online Page B

farmer with a tractor hat, a businessman with his tie undone, a Middle-East guy in a turban, and a state trooper.
    “Oh my God!” I’m so happy to see people. “People! What are you doing here?”
    “Jesus Christ!” The businessman pushes past me and looks out the door. “She rode here on a horse. Do you think it’s safe? Is it safe now? Can we leave?”
    “I, I don’t know.” I blink, brushing the ash off myself. “I lost everyone, my husband, my kids.”
    “You look a little young for that, girlie.” The waitress deadpans. “You sure you’re feeling all right?”
    “I’m thirsty, can you get me something to eat?” I sit at the counter, looking at everyone. The waitress nods and pours me some coffee, and also a glass of water. I chug down the water.
    “Slow down, hun.” She reaches over and dusts me off. “Jesus, how is it out there? How far have you been?”
    The businessman grabs my shoulder. “Tell us what’s going on! Is it safe? I need to get to my family, is it safe?”
    “What’s with the horse?” The farmer keeps his distance, sitting at a booth. “Where do you come from?”
    The Middle-East guy sits at a booth near my horse, staring out at it, quiet.
    The trooper pushes the businessman away, and puts his hat on the counter next to me. “Give her some room, let her answer. Miss, this is very important, what did you see?”
    “I want to know if it’s safe!” The businessman is frantic, pulling on my shoulder until it hurts. “Answer me!”
    I turn at him and glare. “I don’t know.”
    His eyes dart around me and he spits and turns away, looking out the front doors. “If she could ride here on a horse, it must be safe.”
    “Sir,” the trooper says in a commanding voice, “sir step away from the doors, we don’t know. We all saw enough people die this morning, we don’t need to be rushing to judgment.” The trooper puts a hand on my arm. “Miss, please, I lost contact with the station an hour-and-a-half ago, I need to know what’s going on. I need to get in touch with emergency services.”
    “Last I hear there was some state of emergency declared,” the farmer says, sipping a cup of coffee, “people are dying everywhere and no one knows why.”
    “All of you, I have no idea,” I say, cupping my eyes with my hand. “I wish I could give you answers but I can’t.”
    “Start with the horse,” the Middle-East guy says, the room going quiet when he speaks, “where did you find the horse?”
    “I thought we told the towel-head to stay quiet. Who cares about the horse?” the businessman says, wrestling with the door. “Is it safe to leave now?”
    “It walked up to my house,” I say, “and I got on. It took me here.”
    “Miss,” the trooper says as he takes off his glasses, he’s a younger man with blue eyes, close-cropped hair, and a face marred by acne-scars. Still, he looks nice enough. “Miss, please. Tell me everything that happened. Why were you out there? How?”
    “I don’t know how. I’ve been seeing things all morning, visions, I don’t know. I’m not who I am anymore. I had a family,” I say, the tears welling up in my eyes, “and they are gone now. And now I’m half my age, I left myself in that house. I walked away from my body, and it was still alive.”
    The trooper backs up a step, and the Middle-East guy begins praying in almost a chant-like voice. The room is quiet.
    “If that isn’t the strangest thing I ever heard,” the farmer puts his coffee cup down.
    “She’s been through a lot officer, all of you,” the waitress says, “give her some room and a chance to rest. Everyone is pretty stressed out.”
    “She was out there, she rode here on a damn horse, and it’s safe,” the businessman says, forcing the door open a hair.
    “Sir, don’t open the door!” the trooper turns away from me, and I rest my forehead in my hands.
    The waitress slides a grilled cheese sandwich in front of me, chips, soda, and a pickle. Oh my God,