From the Indie Side (5 page)

“I think I can even taste what’s out there.
Can you?” Emily asked. He let out a phlegmy cough, and nodded.

“It’s the salt.” His tone was settled, but
his face wandered, searching for her mother.

“Salt?”

He started to speak, but then stopped. She
could sense his uncertainty. “The salt in the ocean. We’re using
it. But it was supposed to save us.” He turned away, glancing to
the front window. A curtain of rolling mist pushed against the
glass, sliding over the surface like heavy smoke. “But this isn’t
right. The weight is pulling the clouds down, and changing
them.”

“How long?” Emily asked. “How long do we
have?” Her father closed his eyes. His lips danced without a sound.
He was thinking. Calculating. It’s how he worked. She liked to
tease him about it sometimes, but didn’t feel the urge to do so
now. He shook his head, and the cramped expression from earlier
returned.

“I’ve got to stop it!” he blurted, and then
pulled her into his arms. “I’ve got to get to the machine and stop
this!”

“What’s going on?” a small voice chirped from
behind them. “Daddy, I’m itchy in my eyeballs and inside my
mouth—yuk.” They turned to see Emily’s little brother, bleary-eyed,
his security blanket hanging from one hand, dragging behind him.
Emily knelt, running her fingers up the long sleeve of his pajamas
to check his arms. No welts. Her brother had the same dark
complexion as their father and mother. For now, she was the only
one showing any signs of burning. But if they didn’t move, that’d
change soon.

“Justin, listen to me.” Her father’s knee
popped as he knelt down, spurring a giggle from the little boy. “I
have to go to work today, and while I’m gone, you need to listen to
your mother and sister. Understand?” Justin swiped at the salty
sting on his skin, but gave his father a firm nod.

“But I… I always listen,” he answered,
jumping into his father’s arms. “Daddy, I heard something. I don’t
know, but I think I heard something bad.”

“Don’t you worry about what you heard. Don’t
you listen to anything except for what your mom and sister tell
you. Can you run upstairs and get dressed for me?”

Justin’s feet were moving before they hit the
floor. The scratchy sound of footed pajamas skidded away from them,
thumped up the stairs.

“Is Justin getting ready?” her mother asked.
Her face had been wiped clean of tearstains, but her eyes stayed
puffy and red. “I’ve packed all the food and water that we can
carry. The batteries, radio and the flashlight are in the car too.
How safe is the car?”

“The cars will last longer than the house,”
he answered. “You went into the garage? How is it?”

“Stronger. I can smell it,” her mother said,
shaking her head. “I can feel a bit of burn, too. But I think it’s
safe.”

“Good… good, I can probably open the garage a
minute and then close it.” Emily considered what her father
said.

“But why would we do that?” she asked. “We
won’t be coming back. Will we?” Her father didn’t answer. Instead
he was counting again, his lips bumping up and down over numbers
she couldn’t hear.

“I think we can time this,” he said to
himself. “And I’ve already got stuff in my car, too.”

“Wait Phil! We’re going together,” her mother
exclaimed. Emily watched her mother fold her arms and straighten
her back, objecting to what he had planned. But her father only
shook his head, resolute.

They all jumped when an explosion rumbled
overhead, shaking their house. She heard something fall, crashing
onto their roof, and pieces of ceiling fell behind her. But it
wasn’t the roof. Like before, the sound had come from inside. It
was their entire home, quickly succumbing to the outside air like
Ms. Quigly had.

“So fast,” her father mumbled. His eyes
stayed on the ceiling as if waiting for it squash them. Instinct
brought his arms up to protect his family. “House isn’t going to
last as long as I’d hoped. No stone or brick.”

“What does that mean?” Emily asked, as
cracking and breaking sounds thundered through their home.

“Rafters are coming apart… not long before
the roof collapses.” His answer was clinical, like some morbid
diagnosis, and she felt hurt that he could sound so callous about
their home. He looked at their faces and shook his head. “We’re out
of time.”

“But you’re going with us!” her mother
implored.

“I’m going to take my car. You take the kids
in your car,” he started to say. But her mother was already shaking
her head, disagreeing. Her father stepped forward and placed his
hands on her arms. “Listen to me. Listen to me, Barbara. You need
to be strong today.” He nodded his head encouragingly. “Get to the
mall, like we did during the last hurricane. The building is safer
than anything else around here.”

