by Amy Marie
I recognize the two from earlier today, by the river. It’s the mother and son – Aria’s boyfriend.
“Oh! Ryan. Mrs. Huntley. You scared me! I didn’t see you come in. How are you holding up?” Mrs. Guthrie asks them.
The two stand in their places, silent and staring blankly ahead, as if in a trance.
I’ve seen that look before. The danger registers in an instant.
“Dylan!” I scream, just as the young man lunges. “Get them out of here!” I shout to Uncle Mike, pointing to Mrs. Guthrie and Char.
Mrs. Huntley tilts her head at me subtly. I get a sense of déjà vu seeing a cloaked figure make the same gesture in my dream.
The older woman attacks. I’m pushed into the wall with force and my hands reach up to pull her hair in defense. We roll around back and forth, getting hits in when either of us are able.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Uncle Mike herding the girls out the door. Just before she leaves, Char reaches over to turn on the kitchen faucet and screams to Dylan on her way out.
Despite his struggle, Dylan senses the flowing stream and manipulates the water, hands glowing. As the water builds, he forms it into a cannonball sized sphere and shoots it at the young man.
Ryan is hit in the gut with the force of the water and doubles over.
Seeing Dylan utilize his powers, reminds me of my own. I’ve never been sure how to use them, but my back is literally against the wall.
In our struggle, Mrs. Huntley’s arms are reaching for my neck. When her hands connect, I snap. A wave of power runs through me and projects outward. Light fills the room and the older woman screams and pulls her scorched hands away.
Dylan has been building up more water bombs to keep Ryan at bay. With the two finally stunned, we run out the door.
The other three are already in the car. We’re moving for the vehicle when Char’s scream rips through the air.
A cloaked figure comes out of the barn and moves in front of the SUV, blocking our way.
I reach for my pockets, but my lighter and pepper spray are missing.
It’s daytime!
I didn’t think I would need the element weapon.
How is this possible?
Dylan turns to me and our eyes meet. Just as we reach to clasp our glowing hands, the sound of wheels on gravel come screaming from our right, racing down the driveway in our direction.
A beat-up pickup truck plows full force into the destructor, sending the cloaked figure flying into the barn. With a screech, the truck comes to a halt, and a handsome blond man jumps out.
Jove.
His eyes meet mine, and something snaps into place. He nods to me in understanding and gestures us into the waiting SUV. He jumps into the driver’s seat without question and drives us away from the farm house.
“You alright, honey?” Jove asks looking in the rearview mirror at his wife.
“Much better now, Joe,” Mrs. Guthrie smiles.
I have so many questions building up, I might explode. But I can’t form any words. My eyes just study the air elemental.
“I know you seem pretty familiar and all, but it does creep me out that you’re staring at me like that,” he says, not taking his eyes off the road.
“Where are we going?” I ask first, because it’s the only time-constrained question.
“Dayton. We need to get away from that thing. I have a hangar we can hide in at the Air Force base, we’ll be safe there.”
“We can’t,” I say.
Jove’s eyebrows raise up.
“We have two more, one is injured. They’ll need to come with us. And my parents. Their house is currently under protection–”
“Protection from that thing? I don’t know what’s going on right now, but I do know that thing was deadly.”
Speaking of the destructor brings to mind a burning question.
“How was he out in daytime?” Char voices my inner fear from the back seat.
“I don’t know,” I say, shaking. “I just… we need to get home.” I give Jove directions to my parent’s house. “I’m Nora by the way, and we have a lot to talk about.”
“I go by Joe. And somehow, I think I knew that,” he says with a nod.
My parents are still safe at work by the time we drive up to our colonial home. We pull into the garage and everyone is ushered inside.
I put on some coffee, but the kitchen is cramped. Our team is growing.
Uncle Mike directs everyone to the basement recreational room, where there’s space for us all.
Darcy is surprised to see that we brought home two more people. Rafe is still resting on the couch, but awake now, and in good spirits. Char immediately rushes to his side.
I do my best to give introductions, and Uncle Mike takes over the task of explaining to Joe that he is the personified soul of air. After a short time of giving a summarized explanation of the Statera, the destructor, our souls, and our mission, Joe and his wife ask us all plenty of questions.
When we tell Darcy and Rafe about running into the destructor during the day, they’re both baffled.
“That cannot be,” Darcy says, eyes still wide in astonishment.
“It’s true,” says Joe. His wife, Tara, sits in silent worry by his side. She’s being quite a trooper about everything. It’s almost like the two of them knew something was coming. Or perhaps they’re able to cope with this better than getting lost in their grief for Aria?
I look at my watch. My parents will be home in the next half hour. How am I going to explain all this?
Uncle Mike senses my struggle.
“We need to get everyone out of here. We can go to Dayton together if Joe can arrange a safe place on base, complete with a safeguard. We must lure the destructor away from your home to keep your parents safe. And I can call Gregory and put him and his team back in charge of their security,” he says.
I nod in agreement. Looking at our group, we’ve come a long way. Eight people: Two elementals, two guardians, two helpers, and the light and the dark.
“Let’s get everything ready,” I say. “We need to move.”
