by Alexa Dare
“Is Jeremiah going to come back and growl at me?” asked Isaiah.
Brody shared a long look with Hannah.
“I—I—" Abe stepped away from Hannah and squared his shoulders. “I’ll take care of them after we move the little ones out.”
Under Junior’s coaching, Darcy Lynn’s wind swirls lifted Brody’s uncle and placed him with the other dead.
“Irene?” Hannah couldn’t talk with the hot wash of vinegary sobs backed up in her throat. “The screams…”
“Things ain’t so good.” Junior backed toward their group.
“I shall draw,” Vincent said. “If you like.”
“At this point, what could it hurt?” Brody clasped Hannah and Vincent’s arms and edged away from the group. “We’re all here to join our energies, so our luck’s due for a turn, don’t you think? Darcy Lynn, you ready to give me a boost?”
“Up. Up. Up.” Darcy Lynn waved her hands.
The wind, fresh and cool as if shoving away the unclean of what had happened in the last few days, whirled around Brody. The breeze ruffled his hair and flapped his loose t-shirt and pants legs.
“Hold on.” From one of the seats, Brody lifted a roll of looped wire and hung it over his lower arm, then he clasped a small flat toolbox to his chest. “Going up.”
Hannah gasped. “Our powers have come so far.”
Harsh gusts splashed the melting snow as Darcy Lynn caused the swirling wind to lift Brody through the rain toward the domed twisted metal.
“I missed you guys.” Hannah elbow bumped Abe. “I’m so sorry about Jeremiah, the others, and Merv. Where…where’s Irene?”
“Once she found out about Merv,” Abe said, “she let out a scream and left. After that, we all had scary not-real dreams.”
“Hallucinations , sort of. Scary stuff,” said Junior. “Brody said it was a banshee scream.”
“Worst fears and what you most wanted all rolled into one.” Abe jogged to the stage to grab the strand of wire Brody doled out.
Her sadness at the deaths and her joy at being with the others helped Hannah slow the rainfall, to make Brody’s rise easier.
The downpour, over the roof of their building, slowed to a drizzle.
“No. What did you do?” Abe shot her his you-messed-up glare. “We need the rain to make this work.”
“I was just trying to help.” At his tone, she let a directed shower dump gallons on Abe’s head. Bounding down the steps, she said, “You act like you know everything, but you don’t. You were so wrong.”
Abe sputtered and like a wet dog shook his body to flick away the wet. “What are you talking about?”
Junior nudged Vincent into action.
They stretched out the length across the gushy water, ice, and snow-filled stage.
“Inside the envelope we found in the all-terrain vehicle, the letter inside was from our father, telling of his love for Nora and saying how hard he’d looked for us and that we’d be a family.”
Abe forgot the wire, left the job to the others to stride toward Hannah, hands fisted at his sides. “Who wrote the letter?”
“Her helper guy, Abe. Fitz. And Nora killed him right in front of us, when we didn’t even know he was our father.” Hannah stomped into the knee-high water on the stage. “He was out there, looking for us, and we never got a chance to know him.”
“He seemed like a good man.” Abe nodded.
“That’s all you can say.” Hannah sobbed. “You made us stop the bonfire. How could you?”
“We didn’t know anything about why we were the way we are then. Or where our parents might be.”
“From up in the upper seats, Isaiah yelled, “Is Jeremiah gone nighty night?”
Hannah’s hands flew to her face. She felt the warmth of her own tears mix with the chill of the rain. She brought her fingers to her mouth to taste the saltiness.
From above, Brody called out. “All okay?”
“Hannah and Abe, take hold.” Junior held out the wire. “Come on Darcy Lynn.”
“Will this help us to get a real house and real food, like biscuits and chocolate syrup?” Darcy Lynn held the wire tight as if she might wish a home-style breakfast into being.
Poor kid. Nothing would ever be the same…
On a girder on the roof, Brody slumped in the faint orange morning haze. “Mind’s racing, but even as I get the big ideas I can feel the notions slipping away. We gotta do this now.”
