“What on earth?” she whispered to herself.
When the third attempt never came, she scrambled toward the door. Blinking hard, she used the door knob to help herself stand. Out the cracked window, her mother was still out of sight, but the last of the dogs headed across the field behind her backyard.
“MOM?” Jennie called out.
The rumbling faded, and the vibrations in her chest receded with the dogs. She pulled open the door and rushed onto their back deck. “Mom, where are you?”
When she reached the banister, she looked over the side. Her mom lay sprawled with one hand on the lattice. Blood gushed from Mom’s leg and her opposite arm. Jennie’s ears rang and flooded with every beat of her heart.
Jennie didn’t know how she got to the second floor of her house, but she found herself shaking her sleeping father. How had he slept through the rumbling? “Outside, it’s Mom…”
Her father leapt from the bed. Mickey, her little brother, lay asleep and undisturbed. Dad ran down the stairs and outside in his flannel pajama bottoms and white t-shirt. He scooped Mom up to his chest and carried her inside. Blood stained his shirt in crimson.
“Jennie, call 911!” Her father had said it at least three times before it finally registered in her brain.
She pulled the cell phone from her pocket, but it refused to connect. With a groan, she grabbed the cordless from the wall receiver, glad her heart stopped pounding in her head so she could hear.
“All operators are busy at this time,” a mechanical voice deadpanned, “Please stay on the line, and the next available operator will take your call.”
“They have me on hold, Dad. Should I hang up and try again?” She held the phone in both hands away from her face.
“No, just stay on the line.” Her father lifted the shredded jeans from Mom’s leg. “It looks like a shark bite. What on earth happened?”
Jennie took in the damage through tear-filled eyes. A huge chunk was taken from her mother’s calf, exposing the fibrous tendons that covered the bone in her leg. A bloodstain grew on the beige couch. Was she going to die? Panic rose up.
“What happened, Jennie?”
“I...I...They looked like lions, or dogs, or something. The rumbling shook the whole house…I tried to go outside to get Mom, but—” A sob blocked her throat.
Her father grabbed a throw pillow and held it against the leg. Mom’s exposed forearm laid across her chest in much the same condition as her calf.
“Grab me the duct tape.”
Jennie suddenly remembered the phone, put it back to her ear, and headed to the hall closet. She reached for the shelf above the jackets and grabbed the junk basket next to the toolbox.
“Please stay on the line. An operator will be with you shortly.”
She shoved the phone in the crook of her neck and fished through the box. Half the contents dropped around her feet. Who cares? When her fingers wrapped around the silver duct tape, a short-lived relief sent prickles down her arms. But the urgency gripped her chest in less than a heartbeat, and she threw the junk basket on the ground with the rest of the items.
“Hurry, Jennie!” her father called from the living room. “And turn on the TV. Maybe they’ll have something about what’s going on.”
She handed her father the tape and turned toward the TV. The mechanical voice on the phone came through again, followed by more easy listening.
When she clicked on the TV, the shouting and wailing began before the picture warmed up on the screen. A sideways picture of New York City broke through, with the shaky voice of the newscaster voicing over.
“What we are watching now – I can’t believe it – is live footage of Times Square,” the newscaster’s voice paused for a deep breath. “We’ve lost our man on the scene and his camera man to what appears to be some kind of new alien creature. Just a short half-hour ago, the doors to the ship that hovered above Central Park opened and these dog-like creatures flooded out.”
Jennie couldn’t pull her eyes from the screen. She straightened and dropped the phone on the hardwood. The battery popped out and skidded across the floor.
“GET YOUR BROTHER, JENNIE, AND take the Civic. I’ll take your mom to the hospital in the minivan.”
“Okay.” Something to do. Good. She could do this. When under stress, a task kept her from having to think. She darted back up the stairs.
The front door slammed shut. Her body stiffened. A fog of panic threatened to consume her. She closed her eyes and forced herself to take six deep breaths. She needed to gain some control. When her heart no longer flooded her ears with blood, she opened her eyes once more.
