Countdown (11 page)

Johnny Mac, still sitting on his butt on the debris left by the tornado, said, ‘I don’t think it works that way.’ He got up and moved to Cody’s upper body, leaning down to grab his armpits once again.

‘It’s gonna hurt!’ Cody said.

‘Yeah, you bet it is,’ Johnny Mac said, and began to haul the boy onto the litter.

Ronnie Jacobs, the pizza guy, was dreaming. He dreamed about Lucinda, the girl he loved. He dreamed they were in his car, driving away from Prophesy County, heading for the west coast. Maybe LA, maybe ’Frisco. That would be cool. California was the coolest. He could learn to surf. Lucinda could become an actress-slash-model, like she wanted to. They’d make a bucketful of money and buy a house on the beach, and he could go surfing every day until he became a professional surfer, and then Lucinda would retire at the top of her actress-slash-model career and they’d move to Hawaii, where he’d make a ton of money winning every surfing competition there was.

It was the same dream Ronnie had been having, asleep or awake, since he had first met Lucinda eight and a half months earlier. It had been love at first sight for him; it had taken Lucinda a little longer. But the powers that be were against their relationship, and his dream began to turn dark, evil lurking around them.

Ronnie awoke with a start but smiled when he saw his Lucinda sitting beside his hospital bed.

Harmon Monk, Johnny Mac’s uncle, and Bobby Potter, Matt’s dad, jumped in Bobby’s car, which was still idling in the driveway, and headed down the hill. Both men’s homes sat atop a hill that looked down on the rest of the subdivision, with its $500,000-plus homes, swimming pools and recreation centers, incredible landscaping, and artfully spaced copse of trees. Little of that was present at the moment – an occasional house spared, a group of trees missed.

‘Where do these people live?’ Harmon asked, speaking of Cody’s parents, Terry and Carolyn McIntosh.

‘On High Grove, down the hill,’ Bobby responded, keeping his eye on the road to avoid the debris left by the tornado’s path. Big as the tornado had been, it had still jumped around a lot. There would be a group of two or three houses ripped down to their foundations, then one or two left totally alone. Bobby turned left on High Grove and slammed his foot on the brake.

There were overturned cars in the middle of the street, and not one house was standing.

‘Shit,’ Bobby said under his breath.

Both men stared at the destruction in front of them. ‘Ah, God,’ Harmon said, ‘the boys. You think they’re in there?’

Bobby shook his head. ‘No,’ he said emphatically. ‘The boys are in the woods, just like we thought at first. They’re not in this … hell.’

‘But what about the McIntoshes?’

‘Terry was probably at work,’ Bobby said. ‘But Carolyn – she’s a stay-at-home mom.’

‘Which house is theirs?’ Harmon asked.

Bobby pointed in the general direction of the destruction on the left side of the street. ‘Third house in – I think. If you can figure out which is the third.’

Harmon opened the shotgun-side door. ‘I guess we’re gonna find out,’ he said as he bailed from the car and headed in the general direction of the third house on the left.

Bobby bailed out after him.

Jean noticed that the last exchange Eunice Blanton had had with Milt had been far less heated than her previous exchanges. Now the old woman was back at her new post, staring out the window at the county courthouse on the town square. As a professional, Jean was privy to certain conditions, and was ready to diagnose Eunice Blanton with situational depression. Seriously depressed people – either chronic or situational – were prone to go in one of two directions: self-injury or lashing out violence. In this instance, Jean was betting that Eunice had past the lashing out stage and was well on her way to self-injury. If she could just get Eunice’s son out of the picture she could come up with something, but she just didn’t know how to get rid of him. He had proved himself to be the wild card here – he’d already shot and killed Paula just for standing up. Everyone’s nerves were on edge – why wouldn’t they be? – but Earl could be a real problem: stupid and dangerous is not a good combination, Jean thought.

The two police officers from Longbranch arrived with the volunteer firefighters at what was left of the town square of Bishop. They saw a man with a clipboard ordering other people around and figured he might be in charge.

Getting out of the crowded rescue van, they headed toward the man with the clipboard.

‘Longbranch police department,’ the tall one said, sticking out his hand. ‘We’re here to help in whatever way we can.’

The man with the clipboard shook the police officer’s outstretched hand. ‘Harley Minton,’ he said. ‘Mayor of Bishop. Thanks for coming. We were expecting an ambulance. They with y’all?’

