Battlecry

by Emerald Dodge

  I poured five glasses of water from the water pitcher in the fridge and passed them around, my trembling hands sloshing the water a few times.

  While they drank, I studied my vague reflection in the water. Soot and blood speckled my face. My eyebrows were gone. Shaking my head, I gulped down my water, suddenly aware of how parched I was.

  Marco broke the silence. “Jill, the storm is coming. We won’t have time to search for Patrick.”

  “Then you guys can go help with the storm, and I’ll search for him.”

  Marco slammed down his glass. “So you can get your ass kicked again?”

  My own glass burst in my hands, flinging water and shards everywhere. “In case you haven’t noticed, he needs to be put down,” I hissed. “We can’t afford to wait out the storm.”

  If he’d pulled out Captain Drummond’s mangled remains from beneath a car, he wouldn’t have been saying these words. If he’d had to tell a maimed Tatiana and her parents that Sebastian had died at fourteen years old, he wouldn’t even consider waiting to go after Patrick.

  “We have to!” Marco banged his fist on the table. Ember put her hand on his, but he waved her off. “Use some common sense for once!”

  I rose out of my chair, heat flaring in my face. “You obviously have something to say, Marco, so say it.”

  He stood up. “You act like it’s so simple, like you’re ready to run off and fight Patrick, even though we’ve got a hurricane coming and you have no idea what you’re going to do when you find him!”

  My hands balled into fists. “We rarely have an idea of how we’re going to take down other Supers. It’s always a last-minute decision.”

  “No, that’s just poor leadership. You and Patrick both have no idea how to lead. If you did, two hundred people wouldn’t’ve have died today.”

  Ember jumped up. “Marco! What’s wrong with you?”

  “You went and talked to him even though you knew nothing good could’ve come from that! Instead of helping with the rescues, you went and pissed him off even more!”

  I took a deep breath. “Marco, you don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t have a choice. As we saw, Patrick was perfectly willing to set the school on fire. I delayed his doing so by several minutes, allowing the three of you to get more people out than you would have.”

  Marco was trembling. “I know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re a terrible leader. The second Patrick showed up, you ran off with Ember with no plan except to, what, talk him to death? Meanwhile, the three of us were running around in a burning building.”

  “Go to bed, Marco. You’re tired.”

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child!”

  “I’ll stop talking to you like you’re a child when you stop acting like a child.” I crossed my arms. “I stand by my decision. Patrick put us in a corner and that was the best option for everyone involved. He’s shown us time and time again that he will kill innocent people.”

  “It was a stupid decision,” he spat. “You went in there ready to die, with no thought of how that would affect anybody else.”

  “Marco, go cool off,” Reid said, his voice a low rumble. Marco opened his mouth to argue, but Reid stood. “Now.”

  Marco stormed out.

  I blinked at his retreating form, struggling to comprehend what had just happened. I knew Marco was tired and emotional—dozens of corpses of people one’s age would make anybody emotional—but his outburst had been over the top. I hadn’t seen attitude like that from him since we were kids. Marco was nearly eighteen, far too old for such displays.

  “What’s his problem?” I mumbled.

  Ember mopped up the water. “Anger and fear are a bad combination. He’s afraid you’ll go run off and die trying to kill Patrick. And he doesn’t even know about your trip to the house last night and its connection to today.”

  I rubbed my forehead. “I’m going to go talk to him, then go to bed. We’ll come up with tomorrow’s plan tomorrow. There’s no time for storm prep anymore, so we might have to play it by ear.”

  I walked up the stairs, rehearsing my possible opening lines. I know you’re upset with me and I want to fix it. We’re heroes and this is what we do. I’ll keep myself safe, I promise.

  “Jillian, wait,” Benjamin said from the bottom of the stairs.

  I turned and saw his worried face. Glancing once at Marco’s door, I turned and walked down the stairs. “Yes?”

