Read Under the Magnolia for Free Online Page A

up
safe in her own bed—
    "Addie."
    Find a clue, find something .
    It could have been any bedroom in
any apartment in any city. The window was a mass of flames, and
outside she could just make out a building, a billboard showing—
    "Addie, you're dreaming. Wake up ."
    The explosion was deafening, and
walls fell. She was stuck inside, trapped, and no matter how much she
struggled she couldn't break free--
    Strong hands wrapped around her arms
and shifted her, pulling her against something solid and warm.
"Addie, honey—"
    "California," she gasped
out, shaking. "A sign. For Disneyland." She couldn't stop
the words from tumbling out. "Oh God, they're going to die and she's pregnant."
    "Shh," Wes soothed, his
hands threading into her hair. "Do you know when?"
    Addie wasn't even sure she was
completely awake yet. Fear still gripped her, and her body trembled
as she dragged in a deep breath of cool, clean air. She forced her
eyes open and stared at Wes as she tried to organize her thoughts.
"I…I should have tried to find a date. Some mail, or a
newspaper…"
    But she hadn't. Panic had taken her again ,
and the knowledge of her failure burned through her as she fought
back tears.
    "Hey, hey." He gathered
her closer, his voice low in her ear as he rubbed her back. "It's
not your fault, honey. You can't change everything, and expecting to
be able to help from clear across the country is asking too much of
yourself."
    She shuddered again. She could change everything, or at least a lot of things. The government had
resources they'd devoted to breaking down precognitive visions and
preventing tragedy. Electronic monitoring while they slept,
therapists on call to walk them through the visions to pick out tiny
details. Dozens of computer gurus on call at all hours to track down
the slightest clue. SWAT teams standing by to avert catastrophe.
    She could save dozens, maybe even
hundreds, of lives. But it would mean giving up everything she
had—her studies and her job, her friends. Living in government
custody for the rest of her life. Oh, it would be for her own
protection; every criminal organization from the mob down to
small-time bookies would pay well for their own precog. Drugs had
even been developed that could reliably induce visions, though their
safety was a hotly debated issue.
    "Sometimes it makes me feel
guilty," she admitted in a small voice. "Sometimes I
think—I think of all the people who would still be alive if I
went to the government. If I turned myself in. But I'm too selfish,
Wes. I want a life ."
    He didn't say anything for a long
while, just rocked her gently and made low, soft noises of comfort.
Finally, he said, "I'm glad you haven't disappeared into some
federal program already. It's hypocritical, but there it is. I mean,
I put myself on the line for people every day, Addie, but I... The
thought of you doing it..." He shook his head.
    "If it were just the visions--"
She shivered and curled closer to him, shifting to rest her head more
comfortably against his shoulder. "You hear things. About the
drugs. That it's not just the criminals who use them, but that the
government might, too. I met someone, once, who'd used them. He did
it to himself, because he wanted to see things." And it had driven him slowly insane. The
drug-induced visions were reportedly more intense than the real
thing, so terrifying and vivid that several psychics had suffered
fatal heart attacks.
    "Okay, now, that's crazy talk."
His voice held an edge of fear. "You're not doing that kind of
shit. I will beat your ass first."
    That startled her enough that she
jerked her gaze to his. "Oh hell ,
no. God, Wes. No. I'm guilty, not suicidal. And I'm not a martyr."
    "Good. Because if you even thought about it, I'd bring the wrath of Granny Gardner down on your head."
    A giggle escaped her. It was
slightly hysterical, but it was better than sobbing. She dropped her
head back to Wes’ shoulder and gave in to tired laughter as her
stress began to