◌◌◌
I’m unsure how long I’ve been in my huddled state. At some point, exhaustion replaced my tears, and I fell asleep. I’m awake now, but my head is still foggy, and I need a plan for getting back to my mom and the others.
A sudden warm breath on the back of my neck sends my hands slamming into the ground, and I launch myself two feet across the yard. Looking up to view my attacker, I lock gazes with a dark chocolate labrador.
A crazed giggle escapes my lips. I lift a shaky hand and hold my palm out to the dog, but it doesn’t move. “Hey,” I whisper and beckon with my fingers, “come here, doggie. It’s ok, I won’t hurt you.”
Tentatively, it moves forward until it’s standing by my side. I reach out and let it sniff me. Then very slowly, I move my hand to its head and give an easy caress. After a few minutes, it lowers its body next to mine and places its head in my lap.
Mindlessly, I pet the animal, and in return it comforts me. When the dog rolls to its back for additional attention, I notice the collar on its neck and see a tag that says, “Charlie.”
“Hi, Charlie,” I coo and bend over to give the dog a tender hug. “Good boy…is this your home?”
I rub his head and move my hand down his neck and back. “You look hungry. If this is your home, there should be some food inside for you. Should we go look?”
Charlie’s ears perk up with the higher pitch of my voice, and he stands. Feeling able to join him, I slowly rise, and the two of us return to the backyard.
I’m pretty sure this is Charlie’s house, for there’s a doggie door leading inside. Finding the outer knob unlocked, I ease the backdoor open, and wondering if people are here, I call out. “Hello? Is anyone home?”
My vision adjusts quickly to the dimness of the interior, and I notice an odd odor in the house. Directly ahead, an ironing board is set up, and a middle-aged woman is slumped on the carpet. I rush forward and squat down to see if she might need help, but immediately, I see that’s not the case. Her dead eyes stare at the neighboring wall, and her blackened hand grips a now useless iron.
Charlie comes over for a quick sniff, then walks past me and disappears around a corner. It’s been several days since the flare, so I think it’s safe to assume this house is unoccupied. I can’t imagine that a family member would just leave this woman here. I don’t have the courage to touch her, so I follow Charlie down the hallway and find a little, tidy kitchen.
On the floor are several large pans holding a small amount of water. Charlie must have been keeping himself hydrated with this supply. Next to the pantry sits an empty food bowl.
“Is your food in here, Charlie?” I ask, opening the pantry door then seeing a large bag of dog chow on the ground. Charlie’s tail wags, and he spins around in circles a few times when I open the bag.
While he eats, I scan the pantry for a little human nourishment. Dazed from everything I’ve endured, I rip open a bag of beef jerky and gnaw chunks of the salty meat. A bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos catches my eye, and I pull it from the shelf.
I turn around and see a reflection of myself in the black glass of the oven door and take a step backward. My view isn’t clear, but I can see that my face is filthy, and my hair has pieces of something in it.
“Do I wanna know what that is?” I ask myself while shaking my head in the negative. “Just find something to drink.”
A rotten stench emits upon opening the refrigerator door, but I notice several bottles of water on the shelf, so I hold my breath and transfer three containers to the counter. I open one and swallow the contents in seconds.
Next, I begin searching for supplies I might need to help me get to the barn. After looking through the pantry and kitchen drawers, I find a couple of cloth shopping bags that I can use to carry food and water.
I decide to waste a little time by looking for a bathroom. I relieve myself, then risk a glance in the mirror. Minutes pass as I stand and stare. The blood and gore that speckles my face brings to mind Emily’s traumatic death, and a shiver rushes down my arms and back.
I turn my eyes from the mirror and notice a tub filled with fresh water. Slowly, I move toward it. I kneel down and reach my right hand over the side. The water is still, and I pause when my fingers make first contact.
Without thinking, I close my eyes, bend over, and plunge my head beneath the clear liquid. Coming up for air, I reach for the soap holder and connect with a coconut-scented bar. I twist the piece in my hands to form lather and scrub my face and neck.
