Page 107 of The Night the Lights Went Out
Thirty-six
SUGAR
She wasn’t afraid. It would take a lot more than a storm siren to scare her at her age. She’d been through too many in her lifetime to warrant much notice. Besides, there was so much more in life to be afraid of. Like making sure you and your family had enough food to eat to survive, or sending a husband and brothers off to war. Or trusting a friend with a secret.
The rain struck her in the face as the wind threatened to remove her plastic cap. She’d be annoyed if it blew off and her hair got soaked. She’d just had it done at the beauty parlor and she’d paid a small ransom for the pleasure. Keeping the flashlight trained in front of her just in case she spotted the dog, she kept to the grassy side of the dirt driveway, not wanting to get stuck in the mud, following it slowly up to Merilee’s house, questioning her sanity more than once.
She couldn’t make out any flashlight beam from inside, which worried her. What if Merilee was asleep? Because Sugar was quite sure if Merilee had heard the sirens, she’d be on her way to get Sugar right at this moment. But there was no sign of the young woman and no flicker of light from inside.
Her knees and hips were screaming at her now, and as she studied the front steps, she wasn’t sure if she could climb them by herself. She put her hand on the porch railing as wind and rain and leaves swirled at her feet. What was she doing? If she broke a hip, she and Willa Faye would be roommates before she knew it.
There were fewer steps at the back porch because of the elevation, and they were wider and less steep. She’d have a better chance of climbing those without getting hurt.
The wind was at her back as she rounded the house, focusing on the circle of light from her flashlight to guide her. She reached the corner just as the sky roared above her, three lightning flashes following in quick succession, granting the world a few seconds of broad daylight. Sugar stared at the back porch and the door swinging in the wind, the empty kitchen beyond.
Cupping her hand to her mouth, she tried calling Merilee’s name, but the word was thrown away by the wind. Holding her breath as if that might somehow contain the pain, she climbed the steps one at a time, clutching tightly to the railing, then pausing for a long moment to recover when she reached the top.
Following the beam of her flashlight, she entered the kitchen. “Merilee! Are you here? Merilee, it’s Sugar! We need to get to the cellar.” No answer. Her flashlight traveled from the floor to the doorway, illuminating the kitchen table. Jimmy’s binoculars sat on the edge as if he’d just put them there and left the room. She picked them up by the strap. If there was a tornado tonight, it wasn’t taking Jimmy’s binoculars.
Gritting her teeth against the pain in her joints, she walked to the doorway of the kitchen and stopped. Furniture and broken glass lay everywhere, as if the tornado had already struck, but only on the inside of the house.
“Merilee? Are you here?” Being careful not to trip on anything, she used the flashlight to guide her down the hallway, the heavy scent of lavender filling the air outside the bathroom. Her feet sloshed through water and she moved the flashlight down to her feet, amazed to find standing water. Her first thought was a roof leak, until she became aware of the sound of running water.
Aiming her flashlight into the bathroom, she saw the faucets running, a waterfall spilling over the sides and onto the floor tiles she remembered selecting with Tom. She couldn’t stand to see such wastefulness, and despite everything else going on around her, she was compelled to trudge forward and turn off the faucets. The sirens seemed louder now, the wind more frantic as she backed out of the bathroom and made her way as quickly as she could to the back bedroom.
The bed was still made, the familiar yearbook lying on its back in the corner of it, but Sugar didn’t stop to figure out why. She made her way back to the kitchen as fast as she could manage, peering into the other two bedrooms to make sure they were empty, a growing pit of worry consuming her as she continued to call Merilee’s name.
She stood on the back porch, clutching the flashlight and the strap of the binoculars, feeling an odd change to the wind as it seemed to pick another direction. She could only hope the dog had found its own refuge from the storm. She was exhausted, and storm sirens or not, she found herself wishing that she’d just gone to bed when she’d had the chance.
Her plastic bonnet flew off, but she barely noticed as a piercing scream carried by the wind reached her, causing every hair on her head to stand up. Refusing to feel the pain and stiffness in her knees and hips, she headed down the steps as fast as she could just as another scream whipped the air around her.
• • •
MERILEE
The fall must have winded Heather, because she lay still long enough for Merilee to make it to the cellar. Wade had made her practice opening the doors—not that it made them lighter, but she now knew how much force she needed to put behind the effort. She also knew that they were unlocked. Since nothing inside was valuable, she’d seen no need to lock them. In a life overly burdened with bad luck, this was the first time in a very long while that Merilee found herself catching a break.
She’d flipped up the latch and managed to open a single door when she heard screaming. Unbroken lightning lit the sky like daylight as hail began to fall, stinging her skin as she turned to see Heather running toward her at an awkward gait, rage contorting her beautiful face.
She’s hurt.Merilee reached down and grasped the handle of the open door to close it behind her before Heather reached her. Her fingers, slick with blood and rain, slipped, and she fell back but managed to keep her ground, reaching for the handle again as Heather lunged at her. Heather’s movements were slower, almost lethargic, and Merilee was able to dodge out of the way, losing her footing and jumping onto the top cellar step to keep herself from falling.
No!Merilee was trapped. Heather grinned as she realized it, too. She took a step forward, raising her porcelain weapon. Merilee raised her own arms, instinctive self-preservation erasing the futility of it.
She opened her mouth to scream, but it wasn’t her voice she heard. It was Sugar’s, and just before she closed her eyes to block out Heather, she imagined she saw Sugar slamming Jimmy’s binoculars into the side of Heather’s head.
Instead of feeling a sharp sting from the broken porcelain, Merilee was aware of something heavy hitting the closed cellar door. She opened her eyes to see Heather lying facedown, half-off the door, hail viciously striking her blond head. And Sugar was there, still holding the binoculars, pressing the heel of her hand against her chest.
The hail intensified as the sky behind Sugar lit up again with steady forks of lightning, the color of the sky shifting from ash gray to a deep green. Heather groaned and dug an elbow into the ground as if she were trying to rise again. Merilee shouted, “Sugar—hurry!”
Sugar stared at her, swaying, not seeming to understand what Merilee was saying. Heather groaned again as an ominous sound rumbled through the skies, vibrating in Merilee’s chest. With warning protests from her ankle, Merilee dashed toward Sugar, put her arms around her, and then half dragged and half carried her down into the cellar, unceremoniously dumping her on the final steps so she could yank the cellar door shut and pull the latch. Her last sight before she closed the door was of a sky the color of okra, and of Heather, blood mixing with hail and rain dripping down the side of her face, on her hands and knees crawling toward the piece of porcelain that had embedded itself in the grass.
Merilee ducked into the cellar, pulling the door closed behind her, taking two tries to slide the latch because of her shaking fingers. A sound like a roaring freight train passing through and then the thick scent of cut pine enveloped them in the small space beneath the old house. Merilee grabbed a camping light—thanks to Wade—and flicked it on, finding Sugar at the bottom of the steps with her eyes closed.
“Sugar!” she screamed, racing down the steps to gently move the old woman to a more comfortable position. She reached for Sugar’s wrist, feeling a feeble yet steady pulse.
“Stop doing that. I’m just resting my eyes,” Sugar murmured.
Merilee sat back with relief. She knew Sugar wasn’t well, but at least she was alive and alert.