He’s not going with us?
Emily became
confused and scared by her parents’ exchange.

“But how safe is the machine?” she asked,
suddenly realizing the danger. And when she saw her father’s
expression change, a deep terrible intuition struck her. Her lips
began to tremble and she grabbed her father’s arm. “Daddy, no!
Don’t go. You have to come with us!”

He looked to her then, a desperate fear in
his eyes. His lips were pressed firm, thinning until the color in
them was gone, matching the gray that had taken their world.

“I have to stop the reactor before it’s too
late.”

“How much time?” her mother asked. “How much
time before it won’t make a difference what you try to do?” He
pinched the bridge of his nose, and his lips began to move again.
Counting. Revising.

“An hour… maybe two at most,” he answered.
“But I have to get inside. I have to flood it with seawater.”

“But if you’re inside?” Emily started to ask,
and felt the first tears before he could answer. Her father took
hold of his daughter, his wife, pulling them both into his arms.
Emily dug her fingers into his shirt, holding onto him, knowing he
might not make it back.

“I’m going to make this right!” he said, and
then was suddenly gone, leaving them alone.

* *
*

The engine turned once and then sputtered
before dying. Emily’s mother cursed under her breath, thumping her
palm against the steering wheel. The sound of her foot pumping up
and down on the gas pedal came next. She turned the key again,
holding it there while the motor grunted objections. The motor
turned over, sputtered again, and then finally roared to life.

“Oh my God—thank you,” she sighed, and leaned
in to kiss the steering wheel. “I don’t know what we would have
done.”

“Call Dad!” Justin cried out from the back
seat. Emily turned to see her little brother tucked away in his car
seat, his blanket pulled up just beneath his chin, a thumb stuck in
his mouth. Out of habit, Emily raised her hand, wiggling her thumb
for him to see. His expression changed, shame filling his eyes. A
distant crash pulled her attention away. When she looked back, he’d
already popped his thumb back in, turning his face away to stay
clear of her eyes.

Can’t hurt him now
, she thought sadly.
Her little brother had no idea what was on the other side of the
garage door. None of them did. He had no idea that somewhere
between here and the shopping mall, they might all be dead.

“Emily,” her mother interrupted. “Does your
phone work?” Until Justin’s suggestion, the thought hadn’t occurred
to her to check for a signal.

“Four bars,” she said, relieved. “I’ve got
four solid bars and a full battery, too.”

She jumped almost clear out of her seat when
the garage door behind them began rolling up, clanking metal on
metal.

“Power isn’t out for good yet,” her mother
said. It had been flickering on and off like a failing fluorescent
bulb while they hustled Justin out to the car. “Won’t be long
though.”

Emily stretched to look outside. Gray mist
fell into the opening of the garage, but stayed at the entrance.
They were safe. But for how long? The mist was white, pure white,
mottled with streams of dark patches. She could see nothing beyond
it. Another bang hollered from inside the home, and she imagined a
wall or ceiling collapsing.

Emily dropped back down to her seat and bit
nervously on her fingers. She had her bad habits too. She glanced
over to Justin, who seemed intent on his thumb-sucking, yet
oblivious to what was going on.

The mall was a good idea—a great idea. But
how were they going to find it?

“Mom… how are we going to drive through
this?” she asked, and watched her mother slump against the steering
wheel.

“Dad’s driving,” Justin answered. “He said he
had to go to work—remember?” Her mother bolted up and jabbed a
finger at the car’s dash.

“The GPS,” she answered. “Has to be. It’ll be
our eyes.”

“Can it get a signal through this stuff?”

“Works when there’s a rainstorm, right?”

“Yeah… yeah, it does,” Emily answered,
knowing it didn’t matter. The GPS
had
to be their eyes. They
didn’t have a choice. They didn’t have anything else.

“What is that?” her mother asked. Emily
followed her mother’s gaze as a cloud of chalky debris fell onto
the windshield. Ticking sounds tapped against the roof of the car
like heavy rain, and for a brief moment, she thought the gray mist
had come inside to take them. But the dust was too heavy, and had
already started to leave a thin coat on the hood. The wall in front
of them moved, bulging outward as if taking a dying breath. Large
cracks sprayed from the center, spidering in every direction. The
ceiling…

“Mom, we have to move. NOW!”

