West

by Michele G Miller

  It’s only a step or two. One step could mean the difference between life or death for us, but I can reach Katie. I can’t not try. I can’t leave her behind. I focus on her fingers and not my fear of what’s chasing us as I stretch back. I slow and I extend and my hand seizes Katie’s wrist, my fingers tightening their hold. I speed up again and I don’t look back.

  My heart races and my stomach protests, the fear and stress within making me sick as we reach the house and hustle to the front porch.

  “This way!” I say.

  We make our way up the front steps, joining the small group of people who are already there. Why are they all outside? I look around. Fists and bodies beat at the boarded up windows and door of the house. Shit. I join in, kicking at the plywood-covered door with my motorcycle boots in an attempt to break in.

  “What are we doing?” Jules asks over my shoulder, her voice unsure.

  Maybe this plan wasn’t the best. My mind races through our options, but I come up blank. There are shadows of other people running straight by us, by this house, as they seek their own safety. They’re fools. There’s nothing more in this field. This house is it.

  Jules shuffles around beside me, her tremors of terror flowing through our connected hands. I stop, worried she’ll freak out and bolt down the stairs with the others who are giving up on the house. Facing her, I touch her arm in an attempt to help her maintain focus.

  “There’s a basement here.” I search her face in the dark, making sure she heard me. “Stay by my side! Don’t leave!” I shout louder. She nods and I release her hand.

  “How do you know there’s a basement?” asks Katie, who’s now hugging Jules with both arms.

  All the parties I’ve been to in this house over the last three years come to mind, but they aren’t important. “I just do,” I answer as I punch Ruben in the arm and throw myself back at the door. “Ruben, help me!”

  Pain surges through my shoulder as I hurl my body against the boarded-up house again and again. Ruben and I take turns kicking, punching, and slamming into the plywood. Another shot of pain hits me and I curse, thinking of how handy my old football pads would be at this moment.

  “We’re gonna die.”

  The three words are a whisper in my ear when Jules says them, and they cause my stomach to drop. Gritting my teeth, I slam my shoulder into the boarded-up door again, harder this time. I refuse to let her prediction become a reality.

  Then renewed hope comes from an unfamiliar voice. “Help me! I’ve got it loose!”

  Following the shout, Ruben and I push through the others to where someone has managed to force a corner of the large piece of plywood covering a broken window back enough for us to get our fingers beneath the frame. Glancing over the heads of the guys around me, I search for and spot Jules’ red hair, ensuring her proximity, before I focus on the board. We work together, a dozen pairs of hands finding their grip around the edges of the board and attempting to pull and break the wood or wrench the nails free from the window casing.

  “Watch the nails!” the guy next to me shouts as we form a human crowbar. We pry and pull until we hear the blessed sound of nails squealing and loosening, creating a hole large enough for a small body to crawl through. Jules, I think, and as though Ruben has read my mind, his deep voice calls out.

  “Katie! Jules! Get in there. Any other girls?”

  The howling of the tornado picks up and the energy within the crowd heightens as panic grows.

  “Hurry up!” a voice demands as Jules steers a girl up to the window. There are three of them. Three girls standing there. Jules, Katie, and one I don’t know. Where is everyone else?

  “There’s a basement somewhere. You need to find it and go downstairs,” Jules tells the new girl. I catch the younger girl’s eyes and chime in.

  “It’s in the back, in the kitchen. There’s a door; you won’t miss it.” She nods as she climbs through the window. I turn to Jules, “Your turn.” I want her in the house and downstairs. I can think of nothing else at this moment.

  “No,” she argues and shoves a crying Katie my way. “Katie, you go!”

  Katie seems paralyzed and I want to pitch her through the hole myself as Jules takes control, yelling at her. Another shout mixes with hers.

  “Jules!” Jeff’s voice reaches me as he wends his way through the small crowd. Our eyes meet and I feel the same fearful relief I see in his face. Relief at knowing my oldest and closest friend is here, and fear because we’re not through this yet.

  My reaction is nothing compared to Katie’s. Her body is already halfway inside the house when she hears his voice. “Jeff! Jeff!” she screams, attempting to climb out of the house before Jeff pushes into her line of sight.

  “I’m here, K. Get in there. Go to the basement,” he orders.

  Katie’s terror is too much for Jules and her face crumbles before me.

  “Let me go in and I’ll punch at the boards from the other side. We can’t all fit through this hole,” a guy offers, and others join in. Bodies jostle for position.

  “Hey!” Jules shouts as she slams into my side and my hands slip from the wood as the crowd surges forward. Ruben’s hands slip as well and the board crashes against the window casing, the hole we’d created no longer there. Trapped inside the house, Katie screams and pounds against the plywood.

  What little order we’ve maintained is lost as in the distance mass chaos explodes in the echo of thousands of branches cracking and splintering apart. From my vantage point I can’t see what causes the noise, but the way Jules clutches my shirt with her mouth hanging open speaks for itself.

  “Oh. My—” My ears register her small voice release the two words before the others’ shouts of panic overtake hers.

  “It’s here!”

  “Open the windows!”

  Fists, bodies, and feet batter the windows and door again. Next to me, Ruben props his back against the house, lifts his arms above his head, and works to push the plywood away from the window once more. I position myself on the opposite side, pulling as I shout for Jules to go in. Taking the cue, Jeff wrenches Jules away from my side and forces her to duck under Ruben’s arms and through the broken window, whispering something into her ear.

  Before she climbs through, our eyes meet and hold. The look in her gaze will remain with me for as long as I live—there’s a promise there, a moment the two of us will forever share. Then she disappears into the dark house and a heavy weight lands on my chest.

  Once the girls are inside, a short line forms behind us. One by one, people I know, and some I don’t, climb through the window in their haste for safety. “Next,” they shout as their feet hit the floor inside.

  When three guys have made their way in, they pound on the board from the inside. As I stand there holding the plywood, I catch the flash of a dim light in the house. Someone yells Jules’ name, and Stuart’s too, then she starts arguing. I pull the board harder. Nails pop and the board loosens more. What is she doing? Sweat drips into my eyes and my biceps burn from the task of holding the plywood. I want to scream, to power through this the way The Rock would and break this shit right off the wall so I can get to her. The adrenaline courses through my body and with a final growl as Ruben and I look at each other and the guys inside the house count to three, we all push and pull with every ounce of strength we possess.

  Time stands still until, at last, the plywood cracks and breaks in half, falling free from the house.

  “Go, hurry!” yell multiple voices at once as we toss the broken board over our heads. The crowd on the porch is gone, dwindled down from fear of waiting, and I say a silent prayer that they find safety elsewhere. The last three guys enter the house before I watch as Jeff climbs in, followed by Ruben. Mentally I tick off the body count. Twelve. Twelve people remained with us and went into the house.

  Looking around, I verify I’m the last person and pause. It feels as though it’s been an hour since the sirens went off, since we started running, since Ju
les disappeared from my sight. It’s been mere minutes, a few thousand seconds of sheer terror unlike anything I’ve felt in my life. I dare one last glance back at The Ice Shack and now I see what the others already saw. Nothing. The Shack is gone and in its place is a dark, swirling mass of debris and cloud heading my way. I quickly realize that I have seconds to find safety.

  I throw myself through the window in time to hear a panicked Jules question Ruben, “Where’s West?”

  “Hey, Buffy. Miss me?” I tease as my boots hit the floor.

  Her reaction floors me. She hurtles herself into my chest, her arms expelling the air from my lungs as they tighten around my waist. My mind doesn’t choose what happens next, my body simply reacts on instinct, and my arms go around her as I press a kiss to her silky hair.

  “Basement,” I whisper, practically carrying her in the direction of the door I know will lead us down.

