“I can’t help the dead.” Pastor Finn pushed Peter’s hands away from him. “But I have to help you. Come with me.”
Peter watched him, confused. His teeth clenched at Pastor Finn’s betrayal. “I thought you were different. I have to go back. Bury her, like she deserves.” Peter stumbled backwards.
Pastor Finn’s hand burst forward and grabbed Peter’s shirt at his shoulder. Tightening his fist, he dragged Peter around the side of the building and through the door to the basement. Peter struggled in vain as Pastor Finn’s firm grip didn’t relent, but tugged Peter through the basement past several tall stacks of boxes.
“You have to get out of here. Leave before they find out you are still alive,” Pastor Finn demanded.
Peter shook his head in disbelief of the man’s off-beat ranting. “Who? Who would care if I am dead or alive? I don’t have a family, remember? They died, they all died! Why the hell I didn’t die with them I’ll never know.” He hit downward, breaking Pastor Finn’s hold on him. “Seems to me all I’m good for is causing death.”
Dark blue eyes assessed him, and then Pastor Finn twisted to rummage through a box in front of him. “Your mother saved you. We’d been in contact with your father and knew we had to get you to safety. It was better they thought you were dead. Easier to hide you that way.”
“What are you talking about?” Peter frowned. His hand started to itch and burn even hotter than before. “Ugh! God, this hurts.”
Pastor Finn stopped his rummaging through the box and turned around handing Peter a bag. “What hurts? You got hurt?”
Peter lifted his hand and Pastor Finn held it. “This is it. The sign. It is time.”
Confused, Peter’s eyebrow lifted. “What time? Tell me what is going on? What is it?”
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