Char and I go upstairs to gather our things. I stop in my parent’s bedroom.
My heart aches to tell them what’s going on, but my desire to keep them safe wins over.
Char enters the room and hugs my side. “Mom and dad will be sad. They were looking forward to spending time with us.”
“I know,” I say, choking up.
“Here,” she says, reaching for Selma’s lipstick. “Let’s leave them a note!” She takes the lipstick with a smile and writes “we love you” in big letters on the vanity mirror. We both giggle and put on the lipstick to kiss the glass.
“C’mon, we better go,” she says.
We gather our things and double check the element safeguard. We all pack into the rental SUV, careful to make Rafe as comfortable as possible, and to cover Darcy with a blanket in the back for travel until sunset.
As we pull out of the garage, Uncle Mike instructs, “Park just down the street for a moment. I want to be sure Gregory and his team get here to watch the house.”
In a few moments, Selma’s car pulls into the garage. Minutes later, Eddie’s truck does the same. Finally, Uncle Mike spots his security team as they park across the street from the house.
“Okay, they’re here. We can go,” Uncle Mike says.
Joe has been elected as our driver. We pull out from the curb and begin to drive away.
A ground-shaking blast thunders behind us. Char and I are in the back row with Rafe and our heads snap around at the sound of destruction.
“Nooooooooo!” Char’s gut-wrenching shriek tears at my soul, and echoes the pain of my instantly hollowed heart.
I’m so empty, I can’t even scream to match Char’s cry of grief. Behind us, smoke and flame engulf the home we just left behind with our parents inside.
Chapter 20
Emptiness.
It was always easy for me to accept th
e Statera’s explanation that the emptiness is what makes up true evil. It is the opposite of feeling, emotion, love, and life.
I remember the feeling. When my own parents were killed. It tore my insides out, until I could swear there was nothing left. I was empty, and it made me want to give up on everything.
The Goodwin’s brought me back. Their love filled me with life again.
And now Selma and Eddie are gone.
I lay in the back of the SUV, under the blanket with Darcy. My quiet tears are draining any feeling I have out of me. Soon, I’ll be empty again.
Darcy holds me tight, caressing, soothing, desperately trying to keep something inside of me. He won’t let the light go out.
The sound of Char’s sobs fills my ears, and weighs down the guilt that’s already been building so heavily on my heart.
I turned her into an orphan, like me. None of this would’ve happened to her if it wasn’t for my soul.
My fault.
I relive the blast over and over again in my mind, numb to the man trying to hold on to me. Did they feel any pain? Were they at least together? Did they have a chance to see our message, to know how much we loved them?
I pray, not knowing who’s listening anymore.
As if Darcy can read my thoughts, he whispers, “They loved you. They love you still. You more than anyone must understand that death cannot stop that.”
His words break through the barrier to the empty chambers of my heart. They settle inside, and I trust in his logic. I know he’s right, but the pain remains.
In all the lives my soul has been a part of, and all the lives that were lost, love has always survived. I think back to Eleanor and her father. Gabriel, who was killed the same way as Selma and Eddie. A glimpse of other lives, people and faces and numerous names, all that I’ve known and loved. Finally, memories of my own parents fill my mind. I’ve lost them all. A part of all of them will always be with me. The emptiness can never take that away. Memories of them will always keep the emptiness at bay. My loved ones fill the void. But it will never take away the guilt.
“Thank you,” I whisper, burying my tear-streaked face into his chest.
“The sun has set, let me switch places with your sister. She needs you,” he whispers, kissing my forehead.
Darcy crawls up to the bench seat with Rafe and helps Char move to the back, near me. I put my arms around my sister and we huddle together and cry.
“We still have each other. And that’s something to hold on to,” I whisper to her.
“Do you think they saw the message?” she whimpers in a voice so full of pain that it crushes me.
I close my eyes. In my mind, both Selma and Eddie made it up to their room to see the message before the explosion. In my mind, they had smiles on their faces knowing their daughters loved them. In my mind, they were together, holding hands. In my mind, there was no time for pain, just one last message of love.
“Yes,” I whisper back. “They saw it. And now they’ll always know.”
Sometime later, we pull up to the gate of a military base. As our vehicle is searched, we all keep a wary eye out into the darkness of the night.
We pile back into the SUV. Joe is speaking quietly with one of the guards, showing them his identification badges. I can barely make out the words “private hangar” before we’re granted access onto the base.
As we drive along the southwest airfield, we pass the museum I remember visiting as a child. Rows of large hangars stack up behind the museum. We pull along and find a small hangar tucked off to the side.
“This was my father’s private hangar. He owned some vintage aircraft that he leased to the museum. I donated a few of them and they’re now over on the main display. There’s a couple left in here, but there should be plenty of space for us to set up for the night and maintain a safeguard. There’s electricity and running water.”
“Thank you, Jove,” Uncle Mike says, with a hoarse voice. I’ve forgotten how devastated Uncle Mike must be feeling right now. Selma and Eddie were his family too.
The air of heavy loss hangs over us all.
