My Little Rock Airman

by Brittany Fichter

  “Come on!” she shouted over the thunder. “In here!”

  I followed her, still somewhat disoriented, into the Shelter In Place room. Seven other people were already inside, staring at the walls and the ceiling uneasily.

  “Everyone,” the woman ordered as she closed the door, “get down on the floor and put your hands on your head! Why are you all staring like that’s going to help? Come on, people, we trained for this!”

  I did as she said, not needing a reminder, feeling sick to my stomach as I pictured Jade, screaming in terror as the rumbling of a train sounded through the air. But as the lightning grew faster and louder, all I could do was pray.

  43

  Warning

  Jessie

  “And what makes a square different from—” I paused my lesson to glance at my phone. It hadn’t stopped buzzing for the last five minutes. And no matter how much I ignored it, it continued to go off again and again and again.

  “A square,” I said again, trying to find my train of thought as I flipped the phone around to see the screen. “What makes it different from all the other shapes? What properties are unique to the square? Take half a minute and think about it before I call on someone to answer.” While they worked, I glanced down at my phone.

  Another tornado watch. That was at least the fifth one today. This time I slipped the phone into my pocket so I could feel the buzz in case we had an actual warning. My phone’s weather apps were usually about thirty seconds ahead of the emergency sirens outside.

  “Okay, I’m going to choose—”

  Before I could finish, a knock sounded on the door, followed by one of the office staff coming in.

  “Hi, Mrs. Juniper,” I said, nodding at the class to repeat my greeting.

  “Hello, Miss Nickleby.” She smiled her sweet cherubim smile and nodded at the class. “I’m supposed to take these ones for just a few minutes while you talk to Mr. Matthew in his office.”

  That was strange, being summoned to the principal’s office during the school day. Instead of giving air to my grievances, though, I simply nodded at the class and handed Mrs. Juniper the clipboard I was holding.

  “I want you to each tell your seat partner what you think makes squares unique.” I pointed to the sheet and mouthed to the secretary, triangles next, before leaving the room and making my way down the hall.

  I walked quickly, my shoes making sharp clicks that echoed down the corridor as I made my way to the office, which was located in the middle of the building, near the entrance. Though I doubted I’d done anything too terrible, I couldn’t help feeling a bit like a naughty kindergartener who had been sent to the principal for breaking some cardinal rule. Only, I didn’t know which one it was.

  “Jessie.” My principal, Conner Matthews, stood and greeted me as I entered his little office. Then he shut the door. “Please sit.” He indicated to one of the two worn armchairs in front of his desk.

  I saw and did my best to not seem overly anxious. “So,” I said with the best smile I could muster, “how can I help you?”

  He smiled. “I’ve got a conference call in ten minutes, but before I have to go, I wanted to congratulate you on the talent show last night. It was magnificent.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “I also wanted to ask you about your contract.” There it was. I should have known. When I didn’t answer immediately, he spoke again. “We love having you here. I was just wondering if you’re going to sign again.”

  I gave him a guilty smile. I’d been ignoring the emails, and so he’d called me here. Of course I wanted to teach again. Didn’t I?

  Every time I’d considered signing that contract, my brain had screamed for me to do it. Do something. Do anything. But what was there to do? Sign or don’t sign? Go crawling back to him? Beg him to reconsider? Maybe, if I thought it might change his mind. But the space between us might as well have been dark matter, judging by the way he’d looked at me last night. I’d hurt him. And he had hurt me. My heart felt like it had been hurled against the concrete and stomped on. And I still didn’t have a clue as to what I would do even if we hadn’t stabbed each other in the back.

  So why was I hesitating? It wasn’t like I would be getting married and moving any time soon.

  “Jessie?” he began.

  The buzzing in my phone started again, but this time, it also let out a startling wail that made both of us jump. We leaned toward the window, and he yanked the shade up.

  My heart dropped into my stomach. The sky was a sickly yellow-green, and hail was beginning to pelt the window. The pellets were small, but they were also coming fast. And hard. And then the window cracked. I jumped away and then remembered the buzz in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw the most terrifying words in the world flash across the screen.

  TORNADO WARNING FOR PULASKI COUNTY

  I was off like a bullet to my class. Out of his room, through the office, and down the hallway. Throwing open the door, I bolted in to find my students staring at me wide-eyed from the carpet.

  “Everyone,” I gasped, hating how the air had suddenly grown warm, and my skin felt clammy. We were inside, and the air conditioning was running, but I wished I could wipe away the filmy feeling that had settled on my skin. “I want you to line up in order of your numbers at the door.”

  Mrs. Juniper frowned. “Is everything—”

  Interrupting her was the wail of the tornado siren just outside the window. Two of my students began to cry.

  “Now, everyone!” I called. “Just like we practiced!”

  “But I’m afraid of tornados!” Julieta also began to cry, refusing to budge as Manuel opened the door and held it for the others.

