Percepliquis

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Miranda had been certain that the end of the world would begin like this-without warning, but with fire. Behind them, the sky glowed red as flames and plumes of sparks rose into the night sky. The university at Sheridan was burning.

Holding Mercy’s little hand, Miranda was terrified she might lose the girl in the dark. They had been running for hours, dashing blindly through the pine forest, pushing their way past unseen branches. Beneath the laden boughs, the snow was deep. Miranda fought through drifts higher than her knees, breaking a path for the little girl and the old professor.

Struggling somewhere behind, Arcadius called out, “Go on, go on, don’t wait for me.”

Hauling the heavy pack and dragging the little girl, Miranda was moving as fast as she could. Every time she heard a sound or thought a shadow moved, Miranda fought back a scream. Panic hovered just below the surface, threatening to break free. Death was on their heels and her feet were anchors.

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