Devastation Erupts

by A E Faulkner

  The door swings open. Shoulders hunched in defeat, Aidan steps through the door. His eyes narrow in question when he notices the blood-stained doily pressed to my temple.

  A vicious smile carves satisfaction across Jim’s face.

  “Alright, that’s better. Now let’s see those hands, rat,” Jim commands. Riley, Jeff, and I watch helplessly. Aidan slowly raises his hands, eyes glued to the gun. There’s no one left to rescue us. Gravity beckons my body to crumple to the floor, giving up.

  I let my head drop and squeeze my eyes shut again. The moment of respite curbs the spinning sensation. Two loud pops in quick succession electrify my nerves. A piercing scream rents the air. I’m not sure if it’s Riley’s or my own, but it’s loud enough to penetrate the pounding between my ears. I assume the escalating throbbing has finally burst my eardrums.

  Riley tightens her grip on my arm, sending surges of agony coiling around my bicep. Snapping my head up and eyes open, I observe the scene as if I’m removed from it, hovering above and around it but not actively participating.

  Chapter 37

  Aidan and Jeff wear matching looks of shock, a palpable mixture of disbelief and fear. With a hand still clamped around the gun he had pulled on Ace, Jeff’s hand trembles. He looks from the barrel to the bullets’ recipient.

  Jim lies sprawled out on the floor just inches away from Riley. For a moment he looks as though he’s asleep. As if he was crashing here for the night and passed out wherever his body landed.

  Lying on his back, he slowly cranes his neck to peer down at the matching maroon spots marring his shirt. Clumsily raising a trembling hand, intent on investigating the wounds, his lips tremble.

  Tears streak down Riley’s cheeks as her breathing quickens. Aidan and Jeff tentatively step closer. We’re surrounding Jim’s weakening body. Jeff’s hand, the one holding the pistol, trembles. His eyes widen and his breathing quickens. Aidan looks just as stunned and uncomfortable.

  I’m guessing this moment goes against everything we’ve been taught our whole lives: when someone is hurt, you help them. But we all remain frozen in place, trying to make sense of the unexpected turn our little world has taken yet again.

  Disbelief, rage, and regret flash across Jim’s features. He shakes his head as blood coats his twitching hands. His head drops back to the floor. Those beady eyes, draining of life, dart between me and my sister. Although he fixates on us, I know his words are for everyone in the room.

  “This isn’t how it was supposed to be!” He coughs, a gob of viscous red mucous raining down on the shabby carpet between him and Riley. “You can go to hell!”

  Riley inches closer. Although careful to avoid what just landed before her, the move is the exact opposite of what my instincts scream. She brushes away flowing tears and leans over Jim.

  “No, Jim, I’m not going with you ever again.” She turns toward me and rises to her feet. Turning on her heel, she strides to the isolation of the bedroom.

  Jim’s mouth opens and closes as if he’s a fish out of water, gasping to breathe, but no more words come. His eyes flutter until they close and his body slumps into the thin carpet, arms giving way to gravity’s endless pull.

  Jeff nods toward the bedroom. “Why don’t you go check on Riley? Maybe she can help patch you up? We can take care of things out here.” He clamps a hand around Aidan’s shoulder and tosses his head in a silent send-off. I manage a weak, “Okay.”

  Grasping the nearby couch, I pull myself up slowly, searching for balance. Aidan offers me an arm, but I wave him off. I don’t want to require help just to stand up.

  Lurching down the hallway, I lean against the wall for support. I find Riley sitting on the bed, arms wrapped around her tucked knees, gently rocking. I slump onto the bed, sitting next to her. She keeps her eyes trained on the crumpled blanket.

  “It’s awful to say, but this is how it had to be,” she finishes her thought with a whisper, “I don’t think he would have ever let me go. I would have spent the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, wondering if he was watching, just waiting to hurt us.”

  She turns her head toward me, fresh tears sailing down her cheeks. When she notices the stained doily in my hand, remembering my injury, her eyes fly to the sticky maroon substance clinging to my hair.

