If the Light Escapes: A Braving the Light Novel

by Brenda Marie Smith

  “Come on already,” Aunt Jeri says. She just has to say something. But she doesn’t sound bitchy. She sounds like a little kid.

  “It’s louder!” Milo hollers, and I hear it now, too. Holy shit, come on already, I think.

  Loud gurgling and sputtering, and out from the spout comes a giant splash of something clear and wet. Uncle Tom stops. We hold our breaths while he and Milo fall to their knees, running their hands through whatever came out of the pump. They sniff their hands. Then Milo sticks his hand in the wet stuff again and licks it.

  “Don’t, Milo!” I shout, but he jumps up and starts dancing around.

  “It’s water! It’s freaking water!”

  Oh my God, no one can believe that it’s water. We crowd up to put our hands in the wet stuff and touch it and smell it ourselves. Liquid runs out of the closet and onto the garage floor.

  Tom tastes his fingers and hollers, “It is water! It really is!” I finally get enough on my fingers to taste it. From smelling my fingers, I already know it’s water, but I have to taste it, and when I do, I drop to the floor on my butt.

  Nana, you’re brilliant! You did hide water, under the ground. How did you think of that?

  I don’t know how much water it is, but with the pump so big, I’m guessing it’s a lot. And even if it’s not much, it’s still water, crazy-beautiful water, and we can live longer and maybe there’ll be enough for Alma and the baby to stay alive and keep making me happy. I start crying after being so long without enough water, with yellow pee that burns me and dry-ass throats and the grass all dead like Tasha.

  I think about Native Americans protesting oil pipelines that were poisoning their water, and how Nana gave them money when they said the smartest thing anyone ever said in the history of the world:

  “Water is life.”

  Freaking sad-ass, beautiful life. I can’t believe it, and I can’t stop crying.

  Everyone’s crying and hugging each other. Even Jeri’s hugging people. Grandpa goes over and leans on the tool bench, I think because he’s worn out from excitement. I get up and hug people, too, but I’m remembering Alma and the lentils and the freeze. I realize how cold I am in this garage after sitting on the cement floor. Aunt Jeri hugs me. Mom dances me around a little, and then—

  Grandpa hollers, real pissed-off, “I’m not sharing this water with anyone but this family!” He’s got a pistol in his hand that he must’ve stashed somewhere.

  We fall still, stop breathing, staring at Grandpa, my heart thumping in my throat.

  I can’t stop myself, and I don’t even try. I yell as loud as I can yell.

  “Fuck, Grandpa! This is not your goddamned water! It’s Nana’s. It’s ours. And we’re sharing it if I have to lock you in the cellar for the rest of your life. Give me the fricking gun!”

  “I won’t!” he screams, all red in the face.

  This is so fucking wrong! I’m thinking of tackling his ass even if it breaks every brittle bone in his body. I don’t even care if it kills him. He’s a menace to the whole world.

  Everyone can see what I’m thinking of doing. Milo’s about to launch himself at Grandpa whether anyone helps him or not. That would be a fairer fight for Grandpa, but Milo might get shot, and I can’t let that happen. Milo saved me from getting shot. I love Milo and I can’t grab hold of my runaway mind.

  Uncle Tom rushes up and grabs me. He’s the strongest one to stop me. Mom grabs Milo even though he’s stronger than she is, but she has to stop him somehow. She thinks he won’t hit her, but I’m not sure he won’t. Jeri starts screaming, “All of you, stop it!”

  No one listens to her.

  And Grandpa waves the gun at us. “Get back! Get the hell back!”

  Oh my God, he might really shoot us.

  “I hate you for this, Grandpa. I fucking hate you! Pointing a gun at your family? Milo’s just a kid, for Christ’s sake. Put down the gun! I will kill you before I let you shoot it!”

  “I’m not a fucking kid!” Milo screeches, and he’s not, but who cares? Milo cares, that’s who cares, even with a gun pointed at him by his grandfather. Milo’s hysterical—we all are—and I’m about to puke, but I can’t. Grandpa might start shooting.

  “Fuck!” I yell at the top of my lungs.

  Tom shoves me backward toward the open garage door. Mom’s pulling on Milo in the same direction, but Milo’s not moving. Then Jeri grabs Milo’s other arm and starts tugging him, too. Grandpa’s waving the gun around, not knowing where to point it.

