Dire Rumblings: A Post-Apocalyptic/Dystopian Adventure (Children of the Elements Book 2)

by Alexa Dare

  No way will I leave her behind.

  Even at age ten, he looked back at being a scared kid. After all, he was a boy, and braver than most. Darcy Lynn was little. And a girl.

  He patted his shirt’s belly bulge to make sure the stuffed toy remained safe. Silly girls and their girl-toys. Odd though, having the stupid stuffed dog somehow soothed him in a way he didn’t expect.

  Soft toy or not, he was locked out of the tunnels that led to the caverns where they had to be hiding Darcy Lynn. Maybe they just missed her before. Or maybe the Hicks lady had taken her somewhere and then brought her back.

  I’ll find her.

  Standing in front of the door that wasn’t, like a bear on a rampage, Junior tromped back and forth. Unable to just walk in, he’d make sure someone noticed him. He waved his arms and hopped in place. “Hey, you bad guys. I’m right here. You want me, come get me.”

  All around, birds tweeted. A hawk overhead screeched. A stiff fresh breeze made him miss Darcy Lynn even more—ruffled leaves, but the door remained closed.

  No one called out or came outside to investigate.

  “Hey! Hellloooo!” He shook his hand to flick away thick blobs of aloe. Yep, the scratches stung, but not as much as nobody noticing him and letting him inside. He scooped up a loose fist-sized pebble and lobbed it.

  The rock hit the door and glanced off. Junior ducked and dove to the side. The stone zinged past his head, pinged over the hard ground, and rolled away.

  Then…

  Nothing.

  Careful of more briars, he avoided thorns and placed his hands on a boulder to the door’s right. “It’s gonna get worse before it gets better.” That’s what Aunt Pearl used to say to him just before she padlocked the cellar door. “If they won’t .let me in, I’ll make a way.”

  Dread as big as his aunt’s soggy biscuits, he curled his toes against the packed earth to stoke his energy. “Time to shake things up.”

  How deep to go?

  Junior didn’t want to hurt anyone, but whatever he had to do to get to Darcy Lynn and make sure she was all right, he’d do. Then he’d stay, be a big brother to her, and keep her safe.

  “Let’s rock.” He drew the power of the earth toward him. Energy, like how he imagined electricity traveled through wire, flowed through the dirt to tingle in his feet and hands.

  Similar to a plant feeding from the soil, he took in the surging force. With an exhale, Junior ever so slowly pushed. The metal collar that was supposed to make him obey and strengthen his powers skittered tingles around his neck.

  Beneath his palms, the boulder vibrated. Heated earth smell drifted along the rocky slope. Granite trembled with such a force that the tall boulder under his hands jittered atop the ground.

  The tremor spread over the rocks. Until the entire wall around the doorway shifted like the skin of an uncoiling snake.

  Junior braced himself behind his barrier.

  Rocks from above slid and tumbled. Boulders, stones, and dirt fell. The rumble of the landslide vibrated up his arms, legs, then his body, until the motion jittered through his insides. The earth beneath and in front of him quaked. Shards of rock crashed against the boulder. Rocks split. Pieces sheared off and arrowed through the air.

  He ducked, but a flinted piece of rock smacked him in the middle of the forehead.

  Warmness that stank like pocket change poured over his brows. A woozy dip looped through his head. Sick to his stomach, he rested his head on the rough hardness.

  Chunks of granite and limestone pelted the shielding boulder and bounced over him. Clods of dirt and different sized rocks rammed the earth, banged dents in the ground, and pitched down the slope.

  Rivulets of blood running down the gray face of the rock rolled his stomach. A burp belched into his throat, and he re-tasted breakfast. If only he hadn’t eaten that last handful of berries on the way here. He pressed his nose and mouth against his forearm, gulping the sourness back down.

  When the rubble stopped rumbling, coin-sized pieces of stone skidded, clattered, and chinked. Dirt, silt, and rock sifted.

  Dizzy, he raised upright. He swung his hands above his head. Blood ran down his face to drip in plops from his chin and jaws. He nudged the toy with his elbow to around the outer curve of his rib. In seconds, fast-spreading red stains soaked his shirtfront.