  “Quinn!” She jumps to her feet, hovering over me. “I…I forgot…Let me see your head.” She peels the stained doily from my hand and dabs my temple as she examines the wound. Her mouth forms a small “o” until her eyes catch mine. “It’s not that bad,” she whispers, but her pinched features contradict the claim. She tugs my hand. “Come on, let’s go to the bathroom.”

  I numbly follow her into the hallway. We both keep our eyes trained on the worn rug to avoid seeing whatever’s happening in the living room. Blurring movement shifts in my periphery, but I ignore it. The gnawing ringing in my ears easily tunes out background noises.

  Once we’re closed within the tight quarters of the bathroom, Riley rushes around me, selecting tools for the task. After a few minutes, she’s wiped the wound clean and patched it with an antiseptic cream and bandage. Before we return to the living room, she insists that I swallow a painkiller.

  The cool water trickles down my throat, sending a soothing sensation through my body as it carries the medication to my stomach.

  We return to the living room to find Aidan and Jeff waiting for us. Neither Riley or I acknowledge the missing body or the red blots that now form an abstract design on the carpet. Although his blue eyes flood with concern, Aidan forces a weak smile. He motions toward my head. “That looks better already.”

  “It’s actually already starting to feel better.” I touch the bandage instinctively, unsure if I’m just getting used to the pain or if the ibuprofen is working its magic. The only certainty I feel is a resolve to never return to this trailer again. The family vacation memories have been overridden by the desperation Riley and I fought when we first made it here after our parents died—and we just watched the life drain out of someone right here in this space.

  As awful as Jim was, I pray I never have to see anyone else die. A shiver rushes through me.

  Running a hand over her face, Riley sinks into the couch, rubbing her temples. Before I can offer comfort, Jeff rushes to her side, drops onto the cushion, and wraps an arm around her.

  “Are you okay?” he asks, concern etching his features. Eyes squeezed shut, she nods. Then, like a splintering dam, confessions slip from his lips. “I’ve…I’ve never done anything like that before. Maybe we could have talked him out of it. I should have tried to talk to him—”

  With a single tear trailing down her scarred cheek, Riley turns to Jeff and wraps both of her arms around him. “No. Jeff, we owe you our lives. I know Jim. He would have hurt every one of you to get to me. You had to do it. Please don’t blame yourself. It was either him or us and you chose us.”

  Aidan takes a step forward and clasps Jeff’s shoulder. “Yeah, man, you saved us. All of us.”

  It’s my turn to deliver a fresh serving of honesty. “Speaking as the person whose name was on that first bullet, if you hadn’t shown up and done what you did, I wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

  Blowing out a deep breath, Jeff gives us a weak smile. “Thanks,” he mutters.

  Silence descends and the moment passes. I’m eager to move past the thick, ugly haze of shock. We all deserve better, and I have to believe it awaits us.

  “Why don’t we get out of here?” I say, motioning to the door.

  “I think that’s a great idea.” Aidan steps toward me. With his back to the others, he whispers, “You doing okay?” Letting everything else fade out of focus for this moment, I stare into his eyes and nod. Even with everything I’ve lost, I’m incredibly thankful for this person standing before me and the care and concern that he freely offers.

  As Riley and Jeff rise and follow us through the doorway, Aidan asks, “So, what’s the plan now? Chris is home but we still have a ways
to go. We really need a vehicle and we’re severely lacking in that department.” His voice is gentle but serious. And he’s right. We don’t have time to process what just happened.

  “What was it like?” Riley asks quietly. “Taking Chris home. Did it seem…okay?”

  The guys exchange a glance before Aidan answers.

  “The kid’s gonna be alright.” His smile deepens as his eyes drift past us, probably returning to the memory of Chris’ send-off. “He was living with his mom and her boyfriend. Chris’ dad is…was…in the army. When he found out Chris was missing, he got a leave and came back.”

  “The guy camped out at his ex-wife’s house until Chris came home,” Jeff adds, smiling. “We told him about what’s coming. He said he’ll go AWOL if he has to but he’s not leaving that kid behind.”