Dappled sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains in her parent’s bedroom. She peered down at her brother’s angelic face and wished she could let him sleep through all this. “Mickey, you’ve got to get up.”
Her five-year-old brother opened his eyes half-way and scrunched his nose. He started to turn over, but she shook her head.
“No, Mickey, you really need to get up. Mom’s hurt, and we have to go to the hospital.”
“What? Mom?”
Nothing gets a five-year-old boy out of bed faster than telling him something’s wrong with his mommy. Jennie forced a smile—she needed to remain calm for him. “Yes, Mickey. You need to get dressed fast, because we’ve got to go.”
“Okay.” He nodded and headed toward their parent’s master bath, rubbing his eyes.
While he was taking care of business, the minivan revved up in the driveway. Jennie glanced out the window and watched her father swing into the street, tires screeching. Her chest tightened.
“Can I get breakfast?” Mickey asked behind her, amid a yawn.
“I’ll grab you a Pop-Tart while you change into your jeans, okay?”
“Mom always gets my clothes for me.”
She clenched her fists. They didn't have time for this! But not wanting to frighten Mickey more, she managed a smile. “No prob, Bob.”
Mickey smiled at Jennie’s rhyme and headed toward his bedroom. She grabbed a long-sleeve shirt and jeans from his dresser and placed them on the bed.
“Do you need help getting dressed?
“No. I’m a big boy.”
“Of course you are,” she said and headed out the bedroom. The urgency still pricked at her heart, and she raced down the stairs. Determined to stay focused, she placed a Pop-Tart in the toaster. The shiny surface caught her eyes. Her face was distorted—alien-like–staring back at her. When the toaster popped, she jumped.
“Okay, I’m ready.” Her brother walked in, proud of himself. His shirt was on backwards, and one of his white socks covered the jeans on his leg.
“Pretty much.” She gritted her teeth. Just one more thing to slow them down. She straightened his pants leg and pulled the shirt off his arms to turn around on his neck. Mickey didn’t complain. He took the minor corrections while sniffing over her shoulder.
“Can I have some milk with the Pop-Tart?”
“Sure thing.” Sighing, Jennie poured the milk into a Sippy-cup.
“Hey! I don’t drink from those. I’m not a baby.”
She made an effort to not raise her voice. “I know you’re not a baby, Mickey, but we’ve got to take this milk to go. I don’t want you to spill it in the car, okay?”
He narrowed his eyes. “O…kay.”
Jennie grabbed the Pop-Tart with a paper towel. It was too hot yet for her brother, so she held on to it. As they reached the foyer, Mickey started to slip on his shoes.
“Can you tie them for me?”
Jennie couldn’t help but think, I thought you were a big boy. Can’t you do it yourself? Instead she just handed him the Pop-Tart saying, “Don’t eat it yet. It’s too hot.”
She bent down and tied his shoes.
With a deep breath, Jennie headed out the front door. A strange sound flooded the air. The way cicadas sometimes ruled the summer, or the way crickets ruled the night, a far-off rumble wavered in and out. The lion-dog
s. She shook her head and put a quick turn on the handle lock but left the deadbolt undone. What difference would it make?
She swallowed hard, fearing that the noise might draw closer, but it remained unchanged as Jennie headed toward the gray Honda Civic. Mickey’s booster seat leaned against her passenger back tire where her father left it from the minivan. She marveled that he had remembered it. She set the booster seat in the back of the car and helped her brother up.
“Where are we going?” he finally asked.
“The hospital, remember? I told you Mom was hurt.” Her ear continued to strain toward the rumbling in the background, a distant thunder that kept going on and on, unchanged.
“What happened to Mom?”
“She got hurt in the garden, so Dad took her to the hospital in the minivan.” She finished buckling the seat and nodded to the Pop-Tart in his hand. “You can eat that now.”
Mickey looked at the pastry, as if he’d forgotten that he held it. He took a hearty bite, washing it down with milk from the whistling Sippy-cup.
