Free Eyes Ever to the Sky (A Sci Fi Romance) (The Sky Trilogy) by Katie French Page B

you are. We've been trying to call.” She pinched her lips together.
    “ Lizzy, I'm sorry. It was my mom. She's gone—”
    Lizzy's red fingernails sliced through the air, cutting her off. “Cecelia, you know what I hate more than someone being late?”
    Cece shook her head. “I don't know.” Behind Lizzy, Travis offered a sympathetic shrug. Michelle, standing next to him, smirked.
    “ I can't stand when someone tries to blame their screw ups on others.” Her carefully drawn-on eyebrows drew together. “My numb nuts ex-husband tried to blame our breakup on me ,” she pointed to her chest, “when I knew all along he was boinking Darcy in the back of his Suburban. Is that what you're trying to do to me?” Lizzy flashed nicotine stained teeth. “You trying to screw me, Cecelia?”
    Cece dropped her head. “No ma'am, but you don't understand. My mom's missing . As in gone. If I could just get an hour to go looking for her…” She trailed off when Lizzy's scowl did not fade.
    “ You can have the whole day if I fire you right now.” Lizzy jutted her chin and waited.
    Cece dropped her eyes and shook her head.
    “Didn’t think so.” Lizzy wiped a smudge of goo off the counter and frowned. “I'm a three-strikes kind of lady. You get another chance. But if you're late again, your ass is grass.” She gave Cece a final look. “Travis,” she said, snapping her fingers. “Get Cecelia a spare shirt from the back.” She turned to Cece. “It'll come out of your check, little lady.”
    Cece nodded, but the news stung. She needed every bit of that money. She opened her mouth to tell Lizzy, but her boss was already stalking toward the back with her cellphone in hand. The conversation was over.
    Cece grabbed the t-shirt from Travis, offered him a pathetic smile and shuffled to the bathroom.  Once inside she locked the door and slumped against the wall. She felt sucker-punched. First her mother was missing, then she got slammed by Lizzy and now she had to pay for her extra t-shirt. She'd have to work nine hours with a fist of worry clenched around her stomach.  She sat on the toilet and stared at the floor. A few dead flies lay on the peeling linoleum tile. Cece felt like one of those fly carcasses: broken, lifeless and looking for hope that would never come. 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN — HUGH
    Wednesday 11:32 a.m.
     
     
    Hugh trekked through the brittle grass, watching the heat waves shimmer along the long stretch of railroad track. His stomach cramped, a sharp pain twisting his insides. He fought the urge to throw up, swallowing hard and wiping sweat off his brow. He was sick. So sick.
    He kept his head down, his body hunched over and his hands protectively around his stomach. This morning he'd given in to thirst and drank from a trickling steam. Now his stomach was revolting. The half-eaten jelly donut he'd snagged from a backyard picnic table had come up a while ago. His empty stomach churned with nothing to calm it.
    Three days of searching for the silo in his vision. Three days of starving, running, of being constantly afraid. And now he was going to die from a drink of water.
    Bile rose up his throat, the hot acid burning his esophagus. Hugh stopped, put his hands to his knees and gagged. Then he lifted his bloodshot eyes to his surroundings. They'd find his body here beside the rusty tracks, the wildflowers dancing beside his bloated corpse. Or, more likely, no one would find him but the vultures. Or the monster. Hugh shuddered, clutched his stomach and shuffled forward. 
    Help. He needed help. There was no way around it. His skin might crawl every time he was around people, but if he didn't ask for help soon he'd die. What was he so worried about? He hadn't done anything wrong. Not that he remembered. Still, deep in his heart something pinged at him. There's a reason you were in that crater, his brain said. There's a reason your body seizes up when you think about talking to strangers . He told that voice to shut