Retribution (32 page)

Lillian stared up at him, and for the first time she didn't avert her eyes.

He waited. If there was one thing Trina had taught him, it was not to push.

Tears dribbled down her face and she brushed them away with her hand. “Who are you, Bill Iver?” she murmured.

He had been asked that question before, by Sandra.

She continued to stare at him, her expression a mixture of pain and hope. “I'm not a danger to you or to your family.” She turned from him. “It's just that…there is something I need to share with you, but not now.”

He wanted to probe for more, but she would talk when ready.

Somewhere a chain saw sounded. That log that had fallen in the front yard would need to be cut up. Amazing it hadn't hit the house. A car drove by; pools of water arched from the tires. Soon natural darkness would replace the lingering gray from the storm.

“You haven't heard from Sandra, have you?” He wanted to tell her about the baby.

Lillian covered her mouth with a hand. “I forgot about Sandra!”

He pulled the cell phone from his pocket and dialed. Good, he could be the one to tell her. Intermittent buzzing, and then the phone rolled to voice mail. He disconnected and stared. Something had happened.

Tension ate the back of his neck. Maybe she had gone outside. No need to invent more trouble. “I'm heading over to Sandra's. Want to come along?” He wanted to drag the words back as soon as he said them. As regret soured in his mouth, he remembered the saying that it's better to have an enemy at your side. He stomped out the back door, Lillian following.

In the backyard, Bill growled. “Ted parked my car in.” The space between his back bumper and Ted's front end couldn't be more than three inches. Streams of frustration hissed from his nose. Now they would have to walk. Urgency tugged. He needed to get to Sandra's.

“We can take my car.” Lillian ran into the house and quickly returned, dangling car keys from her hand.

“I'll drive.” He grabbed the keys from her hand.

24

The steering wheel jerked under Bill's hand as he tried to control Lillian's car on the water-filled streets. The closer he got to Sandra's the evidence of the storm became more apparent. Trees lay uprooted, debris covered the yards. He swerved to avoid a green city trash can. Shingles lay everywhere.

Lillian moaned as she clung to the edge of the door. “I had no idea all of this was happening.”

In the dusk, the exact extent of the damage was hard to determine.

Finally, Sandra's street.

His muscles loosened. In spite of the destruction around it, her house seemed undamaged. Amazingly, the tree that he promised to remove a couple of weeks ago remained upright, tenaciously clinging to the soil with limbs reaching toward heaven, as though seeking mercy against the storm.

He knocked on the kitchen door and jiggled the knob. “Sandra!” With the dim light that penetrated through the window, he spied her cookie-mixing bowl on the counter, and the board game on the table. His heart warmed. No one tried harder than Sandra.

“Maybe she's in the back yard,” Lillian said.

Bill grunted and headed around the house. A lake had formed in the center of the yard. Broken limbs stretched from the water.
Great place for snakes to collect. Cleaning this mess would be top priority in order to keep Jimmy from getting bitten.
He had seen moccasins traversing the streams in Williamson Park. Sandra's neighbor had killed a nest of copperheads just last week back by his shed.

Lillian's shrill voice came from the side of house.

He ran toward her, then stopped, stunned. Where branches should be, the roots of the tall oak jutted upward. A jumble of limbs and branches were tightly packed in the narrow space between the twisted trunk and the house. As he examined the damage, breath caught in his throat. Even in the waning light, he could see that part of the house was missing. The tree had slammed down onto the roof, crushing its way through the side wall. One major branch still hung precariously from the trunk, held in place by the limbs beneath it.

Ominous silence pressed against him. The feeling of urgency grew. Sandra should have seen him, or heard him. His stomach clenched. “Sandra!” Not waiting for a response, he sped back to the kitchen door, and fumbled to fit the key she had given him into the lock.

She and Jimmy could have gotten out. They could have gone to the neighbor's.

Or they could be crushed under the branches, unable to breathe….

The key slid into the lock. Bill tensed, preparing himself for what he might find. Why had he never told Sandra that he loved her? Why had he not spent more time with Jimmy? Tears misted blurred his vision.

