Roland: Reluctant Paladin

by N. C. Reed

  “Roland!” he heard Jesse shout. “Are you okay?” The other man was next to him seconds later, trying to assess Roland for injuries.

  “Get me up!” he ordered, and Jesse complied, pulling his friend carefully to his feet.

  “I’ve got to. . .got to look for James and the girl!” he gasped out.

  “You can’t!” Jesse shook his head, and Roland was mindful that Jesse was having to shout to be heard. He followed Jesse’s pointing finger to the windows of the doorway, to see debris rolling past, whipped into a hail of metal and wood by the winds of the tornado.

  “Twister’s on us, Ro’,” Jesse shouted about the din. “We got to get undercover!” Jesse dragged a protesting Roland toward the inner hallway, where Maria ran to meet him.

  “What happened?” she asked, moving to his side opposite from Jesse, slipping her arm around his waist, taking his arm over her shoulder. Together the two managed to get him seated on the floor, and then Jesse forced Roland to lie down.

  “Boy. . .make it in okay?” Roland gasped out. Damn, but his back hurt.

  “Yes,” Maria nodded, looking him over for injury. “Did you find Cassie?” she asked, once satisfied that Roland was at least not bleeding.

  “James is still out there, looking for her!” Roland struggled to get up. “I’ve got to go help...”

  “It is too late, Roland,” Maria shook her head, pointing to the roof. “Listen.”

  Pouring, pounding rain was beating down on the roof of the building now, so loud it was nearly deafening. The children were huddled into a group surrounding Terri and Deena, who were trying valiantly to hide their own fears, and reassure the terrified children that all would be okay.

  “James and the girl are still out there!” Roland tried again to get up. This time he was stopped by another jolt of pain through his back.

  “Roland you’re hurt, bro,” Jesse shouted to be heard over the driving rain. “Roland!” Jesse shouted again, getting his struggling friend’s attention.

  “You can’t go out there, man!” he said firmly. “None of us can. Not until the storm blows past.” He leaned down, placing his face right in Roland’s own.

  “I know you want to, but we can’t risk it. There are still twenty-six kids in here, Roland. Someone has to be here with them. You go and get killed, who takes care of them? I can’t. Wouldn’t know what to do. So, stop struggling and lie back. I think your back is strained. At the least a pulled muscle. You can’t operate like that.”

  Roland finally ceased to struggle, looking up at both Jesse and Maria with a horrified look on his face.

  “Oh, my God,” he moaned. “I’ve lost them.”

  -

  James had been far to the west side of the doors when he realized the storm was on him. His frantic search for Cassandra Dodds became instead a struggle for survival. There was no way back into the building near him, and nowhere to take cover except one place.

  He ran the two dozen feet to the deuce-and-a-half truck he had driven to the school, and dived beneath it. He knew that if the twister hit the truck directly, or even sideswiped it, the truck could literally be pulled off of him, but there was simply nowhere else to go.

  Pulling himself underneath the center of the truck, he watched as flying debris roared past. Realizing that he might still be hit by the storm’s wind generated debris field, James crawled to a spot behind the dual axle rear tires, taking cover behind them. There was nothing else to do but wait.

  The debris was past, finally, and then came the rain. Hard, driving, deafening rain. Heavy rain the likes of which was only seen in the midst of a driving thunderstorm, or a tornado. James could literally see drops of rain bounce up again as they slammed into the pavement and concrete around him with startling force. In a minute, water was rushing through the small parking area, and run off began to fill ditches and streams all around the school.

  As he lay there, watching, he saw something out of place in the low lying grass behind the

  school area. A splash of white.

  “Oh, no,” he mouthed in despair. Despite the storm raging around him, James crawled from underneath the truck, and ran toward the drainage ditch behind the school yard. Twice he slipped, falling once into the now soft, muddy ground. Yet even as he struggled to regain his feet, he never took his eyes from that little patch of color. Afraid that if he looked away, even for a second, he might never find it again.

