Fear (Gone, #5)

by Michael Grant

“That’s not going to happen,” Connie said firmly. “Because what’s going to happen is that the barrier is going to come down. And my son Sam and your daughter, Dahra, are going to come walking down that road.” Abana smiled. She finished their long-worn joke. “And walk right past us to get a burger at Carl’s.” Connie reached for her hand. “That’s right. That’s what’s going to happen. It’ll be, ‘Hey, Mom, see you later: I’m going to go grab a burger.’” They were quiet for a while. Both women closed their eyes and lifted their faces to the sun. “If only there had been some warning,” Abana said. She’d said it before: she regretted having argued with her daughter the morning before the event. And as usual the response was on the tip of Connie’s tongue: I did have warning. I had a warning. But this time, as every time, Connie Temple said nothing.