  Tom has me almost to the garage door going backward when that big bear of a man Bobby Carlisle runs up the driveway with his Kalashnikov aimed into the garage.

  “The hell are you people doing? Keno?”

  Bobby steps sideways to look deeper inside, where Mom and Aunt Jeri are tugging on Milo and Milo’s wailing and pulling them back. Then Bobby sees Grandpa with the gun.

  Bobby aims his rifle at Grandpa so fast I don’t know how he does it.

  “Hank! Put the gun down! Now!”

  From the look he gives Bobby, I think Grandpa won’t do it, that he might try to shoot Bobby and Bobby will kill him and it will almost be a relief, except it won’t be.

  “Down, Hank! Right the fuck now! I swear to God I’ll shoot you dead!”

  I don’t know if Bobby’s a Marine, but he sounds like one. He looks like one. Even Grandpa can see it. He raises his hands all meek-like and holds out the gun. Tom jumps forward to take it before Grandpa changes his cracked, crazy motherfucking mind.

  “Goddamn it!” I cry. Tom and Bobby tie Grandpa’s hands behind his back with rope. “Let’s put the old fuck in the goddamn cellar.”

  “What cellar?” Uncle Tom, Mom, and Jeri all ask.

  “Yeah, what cellar?” Bobby asks. And I realize that Bobby doesn’t know about the cellar even though he’s been here since the sun zapped us. Almost no one has cellars around here, with the shallow soil and the high water table. Nana didn’t tell any neighbors about her cellar except Jack, who wouldn’t tell, Sonja, who’s in Mexico, and Darla Belding, who’s dead now.

  “I’ll show you.” I should be keeping the cellar a secret from Bobby, but I’ve already blown that. “Don’t tell anyone about the cellar, okay?” Bobby raises his eyebrows and nods.

  “You can’t put Dad in a cellar!” Aunt Jeri’s crying, tugging on people’s arms. “You can’t!”

  I rush into the house, heading toward the pantry. Why the hell didn’t someone who lives here notice the big wheel in the pantry that opens the wall to the cellar stairs? I guess they didn’t have food to put in the pantry since they could put stuff in the empty fridge like a cabinet and maybe feel better, like in the backs of their minds, the fridge is still a fridge.

  Everyone follows me, with Jeri bitching all the way. Tom and Bobby are in the rear, pulling Grandpa so fast that his feet aren’t touching the floor. I grab the key from a high pantry shelf and unlock the cellar door, then turn the big wheel in the pantry wall. Milo helps me turn it faster until the wall opens to a big hole of darkness. I fumble around inside the blackness until I find the wind-up flashlight that Nana keeps there, so people can see to get down the cement stairs to where the candles and lanterns are.

  “I’ll wind it,” Milo says, and he grabs for the flashlight, but I yank it back from him.

  “No, you won’t. You break wind-up shit.”

  “Shit, it was only o-o-n-n-c-c-e!”

  “That’s one time too many.” I get the light wound up and switch it on. People ooh and aah when I shine the flashlight down the steep stairs. They’ve probably never seen a wind-up flashlight and the amazing bright light it makes, like a headlight. Plus, the cellar is huge and nice inside.

  “I’m not going in that hole in the ground!” Grandpa screeches.

  I step up into his face. “Shut up or I’ll put a gag in your mouth. I swear to fucki
ng God I will!”

  “Don’t say ‘fucking God!’” Aunt Jeri yells.

  I whirl around to her. “Really? You’re gonna scold me for cussing when Grandpa just tried to kill us? That’s what’s important to you right now—cuss words?” I turn to face the others. “Wait here. I’ll get some light going.”

  Jeri’s squealing like a stuck pig, Mom’s covering her ears, and Grandpa’s growling, but they’re not saying shit.

  I go down into the cellar, which stinks like something rotten, probably a dead rat. I find kitchen matches, and I light three candles. I don’t want Grandpa having fuel from a lantern anywhere near him. I don’t like him having candles and matches either, but I can’t torture him by putting him in a dungeon with no light. Then I see the guns Nana stored down here.

  “Milo, Mom,” I holler up the stairs, “come help me carry shit out of here so Grandpa can’t hurt someone with it.”