“What is it?”

“Hit the gas, Mom!” Emily screamed, realizing
the house was caving in on them. “Go, Mom! Go!”

If they didn’t move now, they’d be trapped
beneath the rubble. A blast shook the car, splintering the wood
that held their house together. Emily felt the bite of tears as
their home died around them, collapsing. Chunks of ceiling and wood
crashed on top of the car. The loud thud jarred them, startling
Justin. Emily turned in time to see his eyes narrow as his face
cramped with fright.

“What’s happening?” he cried.

“It’s okay, Justin, we’re leaving!” her
mother answered, but she seemed stuck, fumbling with the shifter as
more debris fell on top of them. Another explosion thundered from
somewhere high above them, and Emily thought of the rafters and the
roof, like her father had said. Wood tore like paper, throwing
bombs of insulation and drywall all around them. The ruckus grew,
becoming louder, and sounded like a thousand campfires hissing and
popping as they burned through acres of forest.

“My house,” her mother cried, and Emily felt
her mother’s anguish, but now wasn’t the time to mourn. Emily sat
high on her seat, begging that they get out of the garage. She
grabbed the car’s shifter, pressing the button and throwing them
into reverse. The car sped backward, clipping the side of the house
as it careened out of the crumbling garage.

When their car became engulfed by the fog,
her mother slammed on the brakes. She was breathing hard, sweating,
her face full of shock and fear. Emily shrank back into her seat. A
thunderous sound came, and more debris pummeled the car, forcing
her mother to turn away. Emily reached over, taking her mother’s
hand, trying to ease some of the tears. She wanted to cry too,
imagining their house crumpled and destroyed, but they had to keep
moving.

“Come on, Mom,” she said. “Nothing we can
do.”

Emily grabbed for the GPS and tapped
furiously at the pale black screen. The small display sprang to
life. Her mother joined in, quickly finding the shopping mall, and
pinned the location.

“You ready?” she asked, looking over. Emily
nodded somberly. “I’ll watch the road as best I can. You tell me
the direction to go.”

Almost at once, they ran over something. Her
mother cringed at the sound, and the car lifted up and then
dropped.

“Don’t stop, Mom!” Emily yelled. “If you
stop, you might get the car stuck on it.” Her mother pressed the
gas pedal, throwing the car over whatever it was they’d hit.
Emily’s heart tightened when she considered the dead bodies. What
if they’d run over someone?

“It’s just the mailbox!” her mother yelled.
“I saw it at the very last second.” As they drove blindly away from
their home, Emily struggled to rid her mind of what their house
must look like. She shook her head, faced forward, and let the
sentiment fall out of her.

“Almost at the end of our street,” her mom
announced. “We’ll be able to move faster soon. Just hope there
aren’t other cars.”

A buzz came from her pocket, vibrating across
her bottom. It was a new message. Excited, she grabbed her
phone.

“Is that a text?” her mother asked. “Is it
your father?”

“Are you guys okay?” she read aloud. “Yeah,
it’s from Dad!”

“Quick, tell him we’re on our way. Ask him
how he’s doing.”

Emily typed, thumbing the keyboard,
shortening nearly every word to mere letters. She hit send, and
felt the car lift up and fall back down.

“What was that?” But her mother only shook
her head, then glanced at the rearview mirror.

“No idea. But I know what I hope it
wasn’t.”

“How fast?”

“I’m staying below ten. I don’t want to go
too fast… you know, in case we hit something.”

“Yeah, but what if someone hits us!” Emily
answered sharply. Her mother raised her brow, realizing the danger.
Emily’s phone buzzed twice more.

“Dad says that he’s nearly there. And that he
loves”—Emily’s voice choked up—“he loves us very much.”

The car became quiet as Emily watched her
mother’s face grow red.

“Call him,” her mother demanded, looking
over. Emily didn’t hesitate, and pressed the icon to make the call.
She put her phone on speaker, letting the unanswered rings echo in
the car. The tension weighed heavy with each jingling tone. The
call broke suddenly to an
all circuits busy
message.