The Lost Days (Prairie Town Book 3)

by T. E. Ridener

  I remember everything.

  How long had he dreamed of this moment, the very second everything returned to him? His brain was finally fully functioning again – shouldn’t he be happy?

  No. There was no reason to be happy about having his memories returned to him. There was no cause for celebration as every single sin he’d committed played on auto-loop. Why the hell did he ever think it would be a good idea?

  Once his vision adjusted, he turned his head, wincing from the pain, and found his mother sitting beside him. Her expression was blank for the most part, but there was a look in her eyes he wasn’t sure he liked. It was unsettling, really.

  “Mother?”

  Her gaze, which had been on the floor, snapped to him and she smiled as tears shimmered in her eyes.

  “You’re awake,” she whispered, heartache evident in her tone. “Oh, Devin. You scared me, sweetheart. I wasn’t sure...I didn’t know if you’d be yourself when you came to.”

  “I’m more myself than you realize,” he admitted, swallowing bile when it threatened to rise in his throat. Shifting on the surface of the bathroom floor, he hissed from the pain shooting through his ribs. “Jesus, that hurts.” He carefully tilted his head back to gaze at the dully-lit ceiling. “How did I get in here?”

  “I carried you.”

  “You what?” He stared at her in surprise.

  “Well, I mostly dragged you. Heaven knows you’re a lot bigger now than you were as a child,” she laughed quietly, but it was an empty laugh. “I hope I didn’t hurt your wrists.”

  “No.” He subconsciously rubbed them and frowned. “You didn’t hurt me, Mom.” He glanced towards the closed door and felt his chest tighten. “Where’s Dad?”

  “Oh. Him.”

  What did she mean by ‘oh, him’? Who responded like that?

  “Mama?”

  She seemed to be in a daze as she lifted a hand to touch her hair. So dainty and gentle, she palmed the curls on either side of her head and met his gaze again, her expression remaining neutral. “Hm?”

  “Where is he, exactly?”

  “In the living room, I think,” she answered, stretching her legs out and wiggling her feet. “Yes. I left him in the living room. It’s quite bad out there. You should have heard the noise, Devin. Such awful noises...”

  “The tornado, you mean?” He felt something soft brush against the back of his arm and nearly jumped out of his skin. It was her cat, alive and well. “Did the tornado hit the house?”

  “Oh, yes.” She nodded eagerly, tilting her head to the side. “It was awful. But we made it, baby. We’re safe. I cleaned the blood off your face for you. You look much better now.”

  Her behavior was so strange. It gave him the weirdest feeling. On top of the pain, confusion, and frustration, he now felt a great deal of concern for her, too.

  What, exactly, had happened to his father?

  “I need to go check on him,” he said, grunting as he stood up. The room began to spin and he quickly reached out to grab the sink, steadying himself. “Whoa...”

  “You shouldn’t be standing up, sweetheart.” She was by his side in an instant. Her hand touched his back, stroking it in a comforting manner, but her words sounded so empty. What was wrong with her? “Your father is fine. He’s fine.”

  “But you said the tornado just ripped through the house. How can he possibly be ‘fine’?”

  “Everything’s fine now, Devin. Trust me.”

  But the bad part was, no matter how much he wanted to trust her, he knew deep down in his gut something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

  Why do I care anyway? He hurt me. Again.

  The veil had been removed from his eyes; the fog harboring his memories no longer existed. Every awful, terrible, spiteful, tragic thing his father had put him through was back, and more vivid than ever. Every scar on his body, every bruise that had long since faded, felt as fresh as the day he received them.

  Was it really so wrong to be impervious about his father’s fate?

  “I need to go check on him,” he finally said, feeling her fingers tense against his back. “He might be hurt.”

  She didn’t respond for a long time, but then she released a small sigh and stepped away from him. “He might be.”

  “Just stay in here, Mama. I’ll be back.”

  He unlocked the door and exited the bathroom, almost immediately taken aback by the aftermath of the tornado’s passage. The hallway had, at one time, been filled with pictures of him and his brothers. From the top to the bottom, memories of their childhood, ballgames, and graduations had adorned the dark blue walls.

  Every frame was shattered against the floor now.

  He could see where his mother had dragged him across the floor. The broken glass was kicked aside -a perfect outline of their journey was visible from one end to the other.

  I can’t believe she dragged me all the way to the bathroom.

  But it wasn’t really so surprising; she was a good mother. She had always been a good mother. One of his earliest memories in life involved her smiling face and her sweet voice. Even when things were at their worst, she was always there to hold him; she was there to kiss the pain away.

  The pain his father had caused.

  I can’t believe we survived this.

  Upon entering the living room, it didn’t take him long to realize the front door had been ripped from its hinges. A gentle breeze found its way inside, caressing his heated cheeks as if trying to comfort him.

  There was debris everywhere. Small branches and pine needles were strewn about, and the glass in the large bay window he’d always enjoyed looking out of was gone.

  “Jesus Christ,” he murmured, stopping when he heard the glass crunch beneath his boot. Glancing down, he realized he was standing on his parents’ wedding picture.

  As he leaned down to pick it up, something from the corner of his eyes caught his attention.

