Copyright © 2014 Jamie York
Revised 6/2016
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work.
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Chapter 1 - Waking Up
As
I struggle to open my eyes, I wonder what happened last night that is making me
hurt so badly. My body aches all over like I was beaten-up by the biggest bully
on the playground. As far as I can remember I didn’t do anything to deserve
this kind of pain – then I realize I can’t remember much.
Slowly
I finish waking up and realize I am lying in the middle of our kitchen floor.
This is not something I do on a regular basis. My first thought is, what my mom
is going to think of me passed out on the kitchen floor; the next is why I am
feeling such a draft. As I look up and around the room I notice that all of the
glass is out of the windows and there is a cool breeze coming through.
From
my place on the floor, I start looking over my body for fresh cuts and scrapes.
Aside from a little mud on my blue and white striped t-shirt and a strange
large wet spot on the leg of my jeans, I don’t see anything questionable. Now
that I know there is nothing obviously wrong with me, I relax a little and look
around for the glass. There is none on the floor, under the windows or anywhere
else in the room, which is bizarre, but probably has saved me lots of pain and
stitches. I shudder, needles really freak me out and the thought of having one
go in and out of my skin dragging a piece of thread behind it almost makes me
pass out again.
Taking
take a deep breath to steady myself, I wonder in an off-hand way why all the
glass would be gone. As the air inflates my chest I moan.
I
may not be cut up, but I am still extremely sore.
Trying
to roll over onto my side I cry out in pain. Every inch of my body feels like
it must be bruised. My heart starts fluttering and I start to panic. You can’t
get this hurt without remembering it, can you? What happened to me? Why can’t I
remember?
Staring
at the ceiling, I desperately try to remember how I ended up on the kitchen
floor. There is only blackness in my mind. It’s almost scarier than the pain in
my body. Do I have amnesia - did someone hit me - if someone did hit me, are
they still somewhere in the house? Are they the reason all the glass is gone?
Thoughts swirl through my addled mind. The only reason I can think of for
amnesia is a blow to the head like people get in the movies.
Slowly
I reach up and gently feel my head for any signs of trauma. Aside from a few
sore spots, there is nothing that would indicate a massive attack on my skull.
I
want to scream in frustration, but I’m worried that will cause me more pain, so
I keep my mouth shut.
Attempting
to take inventory of all the places that hurt, I give up when I realise there
are too many. The only thing I know for sure is my knee hurts worse than
anything else. I ease my pant leg up over the injured knee and see that it is
already starting to bruise, turning a nasty shade of purple. The swelling
doesn’t look too bad thankfully. I must have landed on it when I fell.
Struggling
to get up off of the floor, I hear a moan coming from the other room. My heart
skips a beat. At first I worry about who it could be, then everything starts to
flood back. I fall back to the floor, overwhelmed with memories of what
happened right before I was knocked out.
The
storm, the tornado, and my best friend holding my hand as we both screamed and
ran for the house. My already racing heart races faster as I remember how
terrified we were when we realized the danger we were in.
Everything
happened so suddenly that I am not really sure how many people would have made
it to a shelter. One minute the
sun was shining and we were sitting on the deck relaxing and listening to my
iPod - a typical Saturday afternoon in April - the next thing I knew the sirens
were sounding and south of town was nothing but a big black smudge moving
quickly towards us.
Living
in tornado alley during the spring, you expect storms, even storms with
tornados. You know if you hear a freight train headed your way, odds are you
had better get below ground unless you actually live by the tracks. We tried we just didn’t make it far
enough.
No
matter how hard I try, I can’t remember how we made it into the house. The last
thing I remember was trying to reach the back door and the wind ripping me
backward. It had seemed as if for every step forward I made the storm pulled me
back two. It reminded me of one of those dreams where no matter how hard you
try, you just can't run fast enough to get away from the bad guy. You know the
one - where your legs move in slow motion almost like they are in molasses.
Unfortunately, this was no dream.
