Desperate Creed

by Alex Kava

  “What the hell is FEMA already doing here?”

  “This isn’t the first storm in the area,” the man told him.

  Creed thought the guy certainly had the attitude down of a federal administrator. But having served in the Marines, Creed would have guessed the guy for ex-military. There was something about his stance. The ugly scar poking out of his shirt collar might even support Creed’s suspicion. He figured he’d leave it for Krenshaw to handle.

  “I’ll check back with you, Sheriff,” he told him and Creed headed back to the Jeep.

  Even as he turned away he tapped his cell phone, looking and hoping to see a new message from Maggie. What he did see was three bars. Instead of attempting another text, he hit the call button.

  It was ringing on the other end. That was more than he’d gotten earlier. Still, he expected the call to get dropped when someone answered.

  “Maggie?”

  “Yes, yes! Ryder? I can’t believe you got through.”

  “One of the carriers brought in a mobile unit, so it might be easier until it overloads. How are you doing?”

  “Hot,” she said and laughed.

  It was good to hear her laugh even if he also heard the tension in it.

  “Listen, Maggie, is Frankie down there with you.”

  “Yes.”

  Relief swept over him. Hannah would have been inconsolable if Frankie had been one of the three bodies they pulled from the debris. But his relief was short lived.

  “She’s hurt,” Maggie said, her voice lower and quieter. “She’s hurt bad. One of the support beams came down on her legs. We were able to pull her free, but... And one of the guys had a chunk of glass in his shoulder.”

  “Is Frankie conscious?”

  “Yes, but she’s in a lot of pain, Ryder. How soon do they think they can get the door open for us?”

  His eyes trailed back to the mountain of rubble that used to be the restaurant and the 18-wheeler sealing that door she was talking about. Then looked at the sky, again. Late afternoon and it was getting so dark headlights had automatically come on of the vehicles traveling the side roads.

  How much could he tell her? How much should he tell her?

  “Ryder?” she asked when he took too long. “It must be bad.”

  “There’s a lot of stuff they have to remove before they can get to the door. How people are down there with you?”

  “Let me think.” She started naming them off out loud, “Me, Frankie, Clara and Adele, Ronald, Val, Stephanie and her son, Beth, Polo Shirt, Hank, Loverboy and Gus. How many is that?” He heard someone else answer her then she said, “Thirteen. Ronald has a chunk of glass in his shoulder. I think the bleeding’s stopped.”

  “Anyone else hurt?”

  “Cuts and scrapes.”

  “How about you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  She answered too quickly like she was trying to convince herself as much as convince him.

  “Listen Ryder, there’s a gas leak. Someone mentioned it might be able to be turned off at the main.”

  “I’ll check that out.”

  “And water’s coming in.”

  “How high is it?”

  “Not high. Almost to my ankle. Do you have any idea how long it’ll take to get us out? Give it to me straight. I’m a big girl.” Before he could answer, she added, “A big girl with claustrophobia.”

  Creed remembered too well what it felt like to be buried underground. He’d gotten caught in a mudslide once. It didn’t take much to conjure up that feeling of panic. Just the thought of layers of dirt on top of him could still break him out in a sweat. Someone with claustrophobia didn’t need to imagine an 18-wheelers capsized on top of them, threatening not only a possible exit but adding to the risk of caving in.

  “They’re bringing in some equipment to help more off the debris. But Maggie, more storms are coming, so they may need to back off for a short time.” Even as he told her this, he watched some of the first responders waving at each other. They were loading up their equipment.

  “How severe?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Another tornado?”

  He could hear the edge of panic in her voice.

  “I haven’t heard the forecast. I’m headed back to the Jeep. Jason will know.”

  “Ryder, I don’t think we can take another hit. All the kitchen’s equipment—the grill, dishwater, walk-in refrigerator—Hank says it’s all right above us.”

  He winced at the thought and in his mind he added that semi trailer and those blue barrels.