The kitchen smelled damp. The lemon scent that usually greeted him was missing, replaced by the smell of wet carpet and plaster. He pushed out her name through a thickened throat. “Sandra!”

“Bill!”

She was alive! His heart lurched as he raced toward the sound of her muffled voice.
God, let them be all right.

The grayness of the kitchen melted to deep shadows as he entered the living room. He knew his way, and continued to speed toward the voice at the back of the house. Suddenly he found himself falling. Sharp points penetrated his clothing and outstretched hands and scraped against his face. For a few precious seconds he lay in the unwelcoming arms of the barrier. With a lurching heart, he pulled himself free. Tree branches! In the opening to the hall. He balled his shaking hands and tried to catch his breath.

“Uncle Bill!”

“Honey, where are you? Talk to me. Are you hurt?” He reached for the barrier and clawed at its thick form.

Laughter filtered through the space. “Who are you calling honey, Jimmy or me?”

Lillian's distant voice followed. “Maybe it's me!”

They were safe! He pulled blindly at the branches. They seemed to be wedged into place, glued together by sheer mass. Sweat ran down his face. “Stay put, Sandra!” He dashed back toward the kitchen and out the door.

Lillian stood on the trunk of the tree, one hand clinging to the side of the house for balance. “I can't see them, Bill.”

“We're in the bathtub, and we can't get out.”

He and Lillian exchanged looks. “You're in the bathtub?” he called back.

“Long story. I can tell you later if you want.”

“Uncle Bill, I have to pee.”

He laughed. Nothing had thrilled him more than their voices since his grandson's cry.
His grandson!
“Sandra, we have a baby!”

“I delivered him!” Lillian exclaimed.

“We have our baby? Y'all have been busy since I've been stuck in here.”

The deepening dusk limited his vision. He turned to Lillian. “I need some light.”

She grinned and pulled a red plastic flashlight from the waist of her jeans. “I figured we'd need it so I ran back to my car while you were in the house.” Her lips tightened. “I've been stuck in the dark once today; that's enough.”

“Sandra, hang on. I'm trying to find a way to get you two out of there.” He moved the beam back and forth across the damaged house, the gash full of tightly woven branches. “This is a mess,” he mumbled. “I don't see any way to get them out.”

Lillian stood beside him. “What if we work from the inside?”

“What good will that do?” He continued to pan the light across the damaged house.

“The limbs at the top of the tree are smaller.”

The light stopped moving. He grabbed her and gave her a hug. “You're right!” He turned the beam back toward the gap in the house. “Sandra, listen up. We're going inside and will try to get you out that way.”

Their feet squished on the wet ground as they raced to the other side of the house. Inside, the narrow beam revealed mangled limbs packing the hall, spilling out into the living room.

“This is worse than I thought.” He rubbed the top of his head.

“That's the same thing you said outside.”

“This looks more like a beaver's dam than a hall.” Desperation choked his air. Sandra and Jimmy were inside. Putting the light on the floor, he grabbed a thick limb, braced his foot and pulled. The limb didn't move. He grabbed a second limb, and then a third with no results.

“What if we try taking out some of the thinner branches first?” Lillian asked, picking up the flashlight from the floor. “Maybe the small ones are holding the bigger ones in place.”

Hating that he hadn't thought of it, but willing to try anything, he grabbed a fistful of twigs and tossed them toward the front door. After propping the flashlight, she joined him. Soon they had cleared a sizeable space, but the distance to the bathroom loomed large beyond them.

Sweat dripped off his face. “I'll have you out soon. Jimmy, you still with me in there?”

“It's too late, Uncle Bill.” Jimmy's words came in hitches.

Bill stood stricken for several seconds. What had happened? She had been fine moments ago. And then he grinned. “That's OK, buddy. I may have just wet my pants, too.”

“Bill!”

The sound of Sandra's voice—even if to reprimand—flowed like chocolate syrup over the ice cream of his heart.