I continue
to worry if anyone made it far enough inside to be completely safe. I can’t
remember another storm moving in that fast – especially one that was so strong
– with no warning.
Living
in a small town that is sometimes missed by the big city TV stations when bad
weather is moving in, you get used to being taken off-guard. When it is severe,
though, they will normally let us know.
Thanks
to an old Native American legend, I’ve never really worried about storms before.
According to the legend the creeks that surround our town supposedly protect us.
Until today I thought that legend was true - our town had never been hit
directly by a tornado before. I guess that is just another myth laid to rest.
Another
low moan comes to me from the next room and I finally make it to my feet and I
try to run into the dining room; unfortunately it is more of a fast hobble
instead. Every time I put any
pressure on my foot my right knee sends spikes of pain up into my hip and down
into my ankle. I tell myself to just keep moving and it will get better.
To
make it even more exasperating attempting to move through the house, my waist
length black hair keeps falling into my face. I must have lost my hair tie
somewhere. Trying to see through
the curtain of hair makes it almost impossible to not trip over the trash that is
now scattered around. Irritated, I roughly shove my hair out of my face and try
to move on.
Making
my way through the dining room doorway, I find Cam lying under the half smashed
table. His lightly tanned face is
already starting to turn black and blue were the table hit him. There is a
large purple colored goose egg on the left side of his forehead going up into
his hairline and his left cheek is also starting to swell. His light brown
curls are covered in blood on the right side of his head, but I don’t see a
gapping cut so I am hopeful that it isn’t too bad. I can’t see much else
because of all the trash piled up around him, but I do see blood on his white
t-shirt and that scares me even more.
I
rush over and start digging him out, pausing once to run my hand over the
right, and uninjured, side of his face.
When
people first see Cam, they immediately think he is the typical jock. He is 6’4
and 195 pounds, which doesn’t give him a very sensitive look. He can normally
be found in a plain white t-shirt and faded jeans with his Adidas high tops,
and that only intensifies his thug look. The truth is, he is very sweet and is
always looking out for the little guy – he is the type that uses his large
presence to intimidate those that would be bullies. That is one of the reasons
he is so popular with everyone at school.
As
I look around, I notice the glass from the large picture window behind Cam is
gone in this room as well.
It
also appears we have gained a lot of debris from the neighborhood if what I am
digging though is any indication. There are newspapers and patio pillows and
even plants that look like they were torn up by their roots. It all combines to
make a dirty wet nasty mess.
Once
I have the majority of his body uncovered, I am still not sure how badly he is
hurt and I don’t want to move him and make it worse. Also, the table lying
across his legs is huge and made of solid oak. There is no way I can move it by
myself.
Searching
for the phone through my tear-blurred vision, I blink repeatedly as I fight
against the tears, I do not have time to break down right now. Getting help for
Cam is first on my list, then I’ll see what I can find out about the rest of
the town. I finally find the phone buried under a stack of books and papers
next to the still intact fish tank.
That
gives me a pause. How can there be this much destruction, but the glass on the
fish tank is unharmed? My mom’s fish are still making colorful waves as they
swim around in their glass-encased home. I have heard stories about the strange
things tornados did or didn’t do, but to actually see it is something else. I
shake my head to clear it and move on. This is no time to be distracted.
Quickly
dialing 911, I put the phone up to my ear. It takes me several seconds to
realize there is no something wrong. Dial tone is just something that you
expect. I close my eyes and take a deep breath – of course there is no dial
tone! We just lived through a tornado; there won’t be electricity in town right
now. For the first time ever I wish for one of those old fashioned corded
phones.
Patting
myself down I find my cell phone is somehow still in my pocket. In my rush to
get it out, I almost drop it. Holding my breath, I slide the button to wake it
up.
There
is nothing there, no bars, no nothing – just “searching for signal”. I have
absolutely no service.