  Rain beat at him, whipped into a fury by driving winds, but he ignored everything save that little splash of color in front of him. He slowed as he finally reached the spot, falling to his knees, unaware and uncaring of how wet, muddy, and miserable he was.

  Lying in that drainage ditch, face down, was the body of little Cassandra Dodds. Age eight. Parents unknown, but presumed dead. Drowned in a pool of rain water.

  James lifted his eyes skyward, ignoring the sting of wind and rain on his face. For the first time since his parents had died so many years before, James Henry Golden cried. He cried for a very long time as the rain washed down his face, carrying away his tears.

  Finally, when he could cry no longer, when he had exhausted all the rage and frustration and self-loathing and despair that had closed in around him, James tenderly lifted the little body from the water, cradling her in his arms. He stayed that way for a long time, ignoring the rain and the wind. Finally, he slowly stood up and started for the school building.

  As he walked his heart began to harden. By the time he reached the doors it had become stone. Hard, unbending, unforgiving.

  I won’t let this happen again.

  -

  “Oh, no,” Roland heard Maria almost whisper. “Jesse, look,” she hissed. Roland lifted himself from where he was lying, and felt utter despair.

  James, muddy and soaking wet, stood in the entrance to the hallway, a small body cradled in his arms.

  “I found her,” James said simply. “I found her and brought her back.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  I’ve lost another child. Gran warned me, but I had convinced myself that she was wrong, just this once. That she might be wrong. We came so far, through so much, and I thought we were safe.

  Safe. Every time I say, think, or hear that word, it’s like a terrible, haunting joke of cruelty. There is no safe. Not anymore.

  The children are in shock, seems like. I don’t know what else to call it. I wish we had someone who was better able to deal with their emotional needs. Maria, Deena and Terri do their best, but they’re just teens themselves, and suffering through their own version of pain and loss.

  James is. . .James is just flat-lined. I’ve seen it before, when the horrors of combat hit a young, idealistic soldier. When he realizes that it’s not the glory filled, music backed thrill a minute his recruiter told him he’d see.

  The pain, the loss, the shock of seeing innocents caught in the crossfire. Dying and dead and maimed because they had the misfortune to be born in an area that two or more groups of violent people wanted for themselves. Their homes caught in a war they know nothing about. Fighting between two groups of people who want to rule over their lives.

  I’m worried about him, but he’s got nothing to say. He was quiet before, but now he’s simply turned to stone. He’s as sharp and aware as he ever was, but there’s even more hardness about him than before. It’s plain to us all that he blames himself for little Cassandra’s death, but it’s not his fault. It’s mine. I should have planned better. I should have thought about this possibility. We always have weather like this in the spring time. Why, why, why didn’t I think about it?

  The others are quiet, going about their own tasks. Maria likewise blames herself, and is pushing herself even harder now. She’s not to blame either. If I had thought about the possibility, like I should have, then we would have already trained the kids on what to do if a storm blew up.

  But because I didn’t, Cassandra, and Todd, had no idea what to do. When they got scared, they did what children always do. They hi
d. Cassandra hid in the wrong place. Ralph found one of her shoes lodged in a tangle of roots and branches where James found her body. The water poured in around her, and her little foot got stuck. As the water rose, she was trapped beneath it, and drowned.

  Oh my God in heaven, how she must have struggled. How scared she must have been. Child I am so sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you better. Sorry I didn’t tell you what to do. Sorry I didn’t know you.

  So very sorry...

  -

  It was a somber affair. James had dug the small grave himself, insisting that no one help. Roland hadn’t argued, knowing that this might be the best therapy for the boy. The older children gathered around for a small service. Roland, laid up with his back, stayed with the younger kids inside.

  As James placed Cassandra’s sheet wrapped little body into the grave, Jesse stepped forward, bible in his hands.

  “Almighty God, we here today commit to your care the spirit of Cassandra Dodds. An innocent child of no sin and no stain. We failed her, Lord, in allowing her to perish from this earth, and for that we are sorry, and beg forgiveness.”

