by Dana Pratola
My plea was apparently ignored. The clouds picked that moment to open up, and with the immediate fusion of lightning and thunder, my involuntary shriek was swallowed by the storm. Another flash of light, then another, as I pedaled faster and faster, as if each revolution meant my life!
Another blaze, this one from behind me, staying steadily on the road. By the time my fear eased enough to realize it was a vehicle, I was jolted forward and suddenly airborne, my handlebars now under my chin as my hands were violently parted from the rubber grips.
A final flash of light across my brow, and I landed hard in the grass, wheezing for air. I refused to lay here and die. That’s what would happen if the lightning found me.
*****
I pulled to the curb across the street from the address Kyle had given me, just as a couple pulled up in front. One I recognized as Charles Swift, the pastor’s son. So that would make the blonde woman Eliza. Brenna had told me she had a date tonight.
“Eliza!” I called as they got out of the car carrying take-out bags from a chain restaurant.
The wind and rain engaged in fierce competition for volume. I had to yell to project my voice, but Eliza took Charles by the arm as though she hadn’t heard, and tugged him up the steps.
“Eliza!”
I ran to them, catching up seconds before the apartment door swung all the way closed, barring my entry. I braced my palm on the door, keeping it open.
“What do you want?” she demanded.
“It’s me, Josiah,” I said.
“I know who you are. I told you, Brenna doesn’t want to see you.”
Charles looked back and forth between us.
“I just want to tell her how sorry I am,” I said. “You wouldn’t let me talk to her on the phone.”
“Because she said she doesn’t want to speak to you. What don’t you understand? You have to be kicked again to get it through your head?”
As soon as the words were out, she slapped her hands over her mouth, eyes remorseful, and shook her head.
I shook mine, too. I didn’t care what she said, as long as she let me see Brenna.
“I should not have said that,” Eliza said. She glanced at Charles, then back at me. “I am so sorry, Josiah, I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay. It doesn’t matter.”
“It does! It does! It was thoughtless and unkind, I’m sorry.”
I touched her arm. “It’s okay. I’m okay. Look, I know you’re protecting your friend, but I am the last person she needs protection from. Eliza, I love her. Please. I need to see her.”
Like chalk in the rain, her animosity dissolved. Charles lifted his eyebrows, clearly wondering what she would do. Finally, she sighed and turned, heading upstairs.
“Come on.”
The only thing I noticed about Eliza’s apartment was it was neat, the TV was on, and Brenna wasn’t there.
“Bren,” Eliza called out.
I took it upon myself to move around the five-room space looking for her. “Brenna, where are you?”
No answer. Eliza looked worried, then spun toward the front door and pointed. “Her bike’s gone. It was next to the door.” She rolled her eyes and offered Charles a half smile. “She didn’t want to be a third wheel.”
“Where do you think she went?” I asked.
“She wouldn’t have anywhere else to go except the old house.”
I didn’t wait to say goodbye or thank her for not throwing me out. I ran outside, back to my truck, already soaked to the skin. God’s grace and pure adrenaline took me back to town as I sped, fishtailing and sliding on the turns, occasionally cursing the wipers for not keeping up with the demand of the rain falling in sheets.
The drive was mostly a watery blur, yet I seemed to come awake as I turned onto Unger Hill. It was dark, as usual, but for the intermittent illumination of the storm. I hadn’t seen Brenna on my way here and this was the only road into this part of town. She wouldn’t have taken a shortcut on her bike at night, right? Though who knew with a girl who’d been living alone in a supposedly haunted house for more than a month? She obviously didn’t scare easily.
Another searing vein of blue shattered the night sky. Oh yeah, she was scared of something. Wherever she was, she must be terrified. I looked toward the northwest and could just make out the silhouette of the darkened Wagoner house against the black night. Darkened except for…
Was that light? I pulled over, staring, waiting. It shone again. A stab of light. And another one, bobbing in random directions, like balls in a bingo machine. Flashlight beams. More than one. Oh no. Tracy’s crazy ghost hunt must be tonight.
As I got closer, I saw vehicles parked around and movement on the porch. Random bursts of shouting and laughter carried over the wind and into my cab, then a gunshot as someone fired into the air. Good Lord, where was Brenna? She couldn’t be in there with those yahoos.
Truck lights came up behind me, seemingly out of nowhere, and I instinctively reached for the revolver under my seat. No way was I getting ambushed again. Though who would it be? Mac was dead, Brew in the hospital. I wrapped my fingers around the grip when the truck pulled up beside me. Ben.
We rolled our windows down. “What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Looking for Ben,” he answered. “I couldn’t leave it like this.”
“You are Ben,” I reminded him.
“Benna. Brenna,” he said, correcting himself. A crack of thunder rattled the trucks.
I gave his face a closer inspection. His eyes appeared a little glossy. That could be the light…. “Were you drinking?”
“She’s not in the house,” he informed me, ignoring my question. “I went in. Those idiots didn’t mind if I looked around. The whole gang of them are pretty lit up.”
“Tracy?” I asked.
“Yeah, her too.” He chuckled. “She minded a little. I told her I was looking for something you left there. The others wanted me to hang out and party. Idiots. I brought my own.”
