The Sign
“Gracie’s cry shook the walls of the monastery as she dropped to the ground at his side. She was shaking. The blood drained from her face, and her hands shot up to her open mouth. Finch’s body just lay there, in front of her, flat against the desert sand. He was on his front, motionless, the puff of dust that he’d kicked up when he’d slammed into the ground drifting back down and settling around him.
Slowly, her hands came down and hovered over him, not daring to touch him. The others, led b...y Dalton, all rushed to her side.
“Is he . . . ?” Dalton couldn’t say it.
There were no visible open wounds, no blood seeping out. It didn’t make the sight any less horrific. His head, which must have hit the ground first, was twisted sideways at an impossible angle. He had one arm bent backward, and his eyes were staring lifelessly at the parched soil.
“Oh my God. Finch,” Gracie sobbed as she stared at him, not sure what to do.MoreLess
Slowly, her hands came down and hovered over him, not daring to touch him. The others, led b...y Dalton, all rushed to her side.
“Is he . . . ?” Dalton couldn’t say it.
There were no visible open wounds, no blood seeping out. It didn’t make the sight any less horrific. His head, which must have hit the ground first, was twisted sideways at an impossible angle. He had one arm bent backward, and his eyes were staring lifelessly at the parched soil.
“Oh my God. Finch,” Gracie sobbed as she stared at him, not sure what to do.MoreLess
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