by Kava, Alex
“I guess we have something in common,” Frankie told her. “My mom was suicidal, too. Third time seemed to be a charm.”
“Wow, Frankie, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
“You mean it wasn’t in my FBI file?” she joked. “It’s okay. It happened a long time ago. I was nine. I didn’t even see it. My father found her early in the morning. She slit her wrists in the bathtub. The ambulance took her away.”
“My mom didn’t start hurting herself until I was a teenager. I can’t imagine dealing with that at nine.”
“Actually, you know what the hardest part was? My dad made me go to school that day. There wasn’t anyone to watch me, and he needed to meet the ambulance at the hospital. I thought mom just hurt herself again. I was too little the first time to remember. The second time she just took a bunch of pills. I thought she was sleeping.”
It had been a long time since Frankie had talked about this.
“Hannah and I were best friends. She could tell something was wrong right away. Even back then she could sense things about people. She asked her grandparents if I could go home with her after school. My dad was so relieved when they called and asked him. You know, he didn’t even tell me until the next day that she didn’t make it. And then, I didn’t find out until I was in college that she died in the ambulance. I spent years being angry with him because he hadn’t let me go to the hospital to see her. To tell her goodbye. Why didn’t he just tell me she was already gone?”
She could see Maggie watching her.
“I remember asking him why, and you know what he said?”
Maggie stayed quiet, listening.
“He said he didn’t want me to see her like that. To remember her that way. He didn’t let me go to the funeral either. For the same reason, I suppose. I mean, how bad could it be? She was my mom. I would have liked to have said goodbye.”
Maggie’s cell phone started dinging and both of them jumped at the sound.
54
Creed finished updating Krenshaw about his conversation with Maggie. Just as he got to the Jeep, a sheriff’s deputy stopped him.
“We’re moving out,” the deputy said, pointing to the wall of black moving in. “Word is this storm’s already produced two tornadoes. We’ll come back as soon as it moves through.”
“Where should we go?” Jason asked the deputy over the roof of the Jeep. He had the tailgate open and was digging through their supplies.
“Head south. That’s what I’ve been told. This storm’s tracking to the northeast. But there’s a whole line popping up. Do you all have someplace safe to go? Family in the area?”
“Our hotel’s about ten miles south of here.”
The deputy glanced at his watch. “That might be the best place. I’d invite you to come with us, but it’s not going to be any closer or safer than your hotel. I’d get moving right now. Good luck.” He tapped his knuckles on the roof of the Jeep and headed to the next crew to warn them.
Utility and fire and rescue trucks were in line, maneuvering through the crowded street leaving the perimeter. Even the HAZMAT team was packed up.
“I don’t like the idea of leaving Maggie,” Creed told Jason.
“Yeah, I know. But we can’t help her at all if we get hit.”
When Creed still didn’t put the Jeep in gear, Jason continued, “It wouldn’t hurt for us to go back to the hotel. We can refuel. Feed the dogs. Check them over. I pulled some glass from Grace’s paws.”
This got Creed’s attention. “Is she okay?” Why hadn’t he checked her himself? What was wrong with him?
“She’ll be okay. I cleaned it, field-dressed it, but I think she’s done for the day.”
More and more vehicles were leaving. There was a trail of taillights and another of headlights. And the sky was increasingly getting darker.
Creed shifted into gear. The truck that had been parked in front of them had already left. He made a tight U-turn and headed south. Once they were away from the jumble of rescue vehicles and equipment, he glanced in the rearview mirror. Grace’s head was down, but her ears pitched forward and her eyes stayed wide open.
Creed felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness. He couldn’t save Maggie and Frankie, and he had neglected Grace.
“You okay, Grace?”
Her eyes moved up to meet his in the mirror. Her ears relaxed but her head stayed down. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. She wasn’t feeling good. He was in such a hurry, he didn’t notice earlier. He should never have put her in the carrier without checking her paws.
“Did you start her on antibiotics?”
“I was about to, but I figured she needed to take it with food. Right when you got back I was getting ready to pull the packs out.”
They used a dehydrated mix that just needed water added. He contemplated pulling over and taking care of her, but the clouds rolling in swirled above. Behind them he could see lightning fork all the way to the ground. The rumble of thunder grew louder.
“You okay?” Jason asked keeping his voice calm, and Creed realized it was more for the benefit of the dogs than it was for Creed. He appreciated the kid’s steady composure. It still surprised him how much Jason had matured in two short years.
“We get the dogs safe and taken care of, and I’ll be okay.”
Jason sat forward watching the sky.
“Thanks for taking care of Grace,” Creed told him. “I should have checked her before we left the last site.”
“No problem.”
Creed took a side road that looped around the damaged area. Jason pointed out a spot they could get back on the interstate just to the south of where they’d almost gotten sucked up into the earlier storm.
It took hardly any time to get to the hotel. Every vehicle had headlights on and all the buildings around the exit were lit up as if it were evening. Trees blocked the western sky, again. It started raining hard just as Creed pulled into the parking lot. He took note that there wasn’t much wind. But a quick glance up and he saw the dark layers churning.
