SURGE

by Donna Elliott

  While our treat cools, Mr. Miller cautions us about staying together and being safe. He’s met people in town a few times this week, and with the passing of days, many are becoming bolder about taking what they want. He suggests we consider moving to the commune because there’s safety in numbers.

  “But Mr. Willows said that there’re only a few adults living there; it’s mostly children,” says Raul. “So, of course they want us there. They get an ex-cop and a grown woman, along with all my firearms. All we get is a bunch of extra kids to feed and protect.”

  “The kids don’t have a choice in the matter,” says Kat, a bit defensively. “Isn’t it our ethical duty to care for them and teach them how to care for themselves?”

  “Not if it means that we all starve in the process,” counters Raul. “You saw that group. There are a bunch of needy girls over there. My dad didn’t want to take care of this entire town, and neither do I.”

  Offended by Raul’s comment, Kat’s jaw drops, and she stares in disbelief at Raul.

  To decrease the mounting tension, I redirect the conversation along a different topic. “Is that gang still causing problems in town?”

  Mr. Miller tilts his head from side to side before responding. “Jack and Reverend Hastings said there have been a couple of incidents at the compound, but nothing like at the hospital. It sounded a bit like when you kids were attacked.”

  He pumps a little sanitizer into his hand and then passes the bottle to his daughter, while Mom dumps the brownies onto a cooling rack and joins the discussion. “Jack said a few came by several days ago, but he was able to scare them off. He said that one or two of them must have climbed the fencing later that night though, because a couple of the chickens were suddenly missing.”

  “That place will attract all sorts of bad people,” says Raul. “We’re better off defending the little amount of food we have here, rather than being under attack constantly. Besides…what about Mya? Do you think she’ll be safe with all those people figuring out what she can do? You’re already exploiting her abilities by making her run the appliances and cook the food, what do you think other people will do to her?”

  This line of questioning brings the conversation to a halt. When no one says anything, I hop off the counter and grab a knife from the drawer. After cutting two large chunks from the treat, I pull off two paper towels and walk toward the stairs.

  “I’m going to check on Eric.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  When I get upstairs, the door to Eric’s room is closed. Unsure about disturbing him, I give in to my desire for advice and tap quietly on the door.

  “Eric? You awake? It’s me. Mya.”

  There’s no answer right away, but I hear a slight scuffling sound, so I knock again.

  “Eric? May I come in? I’ve brought you a brownie.”

  My answer comes in the form of a muffled whisper at the door. “Can you give me a few minutes, Mya. I’m in the middle of something.”

  “Sure. I’ll check back in a bit.”

  I turn to walk down the hallway, when an odd noise from behind the door causes me to stop. I’m certain that Eric isn’t alone. Worried that he may need some help, I decide to focus my senses inside his room.

  I’m startled by what I see and blink rapidly while planning my next move. My visual outline shows the intruder is standing by the far wall, near the window. In fear for Eric’s life, I reach for the doorknob, but it’s locked.

  “Eric?” I call out in a hurried whisper. “Either you open this door right now, or I will.” The other person scurries over to the windowsill. “And tell him not to move another inch, or I’ll blast him.”

  Both heads turn and stare at the bedroom door, and all activity inside the room stops. “You’re spying, Mya,” says Eric. “Go downstairs, and I’ll talk with you later. This is none of your business.”

  Wrong answer.

  “I’d better see you walking toward this door pretty quickly, or else I’ll blow it open. Is that what you want?”

  After only a couple of seconds, the door opens slightly, and I’m greeted with a look of exasperation. “What do you want?”

  I ignore the chilly reception and push my way into the room. In one swift movement, I close the door and spin around to face the other occupant.

  “What the hell are you doing here, Patrick? Trying to complete the job you didn’t finish last week? Starting with the injured one? Who’s next? Surely, you weren’t planning to take on Raul again.”

  I raise my hand and sparks flutter across my palm. “I think you should alter your plans. Why don’t you try a run at me first.”

