ONE CUP (Part 32)

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134

Ray Garrett

They say a tornado sounds like a freight train bearing down upon you. I don’t know. I can’t describe it other than to say I’d never heard anything so loud in my life. Like a train, yes, I suppose, but also like a jet engine at full throttle, and the tormented cries of all the lost souls of humanity. All that and more, rolled into one. I thought I was going to lose control of my bowels, I was so scared.

Once the funnel cloud passed me by, I jumped up and began running toward the buildings, the only signs of human civilization in the immediate area, now reduced to ruins. Only then did it occur to me that I should have brought some sort of weapon. The machine shed at home was full of tools that could do some serious damage to an attacker. Plus there were guns in the farmhouse, there for the taking, if I’d only been thinking of it.

A few things remained untouched. The house trailer, ironically. Equally ironic, I thought, the junk yard where all the crushed cars were stacked, appeared not to have been touched. And a ten by twelve tool shed. A two-axle flatbed trailer with a backhoe sitting atop it was parked alongside its north side.

I had no idea what I was going to be dealing with, so the tool shed seemed like a good place to find something that could be used as an improvised weapon. I stopped at the door, leaning over, hands on knees, struggling to catch my breath. I stood up, placed a hand on the doorknob. It turned, but there was a hasp and a padlock preventing me from pushing the door open.

There was a tool box mounted on the backhoe. I hopped up onto the trailer and flipped the box open. Not much to choose from. An assortment of wrenches and screwdrivers, a ball peen hammer, and a roll of duct tape. I couldn’t take everything, so I grabbed the hammer and one of the screwdrivers. My phone rang.

What is it about a ringing phone that makes us drop everything? No matter what we’re doing, working on a time-sensitive project, having sex, listening to a sermon, or taking a dump, most people will stop to talk, or at least pause to see who the call is from. I’m no different. Habit caused me to check. Seeing that the call was from Ian McGregor, I chose to decline the call, and placed the ringer on vibrate mode.

I tucked the hammer and the screwdriver inside my belt and proceeded toward the other buildings. There might be some people who could be of help to me, or more likely, needing some assistance themselves. Hopefully, Whitney was nearby. I avoided walking out in the open, and made sure not to make any more noise than necessary. It was now dusk. Without looking at my watch I knew it was long past time for me to have arrived at the ballpark. The players would now be on the field, stretching and warming up, preparing for the last game of the regular season. Now and again, I heard some shuffling and scratching sounds. A bit unnerving. More so as it grew darker.

My phone vibrated, alerting me I had a message. I reached for it, selected Messages. As I read the text, I heard the voice of Lou Brannigan. “Ray! Are you okay?”

When you are under duress, you sometimes fail to notice the obvious. Like Lou Brannigan calling me by my name, getting it right. My first name. And showing concern for my well-being. Under the circumstances, being under duress, I might have missed those clues. Fortunately, Ian’s text told me all I needed to know.

Danger u r in

danger. Kayla

coming to kill u

and girl. Mike &

Lou in it too

135

Whitney

“You can come home with me,” I heard a familiar voice, calling to me through the fog, but all I wanted was to go back to sleep.

“I’ll take good care of you,” the voice said. Who was it? I was regaining consciousness, but I was disoriented. Again. Again? Had this happened before? “I’ll feed you every day, and I’ll dress you up and we can play with my dolls together, and I’ll name you Snowflake.”

Rylee? I looked around. Leon was lying next to me, under a pile of rubble. Dead or unconscious, I couldn’t tell which. I remembered now some of the events of the last couple days, how I came to be here. I remembered having my Glock before the tornado came through, but I couldn’t find it now. It didn’t matter now. Was I hallucinating, imagining my daughter here with me? And then I heard, “I might have to hide you under my bed, though. My mom said no the last time I asked her for a dog.”

It couldn’t be. “Rylee?” I said. “Rylee, is that you?”

“Mommy!” Rylee jumped to her feet, only a few yards from where I lay. She came running toward me, then stopped short. “Is he a giant?” she asked, pointing to Leon?

136

Kayla Prescott

I was dazed, still trying to process what had happened. One moment we were there together, the three of us, and the in next moment, Michael was dead. I managed to get out of the Escalade at the last second, before it erupted in flames. Michael was dead. From the impact or from the fire, I didn’t know. But he was dead. No one could have survived that. For his sake, I hoped he’d been killed before the propane tank we’d slammed into exploded and the Escalade was turned into an inferno. Either way, he was dead. And I was a widow.

After all the trouble I’d gone to set him up, to force him into nullify the pre-nup in exchange for half of everything he’d earned. Now it was all mine. Not just the estate, but there was a large life insurance policy as well. To my surprise, I actually felt a sense of personal loss. I’d get over it, but, still, there is something frightening and sad about becoming a widow, alone in the world.

