A short while after that, they found a family of four wandering the street. After peeking out of the cellar where they’d ridden out the storm, they had discovered their house was reduced to matchsticks. They, too, would be headed to the community center,
When they came upon a third group to rescue, Cage counted a cluster of close to ten people. The brothers set everyone up to do a quick medical triage, and Cage now bandaged cuts and splinted limbs like a pro. Sarah—using only her one arm—acted as his assistant.
But as they'd finally managed to get everybody toward the truck, he realized it was full.
“We're turning around,” Bob announced. “Heading back to the community center. If you want to head home, this is closest we're gonna get you.”
Cage wanted to offer a curt nod and simply say, “Understood.” But that wasn't enough.
Instead, he reached out and shook Boomer’s hand, and then reached for Bob. “I can't thank you both enough for pulling us out of the ditch, getting us to the community center in the first place, and now getting us close to home. We have people to find, too.”
“Well, you do your part,” Bob reminded the three of them as though they were schoolkids reminded of an assignment. “Keep sending people in to the community center as you find them.”
It was a stark reminder that they wouldn’t simply find Joule and be done.
Cage nodded, but in another two minutes, Boomer and Bob had done a fifteen-point turn, maneuvering the big truck into the other direction and tailing it back toward the community center.
The three watched as the truck maneuvered slowly around some obstacles and simply rolled over others, but once it was mostly out of sight, it was Sarah who declared, “All right. Home should be over that way. I think we're about two miles away.”
As they made the first steps, Cage wondered what they would find when they got there.
32
“Mmmrrrwow.”
Joule’s head snapped around.
The sound was plaintive, worried.
“Kitten?” she asked into the air and then watched as the grass rustled. She stood still until the tiny black head and bright blue eyes appeared.
Jesus, it looked scared.
It occurred to her then that the kitten had simply needed to use the restroom; it wasn't leaving her. Now, obviously, it was afraid to leave her.
“Come here, buddy.” She used her softest voice and knelt down. Putting her hands out in front of her, she waited. He was still a good ten feet away and she decided that, if he came to her, that would let her know what the kitten really wanted.
She didn't have to wait long at all. Though he stalked slowly closer, when the tiny creature arrived at her fingertips, instead of sniffing, he literally jumped into her hands. He couldn't weigh more than a pound.
“I'm sorry I left you. I thought you’d found your Mom.” She felt the old tug of wishing the kitten could have found his mother. Joule knew what that felt like.
“You have to not walk away in the future,” she admonished. Likely, he’d just had to pee.
She felt more than heard the purr as the tiny creature began to vibrate.
“Well, fuck,” she said to the open air, though she tried to say it with a smile, not wanting the kitten to feel bad. “I guess I've got a buddy now.”
He snuggled deeper into her hands, as if echoing the sentiment. But it was nice, she thought, having something alive to hold onto.
Turning, she continued on her path, convinced she had heard water. She wasn't normally one for drinking from streams, but the protesters had claimed this water was pristine and they were hell bent on protecting it. Of course, maybe it was full of mining or factory runoff and they were hypocrites. But right now, she didn't think she had much choice. Also, she suddenly had a kitten to look after. Damn, he needed a name.
In a moment of whimsy, she wondered if she could get him to sit on her shoulder. Sure enough, after a little shuffling to convince him to try it, he took to the perch like a parrot. She waffled for a moment on whether she should name him Polly or something pirate-y. In a flash of foresight, she realized an adult cat would likely not continue to ride on her shoulder. She immediately followed this thought with the fact that she would not have an adult cat. She was merely a foster.
Joule repeated this internal monologue several times, as though knowing it was a losing battle. But she picked her way forward through the tall grass, glad to have her tiny companion back.
“Alright, Toto, we are on our way.” She spoke it out loud again, as though the kitten would understand. “Let's see if we can find some water.”
It was ridiculous, as the kitten most likely did not comprehend English. But as she looked around, wondering if she should be embarrassed by it, she realized that if someone was close enough to hear her voice, that would be a good thing. Finding another person would be a dream right now, particularly if it was a person who knew where water was.
The cynical side of her was betting that she was fifteen feet away from one of the amazing local Mexican restaurants and that she could not only have water, but a coke, chips, fresh queso, and ….ohhhh. She was probably walking the wrong direction.
But she'd heard nothing to indicate that there were even people, let alone a sit-down restaurant, nearby. And she had to make the smart decision, which was to aim toward the water.
The tiny kitten meowed as she moved along, as if telling her which direction to go. That part was amusing but, if she stumbled, Toto dug his claws into her shoulders.
“Ouch!” She said it like a scold, but he expressed no remorse.
Maybe she shouldn't have put him there. When she tried to pull him down, he dug in tighter, seeming to enjoy the view.
Joule had not had a cat before, and she was coming to realize they communicated through meows and claw use. She left him on her shoulder. The razor sharp talons were quite effective.