Again, I hold my breath and dunk my head. The cold water brings small chill bumps to my skin, but I’m determined to rid myself of the blood and grime. I rinse until the soap is removed, and I’m tired of leaning over the side.
Wiping the excess water from my eyes, I turn and sit against the tub. A hand towel hangs from a rack on the wall, so I reach out and pull it to me. I wrap the towel around my head and squeeze out some of the excess water.
In search of a brush and rubber band to tie back my hair, I paw through the vanity drawers, but pause momentarily when I find a compact hair dryer. Picking it up, I whisper to the machine, “It’d be nice if you worked.”
Before I can put it down, the dryer’s motor begins a light hum, and hot air hits my arm. I’m so startled that I drop the device onto the bathroom floor and scream. I look at the cord and see that it is still nestled in the drawer with a few other items.
“What the hell is happening?” I cry out.
I’m beginning to feel pretty stressed and think I may be losing my mind. Cautiously, I bend over and retrieve the dryer. Within seconds, the air begins to flow. I blink a few times and drop the item into the drawer. “I can’t deal with this!” I shout at the ceiling. “I need to get home. I want my mom. I don’t want to be some crazy, electric girl.”
I slam the drawer shut and take a few deep breaths to calm myself. When I exit the bathroom, Charlie is sitting in the hallway.
Squatting down, I rub the dog behind his ears, while I talk to him. “It’s ok, boy,” I say. “I’m ok. I just need to keep moving. What should I do with you? I can’t just leave you here.” His sweet, dark eyes look at me, and my decision is made. “Do you want to come with me?”
He’s a friendly dog, and his tail twitches rapidly.
With my mind made up, I head into the kitchen and dump some of the dog food, along with the human food, into my bag. Pointing my finger at Charlie, I teasingly admonish him, “No Doritos for you, dog. That’s my special treat for still being alive.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The sun has nearly set by the time I’m preparing to leave Charlie’s house and walk to the barn. I’m struck with the idea of looking for a set of keys, thinking that surely the owner of this home has a car. I walk to the front room, pull the curtains back, and see the outline of a mid-sized vehicle in the driveway.
I begin searching nearby coffee tables and decide to return to the kitchen to look around. Hanging on the wall beside the garage door is a hook holding a key ring, and elation fills me while I hastily snatch the coveted item.
“Let’s see if these work!” I say to Charlie. “If they do, we’ll take your entire bag of dog food with us…I’ll even look around and see if you’ve got some toys, ok?”
Fumbling with the keys, I manage to unlock the front door. I pull it closed behind me and sneak over to a white Nissan Altima. The large, black handled key slips into the slot and springs the lock. I release a huge sigh and return to the house for my supplies and Charlie.
With the bag of dog food in one hand, the sacks containing various snacks and dog toys over my shoulder, and beef jerky in my other hand, I lead Charlie to the driver’s side of the car. I toss a strip of the dried meat into the passenger front seat, and Charlie jumps in. I sit down behind the wheel and place the additional items on the floorboard.
Now the fun part begins. I’ve had a couple of driving lessons, but they were in mom’s car. I’ve never driven any other vehicle, so it takes me a couple of
minutes to get situated. With the seat adjusted so that I can actually reach the pedals, I stick the key in the ignition and give it a twist.
To my utter relief, the engine turns over, and I put the car in reverse. Still fearful of the group that has taken over the hospital, I cautiously make my way down the street without using the headlights.
Charlie must feel my tension, for he quietly whines when I stop to look for any oncoming vehicles. I reach over and give him a short caress before stepping on the gas again. I plan on staying away from Main Street. I’m going to drive down some of the side streets until I make my way over to the road connecting to the DeLaPortilla’s land.
◌◌◌
It’s taken me nearly half an hour, but I’ve crossed to the other side of town and am finally at the edge of Raul’s property. Even at a snail’s pace, the intersection is difficult to find in the dark. I pause momentarily while looking for the headlight switch and am rewarded with a view of the gravel drive.
Feeling that the worst of the day is behind me, I turn to the dog and blabber. “We’re going to be ok now, Charlie. You’ll see. It’s not much further now.”
