“Whoa, there. Not so fast, kid.” The EMT who’s been right behind me this entire time puts his hand on my shoulder.
When he slides into view, I recognize him as my fifth-grade teacher’s oldest son, Owen Bousquet. I blush, remembering what a huge crush I used to have on the guy. I haven’t seen much of him since he graduated high school, but I guess he’s one of the few not working in the oil biz who stuck around. Lucky for me right now too, since Otter Falls has its own ambulance and medical center thanks to this rig. There’s some code or safety regulation making it necessary. Mom knows about it better than I do since she had to lobby for it.
Noticing me move, my mom ends her call and tries to climb in beside me, but Owen stops her. “Just a sec, Mayor. Let me see what we’re dealing with first.”
She frowns and nods in agreement, but all I want to do is give her a big hug. I open my mouth and try to tell her it’s okay, but apart from a weird sound you’d expect if you stepped on a frog midcroak, nothing comes out.
“I was afraid of that.” Owen takes off my oxygen mask before finding one of those metal Popsicle-stick things in a drawer. “Open wide.”
My mouth tastes like I’ve licked a lump of coal, and it feels just as dry. When I automatically try to say “aah” the way doctors always expect you to, a sharp pain stabs my throat. I reach to my neck, but Owen’s already pushing my tongue out of the way to get a better look inside my windpipe. When he finally sits back, I can tell by the serious look on his face that it’s not good news.
“You should count your lucky stars, Mira,” he begins, motioning to my mom—now standing alone at the open doors—so she can come over. “I don’t know what you were doing so close to that fire, but apart from a singed larynx, I’d say you came out on top today.”
“Should we get her to Regional Medical?” Mom is already in planning mode as she arrives at my side.
“Resting will do her much better than a four-hour car ride, and I’d rather not call an airlift in case it’s needed for the others,” Owen answers above my head. “I can give you some antiseptic spray that’ll help with the throat pain, and if her voice isn’t back in a few days—”
Hold up. What others? I raise my hand to get his attention, cutting him off midsentence before remembering I can’t talk.
Turning toward Mom, I mouth the question, “Others?”
She pulls her lips into a thin line and swallows before taking my hand into both of hers. I know this move, and my heartbeat accelerates. This is what she did when she told me her and Dad were getting a divorce and when my dog Bucky had to be put down.
“Your brothers, Mira,” she whispers. “Monk says they were all at the rig, but there’s no sign of them.”
That’s a good thing, right? I want to ask. If there are no bodies, then there’s a chance they’re alive. Maybe Monk is wrong. He naps on duty more than he’s awake, and that’s not the only reason Johnny got promoted to foreman before the more experienced roughneck.
Mom’s teary eyes show she doesn’t share in my optimism. I want to comfort her, but I suddenly remember the dark shapes I saw among the flames and begin bawling. In the end, it’s Mom who has to calm me down. She explains we’ll know more once the well is capped, and for now she’s just thankful that I’m okay.
Getting the all-clear from Owen, I’m allowed to go home, where Poppy is already waiting.
I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see that crazy girl.
Poppy and Mom help me inside—too much smoke and not enough oxygen can apparently make you really weak and tired for a while—and I camp out on the living room couch. My friend plops into the adjacent armchair before Mom leaves to take care of mayoral stuff. With the steady droll of some reality TV show peppered with Poppy’s occasional commentary in the background, I quickly fall asleep.
My brain, though, refuses to rest and instead decides that I really need to relive every terrible moment from earlier. I awake with a start, my clothes sticking to me from sweat. Poppy is curled up in the chair and out like a light, so I tiptoe around her and head to the bathroom.
I almost faint when I see my reflection in the mirror. Why hasn’t anyone mentioned I look like a rabid raccoon that’s been dragged three miles behind a semi? After washing the soot off my face, I do the best I can with my hair by braiding it into a long rope. I really need a shower too, but I guess that can wait. Standing in the tiny bathroom, I’m suddenly feeling very locked in, so I go back through the living room and slip quietly out the front door.