In a short time, she reached the edge of the trees. Though she was confident no one was around, anyone watching her—any satellite footage or any way they were spotting people—would lose sight of her when she entered the woods. Turning, she looked back at the field. She had cut a clear path, but that would end here at the packed dirt and old, fallen leaves of the forest floor.
She needed to leave a sign.
Ten or fifteen minutes later, she stepped into the shade of the trees. As the leaves overhead blocked the sun, she wondered if she could manage to stay aimed in the right direction. Well, in the same direction at least, as she didn’t know if it was the right one. Lord knew, anyone could get lost in the woods quite easily.
With a sharp intake of breath as she realized she’d missed a major check, she patted herself down, feeling for her phone, or anything else that might be useful. When she’d come to in the field, and her head crinkled when she moved it, she hadn’t been thinking clearly.
She wondered again if she might have a concussion.
Joule consoled herself that she was thinking relatively clearly now, so it would at least be mild if she did. Still she checked every pocket on every piece of clothing, hoping to find her phone.
It wasn’t there, not in her back pocket or one of the side pockets of her cargo pants. Almost panicking, she turned back, gazing toward the center of the field, where she’d first regained consciousness. But she couldn't quite see where that point was.
Was the phone there? Lying in the impression she’d left when she came to? She hadn’t even thought of it, and maybe it had slipped out of her pocket and was sitting in the grass nearby.
Joule stopped herself before running back to check. She didn’t even know if she could find the exact spot where she’d landed. Surely, there was a Joule-shaped indent in the tall grass, but could she find it? And, if she did, what were the odds that her phone was waiting there? That it had survived being tossed around by a tornado? That it had either stayed on her person or landed in the field near her and was still usable… those were very low odds. In fact, she thought, there
was every possibility cell service was entirely out of commission right now.
She decided not to go back.
Though she was once again not confident she was making the right decision, she was making the one she had to make. So she turned back to the trees and checked the sun, hoping to stay aimed in the right direction. Luckily, it only took a few minutes before the sound of water, filtered through the trees, maybe reflecting off of the trunks and the leaves, grew louder.
It seemed to come from so many directions at once that she stopped, feeling Toto’s claws dig in until he re-balanced himself. But when she thought about it, if it truly was a stream, it would be cutting her path, and the sound should come from several directions. So she simply tried to make sure she didn't walk parallel to the water and constantly miss it, or take a wrong turn and leave it behind her.
Unable to cut a straight path, Joule disoriented herself a bit, but shortly found a clear, running stream.
“Holy shitballs, kitten!” she said before remembering she named him. “Alright Toto, time to drink!”
This time, when she lifted him from her shoulder, he let go easily, seeming to be as eager for water as she was. As his paws hit the hard-packed dirt, he made a beeline for the edge of the stream. She was grateful she'd found this before she grew too thirsty and she took a moment to watch his little tongue lap into the water.
The little fucker was cute.
But she couldn’t just watch him. Leaning over, she put her hands into the stream, but pulled back quickly at the sharp bite of the cold.
Alabama was so hot, so humid—how was it possible this wasn't a hot spring? But it wasn't. Pointedly ignoring where the water might have come from, and hoping that the pretty color and clarity meant that it was safe, she dipped her hands in and scooped up mouthfuls until she'd swallowed far too much. Who knew when she would find water again?
She hadn't found so much as a water bottle or a discarded cup as she'd walked across the field. Though there had been plastic bags, pages from books, and splinters of wood, nothing had been a usable container to carry water. So she drank until she almost felt bloated and ignored what she knew about carcinogens and waterborne parasites.
By the time she’d had her fill, Toto was sitting back and licking his tiny paws.
“Where do we go now?” she asked him. Task one had been achieved, but what was next? “Do we follow the water?”
“Mrrwow.”
She laughed into the empty air. If only she understood him. But she didn’t care.
“Okay. Upstream or downstream?”
“Mrrwow.”
“Agreed! Downstream is more likely to lead to civilization.” And since she didn't want to walk through the water and deal with wet feet, following along made the most sense.
She had no idea how long she'd be out here wandering alone.
Scooping the tiny kitten back up, she headed down the path, avoiding muddy patches and thinking that as long as they followed the stream, at least they’d still have drinking water.
Water was more important than food, she knew, although that might be their next goal.
It was hard to keep track of time, but she figured it was a good forty or fifty minutes later before she finally saw through the trees. In the open field stood what had been a farm just hours ago.
The barn was only half standing, looking as if an angry toddler had come along and stepped on a block building. Hay and pieces of board—painted red on one side—trashed the yard.
Cows milled about and, as Joule looked at them, she wondered if their numbers matched the original or if any had been picked up by the twister and spirited away.
An almost-empty, square foundation sat a good distance away. She would have to cross the stream to get to the farm, and the farm was the likeliest chance of finding people, even if the house wasn’t still there.
Joule began hunting for stones to step across the water, hoping she could do this without getting her feet wet. Why had she not picked up some of the plastic bags she’d passed?
