We crossed
the yellow line together in slow, steady, almost synchronized steps. Kind of like
the scene where the team of sheriff and deputies walk down the center of the street
to meet the outlaw gang. We stepped up onto the curb, and crossed the tree lawn
in two steps. Actually, the strip of grass between the crumbling sidewalks of Darbyville
and the equally crumbling curb, glopped up with asphalt, didn't really count as
a tree lawn. We lost our unified steps on the sidewalk. Ford and Kurt put one foot
onto the lawn of the abandoned house about a second before Stephanie and I did.
Angela wobbled
and her knees folded a little bit. She was in the middle of our group, with Stephanie
and Ford on either side of her. They both looked back at the same time and reached
for her. Angela let out a breathless little chuckle and took two steps onto the
patchy, matted grass, and this time did go to her knees.
"Get her out of here!" I shouted, and didn't wait for anyone to respond. Looking back, that wasn't smart.
When I mind-lifted
Angela, they were still holding onto her, and naturally they resisted when she rose
up in the air and sort of went into a reclining/seated position. The couple of seconds
of mental tug-of-war, hurt. Something kind of reach up through the power
I had wrapped around Angela and dug claws into my brain. I had a nosebleed by the
time we all got back across the street. Kurt yanked the back door of Stephanie's
Jeep open and they got Angela inside.
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