He lifted a can of beer to his lips and took a huge swallow.
“What the hell are you doing?” I’d thought he slurred a little, but hard to tell over the howling storm. “Are you drunk?”
“I’m looking for Brenna,” he repeated. “I couldn’t leave it this way.”
“So you said. You shouldn’t be out here. You never drink and drive. You barely even drink.”
“This is important. I’m going to find her,” he said, definitely. “I’m sorry, Kash, I shouldn’t have said….” He guzzled the rest of the can and threw it out the window.
Ben rarely drank, with good reason. For his size, he could not hold his alcohol. He could go straight from slightly buzzed to completely pickled with two beers.
“How many of those have you had?”
He lifted a shoulder and draped his arm over the steering wheel. “Four. Five. How many come in a six-pack?”
“Come with me,” I said.
“I’m looking,” he said.
“Nah, come on with me. I’m looking, too, I need your help. You can look out one side, I’ll look out the other. Cut the search time in half.” Better than having him behind the wheel loaded.
He stared at me for an uncomfortable length of time and I wasn’t sure he’d even heard me. Then he started to get out of his truck—without putting it in park.
“Ben!” He stopped, looked over at me. “Pull over, put it in park and turn it off.”
“Ah, right.” He nodded, somberly, pulled to the side of the road and shut the truck off.
I rolled up my window, pulled next to him and waited for him to get out. Instead, he dropped his head back against the headrest and stayed that way.
“Wow, really?”
I did the only thing I could under the circumstances. I got out of my truck, took his keys from the ignition and took them with me. I didn’t know what was up with him, but the best place for him was sleeping it off in his front seat.
I kept both my windows down, scanni
ng the edges of the road for Brenna as I rolled along the asphalt at around twelve miles an hour. My mind had been on other things when I went by before, and it was possible I’d passed her without noticing.
While my physical progress crept slowly, my mind raced on ahead. What if she’d gone somewhere else entirely, knowing I’d come looking for her? She must be out here somewhere in the dark and rain, alone. Anyone might come across her … offer her a ride … maybe insist.
I shook the thought from my head. It was that kind of craziness that would distract me from seeing things clearly, like the small grayish form protruding from the grass fifteen feet from the road. My heart ejected into my throat. Was it a person? I pulled over and leaned across the seat for a better look. Just a rock.
The wind picked up, blowing through the cab, icing my already chilled skin, and thunder crashed intermittently as I turned and made my way back toward town. I stopped three more times for potential Brenna sightings only to discover logs and rocks, until I finally crested the top of Unger Hill.
Most of Myron was asleep below in these wee hours of morning, several lamps shining through the slashing rain here and there presenting a cozy view of the tiny community. Frozen from the inside out by fear of what may have happened to Brenna, I found no comfort in it. I just wanted to find her.
I started to roll again when my lights caught something unusual on the shoulder. A narrow track cutting through the mud. I put the truck in park and walked over for a closer look. The sky lit just long enough to identify the indentation as bike tires. Fresh. No one but Brenna would be fool enough to come this way at this time.
“Brenna!”
I waited a few beats for the wind to carry her reply. Nothing came except a severe whip of wind and another rumble of thunder across the sky. I followed the track until it intersected with another tire track—this one from a vehicle—and then no more bike tracks.
Good Lord! Could she have been knocked off her bike? Maybe taken against her will? My mind conceived all kinds of sinister scenarios, only this time much more plausible, and wouldn’t be dislodged by sheer will. I picked up my pace, calling out for her as I went. Still nothing. The wound on my arm throbbed in time to the constant pounding of my heart and it felt like it might be bleeding again under the bandage.
By the time I got to the tree line my heart was well on the way to panic-mode. Then I found her bike abandoned, lying on its side, the rear wheel twisted and useless. No Brenna.
I was forced to stoop closer to the ground to pick up any kind of sign. I found one in the form of a smudged patch of ground where something had smashed the grass into the mud leaving an elongated impression a foot in length.
The rain continued its relentless flood as I searched for more signs of Brenna, stopping several times to wipe the water from my eyes. Then, thank God, a footprint. Small, sneakers, facing the woods. I moved slowly until I found another, not easy given the tree roots and rotting leaves.
A crack of lightning split the sky. Even from so high up, its unbridled power coursed through my body, infusing me with energy, burning off the pain, shock and fear, leaving only the urgent need to find her.
“Brenna! I’m here! Answer me!” Nothing.
Not from her anyway. In the distance, I picked up more raucous carrying on and what might have been glass breaking. I hadn’t realized how close I was to the house.
“Please, Lord,” I asked. “Don’t let her go near there. Keep her safe.”
It seemed like a half hour passed before the rain started to relent a little, giving me a slightly clearer view. Still all I saw were trees and night, with the occasional flash casting shadows.
One particular shadow on the far side of a small clearing resembled a rock. Only it moved on all fours, crawling along the ground, moving slowly in the direction of the house, only four hundred yards away now. It might be a mountain lion. In my rush I’d left the gun in the truck, but I couldn’t risk waiting for a better look.
“Brenna!”