The door of the hangar opens to a surprisingly clean interior. The lights shine brightly throughout the space and we pull in and park next to an old military warplane.
As the SUV is unloaded, we set to work arranging the element safeguard with what we have available in the hangar.
Joe stops me and points to Char and Rafe. “Set those two up in the DC-3 over there.” He points to a large, old airplane that looks like a smaller vintage airliner. “They look like they’ve both been through hell. It’s been gutted. There are some recliners and benches on the inside where they can get comfortable.”
“Thank you,” I say to him, meaning the words more than ever. Here’s a man who just lost his sister, and he’s worried about mine. The soul of air is a beautiful soul.
I help my sister move Rafe into the interior of the plane, surprised at how roomy it is inside. We lay Rafe down on one of the bench seats, and I move to get Char the hangar first aid kit to check the dressing on his wounds.
Leaving the two in the plane to comfort each other, I look to see where I can be of most help to set up the safeguard.
Darcy is lighting a gas grill with low flames and positioning it across from a utility faucet where Dylan is rigging a makeshift fountain. Joe is setting up a utility fan in front of a small window to move some fresh air. Tara is digging through cleaning tools, so I ask her what I can help her with.
“Just looking for a bucket, or something small to pot a plant,” she says.
I grab a tin can full of nails from a workbench and ask, “Will this do?”
She smiles and dumps the nails on the counter. We move just outside the hangar door to dig some soil.
“Too bad I didn’t know about the charm ahead of time. I have a greenhouse full of plants at home,” she says.
“I saw that when we were driving up. Was there a landing strip too?” I ask.
“Oh yeah. Joe’s a pilot, you know,” she says.
“No, I didn’t realize that,” I say. But it makes sense now with a connection to our dreams.
“The landing strip is for our farm. He has a small crop duster he flies during season. Then when he needs to get here for duty, sometimes he’ll fly. He’s in the reserves, so he doesn’t fly actively for the Air Force too much anymore. Just keeps up on his training.”
She finds a patch of earth and bends to dig her hands right in.
“It’s a good thing it’s been raining like crazy,” I say digging my own hands in. “But how will we find a plant so soon after winter?”
“No worries. Joe keeps his hangar stocked with snacks. And he always has sunflower seeds on hand,” she says.
I never even would have thought to plant something like that. Tara must have quite the green thumb.
We fill the tin can with the soil from underneath the muddy top layer and hurry back into the hangar to seal up for the night. Tara pulls out some sunflower seeds and tucks them, shell and all, into the can with expertise. She sets up a lamp from the workbench over the can and is confident that she has completed the charm.
The guys sit around the gas grill passing the remainder of the snacks between them. Uncle Mike has fallen asleep in his seat. I sit next to Darcy and listen to Joe’s explanations about the planes in the hangar.
“The mustang over there was a World War II fighter. My dad loved that one. I don’t fly it as much as I should. The DC-3 is decommissioned,” he points to the plane that Char and Rafe are resting in, “but it’s the nostalgia of the old airliners that keeps me from giving that one up. It’s nights like this I’m lucky to have it. It’s comfortable enough to sleep in when the wife throws me out of the house,” he jokes.
“Like that ever happens,” Tara rolls her eyes.
“How did you guys meet?” I ask, admiring their affection.
Tara smiles at Joe inviting him to tell the story.
“T was a student at UC Ber
keley. I was stationed at Travis Air Force Base. She was the cutest nerd studying botany, and I was a show-off pilot. Naturally, she didn’t want anything to do with me. But she eventually gave in to the forces of nature,” he smiles and nudges her playfully.
“I like to think fate must’ve brought us together. Otherwise, I never would’ve imagined marrying a pilot and ending up in Ohio. I was born in Ireland, though I’ve lost most of my accent,” says Tara.
Fate and the forces of nature. I get a warm feeling of understanding as I look at Darcy. Darcy is watching the two of them with a strange look on his face.
The conversation filters back to the Statera and Joe asks more questions about the reminiscence. Darcy and Dylan field the questions. I do my best to contribute, but find myself so exhausted, I can barely keep my eyes open.
“You better take her in to rest,” Dylan says to Darcy. “We’ll take turns keeping an eye out. I’ll stay up first. The rest of you should get some sleep.”
Darcy carries me into the plane where Char and Rafe are resting. As we pass my sister, I see tears streaking her sleeping face. A few tears escape unchecked from my own eyes in response.
Darcy lays me down on the next bench and crawls behind to hold me. He whispers loving words into my ear, but they are lost in my exhaustion. I close my eyes with unending hope to see my family again in my dreams.
Wake up.
A voice whispers to wake me.
My eyes are crusted over with dried up tears.
I move my arm behind me to find Darcy, but he’s not there.
Whose voice was that?
I pop my head up to peer at Char and Rafe, but they are both sound asleep. It’s the middle of the night, maybe early morning.
Chills run through my body.
Someone was speaking to me, and something’s wrong.
Tara rushes into the cabin of the plane. “Something’s going on outside. We need to move!”
Char lifts her head up. I literally see the pain on her face when she’s smacked back into reality.
“Rafe is injured. Can’t we stay until daytime?” I ask.