Black Bird of the Gallows(85)

We have a long way to go. Downhill, while better than uphill, is still lousy. The ground is uneven and rain-soaked, making my ankle throb and my ribs ache. Our ultimate goal is to get to the school, find emergency personnel, and get out of Cadence. By splitting up, Deno and Lacey take the van and hopefully get any watchful Beekeepers to follow them. This would give Reece and me a chance to evade Rafette by taking the direct, overland route straight to the spot where the helicopters seem to be coming and going from. However, that plan is subject to change depending on a multitude of factors I simply refuse to think about. Really, all we know is that we have to go. It’s the crappiest plan ever, but it’s what we have.

Gnawing at my mind is the knowledge that if Reece would just turn into a crow and leave, he’d be safe. He could rejoin his family, wherever they are, and be free. I suggested it, again, but he refuses to leave me until he knows I’m safe.

During the night, we worked through ideas, searching for the perfect plan, but there wasn’t one. Lacey had suggested staying in the mine, but Reece made the point that if Rafette decides to wait us out, we could be days or weeks without food and water. The facts were this: The next town is eighteen miles away, and we have no clue how to find a road to it. With Deno and me—but especially Deno—needing medical attention, the decision was to go.

It’s a harsh walk through the woods, not a trail, through brush and thick stands of trees. The wet leaves buffer some of our sounds, but we’re not stealthy. Eventually, we find ourselves in the backyard of a little blue house. I don’t know whose. This is not my neighborhood. My directions are all messed up. Behind the house, an uncovered grill sits on an empty deck—a reminder of easier times in the town of Cadence. We walk alongside the house to the front and stop. The street is quiet except for the omnipresent whir of helicopter blades. The street and front yards of all the houses on this side are flooded. Trees and mailboxes poke out of the thick brown water like forlorn survivors.

Inside the house, a small dog has detected us and starts up a hopeful barking. I think of Roger, and pluck Reece’s jacket. “There’s a dog trapped in there.”

“I hear it,” he replies.

“We can’t leave it.”

“We have to.” His voice is hard. He takes my chin between his fingers and tilts my face up to his. “Look, as we head down into the valley and into town, you’re going to see things. Terrible things. Don’t feel bad if you need to look away. Forcing yourself to look doesn’t make you a better person or anything. It just leaves you with memories you can’t erase.” He turns away from me. “That little dog is safer inside than out.”

My hands curl into fists. The cuts on my palms hurt, but I do it anyway. I’ve seen enough in this short life of mine. Enough suffering, enough death. But this time, he’s right. If Roger had come when called, he’d be here with us. And that wouldn’t be such a good thing. He’d be afraid and hungry. He’d be one more thing I’d be worrying about.

“Are we going through that?” I ask, pointing at the water.

Reece eyes the route ahead with distaste. “Looks like it. Prepare to get cold and dirty.”

I steel myself to the dog’s cries, but take note of the house number and street name. Maybe I’ll have the chance to tell someone about the dog.

Reece sets his jaw and strides forward, into the water. I follow, letting out a hiss of discomfort when the ice-cold liquid curls around my shins. In no time, my teeth are chattering. It feels like I’m chilled from the inside out. We’re three houses away before the dog gives up and falls silent. I try not to think about it.

We forgo the streets and cut straight through peoples’ yards. The houses become closer together and smaller the lower into the valley we go. Yards turn into small, fenced-in rectangles, and we’re back to streets, as the fences are not worth climbing over. Evidence of the landslide comes into view. A layer of dirt and gravel coats everything in brown—cars, trees, homes. We turn a corner, and the devastation comes into clear view. It looks like a bomb hit. But it’s the randomness of it that is truly disturbing. Some homes are destroyed, others stand untouched, as if spared by a divine hand. And, looming behind it all, is the sad remnant of Mt. Serenity. Not a mountain anymore at all.

The water comes up to our knees here, and it’s thick with all the mud, making it feel like we’re slogging through peanut butter. A house with a duck mailbox comes into view, and suddenly, it all looks familiar.

“We’re near Deno’s house,” I spin around and stumble toward where my friend’s house should be.

“Angie, wait,” Reece says, but I don’t listen. I need to see if his house is still there.

I fumble with someone’s chain link gate and pry it open, cutting through their yard to the street on the other side. Relief turns my knees mushy. This section of street was spared serious damage. Deno’s house still stands.

I half expect the front door to slam open and Mrs. Steinway to come out in a billowing housedress, yelling at me to get out of the cold and have some pie. But the door doesn’t open. The windows are dark, like all the rest. I don’t know what happened to Deno’s parents, but I do know that Cadence will never be the same. It’s as scarred as the mountain behind it. I stand here in the ruins of this neighborhood, built so many years ago by the company that mined the broken mountain. I can’t imagine people living here again. Of civilization returning to this silent, drowned town. I think of my mom’s Bus, wherever Lacey and Deno took it, and it strikes me how, once again, the world I knew has been torn apart, obliterated.