SURGE

by Donna Elliott

  I climb out of the car, shut the door, and head toward the house with the others. Thousands of stars twinkle down at me, and a slight breeze blows. The gravel on the drive crunches under our feet and silences when we reach the walkway.

  “I hope they didn’t turn the lock,” says Eric. “We’ll end up waking the entire house if we have to beat on the door.”

  “We told them we’d be back,” I say. There’s a light on inside. So, somebody’s up.”

  I’m the first one to reach the front stoop, and the knob turns when I grab it. “See,” I say quietly, “It’s all good.”

  I’m still smiling when I cross the threshold and head toward the living room. The shadowed outline of a body lying on the floor draws my attention. The arms and legs are splayed in a manner that doesn’t look comfortable or natural.

  My happiness changes to concern, and I rush forward.

  “Mom?” I call out. When she doesn’t respond, I try again, but with greater urgency and volume. “MOM!”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Mom doesn’t move. The small battery lamp on the end table provides enough light to see blood on the carpet around her head. I fall to my knees beside her and reach out with shaking hands. Before I touch her, a wail from the kitchen reaches my ears.

  “Mya! Is that you Mya! Help me! HELP ME!”

  I wrench my head toward Eric. “That’s Matthew!”

  Emily comes over beside me and touches my shoulder. “Take Patrick and go to him,” she says. “Your mother’s breathing. I can help her.”

  My eyes shift to Patrick. He’s already turning to leave the room. Emily’s hand applies a slight pressure. “Go with him,” she says, “I promise to take care of her.”

  I nod, jump to my feet, and take off. I make a fist with both hands and quickly flick my fingers outward. Electric light fills the space around me, and I shine it toward the kitchen. Unfamiliar with the layout of the house, Patrick has just reached the area when I turn the corner and find Matthew crouched on the ground next to his father.

  “Help me!” he cries out. “I don’t know what to do. I couldn’t find Raul or Kat. Nobody’s here, and there’s blood everywhere.”

  Matthew’s eyes are huge, and his body is shaking uncontrollably. His breathing is fast, and the towel he has pressed against Mr. Miller’s chest is soaked through.

  “He’s dying,” Matthew whispers. “I can’t stop the blood, and he’s dying.”

  My spark disappears when I drop to my knees and slide across the floor into Mr. Miller’s body. Rays of moonlight through the large kitchen window offer a shadowed view of the room. Patrick rushes to the oven and yanks off the two dishcloths hanging from the door. “I’ll get Emily,” he says, tossing me the thin towels. “Keep pressure applied to the wound.”

  “Hurry,” I say, and turn back to Matthew. “What happened?”

  Now that he’s no longer alone, Matthew appears to be shutting down, in shock. “Matthew,” I say as evenly as I can. “Stay with me. You’ve done such a good job. You did the right thing here. You got a towel, and you’ve slowed down the bleeding. Your dad will be so proud of you when he wakes up.”

  My eyes are filling with tears as I talk, but I continue to engage with the boy. “Did you see who did this? Was it that gang? Did they break in? Come on, Matthew, talk to me.”

  Approaching footsteps draw my attention, and I look to Emily for direction. “What would you like me to do?”

  Emily is calm and naturally takes charge. She scans up and down Mr. Miller’s body before kneeling next to me. “Let’s open up his shirt and look at the wound,” she says. “It looks like he’s lost a lot of blood.”

  Matthew slowly scoots away from the body as Emily and I work together to expose a close-range, gunshot wound. Leaning against the cabinets, my best friend’s brother raises his legs to his chest, clasps his bloody hands in front of his shins, and lays his cheek upon his knees.

  I know Matthew’s traumatized, but I don’t have time to help him. Mr. Miller has a pulse, but it’s weak, and I don’t know if Emily has the ability to save him.

  “I’m going to need some help from you Mya,” she says. “He’s losing so much blood. We need to seal off some of these vessels quickly, and you can do that better than I can. I’ll show you where to cauterize, and you do a short, quick burn.”

