Page 8 of Burn Point

“How far do we have to go?” I asked, trying to adjust to make sure I directed the light where he needed it.

He nodded ahead of us. “Just there. See that pickup truck?”

I swiveled my head, taking in the littered street. Ahead, little spots of light bobbed in the dark. Beyond, the end of the street seemed well lit with the headlights of vehicles. Someone had a spotlight shining on a relatively clear path to the vehicle. We just had to get to the path.

I focused on his labored breathing rather than the eerie sounds of the night. He had to be exhausted from carrying me all this way. It must’ve been a good quarter mile, mostly uphill at that. Finally, we reached the area where several vehicles idled. Other storm survivors were being loaded into trucks and four-wheelers.

“Thoren,” my rescuer called. “Open that door for me, man.” A dark-haired, bearded man turned, caught sight of us, and hurried to open the back door of a large pickup truck.

“You got her, Nate? You need help?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Nate leaned into the truck and set me gently on the seat. A light flashed over us, skimming down my legs, then over Nate’s torso.

Thoren stopped the light on Nate’s arms, covered in dirt and blood. “That hers or yours?”

“Hers,” Nate responded, tucking my feet into the truck. “This is Jordan. She’s going to need a ride to the hospital to have her leg examined.”

The door on the other side of the truck opened and a woman with a cap of dark brown curls climbed in. She leaned back in the seat, turning to reveal a bundle in her arms.

Nelson, my furry labradoodle friend, wiggled at the sight of me, struggling to get out of his owner’s arms. He got free and climbed into my lap, licking my face.

“Nelson! You’re okay!” I cried, wrapping my arms around him, burying my face in his soft fur. I choked on a sob at the realization that they were both alive. Despite the horror of the night, we were all still alive.

“Thank God.” My curly-haired neighbor’s reply was soft, relieved. We clasped hands as the firemen closed the door on the terrible scene.

The ride to the hospital had been a miserable test of patience. Trees and bystanders blocked the roads, and by the time we got there, my adrenaline had crashed. Exhaustion weighed me down. Everything hurt, and I had to pee.

After a quick examination, a few stitches, and clean-up by an older nurse, I found myself sitting on a bench outside the hospital entrance next to Jules, Nelson’s owner, while we took turns cuddling the sleepy pup. We’d gotten to know each other better on our long ride to the hospital.

“So where are you going to go now?” I asked her.

“My brother is on his way to pick me up. He’s got a houseful with his five kids, but I’m sure he has room for a few more. Do you have a place to go?”

I combed my fingers through Nelson’s fur, trying to find the answers to her question. No. No, I didn’t have anywhere to go. And even if I’d had a phone, there was no one I wanted to call.

Instead of speaking that bleakness into the universe, I simply shrugged a shoulder and gave Nelson another scratch.

“We should exchange numbers,” she said, pulling a phone from her back pocket.

“I lost my phone in the storm, but I can give you mine and write yours down. Maybe if you text me, I can get the number from the cloud on my laptop once I get it charged.” I rattled my number off to her, watching as she typed it into her phone. She only asked me twice how to spell my name. I guessed we were both still out of sorts.

“I’m sorry it took a tornado for me to properly introduce myself,” Jules said as she slipped the phone back into her pocket.

A Suburban pulled to a stop in front of us, and a giant red-headed bear barreled out of the passenger seat, running to swoop Jules into his arms.

“Oh my God, sis! Are you okay?”

Nelson wiggled out of my arms to bounce in circles around the man, excited to have a new playmate.

While Jules reassured her brother that both she and Nelson were fine, I busied myself by fumbling through my laptop bag. I had a random pack of crackers, my laptop with no charger, a pad of paper, and a couple of pens.

“Jordan, this is my brother, Steve. Steve, this is my neighbor, Jordan.” Steve released her, and she bent to gather Nelson. “Steve, do you have room for one more?” she asked with an armful of wiggling puppy.

“Oh, no…I couldn’t impose,” I blurted, hating feeling like an intruder.

“I’m sorry, sis. We’ve already got nearly all our floor space covered with storm victims. There are sleeping bags and air mattresses in every square inch of my house.”

Jules looked like she might argue, so I offered them both a semblance of a smile. “It’s okay, Steve. And thank you for thinking of me, Jules.”

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