Tucson, Arizona.
Night of November 2.
You are reading story Waves and the Small Breeze at novel35.com
Sunrise: 6:42 a.m.
Your feet hurt.
You already passed the place you were supposed to stay yesterday, but it's just an empty garage; there's nothing there for you.
An hour before dawn, you reach the chain-link fences and industrial parks that mark the outskirts of Tucson. You can see cheap stucco houses up ahead, but the burbs are no place for a vampire. Without a cell phone or money, and with your clothes too trashed for polite company, you revert to skills you honed in the desperate years after Olivecrona tried to have you destroyed. When you find an abandoned semitrailer in a factory parking lot, you note that the high walls should keep the worst of the heat off. You check it for holes in the ceiling. Finding none, you crawl inside.
Você passa o dia com seu cérebro gritando de terror e seu corpo paralisado, enquanto caminhões e máquinas de fábrica se movem ao seu redor. Alguém realmente move o trailer, que você tem certeza que não foi movido em anos. Eles o arrastam para o sol, então você passa o dia fervendo em uma caixa de metal sob o calor diurno do Arizona. No momento em que o sol se põe, você abre a porta e — embora as pessoas ainda estejam trabalhando — foge para a noite.