  54

  SOUTHERN BLESSINGS

  Just South of Montgomery, Alabama

  Frankie already felt better. So much better.

  Maggie had found frost-burned packages of meat in the old chest freezer. The white butcher paper was stamped with the year 2013. She came back with an armful of various sizes. She’d distributed packages to the others, but said she’d saved the best cuts for Frankie.

  “Rib-eye for this leg,” she told Frankie as she carefully laid the wonderfully cold package on her burning leg. “And a sirloin for this leg.”

  But the best gift was the bottle of whiskey.

  At first, she’d rolled her eyes at Maggie. But then she noticed the change on Maggie’s face when she read her phone.

  “What’s wrong?” Frankie had asked.

  “It might be a while. Ryder says more storms are coming.”

  “And they can’t rescue us in the rain?”

  When Maggie didn’t answer, Frankie knew. She held out her hand. That was four sips ago. Maybe five. She was no longer feeling the searing pain. Just a nice, warm buzz.

  Maggie had found an old three-legged stool and sat beside her. The concrete wall felt cool against her back. Her legs were splayed out in front of her with packages of iced meat taking away the rest of her pain.

  “So you and Ryder,” Frankie said, all inhibitions scattered in the dark. They were trying to conserve cell phone batteries. “Are you and Ryder, you know, doing it?” She couldn’t see Maggie’s face. Only her profile, but Frankie laughed. Harder than she’d laughed in a long time. Hard enough to get the others’ to look up from their cell phones. Before Maggie could answer, Frankie added, “Oh my God, I swear I can hear you blush.”

  “It’s not exactly like that.”

  “But you have?”

  “I think you’ve had too much medicine.”

  “I’ve always thought he was absolutely yummy,” Frankie confessed. “You know Hannah had to tell him to stop bringing women to his apartment over the kennel. Her boys started seeing them leave in the early morning and they were asking questions.”

  “Are you saying he’s a womanizer?”

  “No, no. I’m saying he’s a hot commodity.” She swung her hand to pat Maggie’s shoulder. “Surely, you’ve noticed—oh my God, I just called you Shirley.” She giggled. And snorted. She hadn’t giggled since she was a little girl.

  “Let me rephrase that,” Frankie said, trying to focus. The whiskey was really making her head spin a bit now. “Certainly, you’ve noticed the way women look at him when he walks into a room. And you know the best thing about him is that he doesn’t even notice the way women look at him. Usually he has a dog with him, and he seems to think they’re all looking at the dog.”

  She got quiet. Then serious.

  “I’ve been running since yesterday morning. Literally, running for my life. I’m gonna be really pissed off if I die in a stupid tornado.”

  “You’re not going to die. Not if I can help it,” Maggie told her without looking over at her.

  Frankie felt her eyes tearing up. She didn’t want to cry, but that was one of the nicest things anyone had said to her in a long time. But than Maggie had to go and ruin it when she added, “Hannah would kill me if I let you die.”

  Frankie laughed and took another sip. A small one. She didn’t want the buzz to go away.

  “Hannah does have that effect on people. H
ow long have you known them?”

  “A couple of years. I met Ryder and Grace at a crime scene. We needed them to help us find dead bodies. A serial killer turned an abandoned farm into his graveyard.”

  “Well, that is their specialty. So was it love at first sight?” Frankie giggled again and this time Maggie took the bottle away from her.

  “It wasn’t anything like that. We’ve worked on three different cases since then, but that’s the only time we see each other.”

  “But you like each other. Really, really like each, right? And you’ve done it?”

  Maggie groaned. “Once. Only once.” She confessed then wiped the mouth of the bottle and took a swig.

  “What’s the problem?” Frankie asked.

  “For one thing, I just found out he sleeps with a lot of women, so our night together probably didn’t mean as much as I thought it did.”

  Even through her pleasant buzz, Frankie could hear the disappointment.