  Patrick’s eyes are glued to my hand, and I watch as the color slowly drains from his face. My spark builds, and his eyes get bigger. “I…” he rasps, “I’m not…”

  I begin to advance toward him, but Eric latches on to my arm. Instantly, the current ceases to flow. “You’ve got it all wrong,” grumbles Eric. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Annoyed that he has, once again, muted my power, I yank my arm away and speak through gritted teeth. “I thought we agreed that you would never do that again.”

  “Well, that was before you barged into my room acting like a maniac and wanting to kill Patrick.”

  At the mention of his name, I turn my head for another look. To his credit, Patrick hasn’t moved an inch. Color is beginning to return to his face, but his breathing is still strained.

  “Tell me what’s going on, or I’ll scream for the others.”

  “Ok,” says Eric. “Let’s all sit down and discuss this calmly.” He pats the bed and motions for Patrick to join him. “Grab that chair and bring it over here, Mya. Then we’ll fill you in.”

  I reach out to take ahold of the chair and realize that I’ve smashed the brownies into a gooey glob. “Ugh,” I mutter. “This had better be good, Eric. I spent thirty minutes cooking this mushed up mess.”

  I set the napkins filled with chocolate sugar onto the bedside table and drag my seat across the room. Patrick has taken a position at the foot of the bed, far away from me, while Eric picks up his pillow and sits.

  “Patrick is here at my request,” says Eric. “He and I are working on a little project.”

  “What kind of project?”

  Having regained a bit of his self-confidence, Patrick waves his hand at me and says, “It’s not really any of your business, now is it?”

  Giving him my best look of contempt, I respond, “I wasn’t talking to you. When you’re needed, I’ll let you know by looking your way. Until then, keep your mouth shut, Mr. Juvenile Delinquent.”

  I turn back to Eric just in time to see him rub his face in frustration. “Mya, calm down. You’re being ugly, and there’s no reason. Patrick’s here to help.”

  I purse my lips and blink slowly. “Ok,” I say, pushing myself up from the chair and crossing over to my brownies. After placing one on the bed next to Eric, I take a bite of mine and return to my seat.

  Chewy chocolate fills my mouth, and I sigh with pleasure, just as Eric picks up his treat and gives half to Patrick. My irritation lessens when I see each of them take a bite and quickly go in for another.

  “How is he helping you?” I ask.

  Eric tosses his pillow behind him and leans against the wall. “He’s going to take me somewhere, and tonight is the best time to go.”

  I raise my eyebrows in question. “Tonight?” I lean forward and frown. “You were going to sneak out of the house tonight and leave with him, without telling any of us where you’re headed? Come on, Eric. You’re smarter than that.”

  Jerking my thumb toward Patrick, I continue. “I don’t trust him. He’s a liar and a troublemaker. Why would you want to go anywhere with him?”

  “I am not a liar,” snaps Patrick.

  Raising both hands into the air as a sign for nobody to speak, Eric grits his teeth and emits a small growl. “Mya! You don’t have to trust him, and I don’t care if you do. I’m going with him.”
<
br />   I lean back in my seat and cross my legs. “Ok. Where are you going?”

  “I don’t think that’s something that you need to know,” Eric says.

  “Well, I disagree. You’re still weak and recovering. I don’t want you to go off all alone with someone who may have attacked Raul. You won’t be able to defend yourself.”

  “This isn’t your decision to make,” says Eric as he tosses his napkin into the trash and stands. “We’ll be leaving in just a minute.”

  “Then, as your friend, I’m coming too,” I stand and say, “and we’re telling the others where we’re going.”

  I turn to Patrick. “If you have a problem with that, then you’re up to no good. Come downstairs, like a normal human being, and let everyone know why you’re here.”

  Looking at Eric for direction, Patrick silently shrugs.

  Eric takes a deep breath through his nose and gives me a death glare. I refuse to be cowed by him, and we enter a silent staring contest. After a full minute, he looks away and nods. Satisfied that he is doing the right thing, I toss my napkin into the trash and motion for them to precede me out of the room.