“Let’s take our gear in,” Creed said. “Take Scout.” He turned and reached in to scratch Grace under the chin. She was up and ready to go. “You wait here, girl. I’ll come back and get you. I want to carry you in.”
He left the Jeep and A/C running while they pulled their duffle bags and daypacks out. Anything attached to the bags, came out, too. Lightning spiked behind them and a boom of thunder blasted overhead. Both too close for comfort. But the rain was letting up.
Jason helped Scout down and attached his leash. The parking lot was mostly empty. The rain stopped and Creed noticed a sudden stillness. About halfway to the hotel’s front door, Jason pointed to the treetops on the other side of the interstate.
“I guess those birds wouldn’t be flying if the storm was close.”
Creed looked over his shoulder. Then he stopped and turned to get a better look. His stomach fell.
“Those aren’t birds.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s debris.”
55
“I’ve got to get Grace!” Creed untangled straps from around his neck and threw down bags, tossing them to the pavement. “Take Scout and go. Get inside. Take everyone as far inside as you can get.”
“I know the drill.” Jason was picking up Creed’s packs and stringing them over his shoulders.
“Leave it! Just go.”
The wind was already picking up. Trees swayed. He could hear a low rumble growing on the other side of the tree line. He could feel the vibration under his feet. A dark shadow started emerging, slinking into view.
“Go, Jason. Now!”
He started running for the Jeep.
“Creed!”
He stopped and turned.
“Take this.”
Jason threw a helmet at him. Creed pulled it on and snapped the chinstrap just as a gust tried to rip it off his head. He had to lean forward against the wind to run across the parking lot. Now, he c
ould hear the roar as pieces of debris filled the air. He had to use all his weight to open the Jeep’s tailgate. He dived inside then twisted around and grabbed with both hands slamming it shut behind him. He double-checked that it was tight because the storm still sounded too loud inside the vehicle.
Grace’s ears were slicked back, and despite the noise he could hear her low whine.
“It’s okay, girl. I’m here. You’re okay. We’re gonna be okay.”
He laced his fingers between the back grate, and she immediately licked them.
A quick glance over his shoulder and he knew he was lying to her.
Power lines danced. Branches cracked and snapped. The sky had darkened even more. It was difficult to see inside the vehicle. The air was filled with bits of debris and dirt. There was no way he was going to make it across the parking lot and inside the hotel.
He grabbed a blanket, opened Grace’s crate from the rear. For a brief second he questioned the wisdom of a crate that opened at both ends. Convenience had been a selling point. Now all he could think about was two doors that could pop open, and his jaw clamped tight. He bundled her in it, even though it could make it too warm inside. She wanted to come out and he gently held her back.
“Stay here, girl.”
He stuffed a towel inside, too, cushioning her until she was snug and tight. Then he closed the crate’s door, making sure it was secure despite her whimpers.
Curtains of rain poured down. Wind gust shook the Jeep. Debris pecked at the windshield. Metal pinged as hail started falling. At first just a few stones, then it sounded like golf balls assaulting the roof and hood.
“It’s okay,” he kept repeating to Grace, trying to keep his voice calm.
He threw a blanket over the crate then he crawled up, inserting his body between Grace’s shelter and the ceiling of the Jeep. He draped his torso over the hard shell, hoping to shield and secure it and Grace. His head faced the windshield and he kept it down while his legs dangled toward the tailgate.
By now, the storm sounded like an angry beast. Creed’s ears popped. He couldn’t see Grace inside the crate underneath him, but he kept talking to her, hoping she was focusing on his voice and not the earsplitting noise roaring over them.
The Jeep started to rock violently. He felt like he was riding a bucking bull. Riding the wrong way.
Even with his head down he could see shadows flying by. Objects hit the windows. The Jeep was being pummeled. Branches continued to crash and snap, so constant now, it sounded like fireworks.
Something ripped above him. A loud crash and a whoosh. Suddenly, he felt the rain and the wind inside the vehicle. The sunroof had blown out. Another crash and he ducked his head as glass shattered against his helmet.
He squeezed his eyes shut and kept his head down. But the force had changed. The wind inside the Jeep tried to peel him away. He could feel the storm sucking at him, threatening to dislodge him.
Creed held on tighter. He gripped the front seat then his fingers searched for the shoulder belt. Awkwardly he wrapped it around his wrist. His mind flashed to the passenger in Baby Garner’s car. He had no idea if staying with the vehicle protected or doomed him, but he new one thing for certain. He was not leaving Grace. This monster would not separate them.
The whistling rush of wind surrounded them now. The pressure was so intense Creed was sure his helmet wouldn’t matter because his head was going to explode. He held on as the creature’s hot breath sucked at him. It peeled his shirt off his back. Then it tried to do the same with his skin. It tugged and punched at him. His bare back felt sandblasted, poked and stung by a thousand bees.
He gritted his teeth and continued to hold on.
Grace’s crate shifted. Now it pressed against his ribcage, digging in and threatening to cut off his breath.
He opened his eyes and tried to look down at it. In the darkness, lightening flashed like strobe lights, making everything look like it was moving in slow motion. Pieces of debris flew in the air. Some of it hit him now that the windshield no longer was there. The rumble was so intense he could feel the vibration all through his body. Curtains of rain started filling the inside of the Jeep.