  “I doubt that’s true. I know for sure that he doesn’t sleep with women he works with. Have you ever met their veterinarian? I asked Hannah if anything was going on with between her and Ryder, and Hannah was practically indignant about. Said he has a strict rule about that. I think the simple fact that he broke it for you means a lot.”

  They were quiet for a while and Frankie realized that the constant banging sound was coming from a group of men taking turns ramming the door at the top of the stairs. Everyone else seemed to keep their distance from Frankie and Maggie. They stole glances at Frankie, and she wondered if they didn’t want to be reminded of how badly she was injured.

  “I stink at relationships,” Maggie said, her voice low and almost a whisper as if she really was making a confession. But Frankie figured it was probably the whiskey. “My dad was a firefighter. He died in a fire when I was twelve. And my mom...lets just say she wasn’t a great role model in the male companionship choices she made after that. She’s still fundamentally a suicidal alcoholic.”

  Maggie got quiet and Frankie waited but realized that was it. Something told her it wasn’t easy for this woman to share, and that was her limit.

  “I guess we have something in common,” Frankie told her. “My mom was suicidal, too. Third time seemed to a charm.”

  “Wow, Frankie, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

  “You mean it wasn’t in my FBI file?” she joked. “It’s okay. It happened a long time ago. I was nine. I didn’t even see it. My father found her early in the morning. She slit her wrists in the bathtub. The ambulance took her away.”

  “My mom didn’t start hurting herself until I was a teenager. I can’t imagine dealing with that at nine.”

  “Actually, you know what the hardest part was? My dad made me go to school. There wasn’t anyone to watch me, and he needed to meet the ambulance at the hospital. I thought mommy just hurt herself again. I was too little the first time to remember. The second time she just took a bunch of pills. I thought she was sleeping.”

  It had been a long time since Frankie had talked about this.

  “Hannah and I were best friends. She could tell something wrong right away. Even back then she could tell things about people. She asked her grandparents if I could go home with her after school. My dad seemed so relieved when they called and asked him. You know, he didn’t even tell me until the next day that she didn’t make it. I didn’t find out until I was college that she died in the ambulance. And here I’d spent years being so angry with him that he hadn’t let me go to the hospital to see her. Even to tell her goodbye.

  “I remember asking him why, and you know what he said?”

  She could see Maggie watching her, waiting.

  “He told me he didn’t want me to see her like that. To remember her that way. He didn’t let me go to the funeral either. For the same reason, I suppose. I mean, how bad could it be? She was my mom. I would have liked to have said goodbye.”

  Maggie’s cell phone started dinging and both of them jumped at the sound.

  55

  SOUTHERN BLESSINGS

  Just South of Montgomery, Alabama

  Creed finished updating Krenshaw just as he got to the Jeep. A sheriff’s deputy stopped him.

  “We’re moving out,” he said, pointing to the wall of black moving in. “Word is this storm’s already produced two tornadoes. We’ll come back as soon as it moves through.”

  “Where should go?” Jason asked the deputy over the roof of the Jeep. He had the tailgate open and was digging through their supplies.

  “Head south. That’s what I’ve been told. This storm’s tracking to the northeast. But there’s a whole a line popping up. Do you have someplace safe inside to go? Family in the area?”

  “Our hotel’s about ten miles south of here.”

  The deputy glanced at his watch. “That might be the best place. I’d invite you to come with us, but it’s not going to be any safer than your hotel. I’d get moving right now. Goodluck.” He tapped his knuckles on the roof of Jeep and headed to the next crew to warn them.

  Utility and fire and rescue trucks were already maneuvering through the crowded street leaving the perimeter. Even the hazmat team were packed up.

  “I don’t like the idea of leaving Maggie,” Creed told Jason as he climbed into the passenger seat.

  “Yeah, I know. But we can’t help her at all if we get hit.”

  When Creed still didn’t put the Jeep in gear, Jason continued, “It wouldn’t hurt for us to back to hotel anyway. We could refuel. Feed the dogs. Check them over. I pulled some glass from Grace’s paws.”

