“They almost have the fire contained,” he says. “We need to move.”
His voice helps me find mine.
“Lee?”
An irritated look crosses his face. “No, Moe,” he says. “I didn’t leave you to die. Now deal with him and let's be done with it.”
“You fools,” Boss says. At some point his snarls turned to laughter, dark and manic. “You’ve no idea the hell in store for you. My brother will find you. You’ll beg for death before—”
Blood soaks my hand as I drag my blade across his throat, his wrathful words replaced with choking and gurgling as he falls to his knees.
“You talk too much,” I say.
Leon and I arm ourselves with fallen weapons before hurrying to the balcony. Behind us Boss slumps to the floor, his choking falling silent as his life’s blood bleeds out of him. We don’t look back. I signal for Leon to go, but he shakes his head, the corners of his mouth lifting with the hint of a grin.
“Oh no,” he says. “After you.”
Chapter 29: (Lauren)
Growing up I never knew what to expect from my mother. At times she was warm and caring. At others, cold and violent. But mostly, she was sedated and quiet, lost in a gray fog of drugs and alcohol. I remember walking home from school full of dread at what I would find at home. The first step through the door was always the hardest. My heart would stop mid-beat, my stomach churning like a restless sea. My eyes would seek my mother and then time would all but stop, the world holding its breath as I held mine, waiting to see if the ax would fall. That’s what I’m reminded of as I stare out at the line of Animals, waiting to see which way they lean.
A large, bearded man is the first to step forward. “You’re a fool,” he says, lifting his rifle to his shoulder. “I won’t risk my family over you.”
Others follow his lead and shoulder their rifles, stepping toward Frank menacingly. Not all do so. Several look unconvinced, their hesitation easily transparent. So is their fear. As much as they may hate what they do, they’re terrified to back Frank.
“Our families are already at risk,” a woman speaks up, drawing glares from those who raised their weapons. “We can at least make it mean something.” There are nods at that, her words a reflection of what many are too afraid to speak themselves.
“All it will mean is death,” another man snarls. “If you can’t see that, you’re as big a fool as he is.”
She doesn’t cower. Doesn’t back away. There’s a fire to the woman that isn’t so easily snuffed. I hear it her voice as she speaks again.
“If death is all that’s left for me, so be it,” she spits, raising her own rifle in the process. “At least I’ll die free instead of a soldier for the likes of him!”
It’s a chain reaction of yelling and cussing and drawing weapons. Sides are taken. Lines, drawn. Many back away from the thick of things, back into the shadows where there is more cover. Part of me prays for a pulled trigger. It would only take one for things to spiral out of control. Let them finish one another off. I look again to the fiery woman and feel a twinge of guilt. They are not saints, but they are not all like the sneering man Frank holds hostage either.
Still, it’s easy to see the tide is against Frank and the woman. The other side has more guns, more hate. They close ranks and advance. Frank steps back until the fence stops him, his gun darting from person to person.
“Vive libre o muere!” he yells. As if on cue, several canisters fly through the air and land around them, thick clouds of red smoke billowing from their ends. There’s a split second’s confusion. Hesitation. And then all hell breaks loose. One of the men charges Frank who levels his gun and takes him out with one quick shot the head. More shots follow, the booms and muzzle flashes reaching us through the smoke like violent fireworks. Two more charge, smoke so thick now I can barely see the outlines of their bodies. Frank takes out one, but only manages to clip the second, his body barreling into him, sending all three of them to the ground.
I lose track of them in the bedlam. Gunshots continue to rip through the air, accompanied with the sound of screaming and guttural howls. Shadows ripple through the smoke as the Animals attack one another. I aim into the cloud of smoke, searching in vain for a target to reveal itself. It’s impossible, each shadow indistinguishable from the next. Through the smoke, I hear the sneering man, his voice rising above the clamor of battle, hoarse and full of undiluted rage.
“SEND IT!”
At his words, the roar of a powerful engine sounds into the night. The roar grows louder, louder; like a caged beast snarling and straining against its enclosure. And then the beast emerges from the smoke, flames spouting from the engine and licking inside the cab. It hits the fence with a clang, cleaving through it like a scythe through chaff.