  It was his father.

  He wasn’t sure why he did it, and perhaps he wasn’t meant to understand, but he raced to his father’s side to help him.

  “Dad!” He cried, falling to his knees beside him.

  There was so much blood, everywhere. His skin was so pale and...

  There was a steel rod protruding through his chest. The gaping wound around the entrance—or exit—caused the contents in Devin’s stomach to evacuate.

  Oh, god. He’s dead.

  Coughing and sputtering, he kept his head turned away from the sight, wishing he could erase the image from his mind.

  And that smell...

  I fucking hate blood.

  “He’s fine, see?” Mrs. Rose’s voice pulled him back into the moment, and he lifted his eyes to see her standing in the doorway. With one arm wrapped around her thin frame protectively, she gazed at him as if nothing was wrong at all.

  She must be in shock.

  “You shouldn’t see this, Mother,” he said hoarsely, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s a real mess in here. We need to call somebody.”

  “Call who, sweetheart?” She took small steps towards him, but stopped when he lifted a hand in the air. “The towers are surely down still. It’s no telling when they will be working again. Who do you want to call?”

  “I don’t know. Charlie? The police?” He sniffled and blinked back the moisture in his eyes.

  His father didn’t deserve any of his tears.

  “Oh no, not Charlie,” she murmured, shaking her head. “Charlie’s the worst. We can’t call him.”

  “But we have to call somebody. He’s dead!”

  “I know.” Crouching down beside him, she gazed at her husband’s pale face and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “It’s such a shame, isn’t it? To be killed by Mother Nature. He didn’t even see it coming.”

  Shifting his eyes to hers again, a terrible thought struck him:

  Was Mother Nature truly responsible for the death of his father?

  “W
e have to do something,” he repeated, willing his legs to work as he stood and rubbed the back of his neck. “We can’t just leave him here like this; we need help.”

  “Why do we need help?” She tilted her head back to stare at him, her lips thinning in a frown. “We’re okay, aren’t we? I mean, aside from your poor face. Are you all right? Are you in pain?”

  “I’m f-fine.” He took a step back when she reached out to touch him and he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like she was an evil, wicked person. Even if she’d done it, who was he to judge her?

  She was protecting me.

  But it was still murder. It was still wrong.

  The old him would have cared—he knew that now—no matter what he’d thought previously, his memories were back and he knew he would still care, either way.

  I was a mean son of a bitch, but I still had a heart.

  And at the moment, it was breaking.

  Why?

  I hated him. He caused me so much pain, he thought, his eyes sweeping over his father’s lifeless form. There’s no love lost here.

  But he pushed those images from his mind. The memories would only cause him more grief and he had too much to worry about already.

  I can’t protect her from the law. We can’t cover this up.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking, Devin. Please?”

  He wasn’t sure how much time had passed by. It could have been seconds or minutes for all he knew, but hearing the fear in her voice finally dragged him back into reality and all he could do was shake his head.

  “It was a dangerous situation in the first place.” His voice cracked. “Debris was flying everywhere. It...it must have come through the window while you were dragging me to the bathroom. That’s when it hit him.”

  He knew he was telling a lie.

  There was no way a piece of metal had flown through the window and impaled his father so precisely...right?

  “Must have,” she whispered, dropping her gaze to the floor. “I’m sure he didn’t feel any pain.”

  I hope he did.

  God, that was wrong, wasn’t it? There had to be something screwed up in his mind for him to think such a thing. But on the other hand...

  He destroyed my childhood. He beat me. He was never a good father, and he wasn’t a good husband. Maybe he deserved this.

  His eyes landed on his father again and he suddenly didn’t feel so bad about it. There was no reason for him to mourn the loss of a monster.

  “We should at least get out of here,” he said, holding his hand out for her to take. “I’m sure there will be emergency workers coming by soon. We can tell them about Dad.”

  “Tell them what, exactly?” Her eyes grew wide and she stepped back, as if she was suddenly paranoid.

  Could he blame her?

  “I’m not going to tell them...anything you don’t want me to,” he said softly, giving her a reassuring nod. “It was the tornado, right? He died because of the tornado.”

  “Right.” She answered quietly, hesitantly placing her hand in his. “Okay. Let’s go outside.”

  With Josie on their heels and meowing loudly, they exited the house and were greeted by a grim sight.

  The tornado had demolished everything in its path, and their tiny part of the city was barely left standing.

  “Oh, my,” she gasped, releasing his hand and descending the steps. “Oh, Devin, look at it. This is awful.”

  “Yeah, it is,” he murmured, feeling an odd tug in his chest. It was probably just sympathy for the other residents. He did feel bad for anyone who got caught in it, especially anyone who didn’t have proper shelter.

  We didn’t have proper shelter and we survived just fine.

  Well...almost.

  “Oh, look at the Hungerbuhler’s place!” She cried, pointing in the direction of their nearest neighbor’s home. “There’s nothing left!”

  And she was right. Mr. and Mrs. Hungerbuhler’s house was always visible from their front porch. Even when the trees were at their greenest and fullest, their roof still stood majestically above the treetops.