  Junior lifted and flapped his arms. “Hey. Anybody there? I need help. I’m hurt.” A stronger wave of lightheadedness hit him behind the eyes, so he held on tight to the boulder.

  Half-chewed not-so-ripe berries surged hot, up and out his throat. “Arp.” He threw up on his feet. At least he wasn’t wearing shoes. A barking laugh spewed the rest of the berry yuck out of his mouth. “Hurt. Real Bad. Help.”

  With a clang, the door landed on the ground.

  Tingles bristled in his joints, which meant pain from working the earth was probably headed his way. But it was hard to tell with the new collar, since he no longer hurt as badly as before.

  In no time, several soldiers picked through the rubble toward him.

  Shadows looped before his eyes. He gripped the rock and bent forward. No use sitting in stinky throw-up if he could help it. Closing his eyes, he swayed on weak knees and held on tighter.

  Footsteps drew closer.

  “Please, help me.” Junior moaned for good measure.

  When had the trick to get inside turned into real trouble?

  His field of vision narrowed.

  In a swarm, camo-wearing soldiers, at least a dozen by the sound of their clomping boots, closed in.

  “Get the boy inside,” Nora Hicks, the woman that had made him tear up towns and hurt people, called out from down the slope. At the sound of her voice, Junior’s shoulders reached for his ears, and he ducked his chin as her steps tromped closer. “Help me,” she ordered in her bossy shrill voice, “with the girl.”

  Girl?

  The ground beneath Junior’s feet rumbled gently, like a kitten’s purr. Light and dizzy in his head, he squinted through a blur that smeared his gaze and mumbled, “Darcy Lynn?”

  “I don’t know why you came back, Junior Burke,” Nora said, “but Darcy Lynn’s lucky that you did.”

  Rough hands lifted him. Even though he was once again a captive, a strange bone-deep ache held forth that he was somehow coming home.

  Chapter 3

  With a fragile primal force of the elements in her arms, thirty-plus-year-old Nora Hicks ran. Faint backup lights swathed the tunnels inside the Briar Patch Mountain facility. The place where she’d served former project head and as a scientist had barely survived an attack from several of the Children of the Elements.

  Minus one.

  Blood, dimmed to black in the strange lighting, poured metallic from a limp Darcy Lynn Carpenter’s nose, mouth, and ears.

  The smack of Junior’s bare feet and the pound of Nora’s boots echoed in the winding passages as she ran full out, with the somewhat recovered boy staggering at her heels, toward the Medical Bay.

  A short time ago, a massive cyclone, created by the seven-year-old, took out R-19, leaving the lab site outside the Secret City of Oak Ridge in ruins and the project’s general dead.

  Which was why the girl suffered now.

  The level of damage to the facility…

  A lemony thrill shifted in Nora’s chest. She held the tiny limp body away from her. Her long-sleeved khaki shirt used earlier to stem the girl’s nosebleed, clung to Nora’s arms, and stuck to the cuffs of her leather gloves. “Why did you come back?”

  “For Darcy Lynn.” Junior panted. “Is she okay?”

  “With any luck, she will be. Thanks to you. If you hadn’t made an opening, we may not have gotten inside in time.” Nora, auburn ponytail swinging, turned the last corner. “You gave up your freedom for your friend. You’re a brave boy.”

  “You can help her?” As Junior ran, the ground shook in rapid jerks of low pulsing rumbles.

  “Easy does it. We don’t need for her to get hurt more.
”

  “Yes’m.” He stumbled ahead to push open the Medical Bay door. “I can stay with her?”

  “Yes, but the nurse needs to look at your injury and clean you up as well.” Inside, Nora pushed past the frizzy red-haired nurse. “Ready the oxygen chamber. Now.” Nora placed Darcy Lynn on an exam table. With shaking gloved hands, she fitted a mask to the girl’s little face. Next, Nora clipped a meter on Darcy Lynn’s index finger. “Her O2 level is at fifty percent and falling.”

  “Make her better.” Junior tipped up on to his toes. He pressed the balls of his feet against the smooth rock floor.

  “Best you not touch bedrock, young man.” The big-boned nurse hefted the dirty and bloody ten-year-old and placed him on a second table. She eyed the boy so close that he pulled back. “Looks as if you need stitches.”

