by Kevin Guest
**Severe Thunderstorm Warning: Southern Dallas and Northern Ellis County**
Perfect, she thought. She gleefully scanned the troubled skies as she made her way to the snack bar. Inside, Jessie was preparing dinner. Amy popped her head in the door. “I think you need some fresh air!”
She walked around to the front and pulled the wooden doors open, exposing the snack bar to the wind. Jessie smiled; the wind blew her hair into her face. It was a welcome relief. The temperature inside the snack bar was well into the nineties. The cool breeze made cooking enjoyable, rather than a chore.
Amy smiled, then walked over to the large pavilion. Though it was made out of metal, she did not fear the storm. She sat there, relaxed, more relaxed than she had been in months. Somehow being there, as horrible a place as it was, was in itself a vacation. None of her schoolwork, family troubles, boy troubles, or financial troubles followed her. In that brief moment, she even enjoyed the loss of her abilities. It allowed her mind to be free.
Amy followed the clouds with her eyes. As the sun was setting, it illuminated their ever-changing design. Why do people question if there is a God? she thought. How can one look at a marvel, such as a storm, or even a cloud for that matter and doubt? Nothing, in all of human history, even comes close to the size and scale of one small storm cell. The power and might of a basic run-of-the-mill thunderstorm is greater than all of the power plants combined. Humans are blind and arrogant when it comes to the world. They feel mighty and powerful, that they have conquered the world, that they alone can decide its destiny. Such arrogance, she thought.
The storm seemed to be gaining strength. Deafening sounds of thunder came rolling in as lightning danced across the sky. At first Amy liked the wind, but its intensity was magnified under the large pavilion.
A few moments later, she stood and walked back to the snack bar. “Mind if I get a soda?”
Jessie was busy cutting up fresh vegetables, making some sort of pasta dish. She looked up and pointed to the prices listed just above her. “Sure, what size?”
“Hmmm, I’ll take a small Coke.”
Jessie put down the knife, turned, and retrieved a small Styrofoam cup. She filled it with ice and soda, and then placed it on the counter. “One dollar please.”
Amy reached into her pockets and turned them inside out. “Looks like I am a bit short.”
Jessie looked at her and said playfully, “Well, I have already prepared your product. I cannot take it back now; it appears you will have to do some work to pay off your debt.”
Amy bit her lip. “Yes ma’am; what must I do?”
Jessie motioned for her to come behind the counter. “Come on now.”
Amy felt a sense of excitement, not knowing what Jessie was alluding to. She liked not knowing what was going to happen.
Jessie stepped back and leaned against the wall, smiling, and pointing at the bell peppers and onions. “Go on, get to work!”
Inside the house, Fletcher had made his way upstairs to check on Mary. The light from the outside separated the darkness as the door was slowly opened. The invading light illuminated the paintings, furniture, walls, ceiling, floor, and trinkets. The floor creaked as he walked across it. The room was cold enough to be a refrigerator. He was unsure if it was the air conditioning or something else. Come to think of it, he did not remember seeing an air conditioner. The house was far cooler than the outside, but this room was different; it was like ice. He remembered his footsteps being louder before. Now room seemed to be absorbing the sound. He felt as if he was walking into a queen’s chamber.
Eerie, he thought to himself. He walked over, slowly, cautiously, careful to make as little sound as possible. As he approached her, she lay on her stomach, her hands buried under the pillow, which was folded into a triangle for neck support.
From her backside, he reached down and placed his hand in front of her nose. Her breathing was slow, but her breath was warm. He carefully felt her wrist. Though her pulse was slow, it was not a reason for concern yet. After pausing a moment to take in the surroundings, Fletcher decided to feel her forehead. “Ah yes,” he said quietly. She was running a fever, a rather nasty one. Something had happened while they were away. So it was not their imagination, he thought.
He nodded in pity. Whatever she had gone through had exhausted her body. She neither twitched nor snored. At this point he could make all the noise he wanted to; she was not going to wake.
As he walked to the door, he looked back. “You should not be here. It was wrong of Anderson to have brought you.”
He exited the room and closed the door. Had he been able to see her face, he would have seen her eyes were wide open. Though she wanted to scream for help, she could not; she was a prisoner in her own body.
Amy had never cut up vegetables before. In her family, if it did not come from a box or can, it was not on the menu. Even at Christmas and Thanksgiving the menu held. The buffet was full of boxed mashed potatoes, boxed dressing, canned green beans, canned yams, canned corn, salad by the bag; deserts premade by the bakery, and prebaked rolls. The turkey and ham were bought hot from a local barbeque restaurant; even the eggnog and deviled eggs were purchased at the store.
Laughing, she picked up the knife and carefully began cutting the vegetables. Her speed and styled lacked any kind of culinary knowledge.
“Pick it up, wench!” Jessie playfully yelled.
Amy turned. The sight of Jessie relaxing and drinking her soda made her playfully angry. “And what if I refuse?”
“Then you get no Coke!”
She turned back. “Yes sir.”
“Do I look like a boy to you?”
She turned. “Yes ma’am, I meant.”
Jessie smiled wide, “Keep up the sarcasm and you will be doing dishes, too, and believe me, I am not kind to my pots!”
Amy’s eyes began to water; the sulfur in the onions was strong. However, after a few painful minutes, she was done. She turned back. “I have finished your task. Now, may I now have my soda?”
Jessie pushed off the wall and reviewed her subject’s work. “Why, I do believe you will make a fine wife one day!” She walked over, filled a new cup with ice and soda, and then placed it on the counter. Amy reached for it, but Jessie smacked her hand. “Only employees can drink in the snack bar!”
Amy smiled, walked out of the kitchen and around to the front. There, Jessie handed her the soda. “You have earned it, but next time bring cash!”
Amy bowed to her. “Maybe I will and maybe I will not!” Just then, her cell phone went off again. She pulled it out to review the message:
