Henry Franks(55)

“Henry?” she asked, the name nothing more than a hiss.

William held the lamp in front of him, the point dipping toward the ground as he ran out of strength to hold it up. In the shadows, he held his arms out to his wife.

“Chrissy.” Blood dripped into his eyes and he swayed with the wind, too weak to fight the pressure of the storm. “I love you.”

His knees buckled, dropping him to the floor as the lamp clattered away.





thirty two




“We have to go!” Henry screamed into Justine’s ear, the words torn from his mouth by the wind.

Lightning strikes sliced through the night, the thunder rolling in waves over them. The wind carried ozone and sea salt along with the leaves and debris flying past them.

Justine nodded beneath him.

“You okay?” he asked.

Again, she nodded. If she spoke, he couldn’t hear the words.

He squeezed her shoulder, kissed her head beneath him, and fought to stand up in the wind. He braced his feet to stop his slide across the leaf-strewn wet grass and held tightly to her hand. Together they bent over, running close to the ground around to the front of Henry’s house. On the side, the wind lessened, blocked partially by Justine’s home standing tall, dark, and empty above them, and then they were past it, running toward the street.

Gusts blew across the road and a stop sign skittered along the pavement, tumbling end over end. Soaked to the skin, weighed down by their clothes, they ran up the street.

“Henry!”

He looked over at Justine, the tails of her shirt whipping behind her. Hair lay plastered on her face and tiny drops of blood beaded on her arms before being washed away in the rain.

“Where?” She screamed the word, pointing to the intersection in front of them. Water lapped at the edges of the road, almost up to their ankles. Both ways, there was nothing to see. No lights in any direction. Just water, broken trees, and downed power lines dangling into the flood, thankfully not carrying electricity.

The wind battered them and Henry wrapped his arms around her. “We can’t go that way!” he said, straining to be heard.

She stretched up to his ear. “I know!”

“Where?”

“My purse,” she said.

“What?”

“It’s in your house, with my key.”

“Your house?” he asked.

“Key!”

“Break in?”

“Yes!” she screamed in his ear, then grabbed his hand again.

They ran with the wind now, blowing them down with each gust. Their clothing was torn, soaked with rain and blood. A branch came out of nowhere and clipped Henry across his right arm; he didn’t feel it though it knocked him off balance, sending him crashing to the street. Justine’s fingers slipped out of his hand as he fell.

“Henry!” she screamed, running back for him. She pulled him up, fighting the wind. When he put weight on his legs, he collapsed back to the ground.

Lightning lit up the world. It illuminated a figure at the end of the street, standing in the water, long hair whipping around in the wind. Then the light disappeared, taking the person with it. The after-image, a shadow standing there against the wind, stayed with them every time they blinked.

“Was that your mom?” she yelled in his ear.

He shrugged and scrambled to his feet, limping as they continued running. Another shutter tore free from his house, slamming into the wall like a gunshot before flying through the air to land behind them.

Wind stung their eyes and the rain beat on their unprotected heads as they ran up Justine’s steps. Henry slammed his shoulder into the door but it wouldn’t budge, and he caught his forehead on the brass doorknocker.

Justine looked around the porch, then picked up a small planter; the petals had been stripped from the flower and the bare green stalk stood defiantly against the wind. Turning around, she threw it into the boards that her father had nailed up over the living room window. Again, she pounded against the same spot until the wood finally splintered.

Together, they clawed at the board with their fingers, prying the hole wider until they could see the glass behind it.

The heavy rain came down sideways and wind pushed the matching pair of rocking chairs crashing to the railing of the porch.

“Faster!” Justine screamed. They reached through the small hole and pulled despite the splinters, forcing the nails slowly out of the siding.

The plywood came loose with a snap, falling on top of them, and the storm flipped it end over end toward the street. Justine picked the planter back up and threw it against the window. Glass shattered into the house, caught on the wind.

“Hurry!” Justine said as she jumped, breaking through the remaining glass. A shard stabbed into her leg and she screamed, tumbling to the floor as the piece of glass stuck out of her thigh. Henry jumped after her and spikes of glass at the bottom of the sill cut through his pants. The screaming of the storm lessened once they were inside, even though the wind and rain followed them through the broken window.

Justine crawled across the floor holding her thigh, glass cutting into her palms.

Henry slid to the floor next to her, slicing open his knees, and wrapped his arms around her.

She looked at him, teeth gritted against the pain. “Pull it out.”

“Ready?” Henry asked, his fingers slipping against the sides of the glass.