Footsteps thumped in the dark. “You need some help in here?” A middle-aged man dressed in coveralls, with a ball cap pressed on his head, stood behind them. A green chain saw dangled from his right hand and a red container was gripped in the other. He had a large industrial flashlight tucked under his arm.

“Hey, Pat,” a disembodied voice called. “Thanks for coming to my party.”

“That you, Miss Sandra?” Pat peered into the dense branches.

“I'm in here, too!” Jimmy shouted.

“Hey there, James, my man. You should have seen those puppies during the storm. They sure were missing you.”

“Can I hold one when I get out?”

“They'll be waiting.”

Pat turned to Bill. “Noticed the tree came down, and saw the two of you running around. Thought you might need some help.”

Grit caked the wide grin on Bill's face. “Looks like you brought the muscle we need.” He nodded toward the chain saw.

Rubbing his whiskered chin, Pat examined the hole as Bill shined the light. “Let's get at it!” Pat pulled the starter cord and the motor roared to life.

As sawdust spit into the air, Bill and Lillian pulled out the cut limbs.

After about fifteen minutes, the chain saw sputtered and stopped. “Out of gas.” Pat reached for the red container. The hole now extended halfway down the hall, close to where the tree had smashed through the house.

Three heads jerked up as a sharp crack split the air, and then a thud, followed by the sound of limbs cracking and splintering. Then silence.

Bill's heart felt as if it stopped beating. “Sandra and Jimmy, you all right?”

Sandra's voice came in tight gasps. “Something must have fallen. It put more pressure on us.”

Lillian bent into the opening. “How is Jimmy?”

“He's tucked beside me. He's fine, but hurry.”

“Give me that thing!” Bill shouted, grabbing at the chain saw.

Pat held firm. “Hang on a minute. We better go see what happened outside. We don't want to be pulling and pushing and cause the rest of that tree to fall on top of them.” The man's face crinkled in concern.

As one, the three raced outside and across the front lawn to the side yard. Darkness now blanketed the damage, and with all electricity gone and no stars to lighten the night sky, they had to rely on the two flashlights to cut the inky blackness.

Bill shivered as the cool air penetrated his sweat-soaked shirt. He ran his hand across his eyes, remembering the sound of Sandra's panting breaths. They reminded him of Nancy as she breathed her last. Was he about to repeat history with Sandra?

At first glimpse, the side yard looked the same.

Bill slid the beam from Pat's light over section of the house, and then another.

Suddenly Lillian gasped. “Look!” She pointed away from the house, toward the thick limb that had been propped by fallen branches. The limb had slid and now one end lay directly over the bathroom, putting pressure on the intertwined limbs, while the other still remained attached to the trunk by a thin strip of bark and wood.

As they watched, the branch slipped a few more inches, the anchor holding it to the tree becoming thinner.

“If that limb falls, it'll crush Ms. Sandra and the boy.” Pat's voice sounded flat as he stood staring.

“Help me,” Bill yelled. “We've got to prop that limb up!” He gathered fallen limbs and shoved them under the branch. The effort was futile. The branch was too heavy and would crush right through the thin branches.

An engine rumbled and two beams of white light cut through the darkness. Lillian drove her car into the side yard. She motioned for them to move; a devious grin spanned her face. With a roar worthy of the Darlington Raceway, she crashed through limbs and wedged her car under the branch.

She turned off the engine and the door cracked open. Limbs pressed against the car holding her inside.

Pat headed toward the car, chain saw gripped in his hand.

The offending branch could bear its weight no longer, and, with a moaning crack, it separated from the tree. The thick wood fell across the car as intended, leaving a mass of mangled metal, shattered glass, and intertwined limbs. The car lay almost hidden beneath its shroud of limbs.

“Lillian!” Branches flew as he cleared a path to the car.

Pat worked beside him.

“Get the flashlight,” he called to Pat over his shoulder. “Lillian!” The ominous silenced filled his stomach with dread.

Sandra's voice wafted across the clearing. “What happened?”

“A limb fell, Ms. Sandra. You and the boy all right?”

“Why is Bill calling for Lillian?” Fear chilled her voice.

“I want out of here!”