Storm warning, p.28
Storm Warning, page 28
A man I don’t know is standing at the other end of the long expanse.
Eighty-Seven
I have no doubt it’s Aaron. He looks as ragged and tired as I feel. I’m sure he’s been up as long as I have.
He stares at me, unmoving. He’s taller than I am, broader in the shoulders. My eyes search for a weapon, but all I see is an industrial-sized flashlight hanging from one hand.
He starts to walk my way.
A burst of adrenaline revives me, my heart galloping inside my chest.
Dallas’ door is between us, closer to me than to Aaron. It’s possible I could get there before him. Run in, lock the door.
But then what?
I’d be trapped inside…until when?
And he’d be outside with everyone else.
I move forward a few steps, hold my hands out in a pathetic attempt to calm him. “Why don’t you just leave us alone?”
But he doesn’t stop. He keeps coming for me.
He shakes his head. “I can’t do that, Jacob.” He knows my name. Of course he does. He already knows everything about us. “I need what she found. What she was working on with Ethan.” He jerks his thumb toward the lawn, where Hazel still sits in the shed. “And since you came up here, I’m guessing this is where it is.” He slows his pace, nods toward Dallas’ door. “In the one apartment I haven’t been able to get back into.”
“So you were in there?”
He stops, laughs in an ugly way. His hand moves toward his belt, where the butt of a gun protrudes from his pants. “Can we just get on with it? I’m going to get what I want. You know that. Why make us all endure more crap than we already have?” I don’t respond, and he goes on. “Do you have the key, Jacob?”
“I might.”
“Just let me in.”
I’m sure he has a sense of what he’s looking for. But there’s no way he can know it’s wrapped up like a present. If I let him in, he’ll likely spend a long time looking. And he might never find it. But if he finds the package, I’m no longer of any use to him. None of us are. He’ll be more than happy to leave.
Or kill me and then leave.
“Okay,” I say. “I have the key. If I let you in, will you leave us alone?”
“Put your hands up where I can see them.”
I do as he says.
“Is the key in your front pocket?”
I nod, hands in the air.
“Reach into your pocket. Real slow. And get the key. Don’t try anything stupid, okay?”
I exhale, keep my eyes on him. I lower my right hand to my jeans and—very slowly—work the tips of my fingers into the pocket. The stiff fabric resists, but I’m able to get a grip on the passkey and slide my hand back out, holding it in the air between us.
“Open the door.” He raises his index finger. “With one hand. Keep the other in the air so I can see it.”
I step forward and try to fit the key into the lock, but I can’t stop my hand from shaking.
Truth be told, I don’t want to go inside. I want the package—but I don’t want to see Dallas’ body again. Don’t want to lay eyes on the first person we lost last night. The first of so many losses.
What I want is to stop losing people. Once and for all.
The key slides in, and I turn the lock. The door swings open. I remove the key, keeping one hand in the air, and step back.
“No, you go in and get it.” He pats the butt of the gun. “Drop the key on the floor and keep your hands up.”
I do as he says, the key jingling when it hits the walkway. With both my hands up, I step through the door.
Except for the band of light that comes through the open door, it’s pitch-dark inside because of the hurricane shutters. Aaron is behind me, moving closer.
For the second time in a matter of minutes, the Glock is pulled out of my waistband.
“Nice piece,” he says. “Clearly you weren’t ready to use it.”
“What you’re looking for is over there. By Dal—by the body. I think you know where his body is.”
“Get it.” He gives me a shove in the back. Not hard enough to knock me over but hard enough to let me know he isn’t up for any bullshit. “Now.” When I don’t move, he says, “The thing is, Jacob, I can put a bullet in the back of your head anytime I want.”
I’m not sure what to do. Or if I’m going to get out of this apartment alive.
But as I approach Dallas’ body, I formulate a plan.
Eighty-Eight
I move out of the band of light and into the darkness of the apartment.
Dallas’ body lies ahead of me, a shadowy shape on the floor.
I hadn’t planned on coming back. Facing his body again.
But since I’m here, I need to make it worthwhile.
For Dallas. For Stanley. Heck, even for Tyler.
Why not?
“It’s over here to the left, I think. But I can’t see.”
“Hold it.”
I stop.
Aaron moves behind me. Something clicks, and a flashlight beam travels past me and illuminates Dallas’ body, the pool of blood around his head an ugly red halo.
“To the left,” I say. “I’m not going to stumble around in the dark.”
He moves the beam that way, illuminating the baseball I wanted to give Dallas. Ron Santo’s scribbled signature gleams in the half-light.
“Maybe it’s to the right,” I say. “Can you check over there?”
The beam travels down the length of Dallas’ body, sweeping across the threadbare carpet until it finally lands on the package Hazel gave me. The sloppy wrapping, the off-center bow.
“That’s it,” I say. “That gift.”
“That’s it?”
“It is. Do you want to get it? Or do you want me to?”
