Prologue

"The Lord your God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among you, from your brothers – it is to him you shall listen – " Deuteronomy 18:15

Danielle sat bolt upright, trembling and covered with sweat. She panted for air, muscles tense. It took her a second to realize that she was in her bedroom, not in some destroyed factory site. She relaxed, laying back down and staring at the ceiling.

Not for the first time, she really disliked being a prophet.

Danielle laid in her parents' bed for who-knows-how-long, trying to muster the strength to get up. She despised the morning with all of her being; it was always so quiet in the house. Normally, by the time Danielle woke up, the house was a mess. Sisters were talking, dogs were barking, T.V.'s were playing. But not anymore. The only audible sound was Danielle's faint breathing.

It took her some time, but she eventually rose to her feet. She shuffled to the kitchen, squinting at the light that streamed in through the windows. She subconsciously hobbled to the fridge, reaching around the sympathy casseroles and other foods to pull out a Dr. Pepper. She only paused for a moment to look at the pictures of various family members scattered around the kitchen, taking a deep breath before moving to the living room couch.

Those pictures didn't break her down anymore; she could look at them and keep going.

She stared at the dark T.V., listening to the birds chirp outside. After the funeral, the house had been crawling with well-wishers. Mostly friends of her parents and sisters (Danielle was a kind of loner), but Danielle didn't really mind. She'd just appreciated that she didn't have to be alone in her big old house.

She still wasn't sure what she was going to do with the house. It was hers now, all 5,294 square feet of it. She knew she couldn't just move in; the life insurance money would only cover the house for a little while. Plus, she'd been planning on eventually moving back to North Carolina and starting Duke again.

But, clearly, with the apocalypse near at hand, that plan was gone.

Danielle drained the last of her coke, going up to her old bedroom and changing into a pair of jeans and a hoodie. She plaited her hair in a simple braid that hung past her ribcage, sliding her feet into flip flops. She packed a bag, not sure how long she planned on staying with the boys, just knowing that she was supposed to be with them.

Danielle locked all the doors, quickly climbing into her cherry-red Kia Rio 5 (a graduation present from her dad) and setting off for South Dakota.

She had prophecies to fulfill.