The car bounces down the road and jostles us in our seats.
“I’m sorry about your owner…I’m sorry that I’m messing up her car, but I’m glad you’re here with me right now…I’ll take care of you, I promise…You’re going to be alright…We’re…going to be alright.”
Charlie doesn’t make a sound. His sad eyes just look at me, and when I rejoice at the sight of the barn, he lurches slightly toward me.
“We’re here,” I say with a teary-eyed smile. “We’ve made it; we’re here.”
◌◌◌
Mr. Miller emerges from the barn just as I park the car. Confusion and uncertainty show on his face, until I open the door. “Mya?” he asks. “You’ve been gone all day.”
My mother steps outside and looks relieved that I’ve returned. I’m thrilled to see her, and I rush forward. “Mom!” I scream and throw my arms around her waist. She squeezes me and touches my head.
“Your hair’s wet Mya,” she says with concern. “What’ve you been doing? Where are the Eisenbeises?”
With this last question, I know that I’m the only one to have gotten out of the hospital today. Even though I know they aren’t here, my need to see Emily’s parents is great. So, I frantically pull away from Mom and run into the barn.
Heads turn toward me, and all conversation stops when I enter. “Please,” I faintly mumble while glancing around. “Please be here…please.”
My gaze fixes on Eric, and like a magnetic attraction, I can’t look away. A deluge of tears quickly blurs my vision and travels down my cheeks. Kat and Raul rush to my side, but my attention stays locked on Emily’s brother. Cautiously, he too comes to stand before me.
“Mya?” Eric whispers with such tenderness. “Are you ok?”
In my dazed state, I’ve become mute. Still looking at Eric, my lips tremble, and I give a small sniff. I blink, but my vision remains distorted. Unable to answer the question, I break the connection and turn toward Raul.
Strong arms wrap around me and pull me into a protective embrace. Raul’s cheek touches my hair, and I feel the warmth from his body. I wrap my arms around his waist, turn my head into his chest, and breathe in his scent. Gentle hands move up and down my arms and back. Fingers lightly massage my neck, and my tension lessens. I close my eyes and sink into the hug.
◌◌◌
A soft nudge to my leg gets my attention, and I bend down to lovingly grasp Charlie around his neck. I look into his eyes and pet his head.
“I’m sorry boy; I forgot about you.” I continue to run my fingers through his soft fur while introducing him to the others. “This is Charlie,” I whisper. “We were both scared and all alone, but then we found each other.”
Kat squats down next to me and rubs her hand down Charlie’s back. “I brought some food for him,” I mumble. “I’ll give him back, if his owners show up, but if they don’t, then I’m keeping him.” I lightly hug him again and try to smile. “Right, Charlie?”
I sit down, and the dog lay his head in my lap. Mom crouches down behind me and caresses my hair. “Mya?” she quietly asks. “Please tell us what’s upset you so much. Why were you scared? Where are the others?”
Still looking down and petting the dog, I answer with a sniff and slight raise of my left shoulder. “Dead,” I quietly offer, “Almost everyone at the hospital is dead.”
A rush of movement occurs around me, as everyone crowds in and begins asking for an explanation. With a burst of strength, Eric pushes Kat out of his way and grabs my arms. “What are you talking about!” he demands. “Who’s dead?”
Unable to look at him, I keep my focus locked on the dog. The weight of my head pulls on my neck, making it difficult to swallow. I shake my hair and flinch at the volume of Eric’s voice. His grip tightens, and he shakes me a couple of times. “Mya!” he shouts. “Where’s my family!”
Sounds buzz around, as Mom moves in to protect me, and Kat lunges to pull Eric away. “Give her some space,” someone says. “Move back.”
“You move!” he yells, “I wanna know where my family is!...Mya!…Where are they?”
Again, feet shuffle on the floor around me, but my eyes see only the dog.
Mom’s soothing arms encircle and shield me from the others. “Mya, honey,” she coaxes, “who’s dead?”
Gradually, my chin lifts, but my eyes remain downcast. Someone hands me an opened bottle of water, and I take a sip. I reach up to tuck my hair behind my ear and slowly raise my eyes.
