Show and Tell

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Show and Tell Page 17

by Amy Shojai


  The van shuddered and slid forward, riding a sudden shift in the ground. Shadow’s surprised barks mixed with frightened yelps as a rush of deeper cold sluiced over his paws. Above him, the hill moved, turf sliding downward like a green blanket unmaking a bed. Water spilled over the top and sides of the dark flayed wounds. The hill split. One side fell away.

  Shadow leaped high, as high as a good-dog could, and landed on the slick front surface of the car. He scrambled to keep his footing as the van surged and bucked in churning water. His throat ached and tummy soured with distress that only contact with September could soothe. He barked, his warnings louder when September still ignored him. She had to hear, it was a good-dog's job to keep his person safe.

  She hadn't come before when he called. But he’d disobeyed her go-to Steven command. Maybe she didn't want him anymore?

  Shadow dug at the splintered windshield and bit at the crystal fragments that glittered and broke away. His bark escalated to a scream that sprayed the glass with bloody saliva as the van shifted and lurched, battered by the rising tide of the flash flood.

  Chapter 30

  He's okay, thank you God, Shadow's all right. The relief made her want to shout, but September had to trust he'd stay safe until she could get Lenny into the barn. The van shifted again, taking the windows out of plumb. She had to hurry or the passage into the barn would slam shut.

  She hunted for and found a pulse. Lenny's blue lips and labored breathing scared her more than his bruised face. He'd not worn a seatbelt, and the old van had no airbags. The impact not only cracked his head on the windshield, the steering wheel probably caused internal damage. Moving could kill him.

  The van lurched, and Shadow's barks turned hysterical. "I hear you, baby-dog." God, she had to get the kid out, and help Shadow. "I won't leave you again."

  No choice, she had to move Lenny now, or they'd all die. September yanked and tugged to drag him from behind the wheel. She looped his arm over her shoulders and supported Lenny's waist with her other arm.

  Water carved twin channels down the sides of the reservoir’s breached dirt dam. The gushing stream eroded the van’s precarious perch and it lifted with a stomach-dropping action.

  Shadow shrieked. His paws clawed for purchase as he surfed the hood of the van. "Hang on, baby-dog." September prayed he'd keep his grip. Once they got inside, the old cement structure should buffer the strong current. She pulled the boy with all her strength and thrust his head and shoulders through the opening.

  "Grab his shoulders, pull-pull-pull." September knelt on the seat, and eyed the water spilling into the bottom of the van. She shoved Lenny's legs through the aligned windows as Melinda and Willie pulled the lanky teenager into the barn.

  The van bumped with a sudden herky-jerk movement with the loss of Lenny's weight. September grabbed to steady herself, angrier than scared when the barn window slipped out of sight.

  Shadow yelped, still clinging to the hood of the van. "Good-dog, what a brave boy." At her voice, he slicked back his ears, and nosed the ragged opening in the windshield. If she could knock out the rest of the glass and climb onto the roof, maybe they could ride out the flood together. Staying inside risked entombment in a watery coffin if the van toppled in the current. Shadow would never survive.

  September pushed at the windshield, and immediately realized the futility. Hail or impact with the barn created starburst splinters, but laminate held the safety glass together. It would take time and tools to remove the entire window, which likely would knock Shadow off in the process.

  The van jerked again, and September screamed. It caught on something, and slowly spun before slamming back into the wall. Shadow somehow maintained his wobbly balance, and she gasped with relief.

  The water kept rising. The next surge would take them.

  With the windshield holding her captive and the passenger window flush against the barn's cement wall, the driver's window offered the only escape. Every movement she made risked unsettling the van's temporary anchor and launching Shadow into the flood. September carefully shifted her weight, knelt on the driver's seat and tried to roll down the window. It wouldn't budge.

  She'd used the rebar to break the van window, but had dropped it inside the barn. September searched for something else that would work. Other than a few candy wrappers on the wet floor, the van was clean. She popped the glove box, and again came up empty.

  The van canted backwards. Water settled in the back half of the vehicle. Shadow barked and pawed the windshield, then climbed halfway up the spidered glass as it shifted to near horizontal. She had to get out. Now.

