SURGE

by Donna Elliott

  “You’re too late, Eric,” I say. “I’ve already killed at least two people. The only thing you did was almost get all of us killed.”

  “I’m sorry, Mya. I won’t do it again.”

  I raise an eyebrow and scrunch my nose.

  After a minute of thought, I take a deep breath, bend down, and place my hand on his elbow. “I’m sorry too, Eric. You’re right. I don’t want to be like them. Everybody’s going crazy.”

  Moving to help him stand, I ask, “Can you walk?”

  As he slowly gets to his feet, I glance across the yard and watch as Raul finishes knotting the rope on Tatoo Guy’s arms. Matthew is looking toward the path and shaking his head.

  “How are we supposed to move these guys to the house?” the younger boy asks. “I can’t drag anyone that far, and Raul can’t do it all by himself.”

  “I think our first priority is taking care of Eric,” says Raul as he looks at Matthew. “You and Mya take him back to the house. Hopefully, Kat’s found your dad by now. Then you and he can get the wheelbarrow and hurry back. If either of the guys moves an inch, I’ll shoot ‘em.”

  Eric’s left arm is draped over my shoulder, and his right arm is clutched to the wound across his chest. I’m doing my best to support him as we cross over to Raul.

  “We can’t just leave you here alone,” I say. “Kat should be here soon.”

  I turn to Matthew. “I’m surprised she didn’t come back with you. Didn’t you see her?”

  “Yeah,” he says, while reaching out to help support Eric, “She’d just gotten to the house when I was leaving. She told me to wait and said she was gonna get Dad. I decided not to wait though. I expect they’ll get here any minute.”

  Raul steps forward. “So I won’t be alone long, Mya. Just take Eric. He needs help.”

  “I don’t know,” I respond. “That doesn’t seem smart. What if something happens.”

  Shaking his head, Raul snickers, “This isn’t a movie, Mya.” He turns my shoulders toward the path and gives a small push. “Just hurry back with the wheelbarrow.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  We’re almost to the house when we run into Kat and her dad. Mr. Miller has his police-issued revolver drawn and looks intense.

  “Raul’s in the clearing with the two guys who jumped us,” I say, as I motion for Kat to join me. “Help your brother take Eric to my mom. I’ll go with your dad.”

  She gives a quick dip of her chin and slips into my spot beside Eric. As we switch places, a gunshot sounds, followed by a shout from Raul.

  Fear floods my thoughts, and I take off running. “Raul!” I scream. “Raul, we’re coming!”

  My feet pound the dirt in time with my heartbeat as I race to the clearing. I round the corner and scream, “Raul! No, Raul!”

  Crumpled on the ground near a large boulder, he lies motionless. A stream of blood covers the left side of his face, and his eyes are closed.

  Sliding on my knees, I fall beside him and put my hands on his chest. A slight pressure from air entering his lungs lifts my arms upward, and I know he’s still alive.

  Mr. Miller charges in, swinging his gun from left to right as he looks for an attacker. “I don’t see anyone,” he says. “How many were there?”

  “Two,” I say, while reaching to touch Raul’s face. I grab the end of my shirt and try to wipe away some of the blood, then point a shaky hand to where the men are bound. “Those two,” I say, then frown. “But they’re still tied up. Who did this?”

  Wary about a possible attack, Mr. Miller walks over to the men and crouches down. “These men are dead,” he says.

  “Dead?” I ask. “We didn’t kill them. We just knocked them out! Why would someone kill them?”

  A sudden movement against my leg startles me, and I look down at Raul. His arm is reaching toward his head, and he’s moaning. Mr. Miller comes over and kneels across from me.

  “Raul,” he says, “are you ok? Can you tell me what happened?”

  “Oh…my head.”

  “Raul,” I say. “What happened? Who did this?”

  Slowly his eyes open, and he looks at me. “Mya,” he says. “My Mya.” His hand has reversed course and is now moving down toward my leg. He pats me a couple of times and closes his eyes again.

  “Raul!” I croak. “Open your eyes!”

  Mr. Miller reaches across and lightly shakes my shoulder. “Let me check him out, Mya. Keep watch for any others.”