  ◌◌◌

  We enter the kitchen, and all heads turn. Mom stops washing the dishes, takes a hand towel from Kat, and steps forward. “Patrick,” she says. “When did you get here?”

  Jumping down from her seat upon the counter, Kat joins me and whispers, “Is everything ok?”

  “I think so,” I nod and say. “I believe there’s an announcement to make.”

  Stepping further into the room while scratching his head, Eric clears his throat to get everyone’s attention. “Patrick and I spoke earlier at the compound. I know that some of you don’t trust him, but I do. We’re getting ready to go to the urgent care clinic near Pleasanton.”

  “Tonight?” says Mom. “In the dark?”

  “Tonight,” agrees Eric. “I don’t want to waste any more time.”

  “Are you feeling worse?” asks Mr. Miller. “I thought you were healing up quite nicely.”

  “It isn’t me,” says Eric, as he waves his hand toward Patrick. “My sister Emily is at the clinic.”

  This is not what I expected, and I spin quickly toward Patrick. “How can that be true? She was shot. She died.”

  “She’s not dead,” says Patrick. “When I found her at the hospital, she was in really bad shape. I scooped her up and threw her into my car. I know someone from that clinic, and it isn’t too far, so I took her there.”

  Mom walks up to Eric, pulls him into a quick embrace, and steps back to look him in the eyes. “This is such wonderful news,” she says smiling. “Of course, you need to go. Do you want us to go with you?”

  Smiling back, Eric shakes his head. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think everyone needs to go.”

  Putting my hand on Eric’s arm to get his attention, I ask, “Please let me go too, Eric. Please?”

  Raul has been quiet up until now. “What?” he says. “Why do you need to go?”

  “I just do.”

  “Then I’ll go too,” he says.

  Until now, Patrick has seemed calm and disinterested in the exchange. With Raul’s latest comment, Patrick’s demeanor alters. “No,” he says. “My car, and I’m not taking you, Raul. If Eric doesn’t care, then Mya can come, but you can’t.”

  Raul’s face turns red before he responds. “I’ll go wherever I damn well please.”

  Standing his ground, Patrick shakes his head. “Nope. Not in my car. Not now, not ever.”

  The male bravado in the room is beginning to smell. I cross to Raul and place my hand on his chest. “Please, just stay here. I need to go. I want to see Emily. I need to see Emily.”

  Staring at me with a blank look, he reaches out his hand and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my left ear. Smiling at his silent reply, I lunge forward and give him a quick hug. “I’ll be back soon,” I whisper, “until then, you can give Kat some attention.”

  The corners of his mouth dip downward, and a dullness fills Raul’s eyes, but I fail to notice as I spin toward the others. “Is it ok then, Eric? Can I go too?”

  “I suppose so,” he says. “But I want to load up right now and head out.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  The ride out to the urgent care clinic takes less than an hour. Patrick is driving his father’s Cadillac, Eric’s riding shotgun, and I’m squished in a tiny, uncluttered space in the back. After about ten minutes, I disrupt the silence in the car and begin directing questions to Patrick.

  “You’re sure this is Emily?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “But she was shot, right?”

  “She was shot.”

  “And it didn’t kill her?”

  “Obviously not,” says Patrick.

  I look out the window and gather my thoughts. “Why didn’t you tell anyone that she’s alive? We were attacked weeks ago.”

  Watching the road, he distractedly answers, “Why would I tell you? You aren’t related to her. I went by her house, and no one was there. I learned later that her parents were killed, and I didn’t know that Eric was staying with Raul.”

  “So, you just kept her at the clinic?”

  He briefly takes his eyes off the road to glance over his shoulder at me. “I didn’t kidnap her or anything.” He returns his eyes to the front. “The clinic is the best place for her. Would you prefer that I’d left her in the hospital for those creeps to find?”

  “No!” I say quite emphatically. “I’m glad you got her out. I’m just a little confused. I was standing right next to her. I saw all the blood. I swear I thought she was dead.”

