The Last Orphans

by N.W. Harris

  So exhausted he feared he’d fall asleep on his feet if he didn’t keep moving, Shane made his way to the metal door through which Tracy and Aaron exited. He refused to lie down until they returned safely, wishing he’d gone with Tracy instead of sending Aaron. But he recalled a game last year when he’d chosen not to pass to an open receiver and ran the ball into the in-zone himself. In spite of the points Shane earned making the play, Coach scolded him for rushing the ball and not using his team. A true leader was not afraid to have faith in his team, Coach said. Shane had to trust Aaron and Tracy would be safe, and he was better off here, protecting the kids.

  Turning the knob on the door, he pushed it outward slightly. The wind whistled around the edges and jerked it out of his hand, slamming it against the outer wall with a loud boom. Dust and gravel whipped across the runway and pelted him. Surprised by the sudden change in weather, he shielded his eyes with his hand, reaching out and grabbing the handle of the door. Scanning the tarmac in front of the hangar, he didn’t see any sign of Tracy or Aaron. The sky glowed an eerie green, worse than yesterday. Squinting to keep dirt out of his eyes, he used both hands to pull the door shut.

  “Looks like a tornado is about to strike,” Steve observed nervously. He’d come to help when the door flung open. “And this isn’t exactly the ideal storm shelter.”

  “It looked the same yesterday afternoon, but I didn’t see any sign that a twister had touched down on our way here,” Shane dismissed. “Maybe it’s got something to do with how the animals are acting.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Steve replied, sounding skeptical and looking back at the children gathered near the buses.

  “Any luck with the radio?” Shane rubbed dirt out of his eyes.

  “Not yet,” Steve replied. “But I have a crap-load more channels to try.”

  He lumbered to his table and plopped in the metal chair in front of the radio, leaving Shane standing alone near the door. The wind howled, and the hangar creaked. Shane knew how a tornado could rip the sheet metal building to shreds. He scanned the hangar, trying to think of a safe place for the kids to take refuge. The best idea he could come up with was to have them crawl under the buses, though a big enough twister would toss the Freightliners around like plastic toys.

  When Shane made it halfway across the hangar, walking toward the buses, the door flung open again, a loud bang echoing through the building. The wind blasted in, blowing the back of his shirt up onto his shoulders. He spun around and saw Tracy step in with Aaron behind her, pulling the door shut.

  “About time you guys made it back,” Shane said, relief washing over him. “What did you see?”

  Tracy gave a slight shake of her head and walked close to Shane, combing her spiky hair with her fingers. Her typical stoic expression was replaced by one of intoxicating horror and confusion.

  “It ain’t pretty out there,” she whispered, clearly not wanting the rest of the kids in the hangar to hear. “The soldiers… they’re attacking each other.”

  “What?” Shane tried to digest what she’d told him, the unusual fear in her eyes making him anxious.

  “We hid in the woods and watched them,” Tracy continued, her voice trembling. “Small groups of soldiers fought until one group was dead. Then the winning group would split up and turn on each other. They’re wiping themselves out.”

  “It’s like whatever happened to the animals to make them crazy is happening to the soldiers too,” Aaron said, stepping next to Tracy. Sweat drenched both of their faces.

  “And the weather isn’t looking good either,” Tracy added, panting between sentences. “We saw a big twister touch down a few miles away.”

  As if to prove her point, the wind howled around the hangar. Shane could almost sense the building swaying back and forth, threatening to collapse on their heads.

  “Let’s pull the buses side by side, so we can hide under them if a tornado strikes,” Shane said.

  Shane and Aaron drove two of the buses alongside the one Matt’s cot sat next to. The diesel engines could barely be heard over the roar of the storm. Driving so close he knocked the mirrors off, Shane set the brakes and crawled through the window into the adjacent bus. The large, metal hangar door banged against its track. He’d heard the unmistakable roaring before, when a tornado passed by Granny’s house last year and ripped off all the siding on one side with surgical precision.

  “Everyone under the buses,” Shane yelled from the bottom step. He glanced up at the creaking, iron rafters with concern.

  “What about Matt?” Kelly asked, herding the children.

  “We’ll get him,” Steve replied, looking at Shane.