“After our last, uh, side effects…” Hannah gnawed her lower lip.
“We got maybe one chance at this.” Abe stared over his shoulder. “Sorry about not being right about the bonfire. I thought we were being little kids that needed to grow up.” Abe sighed. “Now I wish we hadn’t had to.”
“We’re going to make beds in the little room up top.” Tonya gathered the living and herded the kids up the stairs.
Abe swiped at his face as if to clear away the dump of water. “Tonya’s good folks.”
“They all are, but being good doesn’t stop death.” Hannah struggled to swallow her sobs whole.
Brody reeled more wire from the roof. “There’s no pipe for a conduit, but like the guys pointed out, if the rain shower’s pretty strong, there’s more than enough water to serve as conductor.”
Hannah tapped into her upset and let the water gush down.
“Thanks Hannah.” Brody’s tone didn’t sound grateful. He sounded plenty scared. “Abe, it’s up to you to gather the volts and send the current along the wire.”
Abe nodded. “Will do.”
“I’ve got a manual crank rigged to the EMF blaster. Junior, despite the water, can you bury the start of wire several feet deep into the ground.”
Below, where people used to stay buried.
Dead. Dying.
Even little kids.
No fair. But nothing ever is.
Hannah seized hold of her emotions. Tapped into the pool washing over the first row of seats and rising.
The water parted into two great divides.
“Whoa. Like in the Good Book.” Junior tugged the string of wire. He pressed the tip gently to the carpet and placed his palm on the floor. “Stand back.”
The floor shook. The two pools of water sloshed.
The carpet ripped. A crack opened with a puff of dirt.
He fed the pinky-thick strand into the crevice, then the rip gently shrank around the wire.
With a pleased grin, he shoved the carpet flaps closed.
The wire reached up to where Brody peered down. “First you send out lots of energy. When I say so, let go. Get out of the water and run for the hall. Quick.”
“Got it,” both twins yelled.
Hannah shot a goofy grin at her brother.
“Okay, guys and gals. Boost all the power you can.” Brody peeked down at them from atop a girder.
“Without really playing?” asked Darcy Lynn. Her curls dripped from the water running from her raised face.
“Think about sending power up and out.” Brody moved out of sight.
Junior cupped the wire. Glancing up, he rushed back to the group.
Hannah let the divide of water collide in a giant slosh.
A rush of two waves jostled them, then made one big pool.
Abe took the first spot, so he could send their energy forward. Behind Abe, Junior gripped the copper with dirty hands. Then Darcy Lynn clasped the shiny wire right behind Junior.
Cold, so cold, Hannah took hold.
Vincent stepped forward to show her his picture.
In deep scrapes etched in the soaked tan paper, maybe by a fingernail, the sketch showed a normal world outside. Puffy clouds, instead of ominous dark ones, floated in the sky over a large lake.
“No blood and gore and death?” asked Hannah.
“My best drawing yet.” Vincent smiled a thin, wobbly grin.
“We can do this, can’t we Vincent?” Hannah asked. Her words stuffed her mouth like bland chunks of soggy lettuce.
Wit
h a silent nod, he tucked the folded sketch in his front pants pocket. His lips set in a grim line, he clutched the wire and faced the storm.
As one, they set out to reset nature.
Chapter 37
High magnetic levels within the storm lent a charged fragrance to the crisp rain. Static tipped Brody’s tongue with a metal zing.
Above, clouds blacker than road tar, with orange blinks stuck in like bits of gravel, wept rain in a harsh cascade.
Atop metal, the soles of Brody’s boots skidded.
He averted an oh-crap moment by slowing down as he walked a beam back to the satellite, two of a pair the size of barn roofs on either side of the telescope on the topmost area of the roof past the ruined glass roof panels.
The orange orbs shone on the sightseeing deck along the cliff’s edge, the parking lot, and at the lot’s edge where the heap of rocks marked Cantrell’s grave.
“Too much death, man.”