Our porch faces the main road that cuts through Otter Falls, and sitting on the top step would let me get a clear view of the traffic, if there was any. We’re so out of the way that the only cars that pass by are those of our nearest neighbors—a quarter of a mile in each direction—going between work and home, or an occasional state trooper making his rounds. I briefly close my eyes to let the breeze wash over me when a familiar clunking sound catches my ear. I look up again just in time to see River in his old beater rounding the nearest bend before pulling to a stop right in front of me.
If it weren’t his car, I would have a hard time recognizing the boy because his usual smile is gone. He looks just as solemn as I feel. He slams the car door behind him and runs up, taking a seat right next to me.
“I heard what happened,” he begins, assuming I was wondering why he showed up unannounced. “Are you okay?”
I shrug and point to my throat to explain why I can’t talk, but he must have known about that too.
“Yeah, that’s a bummer.” He cracks a smile before unexpectedly putting an arm around me. “I’m sorry about your brothers.”
I shake off his hold and widen my eyes. What about them? I mime, and his face turns red. “Oh no. They haven’t found them yet or anything, I just meant . . . well, I hope they’ll be okay too.” He looks away, and while I still don’t want to admit the possibility, I know eventually we’ll find out either way. River is just trying to make me feel better, and I put my hand on his knee to show him I understand.
He turns back to me and gives me a hug, which apparently is my Kryptonite. As soon as the boy holds me close, I completely fall apart and begin crying again. Noticing my blubbering, he pulls away, but instead of hightailing it home like I expect, he cups my face with one hand and wipes a tear from my cheek with his thumb. I smile, thankful to have such a great friend, when he leans in and actually kisses me!
And holy guacamole, it’s nice. His lips are warm and his skin smells like peppermint, and I don’t even mind the silver ring tickling my mouth. Reaching up for his shirt, I scoot closer before a slamming door interrupts the moment.
We look up as Poppy storms out of my house from behind, and I don’t have to feel like a fox caught in the henhouse to know she saw everything. I’ve betrayed her, and it makes me want to throw up. To make amends, I try to grab her arm, but she shakes it off and rushes past me. As she jumps into River’s truck, I remember he’s still here too. He gives me an apologetic shrug, and I suppose he has no choice but to give her a ride home, but seeing them drive away together hurts almost as much as losing my best friend’s trust.
I want to scream in frustration, but I don’t even have that luxury right now. I also can’t will myself to go back in the house, not when Mom’s still away and my brothers are still unaccounted for. My quad bike isn’t in its usual spot, which means it must still be at rig forty-nine. At this point, I don’t even care where I go or how I get there, so I just start walking. The rhythmic pounding of my sneakers against the soft grass and wildflowers in the meadow behind our house is oddly relaxing, and I let it slowly calm my nerves. By the time I cross a patch of pines and stop at the edge of a wide stream, my breathing is ragged, but my head is clear.
It doesn’t take me long to realize where I am. After heading fifty yards up along the water’s bank, I’m standing right at the spot where I gave Lulu an unexpected bath last night. The memory makes me smile, and I begin to relax. Sitting on one of the flat rocks, I p
ull my legs up and rest my head in my hands.
Has it been only a day since the wedding? What I wouldn’t do to turn back time and have all the terrible things that have happened since then go away.
I sigh, knowing the impossibility of my wish. As if Mother Earth knew I needed a distraction right about now, a lone egret appears on the horizon. I wonder if she’s the same bird we saw last night when another also comes into view. They’re flying straight for the Falls, so I sit as still as I can to avoid scaring them away. I actually bite my lip when I realize there are even more than I first thought, eventually counting six large egrets.
Unlike the bird from yesterday, these animals could hardly be called majestic. Their feathers are more gray than white, covered in soot no doubt from the still-burning rig fire. The smallest one also appears to have a broken wing, and I’m just starting to back away to go get it some help when I finally go crazy.