  I nervously glance around while Mr. Miller makes sure that the only injury is to Raul’s head. Satisfied with his preliminary perusal, he motions for me to grab his gun. “He wasn’t shot; it’s an impact wound. Someone must have hurled him into that boulder. I’ll carry him back to the house. You help by watching for any movement.”

  I nod and glance backward toward the two dead men who are still tied up. “What about them?”

  “They’re dead,” he says. “We can deal with them later.”

  ◌◌◌

  We scurry down the path to the house, where Kat and Charlie stand watching from the patio. The dog senses us first and charges across the lawn. Kat’s eyes follow the direction of the animal, and with a look of great concern, she rushes down the steps.

  “Dad! What happened to Raul? Is he ok?”

  “Took a blow to the head,” says Mr. Miller. Then motioning toward the house with his chin, he adds, “Go open the door, honey. We need to get him into a bed.”

  Charlie jumps around my legs and lunges toward Mr. Miller and Raul. Afraid the dog will trip the others, I pull him out of the way and briefly pause while they step inside.

  Once I cross the threshold, Mr. Miller directs his attention to me. “Stay here and keep watch, Mya. I’ll come trade places with you once I get Raul settled.”

  I give a fast nod of agreement and keep watch at the door. Kat stands silently at my side until her dad and Charlie disappear up the stairs.

  “What happened to Raul?” she asks again.

  “I don’t know. We were gone only a few minutes. Someone must have been watching and waiting. He’d been hit in the head with something, and those two men who attacked us are dead.”

  “They’re dead? You killed them?”

  “No,” I say. “I didn’t kill them. I didn’t even look at them. Your dad told me they’re dead. I was trying to see what happened to Raul.”

  Several minutes go by while Kat and I look outside and watch for any sign of an impending attack. Now that I’ve calmed down a bit, I remember that I’m able to “scan” the area. I take a deep breath to steady myself and try to focus.

  I direct my gaze toward the garden plot, but no large life forms are revealed. Slowly, I pan my gaze to the right. As if in a trance, I speak to Kat, “Watch to your left, while I look this way.”

  Nothing beyond the regional animals and bugs moves. I narrow my eyes and search for any sign of people. “There’s nothing,” I say. “I’m going to make a full circle and see what’s out there.”

  Step by step, I turn my gaze. When I finally face the road, my senses reveal a person moving rapidly out of town. “Someone’s out on the main road,” I say. “Looks like Patrick Hastings, but I’m not certain. He’s driving out of town really fast.” Turning toward Kat, I look skyward and say exasperatedly, “Then it must be Patrick, right? The car-racing idiot.” I continue my 360-degree scan, but nothing else is revealed. “Otherwise, this area is empty.”

  Mr. Miller approaches from behind, and when I turn to speak with him, I have to partially close my eyes. My vision is still magnified, and the brightness of his and Kat’s outlines is almost blinding. I have to keep blinking and closing my eyes, until I finally fake a headache and put my hand over my face.

  I can hear concern in Mr. Miller’s voice. “You can check in on the boys, if you’d like, Mya. I think maybe you should get some rest too. Your mother and I will keep watch for a bit.”

  “Yes sir,” I say. “I’m going to check on Eric, and then I’ll go sit with Raul.�
��

  I slip upstairs and rush to Eric’s room. He’s awake, and his glowing aura smiles at me when I approach the bed. I reach my hand out and grasp his arm. Instantly, the highlighted outline dims, and I’m able to focus. I look into his face and know he understands what just happened to me.

  “I hope you didn’t see a bunch of spiders under my bed,” he quips.

  “Quite honestly,” I admit, “I wasn’t looking.”

  Still holding onto his arm, I sit down beside him and ask how he’s feeling.

  “Your mom says the cut’s pretty deep. She put a bunch of alcohol on it, and I screamed like a baby. It hurts like hell and probably needs stitches, but I’m not interested in going to that hospital. Ever.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  He glances down at my hand, and then his face turns a little red. “You already did, Mya. You stepped in and saved my life.” Placing his free hand on top of mine, he looks up and says, “Thank you for that.”