  “We’ll be safer in the hall!” I herded them toward the door. “Just go! This is exactly what we’ve practiced for!” I grabbed the whistle and emergency clipboard from the teacher’s supply wardrobe on the way out. Then I stood at the door, relieving Manuel of his duty, counting heads as fast as I could.

  “Twenty-one, twenty-two…” I paused. Someone was missing. Who was missing? I ran through my roll sheet again and compared it to the children sitting against the wall, the ones the office staff were ordering and pleading with to crouch into little balls and cover their heads with their hands.

  Jade. I was missing Jade.

  Darting back in the classroom, it took me three seconds that might as well have been three years to locate her, hiding beneath her favorite computer, curled up in a beanbag.

  “Come on, Jade! We don’t have time for this! We’ll be safer in the hall!” I ran over and had started to pull her out from beneath the desk when something crashed through the window. Glass sprayed the room, and I stumbled. The wind roared outside, and rain began to soak the room. I felt something sharp slide across my arm, but I didn’t stop to look. Snatching Jade up, thanking the Lord she was tiny, I turned and ran back to the hall, shutting the door behind us until I heard the click. Then I put Jade down, who looked ready to bolt again, and I laid myself on top of her. The last thing we needed was for her to run.

  Chugging sounded through the walls and distant windows, which were thankfully far down the hall, away from us. Why did they even bother adding windows to schools in tornado country, I couldn’t help wondering even as the chugging grew louder. It sounded like a train was right outside the building. I looked over my shoulder and shouted for several of the curious ones to keep their heads down and covered. Remorse and shame filled me as I wished I could cover them all. Jade was a must because she liked to run when she was frightened, as she had in the classroom. But the others were just as little and vulnerable as she was.

  Only when I looked down again did I realize I was bleeding. The chugging grew louder as I tried to squeeze my arm to stop the flow with my other hand while leaning over Jade.

  God, help us! Ear-splitting thunder rocked the world. And the sound of breaking glass served as the amen to my prayer.

  44

  Them

  Derrick
/>   We waited until the sirens and our phone apps had stopped screaming before we ventured out of the SIP room.

  I was in the housing office for the base neighborhood, I’d been told while sheltering with the staff and a few of the local residents. This was good, as I’d nearly made it to the Harris Road exit, which put me less than a mile from Jade’s school. But that mile felt like a million the moment we stepped outside.

  The sun was out again, making the rain-soaked world sparkle and shine, which was odd, considering the wake of destruction all around us. Trees had been uprooted and tossed like sticks. They seemed to cover everything, from the parking lot to the public pool behind the housing office to the roads. Or rather, what you could see of the roads.

  The silence was nearly deafening, punctured only by the sirens in the distance. And even though the wind had died down to what was no more than a gentle breeze, debris still fluttered down, as though the clouds had released little bits of wood and metal, rather than water, from the sky.

  “How did we survive that?” one of the men whispered to his coworker. She could only shake her head, her mouth still open.

  “It didn’t hit the building,” a woman said, turning to examine the brick structure. Tiles were missing from the roof, and one of the windows had been punched out, but just as she’d said, the building had been spared.

  But the gate hadn’t. Mechanically, I said a prayer for whoever had been manning the Harris Road gate. The guard box, thankfully, was still in one piece, but the gate itself was gone. Ripped clean off its hinges.

  Then it hit me.

  The tornado had taken out the gate because the tornado had ripped right up the road. The same road Jade’s school lay on. Something clicked on inside me.

  “Check the guard box!” I shouted, pointing at the guard’s booth by the nonexistent gate as I broke into a run.

  “Where are you going?” one of the women shouted.

  But I didn’t answer. It was obvious from the condition of the road that I wouldn’t be able to drive. Trees from both sides of the road covered it, and even if they hadn’t, debris of every kind filled in the spaces. And since I couldn’t drive, the only thing left to do was run.

  The closer I got to the school, the harder I pushed. The debris began to resemble things that were eerily familiar. A pink backpack. Lunchboxes. Small plastic chairs and even tables were strewn out on the asphalt.

  Please, was the only prayer I could get out, pushing myself even harder. Please let them be all right.

  Them. The prayer was supposed to be her. At least, that’s what I had meant it to be. But with each passing second, as mental images of all the possible horrors awaiting me continued to plant themselves in my mind, I knew it was them.

  It would always be them.

  Because Jessie wasn’t just Jade’s teacher, the way I’d been trying to treat her in my thoughts. She wasn’t an old flame. She wasn’t even the cute girl on whom I had a crush.

  She was the woman I wanted to marry. Present tense. The one I wanted to come home to and sleep beside at night. I wanted to fight and make up with her over stupid things like facing the toilet paper the wrong way and getting mud in my truck. I wanted her to have my children and to be the one who listened when work was hard. I wanted her.

  I crested the hill and nearly dropped to my knees there.

  The school had been hit head-on.

  The front was all smashed in, and so was the back. Cars were flipped and turned in the parking lot, and a few were on their sides and roofs across the street.

  No, Lord. Oh please, no. Please, please, no. I slowed at the edge of the lot, not sure how to proceed.