  Patrick shakes his head. “She’d lost some blood, but the doctor said she was mainly suffering from shock.”

  “Has she said anything?”

  “She talks.”

  “Come on, Patrick,” I say, “what does she talk about?”

  Movement from the front passenger seat is a reminder that Eric is awake and listening. “What does she talk about?” asks her brother.

  Patrick’s head bobbles slightly as he thinks about his response. “She actually just started talking a week or so ago. She asks about what happened. She asks for her parents, or you… She was crying a lot.”

  I let this sink in and stop asking questions. Poor Emily. Hurt and alone. In some clinic away from everyone she knows. If the tables were turned, and I were in her place, I think I’d cry a lot too.

  “When was the last time you saw her?” asks Eric.

  “Several days ago. The reverend keeps me pretty busy. He sees it as his God-given duty to make sure I stay out of trouble.” Looking in his rearview mirror at me, he verbally jabs, “…being a juvenile delinquent, and all that.”

  I roll my eyes and look at the passing scenery. It’s dark outside, but I feign interest.

  We drive a few more miles in silence before Patrick speaks up. “It’s my turn to ask questions now. What’s your deal, Mya?”

  “My deal?”

  “You know what I mean,” he says. “What’s the deal with your flashy palms?”

  “There’s no deal. It’s just how I am.”

  “Nobody’s just like that. I want to know how you made all those sparks.”

  “I’d like to know too,” I mumble.

  Without warning, Patrick pulls over to the side of the road and puts the car in park. “Cut the crap,” he says, pivoting around in his seat. “I want to know why your hand was flashing like that. I’m not driving another millimeter until you tell me.”

  I lower my eyelids halfway and give him a look that says he’s an idiot. I know that Patrick’s being helpful, and I know that I should be nice to him. I just can’t forget all his past transgressions, so I cock my head and snip, “If I actually can make electrical sparks with my hands, do you suppose it’s really wise to threaten me? Get back on the road before Eric has a nervous breakdown, and I’ll try to answer your questions.”

  With a dramatic huff, Patrick s
teps on the accelerator. “Ok, tell me.”

  Very bluntly, I say, “I’m an energy maker.”

  He waggles his fingers in the air. “A little more, please.”

  “I don’t really know much more. Since the night of the flare, I’ve become a human, electricity generator. As time goes by, the power keeps getting stronger and stronger.” I look out the window and shrug. “I’ll probably combust one day and just disappear off the face of the Earth.”

  “You make electricity? That’s not possible.” Looking to his right, he asks, “What is it really, Eric?…Eric?”

  When he slowly turns his head, I see that my friend’s face is stiff with worry. “What?” he distractedly asks.

  I reach forward and pat him on the arm. “Never mind. It isn’t important. Patrick and I were just talking. We know you’re more concerned about seeing your sister right now.”

  I move my head so that I can see Patrick in the rearview mirror, and I try to be a little nicer. “We’ll discuss it later. I’ll show you how it works.”

  I know he isn’t happy, but he nods his head in agreement and says to Eric, “Yeah, never mind. We’re almost there.”

  ◌◌◌

  Emily is leaning against the reception counter when we enter the clinic. At the sound of the door opening, she glances over her shoulder in interest. A huge smile covers her face when she sees Eric.

  Rushing forward, she bear-hugs her brother and squeals with delight. “Eric! Eric, you’re here! I can’t believe it! You’re here!” Pushing him back to arm’s length, she looks at him with teary eyes and then pulls him in for another long hug. “I’m so happy to see you!”

  Eric wraps his arms tightly around his sister and buries his face in her neck. He doesn’t say a word, but his breathing is loud, and I can tell he’s having trouble with his composure.

  After a minute, he steps backward and looks at Emily. “I really wanted Patrick to be right, but I still can’t believe it.”

  With the mention of his name, Emily looks at Patrick and smiles. “Thank you, Patrick. You’ve done so much for me; I feel like all I ever do is thank you.”