A Whisper in the Flame (The Ragers Series Book 1) Page 4

  "Jen, I'm not making my life decisions off of your baseless gut feelings!" Mrs. Wells shouts in return. Mom’s eyes gloss over, a sliver of liquid threatening to come out when she takes in her friend’s words. Her heaviness and dread are palpable as her emotions push down into my own chest.

  Mrs. Wells softens, coming to my mom, "I am not letting my family be ripped apart. Please, you and Emma can stay for as long as you'd like. I promise I won't tell anyone that you're here, not even Steven.”

  She and Mom embrace, saying more with one hug than a million words ever could. She turns to me next, placing a hand on my cheek, softly smiling. Without saying another word, she leaves the room to gather her things.

  Chapter 4

  Nearly two hours later and no one has come to gather Lauren and Mrs. Wells. We are all in the basement playing Uno as we wait. They each have a suitcase packed, ready, and sitting at the top of the steps.

  The bowl of grapes and plate of cheese Mrs. Wells brought down as a snack while we waited has almost been wholly devoured; none of us realized how hungry we were. Channel 10 is still playing the same news segment.

  "Rummy," I say. as I match my six of diamonds to Lauren's six of spades. I wriggle my brows and wink in a playful mock.

  A group sigh is heard as I laugh at the lighthearted game. I've won the last three out of five rounds.

  Mom counters my move by laying down two more sixes, grinning at me as she calls out her own "Rummy."

  Mrs. Wells is looking at the cards in her hand, cocking her head to the side. "Ugh," she says, reaching for the deck of cards to see if she can get a match to Mom's suit of clubs. Drawing her second card, we hear the rumble of multiple vehicles outside in the streets.

  Mom and I meet eyes when we hear several vehicle doors closing. Mom stares through the wood above, reaching for my hand as she listens to the noise above.

  "Clean up, now," Mrs. Wells says to Lauren as she picks up the bowl and plate from our snacks.

  Lauren gathers the playing cards and shoves them back into the box, and Mom grabs my hand, gesturing for me to come with her into the cellar.

  "You're sure about this?" Mom says, turning to Mrs. Wells, who is standing on the other side of the cellar door, already knowing what her answer will be.

  "Yes. Now stay quiet and don't come out until you hear us leave. I love you," she adds, hugging my mom and me hurriedly.

  Lauren comes to me next. Standing in front of me, she pulls the sweater back from her hand and shows me the bracelet dangling around her arm. It has an intricate heart locket looped to the chain.

  "Look," she says, opening it up. Inside is a picture of myself, her, and Will. We are a few years younger, all wet and in our swimsuits on the Fourth of July weekend. She smiles at me and hugs me tight.

  "Be safe out there," I say, trying to be strong.

  "And you be safe in here," she replies, smirking.

  "Love you."

  "Love you too."

  Mom and Lauren hug briefly before Mrs. Wells beckons her back into the basement room. We all look up when we hear the loud knock on the front door. Mrs. Wells gives us one final meaningful look as she closes the cellar. The locking mechanism is heard once again, securing us inside.

  Mom comes to me, putting her arms around my shoulder while listening to our friends ascend the stairs to the door.

  In lowered, muffled voices, we hear Mrs. Wells open the front door and say a hello.

  Muffled footsteps enter the house. How many is that? I try to count the footsteps that seem to be searching the house. Five sets, maybe? That’s a hell of a lot for people just coming to pick up Lauren and Mrs. Wells… I shove the thought out of my mind, trying to tuck it neatly away so I can focus on every sound.

  Walking, back and forth. Back and forth.

  A conversation is happening while they walk the house, but I can't make out the quiet words through the thick walls of the safe room.

  Someone comes stomping down into the basement.

  I inhale a sharp breath of air.

  Mom glowers at me, a single finger to her lips, "Shh..."

  "All clear!" We hear a man's voice yell before stomping back up the stairs.

  The muted conversation continues once again.

  "What are you doing?" We hear ring out, this time clear and coming from Mrs. Wells.