Aaron laughs. “You get it. And try your damnedest not to do anything stupid.”
My mind cycles through everything that’s happened in the past twelve hours. The past six months. Hasn’t it been a long series of me doing stupid things?
Taking a break from my marriage…
Coming to Florida…
Leaving Dallas’ apartment so he was alone when a killer—Aaron?—came to the door…
Driving across the causeway…
Driving back…
Sending Jordan and Mackenzie out on the Intracoastal…
What difference does it make if I do one more stupid thing, which might end everything once and for all?
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll try my damnedest.”
I start forward—
—but instead of going to the right, I dive into the darkness on the left, hitting the floor very close to Dallas’ body.
Aaron shouts. “Hey—”
I manage to get my hand around the ball. In one motion, I roll onto my back and throw it as hard as I can, aiming right for Aaron’s head.
He sees it coming and tries to duck. But he’s not fast enough.
The ball nails him in the temple, sending him reeling backward toward the door of the apartment.
As soon as he hits the floor, letting go of the Glock, I jump to my feet.
He’s scrambling for the Glock and, in the process, drops his heavy flashlight. I grab it at the exact same time Aaron wraps his fingers around the butt. Before he can point the gun in my direction, I pull back and swing the giant flashlight directly at his hand. The Glock goes flying across the room. I’ve swung so hard I fall on top of Aaron.
From the floor Aaron kicks at me, connects with my lower body, and sends me flying back to the floor. Somehow I manage to keep my grip on the flashlight.
We both start to rise at the same time.
He gets to his knees and reaches for his own gun.
He fumbles ever so slightly. Something on the gun catches on the fabric of his jeans, giving me the tiniest opening….
I don’t even think.
I act.
I push myself up, flashlight in hand. I swing again, aiming squarely for Aaron’s head.
The flashlight connects with a sickening thump, catching him on the side of the head. For a moment, he remains upright, hand clutching the butt of the gun but not moving.
I rear back, prepare to swing again—
But I don’t need to.
Aaron’s grip loosens, and his arm falls limp to his side. A split second later his entire body tips over, a falling building crashing to the floor.
When he hits the floor, he lies still.
Absolutely still.
Eighty-Nine
A new fear—terror—grips me.
I’ve killed a man.
I drop the flashlight, and it thuds dully against the carpet, rolling away.
I take a knee next to Aaron, feeling for a pulse in his neck. Before yesterday, I’d never taken someone’s pulse even once, and now I’ve done it three times—twice in this apartment.
Panic races through me as I fail to locate a pulse. My fingers move one way and then another, the tips against Aaron’s clammy, sweaty skin.
“Come on. Come on…”
I keep pressing, willing a pulse to appear. As if it’s magic.
“Please…”
Then—finally—I feel it. A small beating sensation below the skin.
“Yes…”
I lean closer. Aaron’s chest moves. Air whistles in and out of his nose. His breathing is shallow but steady.
“Thank God.”
I almost collapse to the floor in relief. I feel empty, drained.
Outside the open door a flock of pelicans soars past in a graceful V. It’s quiet enough to hear the steady, eternal, rhythmic beating of the waves against the shore.
It’s almost peaceful.
But then I sense something on the edge of my hearing. Over the sound of the waves, I hear the sound of something tearing. It’s like fabric being ripped…two things being torn apart. A second later, a giant popping sound echoes down the walkway, followed by a loud crash in the yard below.
I’m up, stepping over Aaron and onto the walkway, where the sun is bright enough now to make me squint. My fellow tenants are still gathered downstairs. Alaina points frantically to my right.
She says something I can’t hear.
I don’t need to hear it. I follow her gaze and see another chunk of the building has fallen away. I don’t have much time left.
I rush back into the apartment, find the gift on the floor, grab the baseball too.
Once again, I step over Aaron’s prone form. He looks weak, pitiful. He’s completely at the mercy of whatever fate may befall him.
The sight of him ignites a burning rage in my chest. We wouldn’t be in any of this mess if not for him. He descended on us—worse even than the hurricane—and brought disaster upon us. Three people are dead.
Maybe more…
Our lives have been forever changed….
We’ll never forget what’s happened here.
I want to spit in his face. Instead, I step over him and out onto the walkway.
Alaina puts her hands on either side of her mouth and shouts, “Hurry, Jake!”
“Yeah, yeah. I get it….”
The building’s about to go. I need to get out of here.
But something deep down inside stops me in my tracks. I look back to where Aaron’s low breathing continues. His face is placid, but a trickle of blood runs out of his right ear.
He needs help. Serious help. Mackenzie’s words overcome me. You and Mom always tell me to do the right thing, Dad…. Maybe we should put that into practice when we have the chance.
“For fuck’s sake.”
I launch Hazel’s gift over the wall. It spins like a Frisbee in the air, landing at Alaina’s feet. Whatever it is—even if Hazel’s completely lost her mind—it’s out of the building now. It’s safe. Alaina looks up, and I toss the baseball—much easier to throw than the gift—to her. To my surprise, she catches it like a pro.