It sounds harsh, but there’s no other way to explain it. Plain and simple, I—Mira Sighansen—have just lost my sanity. Why? Because the six long-necked, feathered birds that had landed in the hip-deep stream twenty feet from me just turned into humans. And what’s even crazier? They’re not just any humans—they’re my six missing brothers.
“Earth to Mira.” The familiar, masculine voice comes to me from a distance, as if the speaker is at the other end of a long tunnel.
“Yo, sis,” another chimes in. The sound is much closer and there’s less of an echo, making me blink in rapid succession to search for its source. When my eyes focus on the half dozen naked young men standing in the nearby basin, I know I’m still in my previous delusion.
“You’re not real,” I state matter-of-factly, as if it’s even worth arguing with ghosts. The realization that actual sounds escape my lips doesn’t strike me for another beat, when I reach to my mouth and gasp. “Oh, my dog. I can talk!”
Three body lengths away, Sam nudges Bryce. “We just turned from fricking birds right in front of her, and all she cares about is her yapper.”
They all laugh, but I put my hands on my hips and pout. “Real funny, but I’d care more if you weren’t a hallucination.”
“Oh yeah?” Roland raises an inquisitive brow. “Could I do this if I wasn’t real?” Quickly drawing his hand across the surface of the water, he splashes me.
The cold droplets land on my shirt, and the light blue fabric turns darker underneath. “Um, yeah, because I’m imagining this too.”
I take a small step backward to avoid any repeats, just in case.
“Good grief, kid.” Lane shakes his head, scattering water from his thick, black hair onto his shoulders. “We don’t have time for this.”
“Why not? You got a hot date with Laura?” I can’t resist teasing, especially since he called me kid. It’s bad enough my oldest brothers say it. I don’t need it from one who’s just two years my senior. “Or was it Sarah?”
“Listen, Mira.” Clay takes over. “We’re very much real, and we need your help.”
I wish I could believe him, but I’m still not convinced. “All right, but how is this possible?”
A muscle twitches in his jaw and I can tell he’s losing patience, but he takes a deep breath before answering. “Remember Grandma Dawson’s stories? All the stuff about our tribal legends?”
I nod, recalling tales of the benevolent but trickster raven or the man-eating owl she would use to lull me to sleep when I was younger. How I never had nightmares from that, I’ll never know.
“You never questioned any of those.” Clay shrugs. “Why is this different?”
Because I’m not ten anymore, I think, but bite my lip to stop myself from making him any angrier. I mean if this is real, then he’s already had a pretty crappy day without my added sass. Besides, even if this is crazy, it’s better than their being outright gone forever. “Fine,” I say.
“Good. Now listen carefully because we really haven’t got much time.” He looks over his shoulder as Cody groans; my youngest brother is cradling his limp, left arm against his body.
“You’re hurt.” My maternal instincts kick in and I lunge off the rock, but Sam puts up his hand to stop me.
“Whoa there, cupcake. Family or not, you need to respect some boundaries here.” He points to the shallow water barely hiding them from the waist down.
“Oh.” I back up as my face flushes. “Sorry. You were saying?”
“That rig shouldn’t be there,” Clay continues. “It can’t be rebuilt, and you need to stop it.”
I don’t know what I was expecting him to say, but this sure as heck wasn’t it. “Wh-what?” I stutter.
Moving forward, Bryce takes over. “You need to do everything you can to make sure that forty-nine isn’t fixed and put back into operation.”
“And how am I supposed to do that?” I look from one brother to the next, as if their solemn expressions could give me the answer I need.
“You’re a smart girl.” Lane smirks. “You’ll figure it out.”
“But why?” I ball my fists to keep my hands from shaking. “Let’s say I can, which I’m pretty sure won’t happen since it’s like the craziest idea ever. But fine. The rig stays broken. What will that solve?”
“Just do it, Mira. It’s the only way we can come back,” Clay says, then turns, and the others follow suit. The way they walk off is so eerie, so final.
“Wait!” I yell to keep them from leaving. “I don’t understand.”