Brody hooked the final wire to the upright dishes. “The world isn’t the same. Bad times. Ugly stuff. Worse.”
This go around, he joined the two huge dishes and planned to use the actual cups as energy rods.
He fingered the crank he’d rigged from control room parts. All he had to do was attach the starter mechanism and roll the office chair wheel with his palm to set the blaster in motion.
“We end the storm; we give the rest of the country a chance to come to our rescue.” He attached wires, screwed in the new starter, all the while eyeing the black clouds that twisted day into night.
If the clouds had stayed only within the region.
But should the raging storm have spread—
A pale white hand covered his.
“Yikes.” He flopped over on his back like a bass fish out of water.
The hand gripped his wrist, tight, saving him from a slide and plunge off the roof.
In the dimness, crimson tears streaked Irene’s face.
“Irene!” Knees bent, he duck walked to stand. “The high EMFs are hurting you. You shouldn’t be up here. You have to go back inside.”
Irene pointed to Brody, shook her head.
Cupping her upper chest, she shrugged.
“Me up here doesn’t matter.” Brody said. “Together the older kids, Abe, Hannah, Tonya, Vincent, and Junior can take care of the younger ones. They can live good lives, if we can give them halfway normal lives to live.”
As silent as a long-ago sunrise—had it only been only days since the start of this mess?—Irene helped him into a crouch and placed her hand upon his shoulder.
“Being up here, in the midst of the energy change. Will, uh, end us.” He tried to read her pale face. “But you know that already, don’t you?”
She handed him a weave of web Junior had taken from the cave during their escape from the spiders.
“A mesh ladder.” Brody blinked. “Uncle Merv asked you to do this.” He choked out, “Didn’t he?”
She pressed his fingers in answer.
“Uncle Merv. The banshee thing.” He shook a stream of water from his eyes. “We can get past this.”
Irene mouthed the word, Soon.
“Soon. Right.” Warm liquid oozed from his nose. He swiped at blood drips. Spat to clear the tinfoil bitterness filling his mouth. “The sky-high, for real, EMFs are killing us. I couldn’t bear to tell them what coming up here meant.”
Soon for Brody was too late. Yet for the others… He spun the wheel.
A sizzling charge jolted into the wire.
He yelled, “Now, guys. Give it all you got.”
From behind, Irene hugged his neck.
Her voice, of purer tone than before, rose. So far from the awful screech of the banshee, her siren song lifted into the deluge of dawn.
No words. More of a chant of drawn out notes.
Their cycling of powers, so severe in each direction with each building of the storm.
Brody’s eyes teared.
The lull of sounds…
No nightmares.
Yet, the cedar and pine warmth of a banked fire lifted in the chill. Wild rose so strong the aroma hung in the wet. Earthy moss. All the smells from what once was.
Irene went to the huge dish. She grasped the edge of the curved surface.
“Irene don’t.”
Her voice carried her energy. Her power joined that of the others.
“With your help, this has to work.” Blood poured down his lip and chin. Splats plopped on the roof to wash away in a blink.
His nosebleed lent a penny odor. Added to the old silver coin flavor of the ozone, the steely stench overtook him and the tinfoil taste seeped over his tongue.
A dark blur climbed along a roof beam to Brody’s right.
Nope, he couldn’t forget the fifth void. Because chaos—life—wouldn’t dare let him.
The escaped black widow spider’s belly glowed and pulsed.
Those bulgy, shiny eyes aimed at him.
He angled to face the thing. He kept turning the wheel to spur a human power surge.
His so-so mind would never have come up with the idea. Yet the big ideas would have never accepted the simple design. So, with luck, he’d come up with the design when he’d been in between the smart surges.
In a world filled with energy flux, they would tap into and funnel the EMFs skyward.
Which, for a short time, should boost the EMF waves.
Then turning the switch the other way should ground and offset the energy.
Sort of like water on a fire, except the spiked EMFs would sink low.
Poof gone.