  Milo rushes down with Mom right behind him. I load them up with guns, ammo, and lanterns. I look around for other shit that might be dangerous. I snatch up a tool box, pull out the whole damned silverware drawer, and I carry it all up the stairs.

  “You can take him down now,” I say to Uncle Tom and Bobby. “You’ll have to watch him. I can’t leave him down there with no light, so he’ll have matches. He could burn the house down. Plus, there’s probably other dangerous shit down there that I don’t know about and didn’t find.”

  “Shit. Maybe I’ll stay down there with him tonight,” Tom says.

  “I guess untie him at some point so he can go to the bathroom—unless he starts acting crazy again.”

  “How’s he gonna go to the bathroom?” Tom asks. “Is there a thunder jug?”

  “A what?”

  “You know. A pot to pee and poop in.”

  “That’s a gross name for it,” I say. “There’s a composting toilet.”

  “Really? Underground? And it works and everything?”

  “Sure, it works. Nana was freaking brilliant to get this stuff built.”

  “True that,” Uncle Tom says, like he’s suddenly a teenager from the past.

  “Thanks, Tom. And thank you, Bobby, for saving us from this lunatic.”

  Tom starts dragging Grandpa down the stairs.

  “Bobby, Mom, we’re harvesting pinto beans and lentils tonight. We’re afraid it’s gonna freeze. Can you guys help us?” I don’t even ask Aunt Jeri to help.

  “I’ll get my coat.” Mom darts away.

  “Shit, a freeze? Sure, I’ll help,” Bobby says. “Let me go home and get my jacket and tell Melba. Should I get anyone else?”

  “Sure. Get everyone who’s not patrolling or watching kids. Jack probably needs the most help. Pinto beans—we need as many as we can get.”

  “You got that right.” Bobby rushes out the front door, taking his Kalashnikov with him.

  “Good freaking night!” I call down the cellar stairs. “And Tom, you better hide these guns we brought up before you let Grandpa out of there.”

  Mom comes back wearing a coat. I grab two lanterns from the pile of stuff we just carried up.

  “Erin, you can’t go out in this cold!” Jeri cries, like she didn’t just witness us talking about harvesting before a damned freeze. “Milo can’t go. I won’t let him!”

  “Shut up, Aunt Jeri. I’ve had enough of your bitching. Bitch again and I will gag your ass!”

  “Well!” she says.

  “Don’t. Say. Another. Fucking. Word.”

  Mom shakes her head at me. So, I got mad? Who wouldn’t?

  Jeri makes a loud humph sound, and I run out the door. I’m in the biggest hurry I’ve ever been in, except when Tasha was bleeding to death in my arms.

  CHAPTER 14

  Outside on the sidewalk, I stop for a second to think.

  “Mom, let me check on Mazie and Nana, and I’ll be right there.” I send one lantern with Milo to Jack’s and the other with Mom to Silas’s. I’m hoping I can work close to Mom. It would be so nice after this… whatever it was.

  I go in the back door at home, and Mazie jumps up from playing Barbie dolls by candlelight at the table. She grabs my hand and pulls me around the kitchen counter, saying, “Shh… Nana’s asleep.” We get into the old laundry room, and she pulls the door to. “What happened?” she asks. “I heard lots of yelling. Grandpa, you, a bunch of people.”

  I hug her. She must have been scared here alone in the almost-dark, with the screaming at the Mint and Nana asleep. I hold her away from me to barely see her eyes.

  “It’s a long story, Tater Tot, but everything’s good now. I have to hurry and go harvest food before it freezes. Something great happened, too, in spite of the yelling. It can be a surprise for you. I came to check on you and Nana before I go to Silas’s. Is everything all right?”

  “Nana had a bad night,” Mazie says, and my heart jolts. I think she might cry, which just kills me.

  “Nana? What happened? Where is she?”

  “Asleep on the couch. I made her a bed with lots of pillows and blankets. I took your pillow and Alma’s and Milo’s.”

  “That’s great. You take good care of Nana. I’m proud of you.”

  “But Nana wouldn’t stop crying.”

  “Crying?” That’s not like Nana. “Do you know why?”

  “She was confused. She didn’t know where y’all went. I don’t think she knew me.” Mazie plops down on the floor and starts bawling.