  Steve set the radio down, which he’d been clutching under his arm like a football. They lifted Matt and lowered him to the floor. Using as much care as they could not to cause him further injury, they slid him on his blanket under the bus. Matt didn’t make a sound and felt limp when they picked him up. Shane worried he was getting worse, but there wasn’t anything else they could do to help him.

  The violent bang of the hangar door against the building evoked a chorus of screams. Laura and Kelly hurried the kids under the buses. The howl of the storm grew louder. A twelve-foot-wide piece of the metal siding ripped away from the hangar with an earsplitting creak. Through the jagged opening, Shane caught a clear view of the swirling black funnel approaching across the tarmac. Trash climbed into the air, lifted by the vortex like dry leaves floating in the wind. Hundreds of feet off the ground, a tractor-trailer made a turn around the hungry giant, and he realized some of those bits of spinning garbage were massive. Icicles of fear formed in his veins. They were all going to die. He spun and ran to their hopeless attempt at a storm shelter.

  “Get under the bus,” he yelled at Tracy, Aaron, and Steve.

  Scrambling into action, they dropped to the ground and rolled under the Freightliners. Shane flipped the tables and tugged them against the side of the bus facing the storm. The wind pushed him to the smooth, concrete floor, and he crawled toward his friends.

  An earsplitting clank startled him. Over his shoulder, he saw the twenty-foot-tall, forty-foot-wide main hangar door bust free and fly into the air like a floppy piece of newspaper whipped by the wind. Shane dove under the bus between the table and the front tire. Steve and Aaron grabbed his arms and pulled him in further.

  The main hangar door crashed into the first bus so hard that it rocked up off its tires, but fell back down and continued to shelter them. Shane could see the kids screaming, their mouths open and their eyes wide with fear, but he couldn’t hear them over the deafening sound of the twister. The storm moaned, an enraged monster hungry for blood. The metal building screeched as it was ripped apart; the funnel had to be almost on top of them. Shane looked at the older kids and tucked his head under his arms, then rose up and pointed at the screaming children. Kelly, Laura, Steve, Aaron, and Tracy, along with several of the other older girls, got the hint and crawled from child to child, helping them to duck their heads down and cover them with their arms for protection.

  Another large chunk of the building tore loose and slammed into the buses. Glass rained down, and then the wind caught the shards and blew the pieces at Shane and the kids. His skin stung where they hit him, and it felt like he was being torn to shreds. He decided at that painful moment they couldn’t survive—this storm would kill him and all the kids under his charge. Wasn’t it better to die this way than have animals attack them or end up turning on each other like Tracy and Aaron said the soldiers had done? As horrible as the last twenty-four hours had been, he was shocked to find he wasn’t ready to give up, not yet.

  Gravel, sticks, and debris pelted him, and the roar grew louder. A hand slipped around his arm. He turned his head to the side and opened his eyes enough to see Kelly crawling closer with Natalie huddled beneath her. Reminded of those petrified bodies found buried in volcanic ash in Pompeii, Shane lay on his side and pulled them in, his back to the storm. Through all t
he pain of being sandblasted, he found distraction in the passing thought that at least he got to hold Kelly Douglas in his arms once before he died.

  The tornado persisted, and the buses rocked off their tires from its gust. When the twister finally passed and the buses settled, Shane couldn’t believe it hadn’t lifted the long, yellow vehicles into the air. A lightning storm followed, softball-size hail hammering the metal roofs of the buses to a deafening rhythm only the devil could enjoy. Shane lay there, relieved he wasn’t being pummeled by flying gravel anymore. By some miracle or curse, only time would tell which, the twister spared them. When lightning flashed and lit up the space under the vehicles, Shane saw Steve, Aaron, and the other older kids had formed a half circle around the younger kids, protecting them with their bodies like Shane protected Kelly and Nat. Although exhausted and battered by the storm, Shane felt fortunate to be surrounded by such compassionate and brave people. He couldn’t imagine how terrible it would be to endure all this without them.

  The hail let up after a half hour and turned to pattering rain. His ears ringing, Shane felt warm, pressed against Kelly. A corrosive mix of emotional and physical exhaustion eroded his awareness. Although he fought it, wanting to stay alert and watch out for his people, his eyes grew heavier until, finally, he surrendered to unconsciousness.