Dying for Rain (The Rain Trilog - BB Easton Page 0,54

The banner man cackles as spindly branches grab for us like claws.

The sky goes dark, and the wind howls through the barren woods as I grab Rain’s hand and turn to run back the way we came.

“Wes!” she screams just before her hand is ripped away from mine.

“Rain!” I turn to find her six feet above the ground, suspended in the branches of a sapling.

She’s floating in some sort of pink primordial ooze, and the tree appears to be fucking feeding on her, growing bigger and stronger than all the others.

“We must return to the one true law!” Fuckface howls. “The law … of naychuh!”

My vision blurs. My fists ball at my sides. And when he opens his mouth to cackle again, I take off in a sprint. I’m going to rip him down and rip him apart and fucking feed him to himself until he chokes on his own evil hypocrisy, but before I get there, I notice his eyes go wide in fear as they focus on something behind me. I slow to a jog and turn around as people from all walks of life begin to march into the forest. The collective crunch, crunch, crunch of the leaves under their feet is deafening as they surround us, each one with a fist in the air.

“Seize them!” Fuckface shouts.

The trees come alive, snatching children from their mother’s arms, ripping families apart as they scream and reach for one another. Pink plasma surrounds their tangled, trapped loved ones as the trees feed on their screaming bodies.

But the people in the woods are undaunted. They continue to march forward, in unison—crunch, crunch, crunch—as the bull’s-eye in the center of Fuckface’s forehead begins to glow like a flashing neon sign.

I glance at Rain, her face distorted through the ooze, and she begins pointing frantically at something below me.

When I look down, I’m holding her dad’s .44 Magnum.

I kiss the barrel and say a silent, Thank you. Then, I close one eye and aim for the target.

When I squeeze the trigger, I expect that fucker to disappear, go up in smoke, burn to the ground, something, but instead, he simply laughs at me.

“Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

I raise my gun and fire three more rounds into that shithead’s forehead, but still … nothing.

Then—crunch, crunch, crunch—the sea of men, women, and children behind me step up to join me on the front line. They stand shoulder to shoulder with me, lowering their fists as they draw their weapons—shotguns, rifles, flame-throwers, hand grenades—an arsenal as diverse as they are.

This time, when I raise my gun, they all take aim with me.

This time, when I squeeze my trigger, the entire traumatized, hungry, tired, homeless, grieving, fucked up population fires their weapons alongside me. And this time, when my bullet hits the bull’s-eye, it’s joined by a thousand others.

The target jerks and flashes and rings like a carnival bell before it explodes in a giant ball of fire. I have to shield myself from the heat as Governor Fuckface lets out a pained, defeated cry.

Gasps and cheers and laughter spread through the crowd, so I lower my arm and watch as the banner burns away. The breeze blows its sparkling ashes around us like swirling silver glitter as the saplings twist and grow and sprout new green leaves.

I run to Rain’s tree and catch her in my arms as she leaps from the growing branches. The smile on her face is brighter than fucking sunshine as I spin her around, watching everyone in the woods do the same.

This time, when I inhale, the air doesn’t smell like burning leaves.

This time, it smells like burning governor.

I exhale with a content sigh as the sound of knuckles on a steel bar wakes me from my dream.

What the fuck was that? I wonder as I scrub a hand down my face.

I haven’t had a dream like that since the government was pumping them into my head, pre–April 23. Of course, those always ended with four demonic horsemen destroying everyone and everything in their path in an apocalyptic blaze of glory, not with the citizens banding together to defeat the enemy. Big fucking improvement.

I open my eyes to find Hoyt standing at my door. He’s staring at the floor even harder than usual, his mouth forming a perfect frown. It’s not until I see what he’s holding that the bliss from my dream wears off and the nightmare that is my fucking reality comes crashing down around me.

It’s a bundle of brown.

Fucking.

Burlap.

“The governor moved