  The voices are getting louder. My heart keeps pumping hard against my chest while the whimper of concern that I tried to shove away in my brain comes full throttle back into the forefront of my mind.

  A scuffle of movement ensues as we stand staring up through the floor but glued to the spot, not sure what to do.

  "No, you can't do this!"

  Footsteps boom across the floor.

  A loud, smacking noise.

  A great thud as something crashes to the floor.

  "Mom?" I whisper scared.

  She is holding onto me so tightly now.

  "We need to go help them!" I say, raising my voice slightly.

  "No. We can't. We have to stay here," she replies, shaking her head at me. I can tell she is trying to keep calm, but her eyes are watering over as she holds me to the spot.

  "MOM? MOM!" We hear Lauren sobbing.

  “They’re ready, sir.” Someone announces, entering the front door.

  “All right. Head out, men!”

  “No. NO!! MOM, PLEASE!"

  A kicking noise scrapes against the wall, and all I can picture is Lauren fighting. Fighting with those trying to take her away. Holding on, holding out as best as she can.

  The front door bangs open as the group leaves the house. Lauren’s screams sear into my brain.

  All I can hear, caught up in this little hole of a room, is the rumble of an engine: doors closing, wheels crushing tiny bits of rock beneath their tread. The fading of Lauren's cries as the vehicles disappear down the road.

  Silence.

  Chapter 5

  “Come on, Mom! We need to check upstairs," I cry to my mother. She is squatting on the floor, with her head in her hands. "What are you waiting for!?"

  "I'm listening!" she hisses.

  I try to quiet my breathing, allowing Mom to listen for whatever noise she is looking for. I concentrate on the sound around us. I hear the AC shaking, gentle and quiet through the vents in the house, but everything else is silent.

  Mom signals for me to follow her out as she makes her way to the metal door, keeping every movement quiet and slow. It's like the house has magically added ten additional steps to the staircase; it takes so long to climb them.

  "Michelle!" Mom yelps, running the last few steps. She lowers herself to the floor to examine the motionless body of Mrs. Wells. Her left eye appears purple, red, and inflamed, but other than that, she seems fine. The blow from the punch must have knocked her out.

  "Michelle. Michelle, wake up." Mom shakes her, trying to get her to pull out of her unconsciousness.

  “Mom, look.” Off to the side, an injection

  Mrs. Wells' eyes flutter underneath their lids before opening up. She’s groggy and confused as she tries to sit up.

  "No, stay down and take it easy," Mom pushes her back down. "Can you remember what happened?"

  "I... I... Lauren. They took her!" she cries.

  "Why? What happened?"

  "I asked them where Steven was. They said he was gone, that he had turned, so they killed him." Anger and bitterness can be heard in her voice as it rises. "After they checked the house, they told us that only one of us was needed, and since Lauren was younger, they would take her."

  Mrs. Wells pushes herself into a sitting position, loathing lighting up her face. "The leader said to leave me here. His soldiers grabbed Lauren. I tried to fight them off, but he hit me. Did you see them?" she asks, looking intently at my mom.

  "No, I'm sorry, I didn't. We heard them drive away. I didn't want to risk them finding us, especially after the way things were going."

  "Wait. So, you heard what was going on, but you didn't t
ry to help?" Mrs. Wells' entire body is shaking head to foot as she lifts herself swiftly, off the floor. Her body is radiating heat, and her face is turning red.

  "I couldn't! You know I couldn't, Michelle!"

  "I HATE YOU!" she booms out as a blood vessel in her right eye pops.

  "Mom, look!" I yell, pulling hard on her arm, turning her attention as I point underneath the antiqued dining room table. A long needle shot lays on the floor, rolled up beside the front leg of the chair Lauren always ate in when they invited us over for family dinners.

  She shakes me off of her but still follows my arm, seeing the needle. Her eyes widen, dilating in a new panic.

  "Michelle, did they inject you with something?" She reaches for the collar of Mrs. Wells' shirt, pulling it down to reveal a swollen bump on her neck. “Shit.” My mom says, crass.