  This got Creed’s attention. “Is she okay?” Why hadn’t he checked her himself? What was wrong with him?

  “She’ll be okay. I cleaned it, field-dressed it, but I think she’s done for the day.”

  More and more vehicles were leaving. There was a line of taillights and another of headlights. And the sky was increasingly getting darker.

  Creed shifted into gear. The truck that had been parked in front of them had already left. He made a tight U-turn and headed south. Once they were out of the jumble of rescue vehicles and equipment, he glanced in the rearview mirror. Grace’s head was down but her ears pitched forward and her eyes stayed wide open.

  Creed felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness. He couldn’t save Maggie and Frankie, and he had neglected Grace.

  “You okay, Grace?”

  Her eyes moved up to meet his in the mirror. Her ears relaxed but her head stayed down. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. She wasn’t feeling good. He was in such a hurry he didn’t notice earlier. He should have never put her in the carrier without checking her paws.

  “Did you start her on antibiotics?”

  “I was about to, but I figured she needed to take it with food. Right when you got back I was getting ready to pull the packs out.”

  They used a dehydrated mix that just needed water added. He contemplated pulling over and taking care of her, but the clouds rolling in swirled above. Behind them he could see lightning fork all the way to ground. The rumble of thunder grew louder.

  “You okay?” Jason asked keeping his voice calm, and Creed realized it was more for the benefit of the dogs than it was for Creed. He appreciated the kid’s steady composure. It still surprised him how much Jason had matured in two short years.

  “We get the dogs safe and taken care of and I’ll be okay.”

  Jason sat forward watching the sky.

  “Thanks for taking care of Grace,” Creed told him. “I should have checked her before we left the last site.”

  “No problem.”

  Creed took a side road that looped around the damaged area. Jason pointed out a spot they could get back on the interstate just to the south of where they’d almost gotten sucked up into the earlier storm.

  It took hardly any time to get to the hotel. Every had headlights on and all the buildings around the exit was lit up as if it were evening. Trees blocked the western sky, again. It started raining
hard just as Creed pulled into the parking lot. He took note that there wasn’t much wind. But a quick glance up and he saw the dark layers churning.

  “Lets take our gear in,” Creed said. “Take Scout.” He turned and reached in to scratch Grace under the chin. She was up and ready to go. “You wait here, girl. I’ll come back and get you. I want to carry you in.”

  They pulled their duffle bags and daypacks out. Anything attached to the bags, came out, too. Lightning spiked behind them and a boom of thunder blasted overhead. Both too close for comfort. But the rain was letting up.

  Jason helped Scout down and attached his leash. The parking lot was mostly empty. The rain stopped and Creed noticed a sudden stillness. About halfway to hotel’s front door, Jason pointed to the treetops on the other side of the interstate.

  “Guess there wouldn’t be birds if the storm was close.”

  Creed looked over his shoulder. Then he stopped and turned to get a better look. His stomach fell.

  “Those aren’t birds.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s debris.”

  56

  “I’VE GOT TO GET GRACE!” Creed started off loading gear, tossing it to the pavement. “Take Scout and go. Get inside. Take everyone as far inside as you can get.”

  “I know the drill.” Jason was picking up Creed’s packs and stringing them over his shoulders.

  “Leave it! Just go.”

  The wind was already picking up. Trees swayed. He could hear a low rumble growing on the other side of the tree line. He could feel the vibration under his feet. A dark shadow started emerging, slinking into view.

  “Go, Jason. Now!”

  He started running for the Jeep.

  “Creed.”

  He stopped and turned.

  “Take this.”

  Jason threw a helmet at him. Creed pulled it on and snapped the chinstrap just as a gust tried to rip it off his head. He had to lean forward against the wind to run across the parking lot. Now he could the roar as pieces of debris filled the air. He had to use all his weight to open the Jeep’s tailgate. He dived inside then twisted around and grabbed with both hands slamming it shut behind him. He double-checked that it was tight when the storm still sounded too loud inside the vehicle.