  Without thinking about what she’s asking, I perform like a robot following orders. Time slips by quickly. Patrick and Eric take turns checking on us, and Matthew sits quietly and observes. Once my help is no longer needed, Emily places both of her hands upon Mr. Miller’s chest. She closes her eyes, bends her head forward, and begins whispering.

  The room is quiet, except for the occasional sniffle from Matthew. Patrick returns and crouches next to the young boy.

  Emily pauses in her work to offer more instructions. “Patrick, clean up Matthew, get his clothes changed, wrap him in a warm blanket, and settle him in the living room with Ms. Bernal.”

  He nods, and she directs her attention to me. “Your mother will be fine. She was hit on the head and knocked out, but she’ll recover. Please ask Eric to come in here and help me. Then, someone should probably search upstairs for the others.”

  I nod quickly and stand. Looking down at Mr. Miller’s pale form surrounded by so much blood, I ask, “Will he live?”

  Keeping her hands in place, she turns her head to look at Matthew and smiles. “Thanks to the quick actions of his son, I think Mr. Miller will be just fine.”

  ◌◌◌

  Following Emily’s advice, I turn Matthew over to Patrick’s care and go upstairs to look for Raul and Kat. Upon first glance, all the rooms seem empty, so I return to the end of the hallway and begin a more detailed search.

  Entering the master bedroom, I tentatively call out, “Raul? Kat?” While looking under the bed, I hear a small sound from the linen closet and race to open the door. I let out a tight screech as Charlie bolts from the enclosure. He’s whining and jumping up on me as Eric runs into the room.

  “Mya! What is it! You ok?”

  I nod rapidly while directing his attention to the dog. “Where was he?” he asks.

  “Locked in the closet,” I say, pointing a trembling hand toward the bathroom. “I wonder how that happened.”

  “Maybe Kat was afraid whoever broke in might kill him if they saw him.”

  “Maybe,” I say, still looking around. “Help me check the other rooms. I don’t think anyone else is in here.”

  Cautiously, I walk down the hallway. With all the stress this evening, both Eric and I forget about all my new abilities, so I enter each room to search for the others.

  The sun is beginning to rise, and dark shadows taunt me from every angle. Charlie’s unexpected surge at me has my nerves on edge. I’ve watched too many slasher films to be comfortable searching this house without much light. Now, positive that an axe-wielding murderer awaits me around every corner, I move in choppy bursts and pull open doors, while standing off to the side.

  Each check under a bed summons my childhood fears of the boogeyman. Certain that an arm will reach out to pull me into the darkness of death, I crouch several feet away from the structure before looking beneath it.

  Eric and I hunt the rest of the upstairs, but fail to find our friends or any clues that might indicate what’s happened. We return downstairs and search the laundry and dining rooms before heading into Mr. DeLaPortilla’s office.

  “There’s nothing here,” I say. “Let’s go check on my mom and see if Matthew can tell us something.”

  The living room is now a small hospital ward. Mr. Miller is laying on the couch and covered with a comforter from Matthew’s room. His face is deathly white, and his eyes are closed; but a slight lifting of the blanket confirms that he’s still breathing.

  Mom is resting in the corner La-Z-Boy chair with a makeshift compression bandage encircling her head. Her arms lie to her sides, and a small, green afghan covers her raised legs.

  I rus
h over and gently hug her. “I love you, Mom. Are you ok?”

  A soft smile fills her face, and she reaches up to cup my cheek. “I love you too, Mya. I’m so happy to see you.”

  “Do you know what happened here?” I ask. “Do you know where Raul and Kat are?”

  “I didn’t even know that Tom was shot,” says Mom. “I was wondering when you all would return, and I got up to look out the window. Someone hit me, I guess. I don’t remember anything else, until a few minutes ago. Are the kids not upstairs?”

  I perch myself on the arm of the chair and take ahold of her hand. “Charlie was locked in a closet upstairs; nobody else is in the house.” Directing my gaze across the room, I ask, “Has Matthew said anything?”

  “He doesn’t know anything,” says Patrick. “He was asleep. A sound woke him—probably the gun shot—and he came downstairs. He saw your mom, and when he went for help, he found his dad. He says he tried to find Kat and Raul, but nobody was in the house.”