My eldest brother looks over his shoulder. “You don’t have to. Just do it.”
Well, thanks. That really helps. I slump back onto the rock and hang my head. Rubbing my face with my hands, I raise my gaze just as six egrets take flight, flapping their wings to climb toward the clouds and disappear from view.
MY HOUSE IS STILL EMPTY by the time I get home, so I guess no one even noticed I was gone. I don’t see Mom and Johnny until the next morning, when I roll out of bed and head to the breakfast table. I haven’t eaten anything for almost a whole day, but I’m not hungry. As I push the increasingly soggy cereal around in my bowl, I lean my head on one hand and halfheartedly listen to the conversation around me.
My new stepdad is concerned about his job, which is totally irritating, but not at all surprising. Thankfully the fire’s out and the rig is capped, but that also means the replacement parts are already on their way and can be installed starting as early as tomorrow. It’ll take another few days for things to be tested and inspected, but the oil well should be back up to production levels within a week. Awesome.
Mom, on the other hand, is already planning my brothers’ memorial service. She’s freaking out because there are no bodies to wash, dress, or even bury, but for some reason, that still won’t stop tonight’s ceremonial feast we’ll have in their honor. She’s a stickler for tradition, I suppose. No matter how devastated she is right now, her priority is to make sure her boys’ souls can be properly reborn.
If she only knew how close to the truth our tribe’s myths really could be . . .
I want to save Mom from the sadness, tell her about last night at the Falls and the possibility my brothers can still be saved so she won’t have to unnecessarily worry. But is it fair to give her hope when I could be wrong? I saw everything with my own eyes and had a hard time believing it until I considered all the possibilities. Even then, I was pretty much fifty-fifty about being bat-crap insane, but Cody’s broken arm was the tipping point. I figured if it were all in my imagination, they would have all been healthy, right? Then again, my voice is still gone, which could be another sign that I did imagine everything. Ugh. Overthinking this is not helping.
Mom should be on her honeymoon, and I feel so bad for her, but all I can do is give her a quick hug before I disappear back into my room. I don’t even hope for any personal visits from Poppy or River today, so I play Xbox until I hear the guests start to arrive. After pulling on some dark leggings and a loose, equally monochrome top, I open my bedroom door only to quickly shut it.
Butter my bottom and call me toast! Why’s Lulu Smith standing at the end of my hallway?
I lean against the closed door and grit my teeth, figuring she’s here more for running into a certain blond hottie than to pay her respects to my family. I really haven’t felt like socializing with anyone today, and pretending to ignore her is definitely more than I can manage right now. Without giving it a second thought, I hurry across my room and push up the windowpane. Slipping over the ledge, I lower myself to the ground just a few feet below and count my lucky stars our house isn’t two stories.
Someone has brought back my quad bike, and I consider going to the Falls with the hopes of seeing my brothers again when an even better idea hits me. Although its importance didn’t click this morning, now I remember Johnny mentioning that the drill site would be basically shut down until tomorrow. He was saying something about letting all the guys have the time off since there’s nothing to do after the initial cleanup. Now, as I look around the front of our house, I see many familiar trucks and realize that the usual crew who’d be at the rig right about now is set to assemble in my living room. The well is virtually unprotected.
Taking off before I have the chance to talk myself out of it, I ride to the field and quickly confirm my hunch. I’m in luck; the gates are locked and the parking lot is empty. This will give me the perfect chance to check out the premises and see if there’s any way I can carry out Clayton’s directives. Wait, is this crazier than even the whole swan-brothers thing? I mean, I have many skills, but industrial sabotage isn’t one of them.
But they’re my brothers. So after I sneak through a hole in the chain-link fence, I head straight past the trailers to the site of yesterday’s explosion. My flats squish in the oily mud, making me totter along like a drunken goose. When I arrive, I see that the broken, metal frame of the rig is gone and only an empty platform remains. It’s been scrubbed clean, and apart from a few dents, it looks almost good as new.
Once Upon Now Page 16