  “Will there be a scar?” On the table, Junior, dressed in a blood-soaked t-shirt and jeans, sat and swung his legs a couple of feet above the floor.

  “I’m afraid so.” The nurse wiped streaks of crimson from the boy’s face. “Near your hairline.”

  A boyish grin spread across Junior’s mouth. He nodded, kicked his brown-stained feet in short sways, and eyed the ground.

  “A tough guy, huh?” The nurse picked up a syringe.

  Eyes pinched closed, the boy turned his dark blond head aside.

  Nora resisted the impulse to offer comfort. If she had been able to touch her own son, perhaps...

  “I’ve got this, Ms. Hicks.”

  “Please call me Nora.” Both the woman and she had worked on the project for years, yet... With so many people working on the project, it was impossible to retain information about all of them. Heat welted Nora’s neck and upper chest. “I’m sorry, your name is?”

  “Nurse Weems, ma’am. I’m from Oliver Springs, above Oak Ridge. I’ve overseen your son’s care the last few years.”

  Nora’s bloody gloves stuck to the smooth, cold metal handles as she rolled the chamber into place. “Where is Vincent?”

  “After you left, he went back to his room,” replied the nurse.

  A muscle in Nora’s jaw jumped. “His former quarters? The metal room.”

  “He seems to prefer it. We’ve done our best to leave food out for him. We’ve also kept the tunnels blocked off. To keep us, as well as him, safe.”

  The two women put the girl inside the oxygen chamber and closed the lid.

  “Is she really going to get better?” Junior asked.

  The O2 reading—Nora cringed—the girl’s oxygen levels had dropped ten more percent.

  “Given time, the extra oxygen should improve her intake. I’ll add meds if need be.” The nurse reached for the hem of Junior's shirt.

  “Don’t.” The boy shielded his stomach and twisted away.

  “Junior, she’s trying to help you.” Nora squared her jaw as a tiny muscle twitched in quick pulses within her lower cheek. Did children always have to be so willful?

  “Why don’t we switch your shirt for a fresh one?” Nurse Weems grinned at the boy as if she truly cared.

  “No.” Junior hunched to make himself smaller.

  “We’ll wait then.” She held out a towel. “Hold this to your head. I need to take care of Darcy Lynn for a bit. Ms. Hicks,” she turned to Nora, “with the pox epidemic under control and the boy and girl cared for, you best go check on your son.”

  “I should have stopped her sooner. Her levels—”

  “I’ll adjust the oxygen rate every few minutes. Junior will help me listen for the timer alarm, won’t you, young man?”

  “Yes’m.” Junior’s voice sounded muffled from behind the white towel.

  The forty- to fifty-year-old woman barely knew the boy, and yet she displayed a level of caring for the child.

  If only…

  “Junior and I will be careful not to shake things up.” Nurse Weems patted the boy’s knee. “We’ve got this covered, ma’am. Now, you go visit your son.”

  A flat tang—dread—coated Nora’s tongue. “Thank you for seeing to Vincent’s welfare while I was gone.”

  Weems checked the chamber gauges. “Can’t the one that brought the plague about lift the disease?”

  The query hung like the slowed beat of a failing heart.

  “I don’t know.” Tan glove leather seemed to shrink and pinch Nora’s fingers. The silver choker around her neck surged warm. Yet the tingle—the boost of the waves of her brain—surged a trail of chill bumps down her arms. “My son is not stable, so no promises.”

  “Our kin and our friends are out there. The three men that refused the vaccine died within hours.” A whiff of rubbing alcohol wafted from the instrument tray.

  “Will I get to meet him soon?” Junior winced at the touch of alcohol-soaked gauze. “You said me and your son might be pals.”

  “If he’s well, we’ll see.” Nora checked the oxygen flow and Darcy Lynn’s levels. Another five percent lower. With a gentle, precise nudge, she turned up the level a notch.

  “Go on, ma’am,” Nurse Weems said.

  “You’ve done a superb job.” If Darcy Lynn failed to respond... “I may need a sedative should my—”

  “Already drawn.” Weems marched to the chamber. The redhead made a few beeping setting tweaks then came back to Junior. “Sitting on the counter for you. There’s also an extra lab coat. To cover the, uh, stains on your uniform.”

  “Should things change with the girl—”

  “Either way, you have my word, I’ll page you.”

