Page 101 of Escaping Our Reality

CRUTCH

The quiet.

I’ve never been so glad to hearnothingin my whole life.

She’s safe. And that’s all that matters. The world around us may be gone. Imploded. But all that matters is she’s safe.

I scoop her up from the hard floor, checking her for injuries even though I know she’s just fine. Even though we just went through something traumatic, she doesn’t want me to see her crying. She quickly wipes her eyes with her hands. The only light in the room is the glow from the flashlight on her phone. I glance around, spotting some candles on a shelf.

“Do you have matches in the Children’s Wing?”

“We have a candle lighter. Carrie loves candles. There’s a bunch more in the laundry closet.”

Scooping the candles into my arm, I unlock the door and grab her hand. Nothing looks unusual in the hallway. I glance toward the Big House, not immediately seeing anything amiss, and pull her back into her section of the house. I need to assess the damage.

“Lulu, I need you to gather all the candles. Put them on the kitchen counter. I’ll be back in a few minutes. I need to check on things outside.”

She refuses to release my hand. Her lips purse into a thin line and she stares at me. “No.We’llgather the candles. And thenwe’llgo outside. Together.”

I growl. “Why do you keep giving me shit today?”

“Why do you keep trying to leave me today?”

I’ll never leave you. Not in a million years.

Once we make it outside, I’m pleasantly pleased the damage isn’t worse than it is. The house and cars are fine. The horrible, ripping noise that sounded like the world was splitting in two came from one of the pecan trees near the edge of the road. It’s been completely upended from the roots and is now laying across Lulu’s wide front yard. I look up and down the street. Some other people are walking around, surveying the damage. It looks like this neighborhood was spared from a direct hit. Or maybe the tornado was lifting back in the air at this point. I see a couple of downed trees and some downed power lines. Other than that, it’s just a lot of limbs and shingles everywhere.

Lulu walks to the edge of the driveway to join me. She’s cleaned the mascara from underneath her eyes, but they’re still red-rimmed and puffy. She shivers. The storm brought with it a cold front, taking away the summer-like weather from this morning. The rain has stopped, and a few remaining sprinkles splatter in the puddles.

“I got ahold of Mom. Told her everything was okay with the house. She said she’ll have Dad call someone about the tree. Harlan answered. They are fine. A tree fell on his son’s car, but the house itself is okay. I still can’t get ahold of Uncle Ray, Aunt Teresa, or Holt. It’s making me nervous. I even tried Ridge. He didn’t answer either.”

“Maybe it’s just the signal, everyone trying to use their cell phones at once.”

She shakes her head, causing loose, wet strands of hair to fall from her scattered ponytail. She needs to change out of those wet clothes before she catches a cold.

“I don’t think so. It would give me that weird beeping noise if that was the case. This just keeps ringing and rolling to voicemail.” She taps her phone against her chin and reaches around to rub the scar on her neck. “Maybe some local newschannels are already airing coverage.” She starts to do a web search on her phone when it rings, making her jump.

“Raylee?”

…

“Yeah, we’re okay. Mom and Dad are out of town. Me and Ry are at my house. Everything is fine here. Just some downed trees and power lines.”

…

“No, I haven’t been able to get ahold of them either, why? What’s wrong?”

All of the color drains from Lulu’s face. She looks like she’s about to faint. I reach out, grabbing her elbows, holding her steady.

“We’re on our way there now,” she says, voice wavy and uncertain. “I’ll call you as soon as we have news.”

By the time she hangs up the phone, I’m already tugging her toward the car. We left everything in it. Keys, her purse. I open the passenger-side door, helping her inside. “Talk to me, Lulu.”

She’s in shock, and I have to call her name again before she shakes out of it. “Raylee saw her street. On the national weather broadcast. It’s demolished. She said it looks like a war zone.”

I glance around, trying to think. “Does your dad have any tools here? Like a chainsaw or an ax or anything like that?”

She nods, solemnly. “In the third garage.” She points across the yard. “Other driveway.”

---