There
are so many cell towers in the area. How can they all be down? There must have
been more than one tornado because I don’t even want to think about a single
tornado large enough to take out all the towers.
OK
– so, I need to find help for Cam and I have to do it on foot. I don’t mind
walking I’m just not too thrilled about leaving him lying here by himself. I
can’t see any way around it. There is no way to move him with that table still
on top of him and so far I haven’t heard any one else in the vicinity to help
move it. I’m hoping the ambulances will be starting to make rounds now that the
coast is clear. If I can just find one of them I can direct them over to my
house. They will be able to move the table and take care of him once they have
him free.
As
I look down on him lying on the floor so helpless, I remember the day we met
and I was the helpless one.
It
was 10 years ago – we were in the 1st grade. I had just moved to town after
both my parents lost their jobs. I don’t remember much from that time; mostly
just that I had to leave everything I knew.
That
first day of school I was scared out of my mind. I was worried that no one
would like me and I wouldn’t be able to make any new friends. I was sick to my
stomach and lightheaded. Walking into an unfamiliar school full of strangers
was almost more than my little heart could handle.
As I walked into the strange classroom I
started to cry. I could hear the snickers from the back of the room and murmurs
of “cry baby” as I looked for an empty seat. Cameron saved me when he walked
right up to me and said “You can sit by me if you want.” The snickers stopped
and there were no more whispers as we walked back to his desk. There he
introduced me to Kaelyn and the three of us have been inseparable since.
As
we grew older, our parents expected Cam and me to become more than friends, but
it was just too weird. It doesn’t help anything that he is one of the most
popular boys in school and I am considered a geek.
He
is the captain of the football team, tall, almost blond, and cute with little
dimples when he smiles. When you combine that with his lovable personality and
perfect body, all of the girls go head over heals for just one date with Cam.
I
am the one that always knows the answer, even if I haven’t studied. I typically
wear jeans and a t-shirt to class and I don’t bother with make-up. My long
straight black hair is normally pulled up in a messy bun just because I don’t
want to waste time trying to make it look presentable.
Besides
my jet black hair, I am completely average – 5’6 and I stay a pretty average
weight for my height. Although - if I indulge in sweets as much as I would like
to, that would no longer be the case.
I
am lucky that my complexion is more olive toned and smooth; it doesn’t need
anything except washed in the morning. I suppose I might be kind of pretty if I
made some effort, but I just don’t see the point.
Kae,
on the other hand, is only 5’1 and on the chubby side. With her cute little cherub
face and freckles across her nose, she is adorable. She has brown curly hair
just past her shoulders that she is always trying to straighten. Unfortunately
for her – it doesn’t straighten, it just frizzes.
Cam
and I are both from single children homes and Kae’s brother is 8 years younger
than her, so the three of us started taking care of and sticking up for each
other like siblings would. I can’t even count the number of times Cam has stood
up for Kae or me all through grade school and middle school. I know that a lot
of the times Cam had to stand up for me is when the other football players were
actually ribbing him about me. It makes me feel bad, but I don’t know what I
can do about it without making it worse.
Forcing
myself out of the past and back to the here and now, I realize I have to get
moving if I am going to get help for Cam and I really want to check on Kae. I
slowly and gently kneel down and give Cam a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry, I
will be back as soon as I can with help,” I whisper to his unconscious form. I
still don’t like leaving him, but I know I have no choice.
Getting
up off the floor, I hear the strangest and most terrifying sound. It freezes
the blood in my veins.
I
stop moving which leaves me in a half crouch that I won’t be able to hold long
– my knee is already protesting.
This
is 100 times worse than the sound of the tornado. I don’t know what could make
that noise, but I am fairly certain I don’t want its attention on me.
The
sound comes again, only closer this time. It sounds like chunks of metal
grinding against each other – but more organic somehow. I look around trying in
vain to find the source of the sound.
I
look up when I hear scratching noises coming from the direction of the window.
Standing on the windowsill is the most enormous bird I have ever seen.