Now I had to get rid of that bitch he’d been seeing. She was here. All I needed to do was find her.

137

Jackie

I came to the end of the driveway. The ditches along the roadway were swollen, overflowing with dirty water that looked like chocolate milk. If Rylee came here, which way would she have turned? Left, or right? I stood there, suffering paralysis by analysis. I turned right, and began walking. I went no more than fifty yards when something swept by in the ditch. A doll. Rylee’s doll, Sally. My heart leapt at the knowledge that Rylee had survived the tornado, and at the same time, I was filled with fear she might drown in the floodwaters. Whatever happened to her, it happened upstream. I reversed my direction, walking at a brisk pace.

138

Nick Taylor

The decision to leave Jackie and Rylee at the car had been my only alternative. We couldn’t very well go dragging a child into a potentially violent situation, nor could we leave her alone. I worked my way through the other side of the heavily timbered fence row, then paralleled it as I proceeded toward the junkyard.

Things happened fast. The airplane flew over, the two funnel clouds appeared, and then that stupid pilot turned around and headed right for them, landing in the vacant field behind the junkyard. The funnel clouds were dangerously close by then, and I never did see if he got out or what happened to him. I was too busy trying to survive.

When the twister nearest to me touched down, there was nowhere for me to go. I dove into the thicket and lay face down, enduring the pain of the thorns in my face and on my hands, arms and thighs, the idea being the thicket would provide some protection from flying debris. Maybe it did, I don’t know. I do know it didn’t prevent a big limb from striking me, and one of its small branches gouging my left eye. I lay there, trapped, helpless and bloody, trembling with pain. This was not the way I’d expected to die.

I fumbled for my cell phone and tried calling Jackie to check on her and the kid, and ask her to help me. No answer.

139

Jackie

I would never forgive myself if anything bad happened to Rylee. How could I have put a child in such a dangerous position? I’d let my own need for revenge, and yes my own greed, overrule my judgment, not to mention my sense of decency.

I walked up the hill, searching as best I could in the darkness. Mostly though, I listened. There were voices. Could it be?

I broke into a run, something I haven’t done in years. Very soon I ran out of breath, and had to resume walking. The voices were getting louder. And familiar.

“Rylee!” I called out. “Whitney! It’s me, Jackie.

“Over here,” Whitney called back to me.

As I joined them, I noticed a rather large man lying on the ground next to Whitney. “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” Whitney said. “He helped us. And now, I’m afraid he’s needing help.”

I stepped closer, offered a hand to help Whitney to her feet.

140

Ray Garrett

I put my cell in my pocket. Why would Ian have warned me, after what I’d heard while listening to him on the phone? I’d have to figure it all out later. Right now, Lou Brannigan was walking up to me, smiling, leaning on a baseball bat like a crutch. “I’m glad to see you’re okay,” he said.

“Nice to know you care, Lou. What brings you here?”

Brannigan swung the bat, striking me in the head.

141

Ray Garrett

When I awoke, it was pitch black. No moon, no outside security lights. My head was throbbing, and I was lying with my back on the ground, feet elevated and bound to the side of trailer. My hands and feet were bound by cable ties, and my head hurt like a son of a bitch. Lou Brannigan stood a few feet away, holding the baseball bat over his head with both hands.

Then I heard it, the low, ominous growls. In the darkness I could make out two, no, three dogs, positioned in a semi-circle, advancing on Brannigan.

“Don’t look them in the eye,” I said. “They’ll take it as a threat.”

“Shut up, Garrett.” At least he got my name right.

“Stand up straight. Don’t let them see fear,” I said, thinking back to what my dad told me when I was a kid and the neighbor’s dog was making a reputation for himself, biting my friends. I was afraid I would be next. “Never turn your back on them, and whatever you do,” I said as Brannigan turned to his right and took off full speed, right past me, “Don’t run.”

The moment Lou Brannigan took off, he became prey in the minds of the dogs. The first one leaped over me, the next ran into and tumbled over me, and the third went around me. All in the span of three or four seconds. None of them paid the least bit of attention to me, but I couldn’t count on them not coming back later. I rolled over on my side and positioned my feet to allow me to rub the cable tie binding my ankles together rapidly against the edge of the trailer bed.

Lou Brannigan made it twenty-five yards or so before the first of the fighting dogs caught him by a hamstring and brought him down. I looked away, trying to focus on rubbing the cable tie against the trailer. But, I couldn’t stop myself from stealing glances of the sickening sight of the dogs mauling Lou. If I live to be a thousand years old I will never forget the sounds from that night. The growls, the screams, the gurgles, and the panting. Lou shook his legs, his arms, his entire body, trying to fend them off. All his efforts were in vain. It was over in two minutes. They killed him, and then left him.