“Clear the house!” Richard yells, the truck gaining speed as it barrels forward. “Everyone, out!”
I move toward the house on instinct, desperate to get to Grace. Felix reaches out and stops me, his arms wrapping around me in a tight grip. I curse and struggle to free myself, yelling in panic for him to let me go. He doesn’t. His hold on me grows stronger, forcing me to my knees, his body wrapped around my own. There’s a second, maybe two, and then the world explodes around me. It’s deafening. I feel the shockwaves of the blast even through the metal wall and Felix's body. He doesn’t let go, continuing to shield me as debris fall around us. Eventually, his grip eases and I find my feet. I turn toward the house and nearly fall back to my knees.
It’s devastating. A crater has replaced the living room wall, the explosion leveling the room and collapsing much of the second story above. Inside is nothing but rubble and spreading fire, the open air fanning the flames that twist and leap in search for fuel. Family members pour out of the back of the house in wild disarray. It’s chaos. Shouting. Coughing. Crying. I search each face for Grace, growing more and more frantic when I don’t find her among the crowd.
“They’re leaving!”
My eyes flick back to the smoky battlefield, my panic driving the threat completely from my mind. Headlights flash through the smoke where several shadows still stand, continuing to fire shots at the retreating vehicles. I feel no relief, no joy at the sight; just a brief flash of anger before the panic overwhelms me once more. The family stops streaming out the house. Grace isn’t among them. I don’t think, just act, running into the darkened doorway with reckless abandon.
The kitchen is thick with smoke, burning my lungs and making me hack the second I enter. I stay low and cover my mouth the best I can as I move forward. The swinging door to the living room has been blown open, revealing the orange glow of the fire inside. I enter the inferno. Flames consume furniture and debris, lick up the walls and what remains of the ceiling. The heat is overwhelming, reaching through my layers and prickling my skin. My eyes stream and burn, the smoke so dark and thick I can barely see at all. Every instinct I have screams at me to leave this place, but I force my feet forward. I’ll never be able to live with myself otherwise.
I skirt a flaming heap and my heart stops. On the floor, pinned down by a wooden beam, lies a body. I’m on my knees beside them a moment later, only recognizing Virginia’s face as I push her hair back. My heart starts again, beating so hard and fast I fear it might rip from my chest completely. Not just Virginia, but Grace as well. My sister lies beneath the older woman, Virginia’s body cocooned around her like a protective shell. I shout and shake them, but neither stir. Frantic, I try to free them from the beam, pulling and pushing and lifting with every ounce of strength I have. It doesn’t budge.
I cough and choke. Tears fall freely from my eyes. Still, I don’t give up, blindly attacking the beam with a wild fury, animalistic screams drowned by the roar of flames circling closer. A hacking fit overwhelms me, sending me to my knees. I break down, sobs reverberating not from my chest, but from my soul. My hand reaches out and cradles Grace’s face.
“I’m scared.” It was the first words Grace said to me after
we left my mother behind for good. We were on a bus, all of our worldly possessions stuffed into the backpacks at our feet. I remember being scared for different reasons. I hid it well, but I was terrified Steve would call my bluff and track us down. I could handle anything he did to me, but the thought of him touching my sister was paralyzing. I remember looking at her, my ray of sunshine in a darkened world, and feel my heart harden. For her, I couldn’t let myself feel that fear. I had to stay strong for the both of us.
“Don’t be,” I said. I brushed the hair from her eyes and cradled her face as I do now. “I’ll always protect you, Gracie. Always.”
Only there is no protecting her from this, everything I have done burning to the ground before my eyes. Even so, I will not leave her. Her fate is my fate. I burrow closer to her side, my hand never leaving her face. Unconsciously, I begin to hum a soothing melody, the sort of which I would use to lull Grace to sleep once upon a time. My mind is sluggish. Body heavy. I feel the darkness deepening behind my closed eyelids. I welcome it. I’d rather not feel the pain of what is to come.
