Chapter 15

I wake. My head still hurts, my body still aches. It’s stiff and sore.

I hear pounding on the roof. My heart skips a beat as my mind races to all of the possibilities before calming again as I realize it’s just rain.

I attempt to sit up but feel a weight on me. Two weights. At my left, between me and the wall, lies my sister, tightly gripping my arm. At my right, leaning close against me, is Grace. I have a flashback to her lying on the ground. Back at school. The tears rolling down her face. Pushing past the ash and dirt. As they rolled out her beautiful brown eyes down her soft cheeks-

I pull back slightly, but only slightly. I can’t wake my sister. I can’t crush my sister. My poor sister.

Past Grace, I see the room. Well, more or less see it. A room perhaps eight feet by twelve feet. Very small. Too small for the amount of bodies crushed up inside of it. The darkness makes it harder to judge.

The soft pounding of the rain is lulling, the warmth of the bodies begging me back to sleep. My aching head and sore body welcoming the rest.

“What’s that?” My eyes pop back open. A silhouette sits several feet to my right, ear against the wall.

“Shhh,” Comes a deeper response. Presumably Mr. Bain. I listen.

Several seconds go by before I hear a loud crash coming from downstairs. There’s a yell. Another. Someone gives orders. My heart races as I hear the pounding of footsteps up the stairs. I sit up just as one of our members lets out a whimper. My hand falls to my waist and I draw my pistol, pointing it at the entrance to the room. The little nine square foot door.

We listen for what feels like hours to the crashing and thundering footsteps as the other room is searched. Another hour before they go back downstairs. Yet another as I point at the door, ignoring my screaming shoulders of the pain. Ignoring my mind telling me to relax, that they’re gone. What keeps this door from being seen is unknown to me but I can only thank God that it was there.

God. I’ve never had a doubt of his existence, I think as I lower my gun. Yet, now is seems like such a strange concept. Granted, I suppose I still believe there is a God. But The God? Is He what I thought? Is this fair of me to question? I’m far from perfect, falling to the wrong all the time. Yet, still, to allow for the attacks and murder of so many children in this great nation?

I’m not sure which is scarier, a higher power with a plan that has accepted this or humans alone in the universe left to their own devices.

“Looters?” Someone asks.

“Looters?” Someone else asks.

“What?” I wonder, my thoughts of God and his plan at the complete forefront of my thoughts.

“Looters, were they looters?” A second ticks by. I remember the people searching the Bain’s house. Right. No one responds.

“Get some rest,” Mr. Bain tells us. My sister is sitting up next to me, still holding my arm. Or holding my arm again? Surely I pulled out of her grasp at some point? Grace still leans against my other side. I feel hot and sticky. So hot. Uncomfortable. I need to get out. I must. Must.

I lean forward, my sister whimpers something and I feel her pull me back to her. Grace sits up. I face away from them, my hands reaching for the door. It’s so hot. Sweaty. We’re so close. Close. So many of us. Sitting ducks. Hot.

“Let go!” I snap at my sister. She holds on, hard. I grab her little wrist and twist, she lets go with a yelp and I rush for the door. I feel hands claw out at me as I grab the door and fumble with the doorknob. It jiggles in my hand. The impossible contraption unopenable to the mere mortal. The door flings open. Perhaps I am more than a mere mortal?

I hop out of the door, a hand holding tight to the back of my shirt. I feel it hard against my throat before it loses grip and I land on my hands and knees against the carpet. I take deep breaths. Deep breaths. One. Two. Three…

“Kevin!” One. Two. Three…

“Get back in here!” One. Two, Three… I feel hands on my shoulders after hearing the thud of shoes on the ground. One, two, three… My heartbeat steadies. Calms. I cool off. I’m thrust back into the room and the door closes. It’s still hot. I look to my sister and look into her hurt, tear-streaked face. I open my mouth-

I am spun around to look into Mr. Bain’s face. The darkness cannot mask the fire I see in his eyes.

Pop. That’s all I hear as I hit the ground, my face stinging. My cheek burns. He slapped me. A slap is a strange sensation, it doesn’t hurt. Perhaps not yet anyway. But the fact that he slapped me rather than punched me is strange as well. Though, what is normal anymore? No further words are needed nor any said. I crawl back to my spot next to my sister and hold her tightly against my chest. I just kiss her on the top of her head, rocking back and forth. I can’t begin to tell her how sorry I am. So I just kiss her on the top of her head. Over and over and over and over and over and…