Page 110 of Waves of Fury

“They had a place over in Oakland. There’s no way they’d have survived the tsunami and floodwaters.”

The pain etched on her pretty face guts me. This entire time I’ve traveled with her and the others I never thought to ask if she had family she could go to or ones she may have lost. She never spoke about it until now and I certainly never asked.

Some leader you are, man.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter.

Thankfully, Mary saves us from any more awkward conversation. She and a few volunteers distribute our backpacks. We made sure to fill out the forms for Tyler and his brothers as well.

“This here is for Pretzel,” Mary says, handing Hailey a small kids’ backpack. “Can’t forget about that little cutie.”

Hailey’s face lights up as she accepts the bag. One of the volunteers, a girl around her age, grins at her and waves as though she’s happy to have a potential new friend.

Once Mary and her helpers are gone, we all set to going through our bags. In my bag, I discover a pair of jeans, two T-shirts, two pairs of underwear, three pairs of socks, a sweatshirt, a pair of athletic shoes, and a steel water bottle at the bottom. I also find an unopened bar of soap, a small tube of toothpaste, some floss picks, a comb, a stick of deodorant, and a two-pack of toothbrushes. For reading material, they’ve included a Bible and a pamphlet about Revelations—which feels fitting since we’re basically living the end times. In a little front pocket, I find a small working flashlight, a bottle of ibuprofen, a handful of Band-Aids, some alcohol wipes, and hand sanitizer. The side pockets include three granola bars, two packets of trail mix, several sticks of beef jerky, a plastic bottle of water, a pack of gum, and a package of Skittles.

I’m blown over by their thoughtfulness and generosity.

Hope laughs and I look up in time to see her waggling a box of tampons at Hailey, who giggles in return. Pretzel is happily shaking his new toy around. The contents of the dog’s bag are a gallon-sized Ziplock bag of dog food, a bottle of water, two small, collapsible bowls, the toy he’s terrorizing, and a bag of treats.

I’m tempted to go through Tyler’s bag on the cot next to mine to see if he has the same things as me but manage to refrain from doing so.

Grabbing my bag up, I make my way to the church bathroom to change into clean clothes. Once I’ve gotten into something that doesn’t smell so awful, I apply the new deodorant and brush my teeth before heading back to our area.

“…going to be okay,” a deep voice says, relief flooding through his words. “We’re so lucky to have been brought here.”

I recognize the voice as Aaron. Sure enough, when I enter our curtained-off area, I find him and Tyler both standing in the middle of the room with the rest of the group their captive audience.

“Is he awake? How’s he feeling?” I blurt out from behind Tyler and Aaron.

Tyler whirls around and a smile tugs at his lips. “He’s groggy and grumpy, but he’s alive, which is all that matters. Dr. B thinks he’ll be able to join us here in the next day or two.”

“That’s great news.” I motion for his cot. “They hooked everyone up with their own pack of supplies. I think you’ll be pleased they included deodorant in mine.”

Tyler chuckles. “What a treat not to have to smell your B.O. for a change.”

I flip him off. “You both need to grab showers.”

“Already on it,” Aaron says, holding up his hand where a number’s been written. “A lady named Paula chased us down with her clipboard.”

As much as I want to stay up and talk to everyone, I can barely keep my eyes open. I sneak a quick peck on Tyler’s lips before he slips away for his shower. But once I lie down on my cot and have the blanket pulled up over my head to block the sound, my brain feels like it’s been shot up with caffeine. Sleep evades me as my mind races.

This place is safe.

Warm, comforting, inviting.

These people of Goodland welcomed us in with open arms. It’d be stupid to leave like we did St. George.

So why do I still feel the need to get on the road?

Knox.

I need to find my brother and check in with my family. Otherwise, I’ll go mad worrying about him.

Time feels as though it’s ticking away. Every second faster than the last. My heart throbs painfully in my chest and blood rushes in my ears. Anxiety rattles every nerve in my body and sours the stew in my stomach.

I’m so close I can practically sense my brother’s presence. He’s alive. I know he is. I feel that if he weren’t, I’d have somehow known it on a cellular level.

If he’s alive and out there, I need to get to him.

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