  He stroked my hair. “Give Marco some space. Let him sleep on it. He’s angry and humiliated right now, and we’re all running on fumes.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want him being angry at me anymore. I can’t stand when he’s put out with me. I should talk to him.”

  “What if I said I needed a medic?”

  “What?”

  He gestured to the raw patch of skin on his arm.

  “Oh!” I gently took his arm and examined the oozing, angry burns. “This needs attention.” I took him by the hand and lead him down the hall to our new sick bay. Because of Benjamin, we hadn’t needed to use it since moving in.

  I grabbed a clear bottle of burn gel from a cardboard box full of first aid supplies and uncapped it, squeezing out a handful.

  “Keep an eye on your burns,” I said quietly, applying the gel to Benjamin, who sighed and closed his eyes. “I’ve seen burns turn nasty. Marco can tell you some stories.” I removed a roll of bandages from the box and began to wind them around Benjamin’s arm. “Not only has he caused burns, he used to be our medic. Then I met you.”

  “And then everything went to hell,” he muttered.

  I looked up in surprise. “What? No. Why would you say that?”

  “Well, you met me, and then everything that happened, happened.”

  “Nah. You were the push I needed. But beating up Patrick? Taking over the team?” I tied the end of the bandage into a knot and fastened a clip to keep it in place. “I think I would’ve done that no matter who I met that day in the café. But I’m glad it was you, and I hope you’re glad it was you, too.” I stroked his chin, enjoying the scruff there.

  He captured my hand in his. “I am glad. So glad.”

  My voiced dropped to a whisper. “Benjamin?”

  “Yes, sweetheart?”

  “Am I a good leader?” My voice cracked with emotion.

  He pulled me to him and touched his forehead to mine. “There were a few minutes today when the three of us were resigned to the fact that we were going to die, but you showed up and pulled down white-hot metal with your bare hands to get us out.” His lips brushed mine. “It’s an honor to serve under someone that courageous. God knows I’m not. I ran away from home and faked my death.”

  “You are courageous,” I said, sniffing. “Your family is scary, but you’re a superhero anyway.”

  We stood in the silence for a minute, listening to each other’s breaths.

  Finally, when I’d calmed down, I said, “I’m going to bed. You should too.”

  I walked upstairs and crawled into my sleeping bag.

  I awoke at zero two thirty to the sound of civil defense sirens, eerie and echoing in the winds of Hurricane Ben.

  36

  “That’s everything,” Reid said, placing the last cardboard box in my closet.

  The entire second floor of our home was littered with boxes and furniture, stowed there in case of flooding. Benjamin had endured a hurricane once and said we’d likely see some high water.

  It was zero four, and though we were still exhausted from the previous day’s activities, the roaring wind was enough to ensure we worked quickly.

  I handed out ponchos. “Okay, guys, this is it. The church’s entrance is one hundred meters from our door. I can see the best in the dark and Marco’s got the light, so we’re going to lead.” I glanced out the window and took in the sight of rain flying sideways. “Let’s make this fast.”

  We shouldered our backpacks and slipped on the ponchos, then trooped downstairs.

&nbs
p; Before I turned the front door knob, I took a deep breath. “Brace yourselves.”

  I opened the door.

  The howling wind swallowed up all other sounds, filling my ears with a constant scream. Small bits of debris flew through the air, a serious threat in the pre-dawn darkness. Nearby houses had already lost shingles, and a lone blue recycling bin tumbled down the street.

  Thankfully, there was no flooding, but water had already started to pool around storm grates. A coastal city’s water table was high enough; I didn’t want to imagine what a storm such as this would do to the drainage system.

  Marco raised an orb of light and we all joined hands, bending forward into the wall of wind. We were strong, but the storm was stronger.

  Bit by bit we moved towards the church, which also functioned during the week as Sacred Heart Day School, and now as a city storm shelter. Eventually we stumbled onto the flagstones of the entryway, the building’s wall blocking the wind.