Jennie closed the car door. The breeze picked up and rustled through the trees. The treetops were already turning orange and brown as if it were fall. The colder weather caused by the sun even confused nature.
Goosebumps rose on her arms under her windbreaker. She rushed around to her side of the car. After buckling in, she took a deep breath and steadied her rapidly beating heart. She started the car.
Music blared for half a second before Jennie punched the steering wheel control with her thumb to reduce the noise. The light music and the sound of the engine finally drowned out the rumbling in the background. Her gas light came on. She glanced at the gauge. It still had a few miles left in the tank. She didn’t have the time or inclination to stop for gas. It would just have to make it there.
She backed the car out of the driveway and headed toward J. Clyde Morris Boulevard. In her mind, she reviewed how to get to Riverside Hospital and hoped that she wouldn’t hit many lights on the way. Because of Mickey, she was over half an hour behind her father.
As she pulled out onto the main thoroughfare, the street scene reminded her of news footage of battle-scarred roadways in far off places like Afghanistan. Cars were caterwauled across the street and some on top of the sidewalk. The horns of car alarms blared. Bodies littered the street. Too much. She weaved around it all but really wanted to shut her eyes.
Nausea churned the pit of her stomach. Even though the news claimed that one third of the world’s population had been killed, she really didn’t know anyone personally who had died. The bodies in front of her made this real.
And her mother.
Jennie gripped the steering wheel, losing feeling in the tips of her fingers. Fear and panic took hold. She had to keep it together for Mickey. A quick glance in her rearview mirror showed him playing with the Sippy-cup and nibbling at the pastry. He didn’t lift his head to look out the windows.
She turned up the radio, hoping to drown out some of the sirens and car alarms. A Toyota Forerunner wrapped around a pole, the light flashing yellow. The appearance dizzied her, and she nearly missed her left turn on Route 17.
“We’re almost there,” she announced in as cheery a voice as she could muster.
“Good! I want to see Mommy.”
“I just have to find a parking space.” As Jennie pulled into the hospital, she found the parking lot crowded worse than the streets on the drive over. It overflowed with cars. By the emergency room entrance, the cars were left abandoned with doors wide open. People had parked sideways in the lot and taken up more than one space. Some trucks and SUVs were parked over curbs and in the grass.
Chaos. She automatically searched for the blue minivan, but soon gave up. So many cars. Jennie parked in the grass near the back of the lot. She threw off her seatbelt and took a deep breath before turning in her seat to her brother. “Can you get unbuckled yourself?”
Mickey set aside the Sippy-cup and pulled the fasteners. He moved much faster than Jennie’s unpracticed hands could.
“Good. Now climb over the console so you can come out my door, okay?”
“Okay!”
Outside the car, the distant noises continued on the breeze—the rumbling, the car horns. Mickey slipped his hand into hers and concentrated on stepping off the curb so he wouldn’t trip. They started toward the five-story white building, and she hoped things were going to be all right. A car whipped in front of the entrance, and two people got out, covered in blood. Jennie had yet to see an ambulance.
Her heart raced faster as she neared the open emergency room entrance doors. She eyed them, fearing they would close when she walked through with her brother.
Injured people crowded the room. Not a seat was empty. Moans and sobs filled the air. The coppery scent of blood overpowered the clinical, hospital smell. Jennie wanted to hold her breath.
As she tried to step forward, Mickey pulled on her arm. His eyes were wide and horrified, his feet frozen in place. Would he sit down right there in the entrance? “Are you okay?”
“I don’t wanna go in there.” Mickey shook his head from side to side, his wide eyes fixed on the mayhem.
She swallowed her fear and put on a smile. “I don’t want to go either, Mickey, but Mom is hurt. And, she’s in here.”
Tears welled in his eyes, and his bottom lip quavered.
“Do you want me to carry you?” Jennie asked.
Mickey didn’t say a word, just nodded and lifted his arms.
Jennie picked him up, and her brother clung to her as she continued into the room. Occupied gurneys cluttered the walls of the hall. She searched the area for her parents but didn’t see either. Four uninjured people stood in line at the desk, and Jennie stepped up behind them.
