Janie and The Gray: Part 23
Church.
I startled awake to the crack of thunder. Lying still on the pew, I slid the pistol from my waistline and held my breath. Lightning flashed through huge stained glass windows, paparazzi camera flashes catching the saints by surprise.
Just a storm. Chill out, Janie.
My latest treasure, a pink digital watch freshly scavenged, showed 6:37 PM. Too early to move. Too uncomfortable to sleep.
I pushed myself upright with a groan. The wood beneath me creaked in agreement. I glanced around the immense room. My eyes were drawn to the lifelike sculpture of Jesus hanging on a cross behind the altar. It was the closest I'd come to human contact in the weeks since my escape from Choker.
"Morning," I said, looking to the suspended figure. "Evening, I guess."
Sheets of rain beat against the windows and roof.
"It's best you don't talk, because that would mean I'm crazy," I said. "And you wouldn't like what I had to say."
Thunder roared as if in response.
"Yeah? Okay. They're gone. All of them. Mom and Dad and Jake and — how could you let this happen? Where were you?" I screamed.
Something broke inside me. I began to sob.