Part 8 (2/2)

”How long do you think that will take?” Chaz asked.

”No telling. And, even if we could get through to 911, I don't know how they'd get an ambulance to us, or even land a medevac helicopter in the middle of all this stuff. I have a sinking feeling we're going to be here for several hours . . . maybe longer. I'm no expert on tornados, but you can just tell . . .” His gaze slowly traversed the landscape. ”We're not the only ones who will need an ambulance.”

”True.” Chaz nodded. ”We're lucky, too. Rawston Market was pretty much deserted except for us. The gym, Jen's place, and our business all decided to close early for the storm. I'm pretty sure that everybody who was in the mall at the time made it into the restaurant with us.” Haruo and Desh agreed.

”There was n.o.body left at the lumberyard, either,” Justin said. ”Everyone was out on deliveries or out on a jobsite, working up estimates today and Danny was with Heather and Robbie before we lost contact with him.”

”So,” Abigail said, clearing her throat and trying to keep the terrible worry out of her voice. ”We're all alone out here?”

”For now, yeah,” Justin said. ”Most places out here close early on Sat.u.r.day. The factory is closed on weekends, so are the banks and most of the businesses down here.”

”So, we're probably going to be low on the priority list.” Her shoulders flagged.

”If the most populated areas are top priority, then . . . yeah.”

A short while later, after tossing around a number of different plans of attack, a fledgling scheme was formed. Before it got any darker, a now frantic Haruo and Mieko had decided to strike out on foot and try to get to Brooke and Tyler over at the high school. Since the young mother and her three children lived over in the neighborhood behind the high school, they'd take her with them. The businessman offered to carry one of the kids. Desh was also extremely worried about the safety of his own pregnant wife and decided to set out with the middle-aged woman, because they both lived in the same general neighborhood.

Because her water had broken, everyone agreed that Jen should stay put and wait for a ride to the hospital. Walking any distance in the dark, in her present condition, would be too dangerous. Everyone else would stay with Jen.

En route, the ones who'd left would all search for someone to come and pick up Jen just as soon as possible. It was the only logical plan. Then, as if they were all long-lost friends, everyone hugged each other good-bye and shed a few emotional tears. They thanked Haruo for his wisdom and generosity and vowed to stay in touch.

They also took two of Desh's three flashlights.

That left only one flashlight and a crew of Isuzu, Chaz, Justin, and Abigail to care for Jen. And, of course, Bernie. If he was even still around. Abigail's stomach lurched with anxiety as she wondered what the next hours would bring.

7:58 p.m.

First responders from Souths.h.i.+re and Fisher's Mill began to arrive in Rawston almost immediately, sirens screaming, flas.h.i.+ng red and blue lights, visible in the waning daylight. Selma eased over to the side of the road to let several emergency vehicles roar by. She and Guadalupe had been in the car for half an hour now and had only been able to travel a mile, maybe two, down the Souths.h.i.+re Highway. They were listening to the radio reports and growing more anxious by the moment.

”. . . and authorities are warning people to find adequate shelter before dark. Right now, we can tell you that the Salvation Army, the Red Cross, and the National Guard are mobilizing and preparing to set up command posts and triage centers throughout Rawston and hope to begin offering shelter, first aid, fresh water, coffee, and myriad types of emergency a.s.sistance within the hour.

Right now, the death toll has already reached into the dozens, with hundreds injured, and more missing. Souths.h.i.+re hospital is accepting all life-threatening injuries now and sending less serious cases over to Westfield and Lost Lake . . .

We're getting reports here at K-RAW now of places hardest hit, starting with the areas first struck on Fisher's Mill Road . . .”

The road that had been barely pa.s.sable was becoming steadily clogged with traffic as folks flooded into the tornado's path, eager to offer a.s.sistance and to find loved ones. Impatiently, Selma ground her gears, searching for reverse. ”Guadalupe, I'm going to do something a little bit unorthodox, and so I'm going to ask you to tighten your seat belt.”

”Why?”

”Because I'm in the mood for a little off-road action,” Selma grunted and, cranking the wheel, punched the accelerator till the tires squealed.

Guadalupe reached for the dashboard and braced herself. ”And you think your car is up to the task?”

”It's been forty years and she hasn't failed me yet.”

”Then via con Dios, mi Amiga,” Guadalupe said, just before she was thrown back against her seat as they dove into a newly sprouted spring wheat field.

8:00 p.m.

While there was still some light left to navigate, Justin hiked down the street a ways in search of help. While he was gone, Abigail, Isuzu, and Chaz decided to scout around for any supplies that could come in handy while they waited for Justin to return. Isuzu went to look for bottled water, while Chaz headed off to the Cleaners to dig up some warm clothing before the temperature fell.

Abigail figured they'd all eventually need to sit down and went off in search of seating. She hadn't traveled too far when she happened upon a pile of stuff that the storm had savaged from a pet shop. Even in the fading twilight, she could see that the plastic wrapped bundle of dog beds had been cute. Doggy paw prints on fabric made for loyal friends. . . She stared at the tags on one of the tattered dog beds. PetSmart.