He wanted to see in the crate beneath him. The blanket still covered it. Were the steel-grated doors still latched or had the force sucked them open? Was Grace still with him? She had to be. Would he know if she had been sucked out from under him?
His left hand was tied to the shoulder belt. He pushed his feet against the metal frame of the Jeep to better secure himself. Then, he released his right hand. He had to be sure she was okay.
As the winds pulled at him, he twisted his arm enough to allow his hand to weave under the blanket. His fingers felt the metal grate. He poked a finger in between and almost immediately was rewarded by Grace’s soft tongue.
A flood of relief washed over him.
She was there! She was able to respond.
“Hold on, girl,” he yelled, but he could hardly hear himself. It had to be almost over. “Just a few more minutes. Hang on, Grace!”
The storm was on top of them, snarling and clawing, poking and stabbing at his back.
It couldn’t last forever. He couldn’t hold on for much longer.
Just then, the vehicle jolted like hitting a speed bump at sixty-miles-per-hour. It slung Creed up against the remaining roof then dropped him hard, slamming the breath right out of him. He gasped for air, his mouth sucking in dirt and choking him more than helping.
The Jeep bounced. It skidded. Forward, backward, sideways.
Then suddenly, they were flying.
56
Southern Blessings
Maggie tried to scroll through the text messages and missed calls that were coming through now, a string of pings at a time. It should have been a relief to be connected again, but each one only made her feel more helpless.
“The mobile cell tower must be close by,” she told Frankie. “I’m getting a whole bunch of messages I missed.”
Frankie was feeling no pain, but she should have monitored her better. The woman was clearly drunk. Which presented a new problem. Maggie realized the alcohol could cause dehydration. Earlier she had found a case of bottled water. The expiration date was two years ago, but everyone was parched from the stifling heat. She’d handed out bottles to the others when she distributed the packages of frozen meat. She plied Frankie with water trying to compensate for her mistake.
“I really am better with dead people,” Maggie said out loud before she could stop herself. She’d had two sips of the whiskey hoping it would relax her and keep her from thinking how damn hot it was. Hoping it would stop her from noticing how the ceiling and walls were closing in on her.
“I can’t drink anymore water,” Frankie complained. “I’ll need to pee.”
“And that would be a good thing. It’d mean you’re hydrated.”
There was movement in the dark. The woman who had been sitting with the teenaged boy was wandering over to them. She left the boy back in the dark while she weaved her way around the toppled support beam and the pile of debris that separated Maggie and Frankie from the others. She used her cell phone’s flashlight and stepped carefully.
Maggie had guessed that she was maybe forty. Her shoulder long, dark hair stuck to the sides of her head. She was sweating profusely. It could have been the unflattering light, but Maggie thought the woman’s eyes looked glassy and her skin pasty.
The woman waited until she was a foot away before she greeted them, and then it was only a head nod.
“I understand you’re an FBI agent?”
Maggie bit back a grimace. Good ’ole Beth—“we all have secrets, Beth”—sure didn’t keep that secret for long.
“My name’s Maggie,” she said instead of confirming or denying. “This is Frankie. What’s your name?”
The woman looked thrown off by the question. “It’s Stephanie. Listen, I’m not from here,” she talked fast like she didn’t have much time to say what she w
anted. She brushed at the damp strands of hair on her forehead. “We were driving down from New York. We’ve been on the road for two days. We just stopped for lunch.”
She glanced back at her son. He was on his own cell phone. Maggie suspected he was fourteen or fifteen. Now that they had mobile service, he looked content. From what Maggie remembered of the pair, the son had been the one leading her to safety while Stephanie had been paralyzed by her fear.
“We can’t be here,” the woman said, addressing Maggie as though she were a retail clerk at a return counter. “We’re supposed to be in Gulf Shores, Alabama. We should have been there by now.”
Maggie didn’t respond. It was possible the woman was in shock and didn’t realize what she was saying. Maggie waited. She wasn’t sure what Stephanie from New York was expecting her to do. She heard Frankie snort an exasperated laugh. The woman noticed.
“Can’t you do something?” she finally asked Maggie, still using that impatient tone. “I don’t think these men know what they’re doing. Is there anyone even trying to get us out of here? I don’t know who to text or call. But you must?”
“Stephanie, there are rescue crews.”
“Oh, thank God! I thought so!”
“But they’ve had to pull back.”
“What? No!”
“Just until these next storms go through the area. It’s too dangerous for them to be out in the open.”
“More storms?” She shook her head like she couldn’t believe it. “This is the most godforsaken part of the country I’ve ever been to. I can’t believe this. Who lives like this? I swear I’m never coming here again.”
“I tell you what, Stephanie, I’ll let you know when I know more,” Maggie told the woman, reminding herself that she really was better at crime scenes. The dead were never this demanding.
Instead of watching Stephanie shuffle her way back, Maggie returned to her messages.
“Did you notice she didn’t once ask if I was okay?” Frankie said, her tone unusually sober.