  Mrs. Wells shoves my mom back before reaching for her own neck. She gasps, feeling the sizable knot. "They must have done it after he knocked me out," she whispers to herself.

  "Michelle, did they say where they were going? Did you hear them say where they were taking Lauren? We’ll go get her. We won’t let them keep her. Please, tell me, and we will find your daughter." Mom speaks with a ferocity that I have never heard.

  "You?" Mrs. Wells scoffs. "You didn't even try to help her! You think you're going to march up to the base and get her! IT'S YOUR FAULT! YOU LET THEM DO THIS! I HATE YOU!" She bellows, launching forward to strike.

  "Mom!" I yell. She's too quick. Mom spins out of the way, and Mrs. Wells trips, crashing back onto the floor.

  "Emma, get out now! GO! Wait for me in the driveway." She turns her back on me, facing Mrs. Wells again, who is lifting herself off the floor.

  I run to the door looking back in time to see Mrs. Wells rise and spin towards mom. A yelp rises in my throat as I take in the iridescent, purple bulging deformity that is rising from the side of Mrs. Wells' face.

  "Emma, OUT!" Mom yells at me as Mrs. Wells barrels towards her.

  I force myself to leave, to close the door, to stand alone in the middle of the driveway, leaning against the Wells' black four-door sedan, watching the house for clues as to what is happening inside.

  I hear a thud, a scream, the breaking of glass.

  Breath in, breath out, I tell myself as I look down at my feet.

  BANG.

  Chapter 6

  My head jerks up at the loud, echoing sound of a gunshot. I can't move. I want to. My head is screaming at the rest of my body to check inside, to make sure Mom is okay. I can’t.

  I want to scream out loud, to get some sort of reaction from inside, but I can't do that either. My lips are glued together as I stand frozen to the spot. Time is rushing by; one minute, two minutes, three... I still can't move.

  The front door opens. Mom steps out, and I can breathe again. She tucks the gun back into the small of her back. My brain reactivates with every deep breath I take. Heaving in oxygen, it’s like someone pressed the play button in my head.

  We both move to each other, hugging and crying. Mom is all right, we’re okay.

  But Mrs. Wells is not. She’s dead. I feel it with every fiber of my being as Mom and I embrace, weeping, collapsing into one another.

  Lauren is not. She’s gone. Taken away. To the base? That’s what Mrs. Wells said. The military base where Dad is?

  "Hey! What the hell is all of the commotion about?" Lewis Hightower yells at us coming outside of his grand brick layered home. His wife, Samantha, trails right behind him. He stumbles down the driveway, a slight drag in his feet. His blue collared shirt is untucked from his black slacks while his top buttons are undone, torn off into threads. He teeters towards us, whisking his already loose tie off of his neck and discarding it onto his perfectly manicured lawn.

  Samantha stops chasing after him, reaching her long arms down below her floral blouse and pencil skirt and slipping her foot out of one of her high heeled shoes. Her arm curves back as she aims.

  "Why the hell are you yelling?" she screams, chucking the black heel at the back of his head.

  He whips around to her, leering, "You know, you are really starting to piss me off."

  They're yelling at each other without any care who hears them, but my eyes dart towards the house next to us when I see the white oak front door creep open and Mr. Lee limping out. Or what use to be him.

  His face, neck, and arms are covered in gross deformities. His shirt is soaked with blood. He is almost blind in his movements, yet he comes straight towards us. His breathing sounds labored and sick while a grotesquely sweet smell blows in the wind around him.

  "Emma, get in the car." Mom's clear command breaks through the maddening scene unfolding before us. She pulls car keys out of her jacket pocket, pressing the unlock button as she does so.

  We jump into the Wells’ car as Mr. Lee starts pounding on the driver's side door. Mom shoves the key in the ignition, putting the car into reverse and punching the gas. Mr. Lee's body lurches onto the pavement as he falls forward. His head smashes the concrete, and he does not get back up. I lurch.

  Mom hits the breaks once we turn into the street, shifting the car into drive. My stomach turns again as I look out Mom's window, filling with bile and aching from disgust.