Lightning blasted the sky again, close enough to hear the sizzle in the air, and the shuddering form let out a cry. God, it was her! I ran to her as fast as the slippery earth would let me, dropped to her side, and gathered her in my arms.
“Brenna, shh, I’m here! I’m here!”
She grappled into my lap, holding on tightly, crying into my collar. She was soaked through and ice cold, despite her bulky jacket. In all my life I didn’t remember when I’d been so relieved. Oddly, my heartrate accelerated instead of slowing, and I imagined us dying together like this, her from hypothermia, me from a heart attack.
“It’s okay, baby. I’m here. No reason to be afraid. You’re okay.” She burrowed in closer. “It’s going to be all right. The odds of being struck by lightning are practically the same as finding the love of your life,” I said, with a shaky chuckle, trying pitifully to ease her mind.
She turned her ashen face up to mine, her eyes terrified and miserable. Then again, maybe we better get out of here. I let her cry it out for a few more seconds.
CHAPTER 32
God did answer prayer! He did! I clung to Josiah and cried my relief into his neck. He was shuddering worse than me, his arms wrapped so tightly around me I wasn’t sure of my next breath, but that was okay! He was saying something, but honestly, through the noise of the storm and my own fear, I couldn’t have said what if my life depended on it. That was okay, too. I was safe.
Josiah released me, getting to his feet and helping me to mine. Pain shot through my right leg from foot to knee and I cried out, stumbling forward into him. He caught me, and in one deft move, swung me up into his arms.
“I can’t believe I found you,” he said, gruffly, staring straight ahead as he navigated the uneven and boggy ground. “I can’t believe I found you.”
I tried to speak, but the alternate chattering of my teeth and clenching of my jaw prevented it. All I could do was hold on for dear life, ignore the radiating pain in my ankle, and inhale the scent of his rain-drenched skin while he carried me past my mangled bike, out to the road and the old brown truck I’d seen at work.
The sky lit furiously above me. This time I barely flinched. This time my heart felt lighter, supercharged, whether from the ionized atmosphere or sheer relief, the shards of fear that normally fired into my soul with each hot bolt were suddenly ineffectual. All I knew was that I was safe because of Josiah Kash. Lightning wouldn’t dare strike as long as I was in his arms.
He opened the passenger door, shut me inside, then ran around the hood and got in. We were both drenched, water dripping off us onto the already soaked seat. My violent shaking rocked the whole seat and he cranked the heat up and put up the windows.
“You have to get out of those wet things,” he said, concern darkening his voice. “I keep a blanket in my other truck but don’t have one in here.”
Then I remembered the throw in my jacket. I unzipped it half way and pulled the blanket out, amazed to find it mostly dry.
Josiah laughed, tightly. “Are you kidding?”
I tried to laugh, but the sound was cut to pieces by my teeth gnashing together, coming out as a sort of halting gasp. “I—I t—took it from Ellll—Eliza’s.”
“Get that jacket off,” he ordered, taking the blanket from me.
As soon as I did, he threw it to the floor, wrapped me in the blanket, and pulled me across the bench seat to his side. He put his hand in front of the vent to see if the heat was coming out, tilting the slots toward me.
“Brenna, I can’t tell you how sorry I am things went the way they did. I’m still not sure what happened.”
I was mute. We would talk later, but I was incapable, emotionally and physically, of having that conversation now. I could only shake my head.
“And I know you don’t want to see Ben now.”
Ben? What?
“But he’s up here drunk in his truck. I have to bring him to my place.”
I’d thought the night had been redeemed, until Josiah got
out to hoist a semi-conscious Ben from his truck and dump him in beside me, I didn’t know how it could get worse.
And then Ben came to. And breathed on me. And spoke.
“Brenna, heeeeey.”
I turned my nose as far from his drunken greeting as I could, but the stench of beer breath was inescapable.
“Where were you?” he asked. “I was looking for you.”
“You—y—you were?”
He nodded in large, complete nods. “Yes, I was. All over.”
“He was,” Josiah confirmed. “Buddy, you have your phone on you?” he asked Ben.
“Sure do.”
“Let me see it, will you?”
Ben leaned to the left, rooting around in his pocket, squishing me against Josiah, and Josiah against the door. Finally freeing it, he handed it over.
“I never should have treated you like that,” he told me. “Mama raised me better.”
“Okay, Ben, not now,” Josiah said, dialing the phone.
“My mama would slap my ears back,” Ben told me, tipping further in my direction with each word. “Never mind what my pop would do. You ever been walloped with a belt?”
Josiah switched the phone to his left hand, using the right to cross me and hold Ben upright in the seat. “Ben, it’s okay, not now.”
I heard the phone ringing, then a woman’s voice.
“Hi Jill, Kash.”
I could just make out “Oh, hi Kash,” through the tiny speaker.
“Ben’s with me. He’s fine. Yeah, he had a little too much to drink so he’s staying at my place.”
“That’s cool, man,” Ben said. “Really cool. Cool. Oh hey, tell Jill I love her.” He moved Josiah’s hand to lean over me as close to the phone as possible. “I love you, Jill! Woo!! Havin’ my baby! Woo!”