  She hammered the window with the heels of her palms and then fists. Shadow barked with each blow. The window didn't budge. September searched the dashboard for something, anything to use. She pulled out the van's keys from the ignition, and jabbed them at the window, then tried her own SUV keys using the casing from Macy’s laser pointer. She felt for the knife in her pocket, but after slicing through the fabric, it nested between inch-thick padding. After failing to extricate the blade, she gripped the knife through the coat fabric and stabbed the glass. The tip of the blade punched through the fabric, but the bare metal tip broke off and barely left a scratch. Nothing worked. She scooped up a handful of change, tried to score the glass with a quarter, and then threw it at the window with a scream of frustration.

  The van lurched and settled. Water lapped above the seat. The current increased. September spied something white on the seat between her knees, picked it up and reacted with horror at the bloodstained porcelain tooth torn from Lenny's mouth. With revulsion, she hurled it away. It pinged the glass.

  The driver's side window shattered.

  Without hesitation, never questioning what had happened, September crawled out of the window. The van began to roll. She scrambled to get free of the vehicle, and used the sill as a step to vault onto the roof of the van.

  Shadow already waited for her there, wagging and crying. "Good-dog, what a brave boy." She grasped his collar with one hand and the roof rack with the other to get her bearings. The van roof, only a temporary island of safety, would either sink, flip them off or spin away on the growing rush water.

  Beside and above them, the loft offered the only hope. The tornado had sheared away part of the roof and wall. Good luck for them, since it offered access they otherwise wouldn't have. September carefully stood. That put the raw edge of the loft at shoulder height.

  "Shadow." She kept her voice upbeat more for herself than for him. He'd easily read her terror, but she had to be resolute so he'd trust to do what she asked. She wouldn't leave him behind again, but there'd only be one chance to save them both.

  Once Shadow made eye contact, she patted the high-placed floor of the loft. She prayed she'd keep her balance, her bad knee wouldn't betray her, and that the van's modest anchor held for another thirty seconds. He'd made vaults higher than this. She patted the loft floor again. "Shadow, JUMP."

  He didn't hesitate. Shadow vaulted, stretched front paws and clawed for purchase when they caught the loft floor. September boosted his haunches the last little bit.

  Relief flooded September, but she couldn't waste time. She heard the remainder of the dam crumble behind her and a wall of water gush forward.

  She leaped for her life, and grabbed hold, forearms braced on the loft floor. Below her dangling boots, the van tipped over, and spun away in the deluge. September inched forward, swinging her good leg up and catching her heel on the edge until hot breath and teeth tugged her collar. Shadow's boost provided the extra needed to roll into the loft.

  Panting, she lay on her back. Shadow stood over top of her, licking her face and making crying dog sounds.

  September sat up and pushed the dog away. The sounds were not Shadow, but from below, inside the barn. Mixed with Kinsler's howls, kids screamed.

  Chapter 31

  The hail switched off as the heavens called a temporary truce, but Combs didn't move. He hunkered on the floor
of Doc Eugene's storage closet, knees drawn up and face pillowed in his arms. The pain and denial grew, not wanting to believe September's message. Willie, his bright, exuberant son, so young, strong, and happy...no. He wouldn't let his imagination go there.

  Damn the dog. Damn the storm. And double-damn September for failing Willie.

  Lights flickered back to life, but Combs kept his head down. He heard the others labor to their feet, and surreptitiously scrubbed tears from his cheeks before taking three or four gulping breaths and lifting his head.

  "Let's see the damage." Doc Eugene opened the door and exited the tiny room, closely followed by Robin. "We're still standing." He disappeared into the front of the vet clinic, his footsteps sneaker soft as he canvased the building. Robin trailed him.

  Gonzales held out a hand to help Combs up. "You look like hell. Storm's over. For now, anyway."

  Combs jerked away, and stalked out of the room. His throat ached. "Over for us. Willie's still out there." He couldn't tell Gonzales about September's call. To say it out loud made it real. Magical thinking, sure, but he didn't care.