  I shake my head and grin, “Anytime, my friend, anytime.” Then I squeeze his arm and stand. “I need to go check on Raul now. I don’t know if anyone told you, but he has a pretty bad head wound. I’ll come back later and let you know if I find out any information.”

  Now that my vision has returned to normal, I rush down the hallway to Raul’s bedroom. His door is open, and he’s awake.

  “Hey,” I say. A huge smile fills my face, and I practically run across the room. “You’re awake. I was so worried about you.”

  I gently climb onto his bed and sit next to him. Gazing at his handsome face, I ask, “How do you feel? How’s your head?”

  “Sore,” he says. “Your mom thinks it’ll be ok. She says I’ll have a big ‘goose egg’ for several days, but she doesn’t think I’m permanently damaged.”

  Still wearing a silly smile, I carefully lift his hair away from the large bandage. “I don’t see any damage; I think you look pretty good.”

  He reaches up and grabs my hand. “I’m glad nothing happened to you.”

  Biting my lip, I tilt my head and just look at him. He’s recovering from an attack, and yet he’s worried about me. He’s so wonderful.

  “Raul,” I begin, “what happened? Did you see who attacked you?”

  He looks across the room, as if searching his mind for earlier events.

  “Actually, I don’t remember everything. I don’t know who was there; I can’t see a face. I just remember someone with a knife, and I remember seeing blood. I think I shot the gun at someone. And I guess somebody hit my head, or I hit my head on something. I don’t know.”

  He looks at me and shrugs. Then he grabs my other arm and pulls me toward him. I snuggle up and place my right hand on his chest.

  “Can we just rest for a bit?” he asks.

  “Yes. Absolutely,” I say. “Whatever you’d like.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine soon. I just want to close my eyes for a few minutes. You’ll stay, won’t you?”

  “I’ll be here,” I say. “As long as you need.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  A small jiggle of the bed awakens me several hours later. I open my eyes and am greeted with a toothy smile from Raul.

  “Sorry,” he says, “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just wanted to see your face better.”

  My vision is a little cloudy at first, but as Raul comes into focus, I can see the swelling and bruising spreading around his eye. I scrunch my eyebrows and give him a concerned stare.

  “Does it hurt much?”

  “Not if I don’t think about it.”

  “Do you need stitches?”

  “Your mom doesn’t think so,” he says. “She cleaned it up pretty well and pulled the skin together with a bandage.”

  Unconsciously, I reach toward his head, but stop when he pulls backward.

  “Sorry,” I say, “I wasn’t thinking.”

  “It’s ok; let me correct myself,” he says with a slight chuckle. “It doesn’t hurt much if I don’t think about it, or if nothing touches it.”

  A grumble from my stomach interrupts our conversation, and I giggle. “I think I’m hungry. What time is it?”

  “I’m not sure,” he says stifling a big yawn, “your mom came by about an hour ago with some food, but I waved her away. She’ll probably come check on us again soon.”

  “Maybe I should go downstairs and check on her,” I say while swinging my legs toward the edge of the bed. “She’s probably worried about me and wants an update. I’ll see what we have to eat and bring something back.”

  I turn when I feel his hand clamp around my upper arm. “Don’t go,” he says. “I’m sure she’ll be here soon. You can talk to her then.”

  Patting the hand touching me, I reassure him of my return. “I won’t be gone long; you need to eat too. I’ll see if there’s someone to keep you company while I find out what’s been happening. Then I’ll come back and tell you.”

  After giving him a silly grin, I slip off the bed and head down the hallway.

  As I pass by Eric’s room, I peek in. Wrinkled bedsheets hide the lower half of his body, and his right arm rests upon his bare chest, as if protecting his wound. I can see his face, and although he’s sleeping, he seems to be in pain.

  I frown at the view and enter the room, when a voice calls me. “Mya! I’m glad you’re up,” says Mom. “Everyone else is resting, and I may need a little help with Eric. It’s time to clean his wound again.”

  “So soon? He said it really hurt the last time.”

  “I don’t think it will be as painful this time. I found some Vicodin in the hall pantry earlier and gave it to him, so he should sleep for a while. Besides, it’ll hurt worse if it gets infected, so I’ll have to keep tending to it until it closes up.”