  “Yet we know, Lord, that she is now with you, and is far better off than we who are left here on earth, poorer for her absence. We pray Father that she be nestled in your arms, now in your care and beyond our own.”

  “Strengthen us, Father, in this loss, that we may continue on without her. That we may find comfort in knowing she has gone to a better place, where one day we might re-join her in Thy Presence.” He looked down at the bible in his hands.

  “Your Word tells us that there is a better place, and that your Son had gone before us to prepare for us a place with Thee. We pray, Lord, that we may someday be re-united, together, in this place called Heaven.”

  “Amen.”

  “Amen,” the others repeated, tears in nearly every eye. Everyone stepped forward, one at a time, and gathered a handful of soil, which they dropped atop the little bundle. Jesse was last, tears running freely down his face. He looked up at James.

  “I’ll help you,” he offered. James shook his head.

  “For me to do,” he replied. “I’ll take care of it.” Jesse nodded at that, and walked back toward the building behind the others. Ralph was waiting a short distance away.

  “C’mon, Ralph,” Jesse said softly, but the teen shook his head, watching his friend.

  “He might need me,” was all he said. Jesse nodded again, a small smile on his face. He silently damned the people responsible for children such as these having to assume such a difficult role. It wasn’t right, and it wasn’t fair. But then Gran had always said life was neither.

  “Rain falls on the just and the unjust, boy,” he could hear her voice. “Don’t worry ‘bout that child, she’s in God’s hands, now, and the better for it. It’s the rest of you what’s in a pickle.”

  Nodding his agreement with the silent proclamation, Jesse went inside.

  Ralph watched silently, ready to help his friend however he had to.

  -

  The rest of the day was very subdued. Jesse checked the building and the vehicles, finding no real damage anywhere. Not that the loss of Cassandra wasn’t damage enough. Still, they had been lucky, considering. The storm had brushed by them, doing no more than uprooting a few trees.

  Roland was morose. Forced to inactivity due to his sprained back, he could only recline in pain and face his own private demons. Maria wasn’t any better, but she had the advantage of working, which distracted her somewhat from the guilt that wracked her.

  Deena and Terri went about their work in silence, speaking softly on occasion to the children, still reeling from their fear of the storm, and the loss of one of their own. They huddled in groups, taking comfort in the presence of others.

  Ralph watched as James finished his self-appointed task, packing the dirt down tightly, and covering the grave with rocks gathered from around the school. Finally satisfied with his work, the older boy then went and retrieved a hand saw from the room where their tools were stored, and walked slowly down to the place he’d found Cassandra. Ralph followed at a respectful distance, stopping well away, but where he could keep an eye on his friend.

  James waded into the water with the saw, and began to cut the roots and bushes that had trapped Cassandra. He worked steady, taking his anger and despair out on the job he had taken for himself. Ralph watched him struggle with the brush for a moment, and then joined him. Without a word Ralph waded in beside James and began to help drag the brush out of the water.

  James nodded his thanks, returning to the saw. Ralph continued to pull the cut brush from the water, piling it high on the ground behind them. Finally satisfied, James left the water, shivering slightly in the cool wind. He gathered a handful of the brush and began pulling it toward the small grave.

  Ralph helped quietly, no words passing between the two. Ten minutes later both stood in silence, looking at the small brush arbor that now covered Cassandra’s final resting place. With a nod to one another, the boys slowly made their way back inside.

  Behind them, the small brush covered mound sat alone in silence.

  -

  Supper was a subdued affair. No one spoke other than what speech was necessary for meal preparation, and serving. When supper was finished, most of the smaller children went to bed unasked, exhausted from the trials of the day, their little bodies worn out from fear and loss.

  Roland watched them with a heavy heart, afraid of what this might do. They had made so much progress in the last week, and this could undo everything.