  God, that would be horrible for Mazie. She loves Nana so much, probably more than she loves her own mom. And why was Nana so confused she was crying?

  I bend down to hug Mazie. Shit, I need to hurry, but how can I now?

  “Mazie, I’m going to check on Nana. Be right back. You did a great job.”

  I’m dreading checking Nana, and when I see her, she looks so tiny and pale. I don’t think she’s breathing right, either. Stuttering breaths, I guess that’s what you call them. Then no breaths for what seems too long, and then more stutters and coughs. God, Nana. Don’t die on me. Not now!

  I rush back toward Mazie, but stop and try to act calm before I get to her.

  “Mazie, come on back to the dining room, where the candles are. I’m gonna get my mom and your mom to stay with you and Nana, all right?”

  “My mom won’t come over here,” Mazie says.

  “She might. She won’t want you to be alone when Nana had a hard night.”

  “Doesn’t seem like she’d care.”

  God, I can’t believe poor Mazie has to think like that about her own mother. Problem is: Jeri probably doesn’t care.

  “It might take a few minutes to get them over here,” I say. “Will you be okay until they get back?”

  “Yeah,” she says, but she doesn’t sound sure.

  “Why don’t you sing songs to make you feel better?” Mazie loves to sing.

  “It’ll wake Nana up.”

  I’m wondering if Nana will ever wake up again.

  “You won’t wake her up if you sing all quiet-like.”

  “Okay.” This little girl is so freaking brave. I never saw anyone braver.

  I hug Mazie and kiss her cheek, and I hurry out the door to get Mom. Suddenly, it seems like I’m in charge of taking care of everyone in this family. I’m not even sure I should get Aunt Jeri, now that I think about it. She’ll just make shit harder for Mom and Mazie—Nana, too.

  “Mom? Where’s Mom?” I call out when I zip into Silas’s backyard.

  “Over here,” Mom says from the first row of lentils.

  Alma pops her head up from a row farther back.

  “I’ll be back there in a few minutes, Alma. I love you.”

  “Love you, too.” She stands there watching me. I want to run to Alma, but I have to do this first. I rush down the row to Mom and whisper to her.

 
“Mom, something’s wrong with Nana. Can you go sit with her and Mazie?’

  “What’s wrong?” my mother asks, all panicky. I take her arm and walk her toward Nana’s house. We stop in the middle of the street while I explain. Mom puts her hand to her mouth. Her eyes are shocked and full of tears that just hang there and don’t fall out.

  “What should I do for Mom?” my mother asks me, like I would know. I’m only eighteen is what I feel like saying.

  “Maybe watch her? Be sure she keeps breathing. Maybe wake her up at some point to see how she acts? And be sure Mazie’s all right. She got scared when Nana was crying and everyone was screaming at the Mint. I’d come with you, but I need to help with the lentils. Do you want me to get Aunt Jeri?”

  “Shit, no,” Mom says.

  “Okay, well, please tell Mazie that her mom was sleeping. I told Mazie I was going to get Jeri, and Mazie said, ‘Doesn’t seem like she’d care.’”

  Mom gasps. “That poor little girl. I don’t know what’s wrong with Jeri. She used to be so good with her kids. But I’ve got to move out of there. Jeri and Dad are driving me nuts.”

  “We’ll move you out then. But tonight, please go take care of Nana. And thank you.”

  “What about Jack?” Mom asks.

  “Oh shit. I forgot about Jack. My brain’s all screwy.”

  “No wonder, after that shit with your grandpa.”

  “Go on over. I’ll get Jack.”

  Mom trots away.

  How can I tell Jack about Nana? She seemed fine when we left her earlier. Wait, no, she was confused. She hasn’t been confused since she got over her stroke. If she had another one, what could we do for her? Nana, please do not die on me. I need you more than ever right now. Maybe she’ll be better after she sleeps.

  “Jack? Jack?” I holler when I get to his backyard. There are people all over back here, and I’m relieved about that. But I don’t see Jack. “Where’s Jack?” I ask Phil.

  “He went inside to get stuff to make tea. Why? What’s wrong?”

  I figure, why worry Phil when he’s got so much to do?

  “Long story. Right now, I need Jack.” I rush into Jack’s house through his back door.