Even as she chastised herself, she thought she heard a truck.
33
“Yes!” Joule thought, spotting a series of rocks protruding above the surface of the burbling creek. She'd been just about ready to splash into the water and run after the truck she’d heard.
“Wait!” she yelled out as she took her first tentative step and the stone tipped a little. When she had her feet steady, she hollered again. “Wait!”
The yelling made her ribs hurt. Using her lungs like that for the first time let her know she was more bruised than she thought.
As she clutched Toto close to her chest, Joule picked her way across the stream. Falling in and having to scoop herself out would be far worse than simply wading through. When she hit the last stone, she jumped for the far bank, sliding in the mud on the upside. She scrambled for a moment trying desperately not to squeeze the kitten, drop the kitten, throw the kitten, or slide back down the bank into the water. She managed to make it to the top with just a little bit of mud on her shoe by grabbing a small tree for anchor before she slipped past.
Jumping up, Joule waved and hollered at the receding truck. She would have waved both hands, but one of them held a tiny kitten. The tail lights faded into the distance, though she waved and yelled, trying to catch their attention.
“Wait. Wait!”
But the truck disappeared, never having seen her.
“Fucking fuck monkeys,” she muttered to Toto. With nothing else left to do, she headed onto the farmland, checking out what she could.
The farm was an eye-opener.
She was not getting closer to civilization. Following the stream hadn't helped. She was still out in the middle of nowhere. The question was, how far out?
The good news was that there was a road and there had been a truck on the road. If there was a truck now, there would likely be another truck in a while.
Should she stay put, or start walking?
If she had any idea where she was, she might have an idea of which direction to go. Walking seemed the smarter choice. If she found another farm, she might find people. If she found people, she might find a phone.
Even if she didn't find people, she might find an intact building, and she was not above breaking in, eating their food, and using their phone line.
“Come on, Toto.” Joule cuddled the small kitten close and wondered how to make a sling for him so he could fall asleep. Luckily, she was wearing her jacket. Alabama, had been hot and muggy, most days, but she’d learned that leaving her jacket at home proved inconvenient against the sudden changes in weather. So she often wore it tied around her waist, just to have it handy if clouds marled the sun or the winds picked up.
She remembered shoving her arms down into the sleeves as the weather had changed back at the site. Had that only been this morning? Or had she been out longer?
Joule decided it had to be the same day. She wasn’t hungry or thirsty enough to be missing too much time. So she peeled her hoodie, realizing she was a bit overwarm anyway, and slipped it around her waist. But she pulled it on backwards, creating an apron. The hood hung in front of her, and she slipped Toto into the pouch it created. Within moments, the tiny creature was asleep, bouncing along with her steps.
She found she was wishing for her own giant to pick her up, put her in a hood, and carry her along to safety. But of course, that would be terrifying. So she kept walking along the road.
She couldn't stay here. This farm wasn't functional. If there was food, it was in the grass, and she hadn't reached the point of eating things she found on the ground yet.
If there was a phone here, it had been ripped from the wall. Any lines connecting it were long gone, too. But if she kept going, she might find another farm, and that farm might be intact.
She had to pick a direction. Though she felt fully alone except for tiny Toto, she knew someone would come through here eventually. Ten minutes later, she sat back on her heels. “What do you th
ink, Toto?”
The tiny kitten didn’t answer, not even with a cheap meow.
“Fine, it doesn’t matter what you think. We’re committed to this direction now.”
Though she walked and walked and walked, the old road curved around the edge of the farmland and it felt as if she hadn't gotten anywhere.
She saw more furrows in the earth, and, in many cases, there was just a sense that things were missing. The grass still stood, but the trees were gone, pulled up—roots and all—leaving gaping wounds behind. The lawn toys stood unmarked. The family who lived in the house must have small children. Though the plastic playhouse shutters looked like they might have been messed with, no damage was evident. Behind it, the real house was completely gone.
The sun had moved in the sky and she was feeling the road through the soles of her work boots before she saw another farm, but as she got close she saw that this house, too, had been razed.
“Holy crapnuggets,” she muttered to Toto, who was still sleeping in the hood. He opened one eye and rolled over, lying on his back. She’d made him a hammock on a beautiful sunny day.
Lucky little sucker, she thought, but she surveyed the damage again, wondering if any of it could help her.
If there was food, it was long gone, but there might be something useful.
Hell. Logic said she should check it out. It looked like it had been a real home, and therefore it should have a kitchen, and a kitchen should have cups or something. Joule would happily take one from the grass. That way, when she went back to the stream, she could carry water with her. Maybe she would get lucky and find a Twinkie or granola bar.
She looked up and down the road, but no more trucks had come along in the time she’d been watching, and there was no one on this deserted road now. So she headed into the grass, hoping to find something.
The distance was deceptive; the farmhouse much farther away than she’d originally thought. The walking wasn't easy, the ground lumpier than it appeared. Apparently, this was a cow pasture.
The Tempest Page 14