Kat’s father is holding Eric in a tight bear hug. The young boy’s mouth hangs open, and his breathing is ragged. His face is a blotchy red, and his eyes are pooled with tears. “Mya,” he slowly pleads, “where are they?”
I lick my lips and wipe my face. “A bunch of people with guns attacked the hospital,” I voice bluntly. “They came in trucks, ran inside, and shot almost everyone. They killed Emily.”
Jerking backward, as if he’d been hit, Eric releases a horrified wheeze. With a crack in his voice, he asks, “And my parents?”
I tilt my head toward the ceiling and bite the side of my lower lip. Closing my eyes and struggling for courage to continue, I breathe out slowly. “I’m not sure. Maybe they got out.”
I open my eyes and return my gaze to Emily’s brother. As I watch, all the color drains from Eric’s face, and his body slumps against the man restraining him.
After lowering Eric to the floor, Mr. Miller sits down and asks me to summarize the day’s events. No one moves or makes a sound while I describe how the unknown group came into the hospital and murdered many of the staff, visitors, and patients.
Continuing my monologue, I explain why Emily and I split up, and how she wanted to save people. I describe being taken hostage and sneaking out of the cafeteria.
Following a brief pause to wipe my nose, I take another shaky breath and grimace when I see the suffering on Eric’s face. “I ran into Emily again after I escaped the first time. Then two guys came up, and one of them just shot her. I’m sorry. I couldn’t do anything. I…”
A mask of incomprehension covers Eric’s face.
“I’m so sorry,” I repeat. “They’d taken me downstairs. They said they wanted to keep some of the young people alive to work for them. Emily was supposed to get out. She said she was going to try to get to the fire escape, but then she had to hide.”
I keep eye contact with Eric as I finish my account. “I don’t know what happened to your parents. I didn’t stay in the cafeteria very long. It’s possible they weren’t there.”
Beside me, Kat releases a quiet wail and reaches for her brother. At the same time, Raul grips his hands together tightly and releases a loud huff of air.
Mr. Miller motions for everyone to calm down, then takes a small notebook from his pocket and begins asking questions. He wants to know any conversations that I overheard, along with descript
ions of people and vehicles. He asks what clothes Emily and the Eisenbeises were wearing, and then asks Eric what his address in town is.
“Several truckloads of people showed up?” Mr. Miller asks. “About how many, do you think?”
I look toward the ground while I mentally count the number of attackers.
“I guess there are probably around twenty people in their group. The leader is an older man with a beard and a cowboy hat. I heard him say that he wanted four people stationed on every floor once things calmed down, and he wants to use the cafeteria, so he wanted it cleaned up.”
A memory hits me, and I add, “Patrick, Miguel, and Marcus were there. They had guns and were working with the group. Well, I mean, Miguel and Marcus had guns. But Patrick was there too, and he was with the group.”
Although I’m exhausted, anxiety tightens my chest, and I begin talking to myself. “How could they be there? Why would they help those people? Do they hate our town that much?”
Looking for an answer, I turn to Raul. His face seems tense and pale, so I haltingly look around the room. Kat has a tight grip on Matthew’s hand, and both look scared. Other than Mr. Miller and my mom, there are no adults. Frowning, I ask, “Where are the others?”
Raul swallows, then slowly and quietly he says, “They’re at the hospital.”
“What?!” I ask in a panic, looking at my friends. “Since when? Why?”
Softly and with little emotion Raul explains, “Ma fell off the ladder and broke her arm just after you left, so Pa and Mrs. Miller took her to find a doctor.”
Images of death and violence flood my mind, and I clutch my hands to my chest. “No, no,” I say to myself. “Not them too.”
Mr. Miller stands and walks over to the section of the barn where he and his wife sleep. With a slight tremor of his hand, he retrieves his jacket and slips the small tablet into his shirt pocket.
Calling to my mom, he says, “Elsa, I need you to stay here with the kids. I’m going to check the station house and see if they have any more information. I’ll come back here as soon as I can, but I need you all to stay here where it’s safe.”
SURGE Page 11