I’ve nearly passed through the door of oblivion when I’m wrenched back to the present. First, there is a voice, soft and urgent, like a plea shouted from a great distance. Then comes the shaking, the feel of hands roughly rousing me from those dark depths. My eyes open and deep, painful coughs rack my body. My lungs burn. Hot bile scorches my throat and pushes past my lips. I hear the voice again, clear and familiar.
“Can you stand?” Felix’s face draws level with mine, searching my eyes intensely. Before I can respond, movement behind him catches my attention. Vince stands, fire extinguisher in hand, fighting the flames circling closest to us. No sooner do I spot him that the extinguisher sputters and then dies. He tosses it to the side and turns toward us.
“We have to move! Now!”
Shakily, I make it to my feet, Felix and Vince already in motion. Felix works a piece of metal between the floor and beam trapping Virginia and Grace, using it to lift it off of them. Together, Vince and I grab hold of Virginia and Grace, a violent scream sounding throughout the room as I pull my sister free from the wreckage. The moment they are both freed, Felix lets go, the beam crashing back to the ground with a thump. Wordlessly, he pulls Grace into his arms and rushes out of this hellhole. I follow at his heels, Vince behind me with Virginia slung across his shoulders.
I don’t make it three steps outside before I collapse in the slushy snow. The fire remains in my lungs, in my throat, each cough flaring through me like streaking flames. I feel a presence beside me, feel a hand pull my hair away from my face as I empty my stomach for a second time.
“It’s alright, Lauren.” My eyes shut with pain, it’s not until she speaks that I recognize the voice of Leon’s mother. “It’s alright.”
I don’t know how long we remain like this: me hacking and coughing, Mrs. Thomas brushing my hair back and soothing me the best she can. Long enough for the pool of sick to ice over before I open my eyes again. Mrs. Thomas helps me unsteadily to my feet, my legs so numb I can’t even feel them. I meet her eyes.
“Grace?” It’s all I can manage.
Her face turns grim. “I don’t know,” she says, eyes darting toward the barn where most of the family gathers around the glow of a fire. I make my way there as quick as I can, slipping and sliding on uncertain legs. I push past the throng of people, terrified of what I might find. My heart stops, the entire world paused and muted in space it takes to inhale. Exhale. My heart restarts, pounding now against my chest.
I’m on my knees once more. I can’t stop shaking. Not from the cold, but overwhelming emotion. Words fail me, all I can do is sob, thick tears making the world a blurry mess. Her hand finds mine.
“It’s alright, Lauren,” she says. “It’s alright.”
I squeeze her hand and hastily wipe the tears away. The world refocuses and there lies Grace, awake and alive. A shaky laugh escapes me, the sound closer to a sob than anything else.
“I know, Gracie,” I say, brushing the hair away from her face. “I know.”
A whisper of a smile graces her lips and her eyes slowly close. I turn to Felix who kneels opposite me.
“She should be fine,” he says, not needing me to ask. “No signs of a concussion. Nothing broken. She’s lucky.”
The relief is a physical thing, as if a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Even so, I feel another weight settle in its place. I hear it in the flatness of his voice, see it in the somber lines of his face. Grace was lucky. Her body was sheltered from the beam and debris. But she was not the only one trapped.
“Virginia?” I let the word trail, dreading the answer. Emotion swells behind his eyes, but he doesn’t look away. He shakes his head and what small hope I held is gone. I follow Felix’s gaze and spot what I had missed in my haste to find Grace. Deeper into the barn gather several family members, their lamented cries hitting me with the force of a tidal wave. How did I miss it till now?
Mrs. Taylor kneels by Virginia’s side, clutching her hand as silent tears trail down her face. Her sister does not squeeze back. She gave her life so my sister might squeeze mine. Grief and guilt consume me. I grew close to Virginia, her kind heart and warm smile a rarity in this cold world. Seeing her lifeless body, watching Mrs. Taylor weep beside her, it breaks my heart. But though I mourn her, there’s a small, guilty part of me that is thankful it was not Grace, that it is not me clutching a hand whose grip has left it.
Heavy footfalls sound behind me, giving me an excuse to look away. Richard comes into view, closely followed by Jerry and Mr. Thomas. Richard eyes Grace, his features softer than I’ve ever seen them.