  “I believe him,” Aidan murmurs.

  Riley nods in approval.

  Relief washes through me. The kid’s in good hands, and where he should be.

  “So, back to the plan,” Jeff claps his hands again but this time we’re ready for the short burst of noise. “Anywhere we can borrow a car?”

  Like magnets, Riley and I turn our heads toward each other. “Well, I don’t know if it’ll work, but I’ve got an idea,” she says.

  Chapter 38

  Riley thinks our best bet is Benny. A year-round resident of the trailer park, he’s been a friend of the family for as long as I can remember. Although we consider him more of a family member than a friend. When the area was evacuated for a tornado, one of the neighbors took him to Dover Air Force Base. He should be back by now, and he’s got a car. If we tell him about Yellowstone’s impending eruption, Riley thinks we can convince him to come home with us, the only catch is that we need to use his car to get there. Oh, and we have to stop along the way to get the satellite phone to Bowen’s wife. Minor details.

  Aidan scratches his head. “It’s worth a try. But maybe we shouldn’t put all of our apples into one bushel.” The others scrunch their faces up, mirroring mine. I’m sure that’s not the expression, but we remain silent so he’ll continue.

  “Quinn, how about you and I see if Rose might have a car we can borrow?” He wants to hike back to the house we took shelter in the night the tornado hit.

  “I guess we could try, I mean, she said her daughter was coming to get her, so maybe she has a car she doesn’t really need anyway. If she’s still there.” While I doubt this woman we barely know will just hand over her keys, we don’t have many options and time continues to slip through our fingers.

  He smiles weakly, brushing his shoulder against mine. “Besides, it would be nice to check on her…and warn her if she is there.”

  “Alright then,” Jeff exclaims. “If Quinn’s up for the walk,” he nods toward my bandaged head. “Then Riley and I will head over to this Benny’s place and you two go see Rose. We need a vehicle, so let’s just get there as fast as we can and then meet back here. Let’s make this happen!”

  His pep talk deserves an enthusiastic team cheer or high five but the best we can offer is sullen uncertainty. We part ways and I lead Aidan toward the wooded path at the edge of the trailer park. We dodge downed tree limbs—victims of the tornado that passed through the area the last time we took this trail.

  A surge of adrenaline propels my determination, and my body. Although we move at a much slower pace than last time, the dizzying fog clouding my mind dissipates, replaced by anticipation.

  We reach the clearing to Rose’s yard, but it lacks the overwhelming feline presence of my previous visits. Only a handful of cats laze around the property. Aidan must notice too. He glances at me questioningly. I hitch a shoulder up and point toward the street.

  An orange and white box truck sits in the driveway, its opened roll-up door practically beckoning more boxes to be loaded inside it. We scamper toward the front door and cautiously knock.

  A moment later the door swings open, revealing the wheelchair-bound woman who allowed two strangers to take shelter in her home just a few weeks ago. For a second, I worry that too much has happened since the tornado, that she won’t remember our faces.

  When a smile lights up across Rose’s cheeks, fueled by recognition, I take a step forward and cross the door’s threshold. She clasps a soft, wrinkly hand around mine.

  “Well, it’s good to see you two,” she says. “Glad you’re both still in one piece!” Relief ripples through me, clearing the way for my mind to focus on the enormous favor we came here to ask.

  Aidan leans in toward Rose and rubs her shoulder. “It’s good to see you too, and Jerry.” He motions toward the wheelchair she named after her late husband. She pats Aidan’s hand, smiling. When her eyes catch mine again, she senses the hesitation building behind them.

  “Well what’s with you? You look like a corn fritter on shuckin’ day. What’re you so nervous about?” Her eyes shift between the two of us. “You still got this handsome fella following you around.” She juts a shaky finger toward Aidan.

  “Well, Rose,” Aidan starts, “We came here to tell you something, and to ask you something.”