  But there was nothing to be seen now.

  “We should go check on them,” she whimpered, pressing a palm to her cheek. “Devin, they might be hurt.”

  “They have a basement, Mother,” he replied, happy to remember such a small detail. “Mr. Hungerbuhler has a pool table down there. Remember?”

  “Oh. Oh, yes. I suppose you’re right.” She seemed satisfied with the answer as she returned to the porch and eased down on the top step, sighing heavily. “What a mess. This is all a terrible mess.”

  “But we’ll fix it in time,” he promised, seating himself beside her. Reaching his hand out to touch her arm comfortingly, he lifted his eyes to the calm, clear sky. “Everything’s going to be okay now.”

  And he tried to take comfort in that. His dad couldn’t hurt her anymore, and his memories were right where they belonged. Everything would eventually sort itself out and he could finally move on with his life.

  He was finally free.

  What will Nick and Kelly think about it?

  Oh, God. Nick and Kelly! How had he forgotten about them? Were they okay? Had they been affected by the tornado?

  His pulse quickened as he jumped up from the porch, scaring his mom in the process.

  “Devin, sweetie. What’s wrong?”

  “I have to call Nick,” he replied, tugging his phone free from his pocket. “And Kelly. I need to make sure they’re all right.”

  “Of course, sweetheart. I want them to be safe, too,” she whispered, wiping at her eyes. “I hope no one else died.”

  I hope no one else died, either.

  He tugged his cellphone free from his pocket and glanced at the screen, his heart immediately plummeting into his stomach.

  No service.

  “We still have a house phone, don’t we?” He asked, turning to glance at her. “In the kitchen?”

  “Of course, we still have a house phone, Devin. You—oh!” Her eyes widened and she leapt up from where she’d been sitting, her arms flailing about. “You remember the house phone in the kitchen.”

  He couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, I—”

  “OH!” She squealed, hopping up and down excitedly. “You remembered the Hungerbuhler’s have a pool table in their basement! Devin! Devin, do you know what this means?”

  “Yes, Mother,” he replied, laughing. “I do know what it means—I remember everything.”

  She ran into his arms and nearly knocked him to the ground, her joyful sobs muffled against his chest.

  “You remember, baby. You remember!” She laughed and cried and kissed at his cheeks. “Oh, sweetie. I’m so happy for you. Oh, God. I don’t know why I’m crying like this.”

  “It’s okay, Mama.” He was crying, too.

  “Oh, my sweet boy. My sweet, sweet boy.” Pulling him into her arms, she cradled him back and forth as she did when he was a small boy. So many times he ran into the comfort of her arms; he always felt safe with her.

  And he finally understood why she did what she’d done, even if she never admitted to doing it.

  “I’d do anything for you,” she whispered quietly, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck—it was as high as she could reach at the moment. “You’re my heart, Devin. I should have done more for you. I should have done better for all of you. I’m sorry I failed.”

  “You didn’t fail, Mama. Please don’t say that,” he murmured, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms more tightly around her. “You have always been an amazing mother. You did the best you could in a terrible situation. You’ve been so strong, for so many years. I only hope I can be as strong as you have.”

  “Oh, sweetheart.” She pulled away to gaze up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. For the first time since waking up, he saw the real her. The shock must have worn off, or maybe she was just so overwhelmed with the discovery of his recovery that she finally snapped back to reality, but either way, it was so nice t
o see her again. “Devin, you’re stronger than you realize. But no little boy, or even a grown man, should’ve endured the things your father put you through.

  “He wasn’t good to any of us. I should have left him when it all started, but I was frightened. I was so afraid of what he’d do to me...to you...but then today, God, today of all days, he tried to rip you away from me.”

  He swallowed the lump in his throat, overwhelmed by the emotions running through him.

  “I may have failed to protect you from him when you were little, and I know I failed to protect you from him after you were grown, honey, but when he put his fingers around your throat and you started begging for him to stop...I just...I just...”

  She choked on a sob and he immediately cradled her to his chest. It was time for the son to comfort the mother, and in that moment he realized he would go to whatever lengths necessary to protect her.

  He owed her that, and so much more.

  “It’s okay, Mama. It’s all going to be okay. I promise.”

  The soft squeak of brakes caught his attention and he pulled away from her to gaze towards the driveway. Recognizing the vehicle as it came to a stop where gravel met grass, all of his fears, doubts, and worries vanished instantaneously.

  It was Nick and Kelly.

  A small breath escaped his lips, and he turned to stare at his mother again.

  “Go to them,” she said, smiling. “They cared enough about you to come out here, so meet them halfway.”

  He wasn’t even sure his feet hit the steps as he ran to them. They were out within seconds and it was Nick who made it to him first.

  Those strong, wonderful arms wrapped around him and it was all he could do to keep from breaking down again.

  “You’re okay,” Nick whispered, finding his mouth. He kissed him passionately, right then and there.

  With his mother watching.

  “I’m fine.” He half laughed, half sobbed. “We’re both fine.”

  There was more he could have added to the statement, but he decided now was not the time. All he wanted to do was stay in Nick’s arms and kiss him until they had no choice but to come up for air.