The
bird stands at least 3 foot tall and is black as night except it’s eyes. It’s
eyes are an un-natural electric blue, unlike anything I have ever seen in
nature before. Then it opens its mouth and I see teeth.
Its
teeth are long and sharp with what looks like a serrated edge on the backside.
I can’t help but think teeth like that only belong on a carnivore – made for
ripping and tearing flesh. Then it makes that horrible organic metal sound
again and all the thoughts in my head flee.
Listening
to that bird cry this close is more than my ears or my brain can take. I am
afraid my ears are going to start bleeding any second and I can’t form a
coherent thought. It feels like razor blades digging into my head and cutting
out my brain. Finally, the bird stops and slowly I am able to think again.
I
am amazed that I am still conscience and I reach up and feel my ears to make
sure there really is no blood. My hands came away clean, but now I have another
problem.
There
is no way I can leave Cam laying here helpless with that crazy bird sitting in
the window. I’m not sure what
prolonged exposure to that noise it makes might be, or what the bird might do
if I leave it alone with Cam.
Suddenly
a horrible vision fills my mind - me coming back to the house after looking for
help and that nasty bird sitting on Cam’s chest eating his face. With that sharp beak and those teeth,
it wouldn’t take long to do some major damage. The vision is so real I let out
an involuntary terrified scream. That breaks the vision and causes Cam to let
out another heart-wrenching moan.
Looking
back at the window, I see the bird hasn’t moved except to look down at Cam
lying helpless on the floor. As he peers at him with it beady blue eyes it’s
head cocks to the side as if it is considering him for diner. It makes a little
hoping motion that makes me think it likes what it sees.
Frustrated,
I struggle to decide what to do. I have to get help for Cam, but I can’t leave
while the bird is still here. And what would keep the bird, or something worse,
from coming back even if I can make the bird leave. I’m not sure where the bird
came from and there is no guarantee that it is alone. It looks like something
that has escaped from the zoo from hell and if it escaped, I’m sure more
creatures did also.
At
that moment, I hear a huge thud from the other side of the house. In my freaked
out state of mind, I jump and scream at the sound. I turn towards the sound
taking short shallow breaths. It sounded like something very large fell from
somewhere very high up and actually shook the house when it landed.
Looking
back through the doorway that leads to the next room and out the picture window
that is adjacent to the door, I’m not sure what I will see. I expect to see
part of a tree that has fallen against the house next door. Instead, I can see
what appears to be a large hairy tree trunk standing upright right outside the
window. It is brown and green with knobby wart like things sticking off of it.
I
frown. That makes no sense; there was no tree outside that window before.
Shaking
my head in confusion I walk towards the window to see what is going on. As I
get closer I notice that it really looks nothing like any kind of tree I have
seen before. I make it about halfway through the room before I pause, frowning
even more at what I am seeing.
All
at once I smell it.
The
most awful stench is coming in through the window. It feels like it is
physically wrapping itself around my head and forcing itself into my nose. The
closest I can explain it is a combination of rotten eggs and bloated road kill
mixed in with the stale smell of moldy leaves after a fall rain.
Doubling
over, I gag.
There
is no way that smell is coming from a living breathing being. Anything that
smells that bad has been dead for a while. I'm really starting to freak out.
What exactly is going on here? Nothing is making any sense. I'm not sure how
much more I can handle and I have a feeling things are not done getting weird
on me.
The
bird makes a strangled version of its cry and hops out of the window into the
yard. Stretching out its 8-foot wingspan to its fullest it takes flight. It
flies straight north away from the thing on the other side of the house
screeching the entire time.
I
run towards the window the bird thing just left, tripping over the trash on the
way. As I watch it fly away I almost wish it would come back. Anything that
scares it away I don’t want to deal with. It continues to fly north as fast as
it's huge wings will take it. Apparently, it didn't care for the smell either.
Hearing
Cam moan again, I turn to see him moving restlessly and realize he is trying to
wake up.