  “Ok,” I say. “I hope that’s soon.”

  Mom walks over to the bed and places a bottle of disinfectant, cotton swabs, and bandages on the nightstand. With a huff, and hands on her waist, she turns to me. “I’ve forgotten the tape, Mya. Will you remove that bandage while I go to the kitchen, please? I’ll be right back.”

  I’ve never been squeamish, so I cross to the bed, gently lift Eric’s arm off his chest, and lay it flat on the bedsheets.

  “You need to get better,” I say to his sleeping body. “Who knows when I’m going to need you again.”

  I lean over him and begin removing the tape and bandage. “Mom may keep you drugged for days if you don’t heal quickly. We can’t have that, can we? You’re the smartest person I know, and a ‘loopy’ Eric is a useless Eric.”

  I fold the used wrapping over and toss it into a nearby trash can. Returning my attention to the cut, I continue my monologue. “I saw something earlier that I want to tell you. Patrick Hastings was out on the road; at least, I think it was Patrick. Do you think he could’ve attacked Raul? I didn’t see him on this property.”

  I’m so lost in my own thoughts that I don’t hear Mom enter the room. I reach over to grab the cotton balls and nearly jump out of my skin when she asks, “Is he awake?”

  “Aahh!” I scream. “Mom! You scared me to death! Don’t do that!”

  “Oh Mya, get a grip,” she says. “I’ll finish up here. Will you go downstairs and make a sandwich for Raul? I’m sure he’s getting hungry by now.”

  Pouring a little antiseptic on the cotton, she adds, “After Raul is finished, I’d like you to meet me downstairs. Tom and I want to talk with you kids.”

  ◌◌◌

  The inquest takes place in the dining room. Since Raul and Eric are confined to bed, only Kat, Matthew, and I are subjected to the interrogation.

  “All right,” begins Mr. Miller. “This has been a long, stressful day. Can someone please explain to me what’s been going on?”

  Seeing that he isn’t my dad, I think I’ll pass on the first go-round of questions. Kat is much calmer now, so Matthew and I defer to her.

  “We don’t know either,” she says. “We were out working on the garden. We’d just s
topped for a small break, when these two guys came barreling in and attacked us.” She pauses for a second, looks at me, and continues. “Raul knocked one guy off me, and I ran for help. Matthew had already run to the house, and when I got here, he was running back with Mr. DeLaPortilla’s gun.”

  “You should have waited for me, son,” says Mr. Miller. “You don’t know the first thing about guns; you could’ve been killed. Once you escape a dangerous situation, stay away. Don’t charge back in.”

  Matthew’s mouth curls up on the sides, and he smiles while bouncing a little in his seat. “But Dad, I knew I’d be ok,” he says. He slaps his palms on the tabletop, “Mya was there, and I wanted to see what she would do.”

  I jerk my head toward Matthew and open my eyes really wide. Under the table, I grip my legs with both hands to keep myself from strangling my best friend’s little brother.

  “What?” asks Mom, looking confused. “You wanted to see what Mya would do? What does that mean? What could Mya possibly do?”

  I clear my throat to interrupt, but once again, Matthew’s mouth works faster than his brain. Before I can get his attention, he starts spouting like a fire hydrant opened to full blast. “Oh, Mya’s packed! She’s got powers! You should see her! She can blow things up. She even blew up a dog!”

  Mom gasps and covers her mouth with one hand. Mr. Miller’s left eyebrow raises, and his eyes jump between Matthew and me.

  “She can see things, and she can make things turn on! She’s all electrical and stuff! She can sense things too! She knew those two men were trying to get into the house, and she can even see bugs and things!”

  Stopping to take a breath, he looks around the room. When he finally looks at me, I narrow my eyes and squeeze my lips together, but my anger doesn’t register with him.

  “Yeah,” he says, turning back toward his father, “she can even zap things!”

  My head is shaking back and forth in tiny little movements, and my nostrils are flared to full capacity. My lungs burn with the sudden influx of oxygen, and I don’t dare look at my mother.