  Patrick motions to the curled-up body of the boy, asleep on the carpet next to the couch. “His dad was conscious for a while and told him to apply pressure to the wound. Matthew says that we showed up a half hour or so after he found his dad.”

  Rubbing his eyes and yawning, Patrick says, “That kid is so messed up right now; I feel really bad for him. He went to sleep in a house full of family and friends and woke up in a Stephen King horror novel, complete with bodies and gore. He’s going to need some therapy for sure.”

  Emily tiptoes over beside Matthew and squats down. Placing her hand upon his forehead and gently rubbing the crease between his brows, she whispers soothing words. “He’ll be ok,” she says. “He was very worried and upset, but he’s better now. Like all of us, he needs sleep, more than anything else.”

  “We can’t sleep yet,” I say. “We need to find Raul and Kat. Eric and I’ve looked all over this house, and there isn’t a hint to where they could be.”

  “Do you think they might have hidden at the barn?” asks Emily.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I don’t think so. I don’t think they would just leave Matthew, unless they were running from someone.”

  “We need to search for them,” says Eric. “I mean, you need to search for them. You said you can sense life energy a long way from here. Perhaps you can see them. It’s worth a try.”

  I jiggle the chair as I hop off to stand. “You’re right,” I say. “I keep forgetting about that. I’ll try.”

  ◌◌◌

  I take a deep breath and begin slowly searching for any life forces around me. “Other than the dog and us, this house is empty. I’m not going to look at anything small,” I announce. “I don’t care what bugs are here.”

  As I pan across the yard, I can feel the tension all around me. For several minutes, no one speaks or moves. I clutch my hands and squint while my vision reaches out to the road. “There’s nothing out front,” I say. “Let me look over by the barn.”

  Slowly, I extend my search outward from the house. Surprise, from the movement of an animal, must register on my face because Eric lightly grasps my arm and asks, “Mya? Is it Raul and Kat?”

  His touch obscures my view, and I blink a couple of times to adjust my vision. Still in a daze, I shift my gaze to where he’s touching me and jiggle my arm. “I can’t see,” I say. “You need to move your hand.”

  “Mya,” he says a little more forcefully. “Tell us. Are they ok?”

  “Let go,” I softly repeat. “It isn’t them…just a dog. I need to look again.”

  When he releases me, I turn back toward the barn and refocus.

  My search crosses the ranch, which is thriving with rabbit, deer, and other animals. With each living outline, I can see a small amount of their surrounding land. It’s like an actor holding a candle on a blackened stage. One animal provides only a small view of the area, but two or more reveal much more detail.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement a long way off, and I redirect my gaze farther south. “There’s something…it’s a person,” I say excitedly. I lean forward and try to focus my gaze. “It’s two people! It’s them,” I say. “Raul’s carrying her and running! Raul must know someplace to hide out there.”

  I stretch my neck and scrunch my face to see the body outlines more clearly. Kat’s arms dangle in the air, and her legs bounce with every movement. Her neck lolls against Raul’s arm, and her face is turned skyward.

  “She doesn’t look right,” I say. “I think she may be hurt.”

  “Is someone chasing them?” asks Eric.

  “I don’t see anyone else. They must’ve gotten away.”

  I turn toward Eric, but his life energy burns my eyes, and I quickly look away. “You’re too close,” I bite out and squeeze my eyelids together as tears gather and threaten to spill down my cheeks. “It’s too bright.”

  Within seconds, Eric touches my arm, and the light dims. “Sorry,” he says. “Is it better now?”

  I open my eyes and wipe them. “At least we know they’re alive,” I say smiling. “We have to go get them, but we need to be careful. We’ll have to be quiet, so we don’t alert whoever did this. I don’t know if they’re still out there or not, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

  Crossing the room, I stop briefly in front of Emily. “I’ll go get them and bring them back here. Will you take care of my mom and Mr. Miller?”

  “Of course, but you can’t go alone, Mya.”

  I give her a quick hug and bolt for the door. “I’ll bring them back as quickly as I can. Be careful and protect each other.”