‘No, sir,’ the police officer said. ‘We had some problems getting here. Lost our vehicle to the twister, a firefighter broke his arm, and then we found a guy upside down in his car, unconscious. The EMTs had to take them back to the hospital, not knowing if your clinic here was in any shape—’

‘Not hardly! Our only ambulance had to cart Doctor Crane, two nurses and four patients back to Longbranch Memorial. The clinic itself is long gone – and all the supplies with it. The ambulance is not back yet, and we’re finding injured people all over the damn place.’ The mayor sighed. ‘But that’s what I need you and the fire boys to do. Just drive into a bad area and do a walk-through, see if you can find any more injured. As for the dead, we’ll deal with them later.’ He handed the policeman three walkie-talkies. ‘Use these to call in any injured. We’re staging here, so I can send an ambulance to your location – if we ever get any fucking ambulances back!’

‘Yes, sir,’ the police officer said, just as three ambulances pulled in – one with the Tulsa fire department logo and two with the Oklahoma City fire department logo. The officer gave a thumbs-up sign to his honor, the mayor, and headed back to his partner and the Longbranch firefighters to tell them their instructions.

He said, ‘We’ve got three walkie-talkies. I think we should pair up, head to a hard-hit area and do a walk-through. Ma’am,’ he said to the senior female firefighter, ‘why don’t you take one of your guys, then the other two can pair up, and me and my partner will pair up. Sound OK to y’all?’ he asked the assembled.

There were positive responses all around, so they loaded back into the rescue van and headed toward the many upscale subdivisions that made up the county’s richest community.

They had just driven off and were not looking back when Drew Gleeson and Jasper Thorne pulled the Longbranch Memorial Hospital’s ambulance up to the town square.

Johnny Mac got Cody settled on the litter, went to the front, grabbed the tied-on branch and began to pull. Almost immediately the branch came loose and he almost fell over as he’d been pulling hard. ‘Shit,’ he said under his breath, then instinctively looked around to make sure his mother hadn’t heard.

‘What’s the matter?’ Cody almost screamed from his position on the litter.

‘The thing I made to pull this just came off.’ He leaned down and grabbed hold of two branches of the elm, one in each hand, and began to pull again. ‘Here we go,’ he said, more to himself than Cody. He’d only gone a few yards when he was forced to a complete stop by two things: one, the litter had gotten too heavy to pull, and two, Cody was screaming louder than usual.

He turned to look at Cody and saw that the golden retriever/Shetland had returned and was bucking for a free ride – right on top of Cody. Johnny Mac hurriedly set down the litter and ran to the back, attempting to pull the dog off Cody. He wouldn’t budge. He just seemed to smile big and say, ‘Woof!’

‘Get him off me!’ Cody yelled, pushing at the dog, tears streaming down his face. Johnny Mac grabbed the giant dog by the scruff of his neck and pulled with all his might. The dog rose from his position, and Johnny Mac fell on his butt. The dog came over to him and lolled out an enormous tongue that he used to liberally wash Johnny Mac’s face.

‘Gawd! Stop!’ Johnny Mac told the dog, trying not to laugh, knowing it was likely to encourage him. It was because of the face washing that he hadn’t immediately noticed that Cody was no longer screaming. When he got himself up off the ground, he saw why. Cody was – well, dead, maybe?

Johnny Mac scurried over to the litter and grabbed Cody’s wrist. Johnny Mac’s mom had taught him how to check for a pulse – because of his dad’s heart condition, although his dad denied he had one any more – so he checked, and found a beat. It wasn’t as strong as his mom’s or his dad’s, both of whom he’d practiced on, but it was there.

‘Look what you did!’ he scolded the dog. ‘Now he’s unconscious.’ Thinking about it for a moment, he added, ‘Well, at least he’s not in pain, huh? And he’s not screaming. That was getting on my nerves.’

Johnny Mac grabbed the litter by the two branches and continued to head in the direction he’d been going – having no idea which direction that might be.

Harmon Monk was the first to reach the third house on the left, the home of Terry and Carolyn McIntosh, Cody’s parents. All he could hear was a hissing sound, coming not just from the third house on the left but a lot of homes, left and right. He turned back to Bobby, who was following behind him. ‘The gas lines are broken. Be careful, don’t spark anything or we’ll all go up!’

Bobby stopped in his tracks, looking at all the debris around him. A lot of it was metal: bits and pieces of kitchen appliances, bathroom fixtures and small objects of all sorts. Across the street from where they stood they could also see a totally intact, big brass tuba.