  "What did September say? She didn't find him?" Gonzales took out his phone, checked it and grimaced. "Still no bars."

  He turned away, and grudgingly spoke. "The message broke up. Wasn't clear." Combs clung to that thin thread and the hope that September wouldn't relegate such news to a voice mail.

  Doc Eugene came back into the room. "Lots of limbs blew down, some power lines, too. Robin's car looks like someone worked it over with a baseball bat. Don’t know if yours will start or not. But my SUV has barely a scratch, except a honey locust branch scratched one side." He sniffed. "Bizarre weather keeps getting more and more strange." He saw Combs checking his phone. "The office landline is dead, too."

  "I'll check the car." Gonzales turned to Combs. "Better touch base with Doty on the radio, find out the state of the county. I don’t care if the car's a lumpy-bumpy mess, if it runs." He squeezed Combs's arm. "I got kids, too. We'll find him." He hurried out the door.

  Doc Eugene raised his eyebrows.

  Combs answered. "Willie's out in the storm."

  "For heaven's sake, why would he do that?" Doc Eugene held out a palm in a placating gesture. "Forget I said that. He's a kid. Doesn't need a reason."

  "He went after his dog. September's tracking with Shadow, but I can't reach her." Combs shrugged. "Her last message mentioned Willie, but was garbled."

  Gonzales returned. "Car's got two flats. I reached Doty, though. Cell towers are down all over North Texas, and flooding disrupted cable between those still standing." He held up his mobile phone. "Meet my high-dollar paperweight." He pocketed the device. "Told Doty about your boy and she promised to get a team out ASAP. But she said lots of people need help." He cleared his throat. "Headquarters got a tip about the dogfight ring. They're set to go. Tonight, in a couple hours. She tapped us to follow up."

  "My son's out there. She expects us to check some half ass tip when Willie's missing?" Combs barked a humorless laugh. "She can go screw herself."

  "Is the Internet still up?" Doc Eugene hurried to the reception area and booted the computer. "I shut it down during the storm, it'll be a minute."

  "The 'net probably is hit or miss, depending on your provider." Gonzales took a step toward Combs’s angry pacing. "About that tip. Doty said every account in the department got an email from some hacker calling himself Kid Kewl that detailed the time and location. Some old barn off of FM 691."

  Combs wanted to punch something. Punch someone. Doty's face would do.

  Gonzales gnawed his mustache, and hesitated. "Isn't that the area September headed?"

  He nodded. "But nothing's happening tonight. No dogfight, no drug deals. Doty's bust won't happen, none of the players will be out in this weather." Combs spoke with forced politeness. "Do what you need to do, Gonzales, but right now I could care less about Doty or my job. I'm going after Willie."

  Doc Eugene interrupted. "If the Internet works, you can track Shadow by his GPS collar. I know he wears one. You said September mentioned Willie by name, and Shadow never leaves her side. Find Shadow, you’ll find Willie."

  Combs remembered the GPS system they’d used before. "She's got her house defined as the home territory. When September’s pets wander beyond that designated area, her email gets an alert."

  It worked similar to Amber Alert tracking systems used to keep kids safe, something Combs wished he'd got for Willie. Parents could get updates sent to a computer or smart phone about the child's location every minute or so and track movements 24/7, even define new areas for after school events or vacation destinations. For pets, the bare bones design used a combination of cell phone towers and GPS to track movement. It worked with a handheld reader.

  Gonzales sounded hopeful. "We can give the barn a once over and work the GPS angle at the same time. Doty won't have to know."

  Combs moved closer to the computer. "The hand held device has a two-mile range. A desktop won't cut it. We'd need a laptop or tablet with mobile hot spot. Last time our friend Theodore Williams, the geriatric hacker, set that up but since his wife died, he's not been around much."

  The computer started up and Doc Eugene launched the browser. The icon spun forever, but nothing came up. "You're right, that's not going to work." He stuck his hand in his pocket, and plucked out his car keys. "But I remember the way to Teddy's house. Let's go."

  Chapter 32

  Lightening clawed the sky, but September didn't flinch, numbed by what had come before. She only gritted her teeth and shivered when the clouds once again turned on the spigot. Shadow pressed close beside her.