  Through the two sets of glass entryway doors, I saw Father Kokoski run to let us in. “Come in, come in! Thank God you’re here. I was worried you’d try to stay in the convent.”

  Murmuring words of thanks, my team went inside. I was the last to go, and before I entered, I gave our home one last look. As I watched, a piece of roof tore off and was hurled into the darkness.

  There was chaos in the shelter.

  City employees were trying to organize at least two hundred citizens—families with children of all ages, homeless people, and even some college students. People were huddled in every available corner. Small children tore around the building, some screaming and crying that they were going to die. Others were systematically removing the pictures of students from the cork board, and another had knocked over the statue of the pretty lady in blue. Men yelled at each other while women huddled together, trying to soothe their families and each other.

  Many of the items I remembered from my first visit were gone. The stand with pamphlets about sacraments had been replaced by a registration table. Beneath the grotesque decoration of the dying man hung a new sign pointing the way to Supply Distribution. Where the silver water dispenser had once sat were now boxes of blankets.

  In the center of the room, the three city employee huddled together, their shoulders hunched as they spoke in low, tense voices.

  We approached the city employees first and introduced ourselves, then offered our assistance. The city employee in charge, a harried woman named Juliet, nodded towards the yelling men.

  “We have all the supplies we need. Our biggest problem is maintaining order. I’ve been squishing rumors since yesterday that we’re running out of food. If word gets around that supplies are low, we’ll have a riot on our hands. Can you help keep people calm?”

  A man called Juliet’s name and she hurried away. I gestured for my team to follow me to Father’s office, which was empty.

  I closed the door behind us. “Okay team, here’s the plan. Reid, right now I want you to go break up any fights. Be scary. When you’re done, report back to me and we’ll work on storm surge barriers around the church. Ember, you’re great with people our age, so hang around with the college students and let them know that everything is going to be okay. Benjamin, find anyone with injuries, do your thing. Introduce yourself to families especially, make sure parents know that you can heal. Marco, you’re the best with kids, so round them up and do your magic. How are your energy stores?”

  He scowled at me. “I’m full. I was working outside all day yesterday, remember?”

  “Good. Don’t use any of it unless you absolutely have to. We don’t know the next time we’ll see the sun.”

  Marco crossed his arms. “And what are you going to do?”

  I brushed past his tone. “I’m going to go secure a place for us to sleep. Then I’ll work on supply distribution with the city people so everyone gets what they need.”

  As they left Father’s office, Ember touched my arm. You want me to keep tabs on thoughts? I already heard someone thinking about stealing.

  I nodded. If you overhear something really bad, come get me.

  She wandered towards a group of college students in UGSC hoodies. “Hi, guys! I’m Firelight.”

  I set out to find a place for my team to sleep and, when necessary, speak in private.

  The classrooms were full, as were the storage rooms and kitchen.

  People lined every hallway.

  The bathrooms were filled.

  The social hall was packed.

  Frustrated, I returned to the overcrowded gymnasium, which doubled as the main room in the storm shelter. I looked around. At that point I would’ve settled for a closet.

  A narrow stairwell I’d never noticed before led to a small balcony overlooking the gym, no more than a few feet square, and a door. I walked up the stairwell and tried the doorknob, but it was locked. Glancing over my shoulder, I forced the lock and the door swung open to reveal a darkened room.

  I saw immediately why the room hadn’t been opened for shelter use: it was a weight training room, stuffed with large, heavy exercise equipment, no doubt for the older students to use during gym class. The shelter employees would have been unable to move the equipment and find a place for it on such short notice.

  But I could move them. I pushed the treadmill and exercise bike to the side of the room with little effort, then carried the weights to a corner by another door labeled “Roof Access.”

  Though I was nearly six feet tall, the punching bag’s hook was too far out of my reach to grab. Shrugging, I punched the bag so hard it detached from the ceiling and caught it.

  An appreciative whistle came from the doorway.