“Is she ok?” he asks.
“She is,” I say. “She was lucky.”
He nods solemnly as the other two walk past. “Your uncle is alive,” he tells Felix. “Your aunt and cousin are with him.”
Emotion flashes across Felix’s face, a lump rising in his throat. “And the others?”
Richard drops his eyes to the floor with a slow shake of his head, the same kind Felix gave when I asked about Virginia. “No sign of them.”
I cast a questioning look at Felix. “Ted and Heath are missing,” he says. I turn toward the house. It’s only gotten worse. Fire consumes most of it, flames spreading from the living room to the kitchen, dancing and twisting through the darkened windows. Missing. A gentler word than dead, but no less despairing. We all know the truth.
“What about the Animals?” I ask.
His eyes harden. “Four alive,” he says. “The rest are either dead or retreated.”
There’s a silence. None of us ask the obvious: “what now?”. The remaining Animals might have taken Frank’s side, but does that negate what they came here to do? Had Frank not baited them with their families and their freedom, I have no doubt they would have followed any command the sneering man gave. Where does that leave us? How can we possibly trust them?
Richard glances at the vigil around Virginia with a heavy sigh. “I need to pay my respects,” he says, excusing himself.
“I can watch over Grace,” I say. “You should see your uncle.”
He looks quietly toward the car-wall where his family stands. He watches them for a long moment and then shakes his head.
“I can’t,” he says. “Not right now.”
I’d be lying if I said I understand. To finally have his uncle back after so long is one thing. The circumstances involved are quite another. I can only guess at the range of emotions he must feel right now. Relief, yes. But also anger and a dozen others as well. It’s not surprising he needs time to sort through them.
My arms wrap around Mrs. Taylor sometime later, her tears wringing out some of my own. The guilt I felt returns in her embrace. I tell her how sorry I am, how Grace only survived because of what Virginia did for her.
A sad smile appears on her face. “That’s who my sister was,” she says. “She would have done the same for any of us.”
Time pass
es slowly. The fire has claimed the entirety of the house, the flames drawing our eyes to the sad scene like moths. Though we gather around Virginia, there are words and mourning for Ted and Heath as well. The Sawyers stand among us, sharing in our collective grief. They’ve grown closer with the family in our absence. It’s a good thing, we need each other now more than ever. Frank and the remaining Animals remain apart, perhaps knowing their presence would only be a complication. It’s not until the sky has lightened a shade and the flames have died down to a low smolder that we hear from them. It comes as an alarm, Frank’s voice shouting of an incoming truck.
Anger, cold and vicious erupts inside me. The Animals have destroyed our home, killed our people. Have they not taken enough from us? I sprint toward the wall along with a dozen others, the anger I feel shared by the surging mass around me. A single truck pulls into the driveway as I reach the wall. The headlights shine along the wall and we raise our rifles in warning. Still, it creeps closer, slowly coming to a halt some fifty feet away. The engine dies and the headlights are cut off. The passenger side door opens and I adjust my aim, my need for vengeance as real as my need for air. A man steps out and all thoughts of vengeance vanish, the air in my lungs lost in a sharp exhale.
I vault the wall without a second thought, filled with a new need. The distance shrinks between us in quick strides, each of us moving toward the other as fast as our feet will carry us. And then I’m in his arms, my tears soaking his chest, his falling into my hair. I don’t know how long we stand here nor do I care. In this moment nothing else matters, the pain and grief of the real world unable to touch us. Would that I could reach through space and time and keep us here forever. But such moments are not meant to last.
He pulls back to look at my face, the flicker of fire reflected in his eyes. I don’t need him to ask, the questions are clear as day. I don’t inform him of all the details, only those that matter right now: Virginia’s sacrifice, Ted and Heath missing, Frank and the Animals who have stayed behind. He rests his forehead against mine, eyes closed as if afraid to see the world now that he knows what has left it. I try and repress it, but with him here I give voice to the question that has plagued me since I spoke with Felix and Richard.
A Cruel and Violent Storm Page 33