  “Is everyone in? Everyone who was out there?” Jules asks, and I’m again struck by her concern. In the past few years I’ve allowed myself to think of Jules as some shallow cheerleader. Thinking of her superstar boyfriend as a bad influence on her and assuming she’s turned into a Grade A Bitch made ignoring her easier. Her asking about the safety of others, her waiting for me before finding shelter herself, those things don’t fit with the Jules I created. Of course I know she’s not a bitch. She’s never snubbed me or done anything to gain the reputation I’ve given her in my head. I’m the Grade A Ass. The guy who finds it easier to pretend everyone else isn’t worth my time because it makes it painless to walk away. I’m the fraud.

  “The porch was empty,” I assure her as we descend into the concrete-walled basement.

  My eyes scan the area, looking for the best place to hide. Against the wall, I remind myself as I tug Jules into the back of the basement. Katie, Jeff, and Ruben are in the right back corner and I’m tempted to head their way, but change my mind and lead Jules left instead. That corner is empty. More room equals two walls to sandwich between and more safety.

  I move to pull her to the ground as our world changes forever.

  Everything magnifies, every groan and creak, each snap and crack. The tornado is on top of us, and as my ears go deaf to the cacophony of sounds, I throw Jules forward into the corner and land on top of her.

  “I don’t want to die!” she screams, taking my hand in hers as I cover her body. The faces of my dad and brothers flash through my mind. No! I push them away.

  “We’re not gonna die tonight, Buffy.” I press my face into the side of her head, my lips kissing her hair as I shout. “I’ll be damned if I finally get the nerve to speak to you again, only to die in this place.”

  An ear-splitting crash above us drowns out any other thoughts I might have. The house over our heads lifts and falls, and then shatters to pieces all around our bodies.

  Three

  My hand clings to Jules’ as debris rains down on us. “Cover your mouth, Jules. Don’t breathe in all this dust,” I shout over the noise, pulling the neck of my tee up to use as a face mask.

  I focus on her whimpers as pain slices through my back, as dust burns my eyes, and as the sound of the storm fills my ears. I focus on her warm palm in mine, on the way her body trembles beneath me, and on the smell of her hair pressed to my cheek. Anything to keep my mind from focusing on what’s happening above us.

  Then it’s gone.

  Passing over us with the same speed as it arrived.

  And a new dilemma hits me as fast as the storm did. We’re trapped under a house. I don’t have to open my eyes to know that what used to be above us is now on top of us. I heard it all come down; the scream and tear of nails lifting and boards snapping has my ears ringing. I lift my head as the sounds of the storm fade away, replaced with shouts of fear, and bump it on something a few inches above me. Gathering my bearings, I take stock of my position. My back is pressed against the wall of the basement and Jules is partially below and in front of me. She’s laying on my right arm which is wrapped around her. Our interlaced fingers are pressed against her chest. The racing of her heart tells me she’s alright. Terrified, but alright.

  “Everyone okay?” someone shouts. Weak moans and curses reply.

  The girl I don’t know cries, her sobs filled with terror as she worries about being buried alive. Her words set the others off. Calls for help ring out as the sound of movement picks up.

  Next to me, Jules’ head swivels from side to side. I lower my cheek to the top of her hair in an offer of comfort as she groans. The voices pick up around me.

  “We can’t panic.” My voice is hoarse and I cough, attempting to strengthen it in order to yell for my friends. “We can’t panic! Stop and listen!” Jules flinches at my shout. “Sorry. Are you okay?” Her head nods against me and her fingers tighten around mine.

  “Yo!” Ruben’s baritone voice rises above the rest and echoes off the walls. “Chill out, everyone.”

  The voices fade, leaving muffled sobs and the shifting of debris in their wake. Who’s hurt and who’s okay? An internal voice prods me to take inventory of my friends. The urge to cross my fingers overcomes me as I call out for Jeff. Uncertain of what I’m about to hear, I hold my breath as I listen for his voice.

  “I’m good, man, and so is Katie.”

  Thank you, Lord.

  Jules sighs, her body relaxing as the others proceed to do a roll call. Jeff shouts for Mark, and Mark accounts for those in his corner by calling out more names. As Mark calls a couple of guys names out, Jules fidgets beneath me. Her movements are small, but with our bodies pressed together I’m aware of everything she does. She intakes a sharp breath, stiffening.