  “You are such an Amazon,” Benjamin said, leaning against the frame. He grinned and held two water bottles. “Just how strong are you?”

  I set the bag down by the weights and laughed. “I can bench press you and not break a sweat.”

  He tossed me a bottle. “We’ll have to try that soon.”

  I joined him by the door and swatted him. “Down, boy.” I took a sip and wiped my forehead. “When did it get so hot in here?”

  Benjamin pointed to the overhead lights. “We’re on generator power, I think. The air conditioning is off so the lights can stay on.”

  We stood on the balcony and surveyed the mass of people below us. In the far corner, a dozen children watched Marco while he molded clay, no doubt borrowed from the art room, and hardened it in his hands with his heat. He gave a tiny clay animal to a toddler, who promptly dropped it and began to sob. Marco picked her up and soothed her, a sight that warmed my heart.

  In another corner, Ember chatted with a group of college students. She said something that made them all burst into loud laughter.

  You’ll never be as helpful as they are. If the shelter floods, you can’t do anything.

  I banished the insidious voice inside my head as quickly as it had come. I was tired and I was nervous. Of course the shelter wouldn’t flood.

  Benjamin turned to me. “I’ve healed every injury I could, and already people are calming down. The biggest task now is just riding out the storm. Water’s starting to pool everywhere outside, and Reid is having trouble keeping the storm walls up because the ground is too saturated to work with. That’s what I came up here to tell you. He’s outside.”

  The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I let out a long breath. “Well, don’t let anyone hear you say that. I’ll go talk to Reid.”

  I made my way downstairs and determinedly ignored the niggling fears in my brain.

  Yes, there would be some flooding, because there was always flooding in low-lying areas during hurricanes. But we could handle it. The storm surge barriers around the rivers and the oceanfront would hold, and the city would be fine. Tropical Storm Anastasia hadn’t done any lasting damage, and neither would Hurricane Ben.

  The very worst that could happen was that everyone was forced upstairs for a little while.

  There’s not enough ro
om for everyone upstairs.

  The wooden handrail cracked under my hand.

  I collected my thoughts and headed towards the foyer, where I could see Reid leaning against the brick wall of the church and struggling to raise the earth for storm walls. Every time he lifted up the dirt, wind whipped much of it away. The rest collapsed on itself, little more than mud.

  I pushed open the door, the storm’s roar stunning me momentarily. “Come back inside! There’s nothing you can do now!” I beckoned him in.

  “Come see!” Reid yelled back, pointing towards the road.

  I joined him in the front area, rain drops striking my skin with painful force. Tiny bits of rock and debris flew into my face.

  “Look at the water!” he yelled.

  I squinted at the street and gasped. The road, some thirty feet from the door, was under at least six inches of water.

  Reid’s eyes glowed white and another low wall rose up on the lawn, only to collapse. “I can’t keep it back!”

  Water splashed over the curb once, then twice. It was rising.

  “Get inside!” I yelled, pushing him towards the door. He opened his mouth to argue. “That’s an order, Reid!”

  We sprinted back into the church, the doors slamming behind us so hard the glass bowed. We shivered and dripped onto the carpet for a few seconds while we got our bearings. “Get the team upstairs, above the gym,” I said while I scanned for the city employees. “We’re going to have to come up with a contingency plan.”

  He hurried off and I located Juliet, who was handing out boxed meals at a table near the gym. “We need to talk.” I hoped the urgency came through without alarming the other civilians.

  Juliet listened with grim understanding while I explained that situation outside the church. “So what’s your plan?”

  “The building has a second floor room, but it’s…it’s not big enough for two hundred people. After that, it’s the roof.” I couldn’t see these people faring well on the roof while the storm raged around them.

  Juliet pursed her lips and pulled a small radio out of her pocket. “This is an emergency two-way radio. I know that the Coast Guard was called in yesterday, so if it comes to that, you can reach them with it.”