A tingle threaded up the nape of my neck and I shuddered, hands clutched into tight fists at my side.

With a small nod of resignation, I numbly stepped forward.

"Owen? O...wen, hon...ey?" My voice cracked and caught, trembling fingers reaching for the door to yank it back so I could get a better view. "Please, please...no..."

That last was an afterthought while my scattered brain put together the horrifying puzzle in front of my face.

The car door creaked backward. I flinched, shutting my eyes, and looking away at the last second.

A steady burn of rage twitched through my muscles until I blinked, allowing the light to illuminate my little brother's curled up form in the backseat of his car.

His face was buried in the seat, black hair sticking out all over and shrouding his profile. I couldn't tell from my angle whether his chest was moving, had to get closer. The idea made me clutch out for the car with my other hand as my knees went weak.

With a sick detachment I watched while my fingers inched closer toward my little brother's face.

If he was cold...then...my fingers were seconds away from his cheek.

Owen jerked up in the seat as if his body was connected to strings, whipping his hair out of his eyes.

"What the hell?" he growled, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. "What are you doing here, Wilhelmina?"

I took a step back and stopped breathing, covering my mouth.

"Seriously, Owen? I thought you were dead! I can't believe you!"

When he moved to jerk his bloody hand across his face I snatched away his wrist at the last second. A cursory examination proved it didn't look as if he was hurt.

"What did you do to yourself, dufus? Where are you cut?"

"Huh?" Owen shook off the sleep, slicking his tongue across his dry lips.

There was nothing. No wound. Even though I forced him to let me check.

While he scrambled away from my motherly examination it didn't escape me that my brother's pupils were the size of dimes, huge in comparison to his fawned over slate gray eyes.

"Damn you, Owen!" I pushed him until he all but toppled into the backseat. "I thought you'd kicked this? After everything..." My indignation sputtered out into an acute disappointment that on the heels of my adrenaline rush made my head pound, my heart sick for him. I let out a slow breath and spoke through my teeth. "Go clean yourself up and figure out where you're hurt, I'll take care of everything else. As always."

I didn't turn around to see if he followed my orders. I walked to the back door and kept doing what needed to be done. My dropped cell phone wasn't going anywhere—the sooner I got done with the trash, the sooner I could keep an eye on my baby brother.

My hands blindly grabbed the forgotten garbage bags and I trudged toward the dumpster shrouded in darkness while I muttered curses under my breath. I really shouldn't have been shocked. He'd only been sober for, well, I could count the months on one hand.

But it had seemed...I shook my head, resolved not to get into it anymore.

Owen's demons were his companions, not mine.

I'd spent too many years clawing him back from his pill addiction and I wasn't about to sink back down with him again.

A bag slipped from my still trembling hand, but I left it, moving the top of the dumpster until it leaned back against the brick wall. My nose wrinkled at the foul stench, worse than usual. Maybe Dad threw out another bad batch of sardines.

In the distance the sharp pierce of sirens roused me away from my train of thought. My head was thick with cobwebs tonight, too much to mull over while I was trying to focus on the damn reality of my life.

With a staggered inhale I threw the bags into the recesses. At least that was dealt with now.

But why were the sirens getting closer? I swallowed, sniffing my clothes. God, what was the disgusting scent clinging to me? It was worse than trash, like a giant burp from Hell. The top of the dumpster should have been enough to mask the horrible smell if it was coming from me.

A flash of light in the corner of my eye.

Light? Eh, probably from the streetlamp.

"Am I ever getting home tonight?" I grumbled before backtracking to pick up my phone that I'd left over by Owen's SUV.

There it was again. Another flash.

Unable to ignore the weird signal I forced my feet straight ahead away from the pure oxygen until I had a good view behind the dumpster—downwind. Which didn't help my revulsion. I squinted noticing a weird rattle happening against the bottom of the metal where the dumpster met the wall.

My senses went on full alert and my legs turned to jelly while I maneuvered into a crouch.

"Owen, you better be coming back!" I called out though I couldn't get my voice an octave higher than a damn squeak. "There!"

The thing lit up again, enough to see the phantom object was a phone. Weird place for it, but who was I to judge? Weird seemed to follow me around tonight. Maybe we should get BFF charm bracelets.

After a couple seconds I figured Owen wasn't coming out to help me move the dumpster. Another reason to be thankful that I hit the gym as a part of my end of the world survival training because this stupid metal box had nothing on me. Two shoulder heaves and it was away from the wall.

But my main concern was no longer the damn phone.

The woman was akimbo, human legs and arms not made to bend that way, bleeding from a gash in the back of her skull.

I sunk to my knees on the chilled pavement. My throat nearly closed as I watched my shaking hand reach for the pulse at her neck.

Nothing. There was nothing. No movement, no heartbeat.

My jaw dropped as the goriest scream I'd ever heard burst from my lips at the same time that a cop car came to a screech in the back parking lot.

All I wanted to do was get home.

That wasn't happening tonight.