  “Jules? What’s wrong? Are you hurt somewhere?”

  “There’s something on my leg.” Her left leg wriggles as she shifts around again. Her breathing picks up pace. “West? Are you up against the basement wall?”

  “Yeah, I’m leaning against it. Why?”

  “We’re trapped. There’s stuff everywhere in front of me—sheetrock, plywood—oh no. The whole damn house fell on us, didn’t it? How are we going to get out?” Her voice rises in octaves with each word. I draw in a breath of air, knowing that I do not have the luxury of panicking.

  “Jules! Jules, what’s wrong?” Katie calls as Jules’ panic escalates and reaches them. She sucks in a breath beneath me.

  “Katie! I’m all right, I’m not hurt,” Jules replies. “How about you? You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I fainted. Where are you?”

  “I’m with West and we’re in the back corner. We’re trapped under a bunch of debris.”

  I’m impressed with her composure as she talks to her friend. Her voice is unexpectedly strong and sure. Regardless of her fear, she’s making sure her friends believe she’s calm. Her concern for Katie’s feelings serves as another reminder of how perfect this girl is. What an idiot I was to think otherwise.

  “Hey, West, man—can you guys see our cell phone lights?” It’s Jeff who asks and I lift my head in search of a light, any light in our dark surroundings.

  “I can’t see anything but black” My stomach sinks. “Can you?” I ask Jules.

  Her head lifts from the crook of my arm and shoulder before she drops back down with a heavy sigh. “Nothing.”

  Cursing under my breath, I relay our situation. “Jeff, we’re pretty deep in the rubble here. We can’t see a thing.”

  “Yeah, it looks like all the debris stacked up in the corner where you two are. We’re pretty good over here.”

  “Good, then go get us help!” Jules orders, and I choke back a laugh at her demand.

  “Jules, hun, you know I would love to, but the stairs are gone. We can’t get out.” Jeff’s reply is teasing, but I pick up the nerves in his tone.

  “Hey,” I touch Jules’ face as her breathing speeds up again. “Hey, don’t freak out on me, Buffy. We’re gonna be fine. Our parents will be looking for us, and the cops will know to check the Shack,” I soothe as she beg
ins hyperventilating. Her heart races against my hand that she’s still clinging to.

  “What if they’re all dead?” she moans, her voice broken. “What happened to everyone else, West? There’s only a handful of us down here. Where did they all go?”

  My mind envisions a giant vortex sucking up everything and everyone I know and love. The last image I saw before I climbed through the window was a vivid one. The Shack was reduced to matchsticks and the tornado was heading straight for me. I blink the idea of a destroyed town from my head. I can’t let myself think that way. I won’t let myself worry about anything but what’s in front of me right now. I’ll focus on Jules and me and getting out of this twister-made coffin, I promise myself.

  Rubbing her bare arm as her muffled cries surround us, I focus on the way her body shakes. She’s fading fast. “Jules?” I slide my hand down her side, rubbing her thigh in an attempt to soothe her. “You need to calm down. Slow breaths, or you’re going to go into shock.”

  “I c-c-a-a-a-n’t.”

  Her broken speech concerns me and I change tactics.

  “Dang, girl. I thought you were Buffy? You’re ruining the fantasy here,” I tease with a bite to my tone.

  “I’m . . . n-o-o-o-t-t-t. Wa-a-a-nt home,” she mumbles, and my heart breaks.

  “I know, Jules. Me too,” I whisper. “We’re going to go home, I promise. You need to calm down for me. Close your eyes and try to breathe. Can you do that?”

  She doesn’t answer, but I continue to rub her leg and hip as I whisper about going home. I’m not sure if I’m saying it for her benefit or mine anymore, but either way it works. The rapid rising and falling of her breath has steadied and her body quits its spasms.

  “That’s it, keep doing whatever you’re doing,” I tell her as I shift off of her and attempt to slip further between her body and the wall at my back. The sharp stab in my back returns as I press it against whatever is behind me, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stop from cursing.

  “Don’t move,” she cries as I shift. I stop. She said there was something against her leg, I must have disturbed it.