The closest PetSmart was at least ten miles from here. Ten long miles. A sudden rush of goose b.u.mps crawled up her spine, and she found herself battling a panic attack.

Oh, G.o.d, she wondered, how could You let something as horrific as this happen? How can you say You're a loving G.o.d and let puppies suffer like this? Why?

She was too numb to cry now, which was a good thing because she had a feeling that once she started, she wouldn't be able to stop for a long time. Abigail shook the debris off two beds for large dogs the best she could and hauled them back to where Jen waited and settled them next to Jen's chair.

”How are you doing, mama?” She hoped she sounded upbeat as she rejoined Jen. Positive. Sanguine in the face of this nightmare. She dropped down and made herself as comfortable as possible. Could Jen tell she was shaking? a.s.suming a relaxed pose, she crossed her feet at the ankles to still the tremor in her legs.

Jen's normally beautiful face was bathed in sweat and the crease between her brows stood out white against the layer of mud. ”I don't feel so hot. Back in the refrigerator, something fell on Chaz and it hit me pretty hard, too, so my back aches.”

”Oh.” Tough to find a positive spin for that one. Abigail licked her lips and groped for something encouraging. ”Try not to worry. Justin is getting help.” Nervously, she tugged a sc.r.a.p of loose fabric off the dog's bed. Twisting the strip into a long rope, she tied her hair up with it and then leaned back, hoping she exuded a lot more confidence and peace than she felt. ”He'll be here any second now.” As if on cue, Justin returned. ”See?” Abigail leapt to her feet and rushed out to meet him. ”Did you find anyone to come take Jen to the hospital?” she asked quietly.

With a glance back at Jen, Justin kept his voice low. ”No. I found some other folks about a block up the street. One has lost a lot of blood, two are suffering from broken bones and concussions, and some are okay. Like us, they're waiting for help to arrive, too. The good news is that one of them talked to someone who heard on a car radio that the first responders are starting to arrive from Souths.h.i.+re and Fisher's Mill. They said that Rawston EMTs have just transported the first, most seriously injured.

”This storm . . .” he swallowed and looked up at Abigail, ”. . . this storm was huge. They're saying EF5.”

”No,” she breathed out the word in a whoosh. They stood, not speaking for a minute as they digested the magnitude of what they'd just lived through. Finally, Abigail broke the silence. ”So, hey, uh . . . that whole awning permit thing?” She squinted up as the first stars began to emerge in the night sky. ”No hurry, huh?”

A grin nudged his lips up, and he laughed that warm, wonderful laugh she remembered from last night. ”That's good, because I have a feeling the commissioners have bigger fish to fry now.”

They smiled at each other for a long moment. ”I am sorry,” Abigail said. ”My behavior this morning was inexcusable. Especially looking back at it from this angle.”

”Funny. That all seems like a lifetime ago, huh?” He grinned. ”I'll forgive you if . . . you'll forgive me.”

”What for?”

”I have a policy. And I violated it. For you.” At her raised brow, he shrugged. ”I don't date women I meet in bars. Mainly because I don't go to bars. Unless charbroiled beef is involved. And even then, it's just to eat and not to pick up women. But you . . .”

Abigail smiled. ”I get it.”

”Oh, good.” Justin's shoulders sagged and his grin was comically sheepish. ”Earlier, when you said you don't normally hang out there, I was relieved and wanted you to know that I don't either. But it came out wrong. I'm sorry.”

Abigail nodded and allowed herself a second to forget the horror and simply bask in his smile. ”It's okay,” she whispered. Something fluttered in her stomach. He really was nice. Really and truly . . . nice. She couldn't imagine any of the men she'd dated in the past ever being as heroic as Justin had been through this ordeal. She held his gaze with her own and wondered exactly what it was that made him tick. And if he was this good looking, why wasn't he already attached? First chance she got, she'd ask Danny.

Bob Ray had hitched a ride to the edge of town with one of the guys from Low Places who'd not only survived but still had a functioning vehicle. The going had been slow and frustrating, and they'd had to stop more than once to drag stuff out of the way. Finally, when the road could take them no closer to Rawston because of wrecked cars and fallen trees, he got out, thanked his benefactor, and struck out on foot. With every step, he begged G.o.d to let Heather and his son be okay.

”Please, please, please,” he chanted as he rounded the corner of Fisher's Mill Highway and turned onto Sycamore Drive, the street that led to his alma mater. Good old Rawston High School was all lit up. But not the way it used to be, back when he was playing football. This looked more like emergency lights being run by a generator. And the flas.h.i.+ng red and blues of cop cars. And ambulances. And fire trucks.

A siren squawked as an ambulance backed up and then turned and nosed out onto the road that lead to Souths.h.i.+re. Gravel shot from beneath the tires as it picked up speed and turned the siren on full blast.

Bob Ray quickened his pace. What had been going on at the school? Should have been empty, this time of night. It wasn't a game night . . . He'd broken a sweat by the time he reached the football field. Everywhere he looked there were traumatized kids, standing around dressed in formal wear, clutching their parents and each other and crying. Bob Ray blinked. Prom? Was that tonight? Ah, man. He slowed as he came into the light and sucked in a huge breath.

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