  Once alone, in the tunnel, Nora slowed her pace. After close to half of her life spent under the ground, she never quite got used to the soil-overlay. A craving for the outdoors hit her so hard she stumbled. She tossed aside the khaki over shirt and traded the lab coat to hide her stained under blouse. Holding on to the syringe, she slipped her hand into a lab coat pocket. She licked her upper lip, tipping her tongue with salty sweat, then let out a shaky breath.

  Not too far along the hallway, the doorway to the tiny metal room loomed.

  Did most mothers fear their own children? Her stride slowed even more, faltered.

  But then again, other mothers could not stop a man’s heart with a mere touch. Also, the women were able to share physical contact with their offspring. Normal sons did not kill by drawing pictures. Viruses. Plagues. Even, though more rare, insect attacks. All brought into reality from a sketch.

  She halted. Her combat boots weighed as if lead soled. From bottom to top, unease quivered through her.

  Finally, with a lift of her chin, she rallied. Several steps later, near the open door of the room where he’s been locked away most of his life, she pulled the lab coat lapels closed. Her throat defied a swallow. “Vincent,” her voice rasped tight and hoarse, “I’m glad you weren’t taken away.”

  “Any mother of a sixteen-year-old killer would be happy to have their child out of their lives,” he said from inside the shadowy metal room.

  “As you well know, I’m not like other mothers. We’re not to blame for what they made us do.”

  “We are liable for who we are.” Her son, more man than boy, spoke a truth as old as time. “What? No sweets as a bribe? No banana-walnut muffin or cinnamon roll?”

  “I will check the kitchen.” Muscles bunched for flight or fight, Nora faced the doorway. She forced her expression to calm. Her cheeks sagged against her skull, and she even managed to widen her eyes into a vacant stare. “Vincent, had it not been for the vaccine, the pox might have wiped out the entire staff.”

  “Ah, but not just any virus, Nora. One quite virulent, deadly, and brought about by me, your son.”

  “There’s something you need to know, Vincent. A toxic spill on the family farm didn’t do this to us.” Nora lowered and sat cross-legged in the hall near the doorway of his room.

  “Thus the cause?” The sixteen-year-old, pudgy from lack of exercise, stepped into the doorway. His light hair and even lighter gaze studied her in an under-the-microscope type stare.


  “You need to know that they created our abilities by altering our brainwaves.”

  “So, I was made to be what I am.” Vincent’s slow blinks put her on edge.

  “Basically, what happened to us was not by accident.”

  Vincent moved to sit on the floor and propped his back against the doorframe. “Which equates to the fact that I am far from normal, by design.”

  The rusty crimson of dried blood on Nora’s gloves cracked and flaked. In long swipes, she rubbed them against her khakis’ outer thighs. “They altered our DNA, changed us on the genetic level, by using magnets. Changed who we were and the people we might have become.”

  “So, they made the others to master wind, earth, fire, and water. While I rule the little known fifth element, the void.” Vincent sat up straight. “Then there is Nora.”

  “The black widow that kills all she touches.” Nora’s chuckle exhaled half-hearted and lame. Spine arched forward, she gripped her knees. She curled her fingers inside the gloves that protected others from her deadly touch. “From the records I studied, although I was the only parent to survive the tests, what good was I to you, Vincent? I failed you. Paid help cared for you because I couldn’t touch you.”

  “Although you could not hold me, you were there for me. I was aware you loved me despite my being a monster.”

  “Not a monster, Vincent. Not ever. I called you that before out of a warped sense of pride.” Nora relished her son’s rare clear thoughts. “Don’t you see? I am so proud of you.”

  “For killing so capably?”

  “For coping, considering our plight, amazingly well.” Oh, my poor, dear son.

  “My grip on reality—”

  “Though you’ve had your issues, you are a normal sixteen-year-old.” At present.

  Nora peered at a spot on the floor nearby. Six feet away, a rusty stain marred the concrete, marking the place where a deadly virus took down a former enemy.

  A fine moment. For both Vincent and Nora.

  “I have no right to ask this of you. I don’t even know if you are able.” Nora’s chalky exhale trailed to a drawn-out pause. “Can you halt the pox completely? If not, a lot of people on the outside will get sick.”