  “Well come on inside. Not like you don’t know your way around.” She rolls the wheelchair backward, swivels it, and proceeds down the hallway. We follow, pausing only to close the door. She leads us to the living room and gestures toward the blue plaid couch. We sink into the cozy cushions. Just as we’re about to speak, a petite Asian woman steps into the room, stopping mid-stride when she spots us. She tilts her head, narrowing her eyes, as if she doesn’t believe what she’s seeing.

  “Mom?” she asks tentatively. “Who are these people?”

  “Oh, Emily, these are the kids I was telling you about,” Rose says. “The ones that kept me company during the storm.”

  “Oh, the ones that left you here alone with shattered windows and a tarp as the only barrier to the outside?” She raises her eyebrows expectantly. Before we can respond, Rose waves her off.

  “I told ya, I had to chase these two outta here so I could take care of the kitties. Most of ‘em missed supper because of that damn storm. My babies were hungry.” Aidan takes the opportunity to steer the conversation away from Emily’s accusation.

  “We noticed there aren’t as many cats around here,” he mentions.

  Rose nods in agreement. “Now that they finally cleared the damn roads, my Emily made it.” Pride beams from her lopsided smile. “She worked with the local shelter and they took most of ‘em. Then one of the neighbors down the road offered to take care of the ones still here.”

  Her eyes drift past us as if she’s recalling the conversation. “Young man, he went to school with Emily. He started coming by the house, petting the cats. Said he loves them.”

  Aidan rests a hand over hers. “We’re really glad you found someone to take care of them.” He turns toward me before adding, “We know how important they are to you.”

  Emily strides to Rose’s side, crossing her arms. “That guy was always creepy. I wouldn’t trust him with a stuffed animal, let alone the cats. We’re finding someone else to take care of them!”

  “Not if we’re leavin’ tomorrow!” Rose snaps. “You’re the one who wants to high-tail it outta here in the mornin’.”

  Aidan gently slices through the tension. “Actually, that’s what we were hoping to talk to you about.”

  Emily turns on her heel. “I’ll leave you three alone to talk. I’ve got more boxes to load anyway.” She stomps out of the room, a wave of irritation trailing each step. Rose watches her, a smile stretching across her face. Any hesitation she had about leaving the house seems to be squelched by the love connecting her to her daughter.

  Chapter 39

  “Don’t mind her—she’s just tired. Been loading the truck all day.” She clasps her hands together. “She doesn’t mean to be smart. She’s worried about me, and she just wants to get home. We leave tomorrow.”

  “I’m so glad.” A flash of relief swims through me but knowledge of the impending
disaster churns in my gut, trying its best to drown and sink any joy.

  Aidan leans forward, the weight of what he’s about to say transparent in every feature—the sharp determination in his eyes, the strained edge to his jaw, and the clenched teeth peeking out from his tight lips.

  “Rose, we got some information about something bad that’s about to happen.” He glances at me, as if questioning what to say. I nod, silently encouraging him to do whatever it takes to make her understand how important this is.

  We take turns explaining the condensed version of what we know. Yellowstone is on the verge of an eruption. People are going to panic. Those that live close to the volcano will lose their homes, or worse. Resources will run dry.

  Worry and fear swirl in her pale eyes. She slips her glasses off to wipe away the gathering tears. Aidan gently takes her hand.

  “Rose, you and your daughter should leave now. Don’t wait until morning. Get supplies, get to her house and barricade yourselves in there as long as you can.” He rubs his chin, eyes glazing over in distraction. “First we’ll have to worry about the ash. It’s going to coat everything. But soon after that, survivors will have to be evacuated and sent to parts of the country less impacted. And supplies aren’t going to last forever. Our economy, our environment, our food. They’re all going to be strained.”

  “Dear God,” she raises a shaky hand over her gaping mouth. She doesn’t question how we know this, but Aidan’s demeanor conveys his sincere concern for her well-being. In the short time since we met, he’s convinced me that he knows more about this stuff than he could have learned in a college textbook.

  “There’s one more thing, Rose.” He takes a deep breath, preparing for the big ask. “We still need to get ourselves home, to Pennsylvania. And we have no way to get there. We really need wheels.” He scrunches his eyes shut as if bracing for impact.