I turn around, go back for Aaron.
I bend down, give his cheek a few gentle slaps. “Hey, man, time to wake up.” He doesn’t move. “Aaron?”
He emits a low whimper, but his eyes remain closed. Not even a flutter.
The building groans again.
“Shit.”
It’s not going to be easy. Not easy at all.
Not after no sleep and nothing to eat and all the stress of the last day.
Maybe we should put that into practice when we have the chance.
I have to try. He’s a human being. A shitty one, but still…
I put his arm on my shoulder. “Aaron, can you help me out, man?”
Nothing.
“Aaron?”
His arm goes from my shoulder around my back of its own accord, tightening his grip. A small miracle.
“I’m going to lift you. And we’re going to get out of here.”
I work my left arm under his legs, take in the deepest, longest breath I can, and then try to stand.
My back and legs scream. Every muscle, tendon, and bone is stretched to its absolute limit.
I get halfway up—and don’t think I can make it farther.
I’m going to drop him. We’re both going to crash to the floor.
I wobble, Aaron growing heavier and heavier in my arms.
My left knee buckles. I’m about to go down.
“You…got…it…”
I begin to sink.
“…got…it…”
Somehow—someway—I stop sinking. My back and legs get injected with a shot of iron.
I take another deep breath, adjust Aaron’s weight in my arms. I grunt like a weight lifter.
My knee rises. My back straightens.
I reach my full height again, his weight still absurdly heavy in my arms.
I turn, making sure not to bang his skull against the doorframe, and head out the door of Dallas’ apartment.
Ninety
Alaina’s voice reaches me on the walkway. “Jake, you need to get out of there.”
She can’t possibly hear my response, but I deliver it anyway: “No shit.”
I’m almost to the stairs when a piece of the ceiling above Aaron and me breaks loose, scattering plaster around my feet.
I stop. “Shit.” I can’t go back to the other staircase. It’s too far, too dangerous….
If I go forward, more of the ceiling might fall on top of us. The whole building might go….
I have no choice. I have to keep going.
I kick debris out of my way as I make my way to the stairs. When we all carried Catalina down, there was a group of us.
But it’s just me now.
I go slowly. Very, very slowly. One step at a time.
On the second landing, I stop, try to gather my strength. I want to put Aaron down and catch my breath. But there’s no time.
I keep going. What other choice is there?
Halfway down the last half of a flight, I miss a step, almost stumble.
After what feels like twenty years, my feet hit pavement. I’ve made it to the garage. Momentum is the only thing carrying me forward at this point. As soon as I step onto the lawn, Nina and Kiara rush toward me, help me lower Aaron to the ground.
My arms feel limp and useless. I walk a few steps away from Aaron and fall to the ground.
I don’t care that it’s wet. I don’t care about the sun in my eyes. I just want to rest. I’m flat on the ground, staring at the sky. I don’t know if I can ever get up again.
My chest rises and falls.
Nina’s face appears over me, hovering like a heavenly body. “What are you doing, Jake?”
“Dying.”
“What on earth made you carry that asshole out of the building?”
“I couldn’t let him die. Even if he is a bad guy.” I huff and puff a few more times. “He’s pretty out of it. I smacked him. Hard. He’ll need a doctor.”
“I wanted to come up and help you, but with the building about to fall and everything, Kiara said…”
“It’s okay….”
A tremendous noise begins. Louder than anything we heard all night.
The ground shakes so hard it feels like we’re having an earthquake.
Or another storm is bearing down on us, ready to swamp the island once and for all.
“What the—”
I lift my head, push my body up so I can see.
Like we’re staring through waves of heat, or we’re seeing a shimmering mirage, the entire building wobbles. Windows pop, sending glass shards and hurricane shutters flying into the air. The windows glisten in the light like diamonds.
The gray stucco cracks. Countless seams run across the facade of the building like capillaries.
“Oh, my God,” Nina says.
I watch—both fascinated and detached. It’s like watching a movie, or footage of a disaster thousands of miles away.
Except it’s right here. Right in front of us.
I was just inside there, and barely made it out.
The building continues to shimmy from one side to the other. The movement speeds up, and pieces of the building start to go, falling down to the ground and exploding into dust.
In a matter of moments, everything starts to fall in on itself. Like a ship being sucked into a whirlpool.
In one sudden, terrible moment, the entire thing collapses with a tremendous roar, sending a gigantic plume of dust and dirt into the air, as though a bomb has exploded.
I turn away, duck my head. Feel bits and pieces of debris fall down on me like hailstones. My face is pressed against the wet ground. I inhale the loamy scent of mud and rain.
Eventually, the debris stops falling.
I dare to lift my head. Our former home has been reduced to a pile of rubble. I try not to think of all that went down with it. Most importantly, Dallas’ body.