As
he is struggling to open his eyes he is fighting against the table that holds
him trapped. I run over and drop down to sit on the floor next to him
forgetting about the bird and the smell for a moment.
“Cam!
Cameron! Please talk to me!” I grab his hand and hold on tight.
After
everything that has happened in the 15 minutes since I woke up, I am about at
the end of my rope. I need someone else to tell me that all these things are
real and I am not losing my mind. I am so confused! I thought we lived through
a tornado, a tornado does not explain what is going on with the weird bird and
that smell. I'm not sure anything does.
“Rose?”
Cameron is finally starting to really regain consciousness, but his eyes are
still mostly closed as he squints around the room. He groans as he tries to see
what is going on and where he is.
“What happened? Did the tornado hit
town?”
I
hesitate, not knowing what to tell him. If I start babbling about strange
smells and huge black birds with bright blue eyes and teeth, he is probably
going to want to have me committed first chance he gets.
“I’m
not sure. The power is down and my cell phone isn't working either.” I finally
reply.
That
much I know is the truth and as much as I want him to confirm that I am not losing
my mind, I am scared I might be. The bird is gone without a trace and I can see
through the window that while I have been paying attention to Cam, the giant
hairy tree trunk, and its smell have moved on as well.
Now
that there is nothing left to show him, I am afraid to even mention any of it.
They say that some people snap in the wake of serious stress – maybe that is
what is happening to me. I close my eyes and sigh.
“Ugh!
Can you help me get out from under this table?”
I
come back out of my wandering thoughts and realize that Cam is struggling to
free himself from the dining room table and the trash that has surrounded them
both. He has both of his hands on the edge of the table and is pushing as hard
as he can, but he can’t get any leverage with the angle he is at on the floor.
The only thing his struggling is accomplishing is causing the wound on top of
his head to start bleeding again.
“OH!
Of course!”
I
rush to help him move the table, blushing a little at being caught in my
thoughts. With both of us pushing on it, we slowly move it enough to free him.
He gently moves one and then the other of his legs as he tests them out.
“Looks
like it’s just a lot of bruises. I think I’m pretty lucky by the looks of this
room. Are you OK?”
“
I’m OK,” I tell him, “I think I hurt my knee, but I don’t think it is as bad as
I first thought. Your hair is covered with blood, though.”
He
reaches up and gently runs his hands over his head.
“My
head’s fine, just a scrape. You want me to look at your knee?”
“Naw.
I have been able to put more and more weight on it as I move around. I’m OK” I
say and smile.
I’m
not going to let on just how bad my knee is hurting me. I have always been the
independent type, and that isn’t going to change now. I can take care of
myself, and I am pretty sure my knee will be fine once we get moving. Besides
that, I have a feeling my knee is not that important right now.
“Have
you heard from anyone else? How long was I out?”
“I’ve
only been awake about 25 to 30 minutes myself, but I don’t know how long I was
out before that. I haven’t heard anyone else moving around yet, but surely
there must be more than just us,”
I
think I sounded convincing, but I wonder. Even as I say it, I worry about not
hearing anyone else yet.
I
really HAVE been awake for almost 30 minutes now and to not hear anyone calling
for help or yelling for their loved ones seems strange. In the movies, that is
the first thing you hear after any sort of disaster.
Cam
doesn’t seem worried by it, though, so I try to put it out of my mind.
“So,
are we going to hang out here in my trashed house until someone comes looking
for us or should we go looking for everyone else?” I say with a grin.
If
I was being honest with myself, I really just want to get out of here before
the bird or the hairy tree trunk come back. The thought of them sends a shiver
down my spine.
Of
course, there is no way I am going to admit that to Cam. Thankfully if he sees
my shudder he doesn’t comment on it.
Cam
chuckles, “I don’t see any reason to stay here. And, we might be able to help
some of the others, if we can find them.”
We
grin at each other and holding each other up, we slowly head for the door.
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