Hour of Destruction

HOUR OF DESTRUCTION

I

Anne stumbled out of her motel room. The sickness lurched in her again with another sudden bout of dizziness. Coupled with the unsteady ground, it almost staggered her.

The vibrations in the ground were no delusions. They were as real as the cold feeling that gripped her inside.

Why the ground shook, she couldn’t begin to guess. Of the rest, Anne suspected, she was dying.

That exhausting climb into the mountains, the loss suffered, and her experience in the pit had not been altogether in vain. The secret of that place was inside her, changing her. She had merely failed to realize it until now.

Many of the motel’s other customers stood outside. The vibrations beneath their feet and the rattling of mirrors, windows, and anything that wasn’t bolted down had driven them out. Undistracted by the shouts and excited conversations all around, Anne stumbled away from the King’s Motel.

Her feet reached the hard street. She followed the long, dark stretch but cou