  He also watched James, who sat alone, cleaning his gear. The teen had taken the loss personally, as a personal failure. Roland would have to talk to him about that, and soon, but for now he thought it best to let the boy grieve.

  Maria was a broken shell of the confident young woman she had been just this morning. She, too, felt the loss was a personal failure since she had been the one to carry the children outside. It was the same routine they had been following since their arrival. But she had lost sight of the two children and blamed herself for it. Roland knew he’d have to talk to her as well, but was more hesitant. Maria didn’t care for him much, so he’d have to approach her a bit differently.

  “Mister Roland,” Ralph’s hesitant voice broke into his thinking. “There’s someone outside.” Roland looked up sharply.

  “Know who it is?” he asked, rising, reaching for his rifle.

  “No, sir,” Ralph shook his head. “It’s a woman, with a little boy, and a baby.” Frowning, Roland moved toward the door.

  A ragged looking woman with filthy, tangled, dirty blonde hair was standing at the entrance to the school. She held an infant in her left arm, and carried a trash bag in her right. There was a boy of about four standing beside her, with a smaller bag. Both looked exhausted. Roland opened the door, leaving his rifle inside.

  “Ma’am, are you okay?” he asked gently. The woman looked at him in alarm until Ralph walked out to stand beside him.

  “We. . .I was hoping to stay here overnight,” she told him hesitantly. “Our. . .our house was. . .it’s gone,” she stammered dejectedly. “The storm got it.”

  “Please, come inside,” Roland offered, reaching out to take the bag from her hands. “We’ve got supper ready. We’ve already eaten but there’s still plenty. You can get cleaned up, and eat, and get warm.”

  The woman reluctantly released the bag, then wrapped her now free arm around her baby. Ralph took the smaller bag from the little boy and laid a gentle arm on his shoulder.

  “C’mon, sport,” he smiled slightly. “Want something to eat?” The boy nodded, his eyes sunken and dark.

  “Please, Ma’am,” Roland said gently. “Let us get you out of the weather. It’s safe here. We’ve made this a safe haven for several children. You’re most welcome to join us.”

  “Thank you,” she almost whispered. “We’ve. . .we’ve been walking all day,” she admitted.

  “Come inside, and res
t,” Roland urged. “There’s time enough tomorrow to think on that.”

  She hesitantly followed him inside, along with the little boy, Ralph bringing up the rear. Deena met them when they entered the cafeteria.

  “Hello, I’m Deena,” she said to the woman, and then to the little boy. “Are you hungry? Supper is still warm.”

  “Ralph, go and turn the hot water heater on,” Roland ordered. “They need a warm shower, and you, James and I need to get cleaned up anyway.” Ralph hurried on his way to comply. They only used the hot water heater rarely to save the propane used to heat the water for showers. Roland decided that tonight was a good night to use it.

  He made his way over to James.

  “Water’s heating,” he said simply. “Take a good, warm shower, and get some clean clothes on. Make you feel better and help you sleep.” James nodded, and went to do as Roland had ordered. Roland winced as his back reminded him it was still hurt. Rubbing the offending area lightly, he made his way to his own bunk, gathering clean BDUs and skivvies. He saw Deena and waved her over.

  “James and I are gonna hit the shower,” he told her. “Once they’ve eaten, you or Terri can help them into the girl’s shower and let them get cleaned up, too.” He handed her a clean BDU set. “Let the woman wear these, if she needs them. Be a little large, but the waist can be cinched and the top will button. I don’t imagine she’s got any clean clothes. Okay?”

  “Sure, Roland,” Deena nodded. “We’ll take care of it. How’s your back?” she asked.

  “Hurts like he. . .heck,” he told her, and she laughed.

  “I have heard the word before, you know,” she told him.

  “Not from me, though,” he shook his head. He walked over to where Jesse was reclining at a table, watching the woman and boy eat hungrily.

  “I’ll be in the shower, Jesse,” he said softly. “Deena will look after them. Just keep an eye on things.”