Yet the chance of a backlash, like a wall of flame seeking oxygen, existed.
The odds of ending the storm was good, but his and Irene’s chance of survival was—exact measurements didn’t matter—way below poor.
He and Irene held a one-way ticket for which they both were willing to turn in so the children could have free passes.
A few more turns and the wheel, driven by a tiny belt made of braided super-strong spider web, spun too fast for him to keep up, so he let the roller whirl on its own.
“See,” he said to the spider, “your web came in handy.”
The spider, with two front injured legs that curled into its body, tilted onto its hind legs and lifted its front. The fangs opened and closed.
Dang, a bite from inch-long fangs would smart.
Irene, singing her chant, turned to him, then, lilac wafting around her, pointed to the switch and to herself.
“I can’t let you.”
Her tone rose higher in pitch.
“You’ll care for the kids way better than I can.” He waved for her to go below.
Wings flapped through the heavy rainfall.
Irene lifted her hands.
Bats, shiny wings flapping, flew in circles above her.
With a sweep of her arms, she aimed her index finger at the spider.
In the heavy downpour, dozens of bats squealed and dived.
What the…?
Her voice could soothe zombies… Why not lure creepy bats?
The spider jumped.
Brody jerked back.
No traction.
He slid toward the roof’s gaping hole. Yelling, he grabbed, clawed, and fell so fast the rain seemed to shower upward.
Irene’s song sounded farther and farther away.
A tug jerked his leg.
He spun and whipped head first in midair . He hung upside down, a few feet from the debris-filled water’s surface.
The spider-web ladder wrapped his ankle.
“Irene!”
“It’s working, Brody,” Abe yelled.
The gifted kids of this new world, clung hand over hand to the wire, even those without power.
Hannah reached up.
Brody cupped her fingers and let his energy join theirs. A splat of blood from his nosebleed plopped onto her wrist.
Rain washed off the red.
A pulling, sort of a taking, coursed within him. T
he worst metal tang ever ached in his jaws. “We can do this.”
They had to.
Chances for their living through this power surge, less than zero.
Odds of making it through a backlash, zilch.
“Get ready to let go on my word.” He canted his neck. “On my command, head for the hall.”
The upper part of the wire emitted small zaps and sparks.
“No matter what,” Brody yelled, “know we did our best to make sure chaos wins.”
Chapter 38
As the downpour swamped the stage area, energy filled Hannah. Her bald scalp tingled. She was one with the water, more than ever before.
Standing in the pool of the stage area with Abe, Junior, Darcy Lynn, and Vincent, more of a Rain Maiden than ever before, she held on to a wire that reached from ceiling to floor.
“We’re close.” From above, Brody hung from a white rope around his ankle. He clung to Hannah’s hand and added his boost of energy to theirs.
Her arm held above her head and aching, Hannah tapped her worry, her loss.
Where was her hope?
She pushed. Gave more of herself.
A swirl, like in a sink drain, jabbed her temples and swung behind her eyes. The dizzy swoop jolted a tart shiver into her inner cheeks.
The wire leading to the roof zapped flashes.
Brody yelped and twisted to turn his back to the popping bolts. “The jolt’s too much for the size of our wire.”
More zaps, and a sweet smoky smell trailed the rainfall.
Footfalls raced down the stairs.
From his seat on Tonya’s hip, Isaiah yelled, “We help.”
In a quick spin, with dodges to avoid the zaps, Brody took in the line of kids coming to help.
“Tonya, helping isn’t safe.” From right above, his gaze, so sad and scared, settled on Hannah. “Could their help work?
“It will. It has to.” She lifted her chin and stared long and hard into his wide upside-down eyes. “Abe and I will make this work.”
Hand by little hand, each child grasped the metal cord.
Little Isaiah and Tonya’s palms warmed the backs of Hannah’s chilly hand.
The water… The water.
Hannah shook so hard from the cold that her lower jaw chattered and her back teeth clicked.
“Very cold.” The chill of the icy water pool reached the little one’s upper chest.