Lost Roads (Benny Imura 7)

She stood in the empty bedroom between the rows of beds, and suddenly a great sadness swept through her. She looked at each tightly folded sheet, each properly fluffed and squared pillow, and in a flash of absolute clairvoyant certainty knew that no one would ever muss those beds again. The whole place had the feeling of an empty box, filled only with memories.

Spider’s absence made her feel as if he was not only gone from the building but gone forever. Like he was already dead somewhere.

Alethea wanted to cry. She wanted to crawl onto Spider’s bed, curl up with her head on his pillow, and cry until some form of permanent darkness came for her. The bat was heavy in her hand, and she almost let it fall.

Almost.

Alethea raised the bat and looked at it. On the handle, drawn in a delicate hand, was a tiny black spider. It was something that appeared one morning after the fight at the wall. Spider pretended he knew nothing about it, but Alethea understood, and she had a deeper insight into it now.

“Always you and me,” she said aloud. It was an old, old thing they used to say. When one of them was sick. When one or the other was in trouble. When times were bad.

Always you and me.

Poor grammar, but a perfect sentiment.

She touched the little spider and smiled. Then she took a deep steadying breath, turned, and went out. She went to the wall, looking for her brother.

* * *

One block away, Spider moved quickly and silently through the shadows. He’d been to Gutsy’s house, but Alethea wasn’t there. No one was there. The Cuddlys were gone too; they must have already gotten the other kids packed and out. They were sharp, those two.

Spider then checked the hospital, but Mr. Flores said they hadn’t seen her. The pharmacist was still working on mass-producing the Dòmi despite the general hysteria as the staff packed all of the supplies and equipment they could manage while at the same time prepping the wounded for evacuation. It was a madhouse. Spider wanted to stay and help, but he needed to find Alethea. A premonition of disaster seemed to whisper her name in his ear.

He’d been to the wall and searched all of it, but his sister wasn’t anywhere. He asked people in the street. Some of them just ran past him. Two people chased him away as if he was a shambler. Then he saw Joanie Cantu from school running toward the wall with an armful of fresh splints and bandages.

“Hey,” he called, “have you seen Alethea?”

“Yeah,” yelled the girl as she ran past. “She was outside Alice’s place.”

“Thanks!”

He tore along the street.

* * *

Alice’s words hit Gutsy like a flight of arrows, each striking hard and deep.

“Don’t move,” she said, trying to force calmness into her voice. “Just wait until I get this stuff off you.”

“Why can’t I feel my legs?”

“Something must be pressing on the nerves,” said Gutsy. “It’ll be fine. It’ll be okay.”

She tore into the debris, tossing away pieces of lath and pine studs and sheet-metal roofing and nameless chunks. She saw blood before she found Alice’s trapped legs.

There was a lot of it. Too much of it.

She worked faster still and cleared everything away until she saw what held Alice down. It was a six-foot-long piece of broken roofing beam. It was angled so that one sharp corner pressed down across the tops of Alice’s thighs, cutting into the skin. Blood ran and pooled. There was no way to tell how bad the cuts were, or if one or both legs were broken. Panic kept whispering the worst in Gutsy’s ears.

“I have to lift this beam,” she said. “It’s going to hurt, Alice.”

“I… I…”

“Alice, take a breath,” said Gutsy. “A deep breath, and when I lift, let it out. Scream if you have to. But I have to do this right now.”

Alice’s face was white with shock and pain and her eyes twitched with terror, but she nodded. She took that breath.

Outside there was a massive, heavy sound that shook the whole house and made the crashed truck shift and groan. Dust fell from what was left of the ceiling, and through the big hole overhead, Gutsy could see vast clouds of smoke, veined and lit from underneath with the red of fires.