“I been waitin’ here for forty-five minutes! Somebody gonna see my son, and I mean NOW!” The heavyset lady at the front of the line slammed her hand on the counter, causing Mickey to shudder in Jennie’s arms.
“I have told you three times, Mrs. Sawyer. Someone will be with your son as soon as possible.”
“That ain’t fast enough.”
“It’s the best I can do.”
“But he could bleed to death.” Mrs. Sawyer’s voice cracked.
“I’m sorry, but we’ll get to him as soon as possible.”
Mrs. Sawyer sobbed in response and walked toward one of the people who lay on a gurney against the wall. Blood stained the sheet that covered him, and it dripped off the corner to a sticky puddle on the floor.
The next person in line spoke so softly that Jennie couldn’t hear her.
“Room 306,” the nurse said in response, and the lady rushed toward the elevators.
The man in front of Jennie stepped up to the desk. “My name’s Earl, and I brought in a guy who was attacked by one of those alien dogs at the grocery store. I don’t know his name, but he’s sitting right there.”
Earl pointed to the guy in a seat near the desk. The man's blood spilled from his neck, reddening his arm. “Can you make sure he gets some help?”
Before the nurse could even answer, Earl walked away.
“Sir? Sir!” The nurse called after him.
Earl sped up to a half-jog and bolted out the stagnant glass doors.
“How am I supposed to fill out this paperwork and get this done?” The nurse mumbled to herself and shuffled through the papers in front of her. When she looked up at Jennie, she snapped, “What can I do for you?”
“We’re looking for Maggie Ransom.” Jennie rushed through the words. “My dad should have brought her in about an hour ago?”
The nurse tapped some keys on the computer in front of her. “Margaret Ransom?”
“Yes,” Jennie said, relived.
“Room 309.”
“Thank you.” Jennie headed for the elevators.
“Thank you,” Mickey repeated.
Jennie smiled in spite of herself.
WAILING BEGAN THE MOMENT THE elevator doors opened to the third floo
r. It came from every direction and from every room. Moaning and screaming like she’d never heard before. Mickey’s little fingernails dug into her shoulder, as she remained rooted to the spot.
The blood drained from Jennie’s face, and the elevator doors began to close again. A ding woke her from her freeze. She reached out her free arm and stopped the doors. With tentative steps, she got out before it could close again on her. The sounds of suffering made the panic in her chest rise again.
A man stepped out of a room halfway down the hall. He moved slowly as if he was in great pain, and his face was swollen and red. Pink foam, blood mixed with saliva, accumulated in the corners of his mouth.
Jennie found herself frozen again.
“Sir, you need to go back into your room and lie down. Sir!” The nurse darted around the desk across the hall and marched toward him.
She was a large black woman, wearing peach-colored scrubs with Snoopy on them. Her hands were on her hips, and her face was twisted with an impatient look. She almost towered over the bent man. He groaned, his deep voice joining the chorus of others.
“Sir!” The nurse admonished him and reached a hand toward his shoulder.
Jerking an arm out like a snake, the man gripped her hand and bit down. The nurse screamed and started beating the man over the head with her free arm, but he refused to let go. From three doors down, a woman came out and locked eyes with Jennie. The woman’s face had the same swollen look, the same foam, and a clump of her hair had been torn out. She limped in Jennie’s direction, dragging her left leg behind her. Jennie tightened her grip on her brother.
The nurse yelled obscenities.
Desperate for escape, Jennie backed into the cold elevator door and felt for the button. She didn’t want to take her eyes off the woman, but she couldn’t find the button without looking.
“I’ll get it,” Mickey said over her shoulder, as he reached down and hit the button.
The elevator had not moved yet, and the doors pinged open instantly. Jennie backed into the metal elevator and began jamming the “close door” button with her thumb. She hit it over and over as the woman drew closer. Jennie switched to hitting the “lobby” button, and after an excruciating three seconds, the door drew closed like a curtain between her and the foaming woman.
Sanctuary Page 2