Both began to walk gingerly toward the McIntoshes home. Bobby called out, ‘Carolyn! Carolyn McIntosh! You here?’

‘Hello?’ came a small voice from somewhere in the debris.

‘That’s her!’ Bobby said and started to hurry toward the sound.

Harmon grabbed him by the arm. ‘Slow down, Bobby! We have to be careful.’

‘Shit!’ Bobby said, but slowed. He called out again. ‘Carolyn! Keep talking so we can find you!’

‘I’m in the kitchen!’ she called back. ‘It’s in the back of the house!’

They waded carefully through the debris, heading, hopefully, in the direction of the kitchen.

‘There’s an awful smell, y’all,’ Carolyn called out. ‘I think the gas line is busted. Y’all be careful!’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Harmon called back, ‘we’re trying. You just keep talking and we’ll find you.’

‘Who are y’all anyway?’ Carolyn asked.

‘It’s me, Bobby Potter, Laurie’s husband. And I got Jewel Monk’s husband, Harmon, with me.’

‘Well, I’ll be damned!’ Carolyn said. ‘Thanks, y’all. I really mean it!’

And then they found her. Or part of her – the part that was sticking out from under her Sub-Zero refrigerator. Harmon immediately fell to his knees next to her.

‘Hey, Carolyn,’ he said, ‘how are you feeling?’

‘Not bad considering I have a $15,000 refrigerator on top of me. I told Terry we didn’t need such an expensive one – I would have been fine with a Kenmore, ya know?’

‘Should we try to lift it?’ Bobby asked.

Harmon and Bobby looked at each other. ‘I dunno,’ Harmon said.

‘Well, if we don’t lift it off her,’ Bobby said, ‘then we won’t get her out of here, and how long before the inevitable fires start?’

Harmon said, ‘You’re right.’

Bobby, being a wrestler and a body builder, was assigned the task of attempting to lift the $15,000 refrigerator off the prone woman, the idea being that as soon as he had it high enough Harmon would slide Carolyn out and Bobby would lower the refrigerator to the floor – very carefully, of course. It wasn’t so much because of the expensive refrigerator itself as it was about the spark that might occur if he dropped it.

And it worked. Bobby lifted the bottom end of the refrigerator that was resting on Carolyn’s chest high enough for Harmon to slide her out – and, miracles of miracles, her mom jeans were barely rumpled. Not a broken bone, not a scratch. With Harmon’s help, Carolyn McIntosh was standing within a minute of her freedom, her blonde hair covered in dust and soot, her pretty face smeared with dirt, but otherwise fine.

‘Let’s get out of here,’ Harmon suggested.

‘Bobby, have you seen Cody? Is he at your house?’ Carolyn asked. ‘He took off about an hour before the storm, said he was going to play with Matt.’

Bobby shook his head. ‘We’d hoped all the boys were with you, ’cause Harmon’s nephew and Matt are also missing, and we think they might all be together.’

‘Oh my God!’ Carolyn said, grabbing Bobby’s arm. ‘I thought he’d be safe. They could be hurt or—’

Bobby shook his head. ‘Don’t go there,’ he said, leading her back toward the street. ‘Let’s just get off your street before it blows up. And we’ll go after the boys.’

‘Where are you gonna go?’ Carolyn demanded.

Bobby Potter said, ‘The woods behind our cul-de-sac seem like a good place to start.’

There was the time in medical school when Paula had stayed up into the wee hours of the night with Jean, teaching her mnemonics for parts of the human anatomy for Jean’s test the next day. Paula never had to study; she had an eidetic memory and only had to read the material once to have it down pat. Jean wasn’t so lucky – she had to work for every ‘A’ she got, and even for the occasional ‘B’.

She remembered one night when they were undergrads, when they talked well into the night about anything and everything. That happened a lot, those first four years. It had been Jean’s decision to give up on the roommate situation once they both moved on to med school. She needed alone time to really hunker down and get the job done. Ever since that nun had ruined her mother’s dreams for Jean’s future, Jean had begun to think there might be a possibility for her own dreams to surface. And ever since she got her first play doctor kit, that’s what she wanted to be. A real, live doctor. Sometimes she regretted her decision to live alone during med school, like the time Paula had spent the night just to drill her for her anatomy test the next day. When her studying was basically done for the night, she’d sit in her small apartment and wonder if Paula was busy – on a date or, God forbid, studying. But she never called. She didn’t want to seem needy, even if – especially if – that was the reason for the call.