  Or how to go on. Because if Jade and Jessie were gone…

  The faint sound of crying reached me just as I stumbled closer. My heart picked up speed with my feet as I began to run again. And just as I reached the lawn, a side door that I hadn’t seen opened. And a relief that nearly broke me flooded my senses as the principal, who I recognized from Jessie’s talent show, began leading children out in two straight lines.

  He saw me and gestured wildly. “Help us get them out!”

  I was already running toward them, my training kicking into gear. “Jade and Jessie?” I asked breathlessly as I reached them.

  He nodded behind him. “At the far end of the building. But their door isn’t working, so we have to get everyone out this way.”

  I wanted nothing more than to dart down the hall at top speed and fetch them. But he was right. The school was already in shambles. It would be safer to get everyone out in an orderly fashion.

  “Do you need me to call—” I started.

  He shook his head. “Call’s already been made.” He pointed out to the far corner of the parking lot. “Let’s get them started over there. The teachers will keep them organized. Once the hall is clear, I’ll need your help with first aid.”

  I thanked God that the Air Force required emergency training once a year. And though it killed me not to rush straight in to look for the two people I loved most in the world, I knew I would have to be patient.

  Loved.

  It was the first time I’d really thought of it this way. I’d been sure I loved Jessie back when I proposed to her. And I did. But whatever it was I had then was different from what I was feeling now. That affection had been as sweet and innocent as Jessie was. But this devotion I felt inside now was as passionate and ardent as the sun. It had survived a six-month deployment, Sam Newman, Amy’s return, and a tornado. I’d been kidding myself when I thought I could just give her up and move back to Amy. Jessie was in my heart, and she was there to stay. And no amount of my pig-headedness could change that. I just desperately hoped now that she would be in the shape to receive that kind of love. Because if something had happened…

  Focus. I had to focus.

  Five minutes later, most of the inner hall, which had been miraculously spared, was cleared. My uneasiness grew again, however, when I realized that the last class I helped to lead out to the parking lot was Jade’s, but they emerged with neither Jade nor Jessie. Then a familiar scream echoed from down the hall.

  Blowing by the principal, I sprinted toward the sound. Several people were lying in the hall, other staff members kneeling at their sides, but I headed straight for the sound.

  Relief brought tears to my eyes as I saw Jade standing near the broken door. Aside from a few cuts, there was no blood. I scooped her up and squeezed her to my chest. She fought me until she realized who it was. Then she clung to me and screamed harder.

  “She won’t come with us,” one of the other teachers said…Madison, I think. Her hair was wet and wind-whipped, but she looked like she would be okay as well. Then she looked pointedly at the ground, and I followed her gaze.

  Jessie lay on the ground. Her eyes were fluttering, and there was a small puddle of blood under her arm.

  “What happened?” I asked, putting Jade down and kneeling at her side. Jade continued to cry, but she stopped screaming at least. “Jessie.” I raised my voice. “Jess, can you hear me?”

  For a moment, I thought she might focus on me, but her eyes didn’t focus as she moaned.

  “I think it’s from the blood loss.” Madison’s voice shook. “She had the cut when she came back from getting Jade. She didn’t even notice it at first, I just saw it because I glanced up when she slammed the door shut.” She broke into sobs. “She should have wrapped something around it, but it all went so fast, and the winds hit, and—”

  I didn’t hear the rest of what she said as I unlaced my left boot. Grabbing the knife out of my pocket, I cut part of the lace off and wrapped it around her arm as quickly as I could. It wasn’t the most beautiful tourniquet in the world, but it should stop the majority of the blood loss.

  “We need to get her out of here,” the principal said, coming to stand behind me. “I’m not sure how long the building will hold.”

  I frowned. It would be best not to move her until the paramedics arrived, but he w
as right. The building was already groaning as it was. Gently, so gently, I picked her up, and we began the long trek down the darkened hall, small beams of sunlight filtering in through the holes in the roof. Jade followed, much to my relief, letting Madison take her by the hand this time. I hugged Jessie as tightly as I dared to my chest, thankful for the warmth still emanating from her. In spite of the rain and wind, she still smelled familiar and reminded me of home.

  “Hang on, baby,” I whispered into her hair, my throat threatening to close on the words as I spoke them. “I’m going to get you out of here.” Despite my rush, I couldn’t help but press one small kiss against her temple. It would probably be the last time I could ever pretend she was mine.

  A medical helicopter arrived as we made our way out to her class. Teachers shooed their children away from the small space someone had cleared as it landed. Jessie was in the worst condition, so I was waved forward. I went as fast as I could without bouncing her too hard, praying every step of the way.

  “Are you her husband?” the medic asked as I approached.

  I shook my head and desperately wished I could even say I was her boyfriend. “I’m a friend!” I shouted over the roar of the rotors.

  “You’ll have to stay here then!” he shouted back as he reached for her.

  Handing Jessie’s limp, pale body over to someone else to care for was the hardest thing I’d ever done. “Take care of her!” I called.