  I hear a small commotion, but I ignore it and take off through the brush. As I round the first set of bushes, mumbled curses reach my ears, and I turn to look behind me. Patrick is getting to his feet and brushing off his hands. He notices that I’ve stopped, and he jogs over.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “I’m going with you.”

  “I don’t need you to go with me. I’m perfectly fine on my own. Go help the others.”

  “No,” he says. “I’m going with you. Emily doesn’t want you going off all by yourself. It isn’t safe.”

  The right corner of my mouth lifts, and I let out a humorless laugh. Showing him my hands, I say, “I think I’m adequately equipped to defend myself, thank you.”

  “Well then, let’s take my car. You tell me where to go, and I’ll drive you.”

  I shake my head and point to the house. “Just go back. You can’t drive across all that brush and stuff. We won’t make it fifty feet before we’re stuck. I have to go on foot. I’m just going to meet up with them and bring them back.”

  I return my attention to the area in front of me. I have a fix on my friends and begin weaving around the brush and hills that separate us.

  Raul is no longer running, but he’s still heading away from town. If I can keep up a good pace, I think I should be able to catch up with him fairly quickly. The uneven ground hinders my progress, and I nearly fall several times. A steady noise of feet stomping and twigs breaking indicates that Patrick is still pursuing me.

  “Mya,” he calls. “Stop.”

  I ignore his plea and continue.

  “Mya! Please stop. There’s a path over here. Raul’s probably using it.”

  I stop running and turn back toward Patrick. “Is there really a path?”

  I can see him wipe his arm across his forehead before responding. He takes a few steps toward me and points to his right. “It’s just over here,” he says. “Raul must have used it. How else could he move so quickly?”

  Stepping over mounds of dirt and clay, I cross to where Patrick is pointing. “It is a path. Ok. Thanks for your help.”

  When I turn to go, he reaches out and grabs my arm. “Mya,” he says. “Let’s get the car. Don’t make this so difficult. Raul’s farther away than you think; he’s been running for hours. If Kat’s hurt, we can get her to Emily much faster in the car.”

  Tired of arguing with
him, I nod my head, and we hurry back to the driveway. Once we’re in the car and underway again, I realize that this path has been used regularly, and although the drive is hindered by numerous dips and stones, our crossing is now much easier.

  With my hands gripping the dashboard, I pan the area until I locate my friends again. “I wonder where he’s going,” I whisper. “What could be out here?”

  “I thought you said you can see them. Can’t you see where he’s headed?”

  “I can’t see like that,” I say, as if in a trance. “It’s different. It’s…”

  I’m so focused on my friends that I forget what I’m saying. I feel the car curve to the left, veering away from Raul and Kat. I point to the opposite direction. “No! Over that way! You’re going the wrong way!”

  “I know Mya, but the path curves around this huge boulder before going south again.”

  Turning in my seat, I maintain my visual connection. Patrick is quiet until the dirt road curves, putting us back on track.

  After a minute of silence, he prompts, “It’s different? So, what do you see?”

  I reach up and push my hair out of my face. “I see an outline,” I say. “It’s all bright and glows. I’m not sure how to explain it, but I can’t see everything that’s out there. I just see some of it. Just the stuff that’s right around a life force.”

  From his silence, I can tell he doesn’t understand. “It’s ok,” I say. “I don’t get it either. I don’t know how it works. I just know that I can see Raul and Kat, and as long as I can see both of them, then both of them are alive.”

  After only a couple more minutes, I take a deep breath and lean back in my seat to stretch my back. “He’s stopped moving,” I say. “It looks like they’re inside some building, but I don’t know what it is.”

  We’ve been driving down the path nearly twenty minutes when Patrick asks, “Are we getting close?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I’m not very good at measuring distance. I thought we would’ve caught up with them already.”

  It stings my pride to know that Patrick was correct in suggesting the car. It would’ve taken me all day to cross the land, and then I would face the dilemma of how to get an injured person back home. Add to this the fact that I didn’t bring anything to drink or eat, and my ego is crushed even more.