  Samantha and Lewis are no longer fighting. Instead, she is straddling his unmoving body. Her feet are now bare, covered in grass and dirt. One of her heels is untouched from when she first threw it at Lewis’ head, laying lopsided in the grass.

  Mom drives forward without a second look, but my brain can't stop thinking about Samantha's other heel. The one she had gripped in her hand.

  The heel she was using to strike Lewis' head over and over again.

  Chapter 7

  We drive out of the neighborhood, heading downtown. I have a million questions racing through my brain, but the agony I see in my mom's face keeps me from asking any of them. Her eyes are glossed over and she bites her lip as it begins to tremble, trying to regain control over her emotions.

  It's hard to see her like this, trying to keep it together when everything around us is crumbling into millions of tiny pieces. I wish I could go back to sleep and restart this whole stupid day.

  I’d stop being so consumed by worthless exams. I’d listen to my mom’s concerns and understand. I’d help her convince Lauren and Mrs. Wells to stay with us. We’d all be together; we’d figure it all out. Together we’d be able to make it.

  Mom slows down as we near the Iron Giant. We are almost to the gate and bridge to the other side. Right before the bridge is the lab Mom and Dad work at. She pulls off the road here, parking right in front of the entrance to the building.

  "Stay here for a minute. I’m going to peek inside and make sure it is safe for us." She is up and out of the vehicle before I can say a word against it. She closes the door softly and then reaches for the gun in the back of her pants.

  Creeping towards the great glass doors, she peers in, taking something out of her front pocket. It's her work badge. She scans it, and the doors automatically slide open.

  Mom disappears into the dark building for a minute before emerging again, gesturing for me to come in. She holds the door open for me and then locks it shut once I am in. The light from beyond the door reaches in through the glass windows casting our shadows across the floors.

  I've gone to my parents’ work many times, but none of those times have I seen the lab so empty or dark. Without the bright white lights overhead, it feels strange and foreign.

  To the side of the automatic doors are a security desk and a metal detector. Behind that is the receptionist's counter. It's long chrome desk curves into a half oval shape with doors on either side. Above the curved desk in big, grand lettering reads "South River Medical Lab."

  Mom checks behind the security desk and pulls out a long flashlight.

  "We'll need it when we go down the hall," she says to me off handily. I follow her through the door to the right of the receptionist desk, entering a long hal
l lined with more doors leading to different laboratories and offices. In the middle of the hallway is an elevator connecting both halls to all three building levels.

  At the end of the hall is another set of double doors that lead to the stairs and an emergency exit. We stop in front of the second to the last laboratory as Mom scans her ID again, granting us access to her office.

  Her office is divided into two separate spaces. The first half is smaller, about the size of a small bedroom. There is another door with a keypad entrance and a large rectangular window looking into her own laboratory. Underneath the window is a wash station and a shelf with bootie covers for her shoes, hairnets, and gloves for her hands.

  A adesk and chair are to the right of us with two different computers and a few folders filled with paperwork. The wall behind it is lined with filing cabinets and bookshelves and has a second chair tucked in the corner.

  Mom takes the seat behind her desk as I take the chair in the corner. She leans forward with her elbow on the desk, pinching her fingers over the bridge of her nose and twisting her features in concentration.

  "Mom," I say delicately.

  "Yes?"

  "I'm sorry."

  She sags into her chair, letting out a soft sob. She tries to regain control over herself, nodding her head and wiping a few tears from her eyes.

  "I've been racking my brain, trying to figure out why the government would want to infect their own people. It isn’t logical," she chokes out, sitting back up in her seat. "What is their endgame?"

  Mom looks around the office as if she expects to find the answers somewhere in this room.

  “Do you remember learning about the pandemic of 2005?”

  “Yeah, in my U.S. history class.”

  “It came so fast. It felt like it was out of nowhere. One day we were all fine, worried about whether Spring was going to come early or not. The next, we were terrified because people were dying so fast. It seemed like it was out of nowhere.”