  From her vantage, she saw the tank's partially breached dam continue spewing water. Two-thirds of the dike held the rest of the water at bay, but as she watched, the artificial current down each side chewed at the barrier. She swiveled, gauging the rate of rising water inside the barn, its rush buffered by cement block walls already weakened in the storm. Once the dike surrendered—not if, but when—anything inside would drown.

  The roof and loft already sliced and diced by the tornado exposed the barn interior to punishing rain. The low windows she'd opened to reach the kids now allowed water to sluice inside like a dam's open floodgates. Her elevated view mimicked first balcony seats at a macabre theater production, and she carefully edged forward and craned her neck when the kids screamed again.

  Melinda, Willie, and Steven clung together. Lenny sprawled unmoving at their feet. The little group hunkered on the first level of an island of stacked straw bales that abutted one side of an eight-foot-long horse panel, a wire grid barrier defining that side of the dogfight pit. The rising water lifted the bale and the kids rocked a bit before climbing to the next tier to join Boris Kitty. They left Lenny, and September worried the boy might roll off into the water.

  Willie wailed again. "He wiggled and slipped out. Get him. Please, get him, Nikki." He jerked his arm but couldn't escape his sister's grip. "I can't swim, please get Kinsler."

  September followed Willie's gaze, and her stomach lurched. A bucket floated by, banged against her SUV that still blocked the exit, and performed a drunken pirouette before the current sucked it beneath the car. Nikki slowly plodded through the rising water toward a bobbing white bundle.

  Shadow woofed under his breath. He watched with interest, but kept a wary distance from the edge of the drop off.

  It only took a few inches of rushing water to knock adults off their feet, and a little girl like Nikki wouldn't have a chance. If the dam broke, the surge of additional water would batter her against, or trap her beneath the car. Once sucked through the narrow breach and tumbled out the other side, not even an Olympic swimmer would survive.

  Nikki didn't understand the risks. Her empathy for stray cats nearly got Nikki killed in the burning barn, too. September quelled the urge to shout, "Hurry up," because slow and steady offered better footing. "One step at a time, don't trip, Nikki."

  "I'm okay. But his h
ead's under water." Nikki stopped, scooped up the dripping dog and turned back to the bales. Limp and unresponsive, Kinsler flopped in the girl's arms, and September's heart sank.

  "Is he okay? Is Kinsler going to be okay?" Willie scrubbed anguished tears from his eyes. He pulled away from his sister's restraint, but fear of the water kept him rooted in place.

  September didn't blame the boy. Water made her queasy, too. She couldn’t bear to put her face in it. "Everyone, stay right where you are." Her voice whip-cracked with authority. "Nikki, hook your hands in the wire grid on the horse panel. That's right, that's the way." She held her breath until the girl slogged close enough to roll the small dog up onto the level where the kids crouched.

  "He's not breathing." Willie stroked long white fur away from Kinsler's face. "He's not breathing." Willie hovered over his dog, and his sister helped Nikki climb out of the chilly water.

  The boy's pleading expression unnerved September. In his world, adults had all the answers, and were supposed to make everything better. Poor kid. First the divorce, then his mother's illness, and now he'd watch his dog die. She hated adding another failure onto his young shoulders, but she had no time to waste on a hopeless cause. The kids’ safety and getting them into the loft before the dam broke took priority.

  "Listen to me. The water's going to get worse really fast. Everyone must get up high, quick as you can." Straw stacks gave them height, but the bales floated, and would become unstable once the dam broke. The loft was the safest location, but her SUV smashed the loft’s stairway.

  The spring pole's rope moved back and forth in the breeze. Able to sustain the ferocious grip and gyrations of a Pit Bull hanging by his jaws, it certainly could support the weight of each child. But the lowest end hung a good five feet above ground now covered with over a foot of water. Rope-climb drills in Phys. Ed. class when she was a girl spawned universal kid nightmares. September doubted she'd be able to do it, let alone tiny Tracy. They needed something foolproof. Like a ladder.

 

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