In Australia, we would get tropical cyclones every once in a while. Some areas, primarily in the northwest, frequently had bad storms with tornadoes interspersed between the heavy rains, winds, and lightning.
Yet, I’d faced those in a house or a military bunker.
However, with as many precarious situations as I’d found myself in over the years, it was safe to say that it was my first time weathering a major thunderstorm, while hunkered in a camper, with a baby tucked against me who screamed whenever thunder slapped.
“I’m sorry, love,” I whispered, smoothing Thandie’s hair. “It’ll pass.”
It was a fact of life; storms moved, so this one eventually had to pass, but my biggest concern was whether it would pass without destroying our makeshift home.
“What if Uncle Gage told you a story?”
In truth, I had precisely zero stories to tell.
Everything I’d known, from folklore to fairy tales, disappeared. All I could grant Thandie was glimpses of how things were before because she would never see the world I’d grown up in. Then, not only did I lose her mother, but I was also doing a shit job of keeping us out of any further hell than we’d already encountered.
There were times when I’d found myself wondering what the point of it all was. If the world as we knew it was over, what purpose was there in trying to continue? Wouldn’t the fight to stay alive invariably end in my death anyhow? And in, quite possibly, a gruesome manner?
However, something worth living for, at least for Thandie and Ari, existed on the other side ofthis.My job was to help them make it to that world and hope Julien would be there to welcome them into it.
“Once upon a time, there was a…” I searched every corner of my mind for a woodland creature, “frog.”
Thunder rocked the sky.
Thandie continued to wail.
“This frog was a special frog. This frog was from a faraway place on the edge of the Pacific Ocean. A place where no man had dared to travel. You see, this faraway place, this island, was protected by a…magic spell.”
Thandie buried her face against my chest.
“I know, I know. Uncle Gage sucks at fairy tales.”
Something knocked against the camper’s exterior wall. The sound brought Thandie’s wailing to a halt, and her tiny arms latched on to me as best as they could.
“It’s all right,” I said, hoping the tone of my voice instead would be reassuring for her, considering the story was a failure from the start. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’ve got...”
Light flickered in one of the windows.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
I leaped to my feet and quickly wrapped Thandie against my midsection, making sure to cover as much of her body as possible. If I could see actual flamesandsmell the cloying scent of smoke and curling tree bark in the air, this fire was already too damn close.
I gathered the necessities—the formula and medicine the doctor shared with us—my duffel bag and something to drape over Thandie’s head. Then, after mumbling a quick, useless prayer, I dashed out into the rain.
For shits and giggles, the universe rewarded us with a moonless night sky, the clouds fat with wispy tails that funneled toward the ground. The rain came down in sheets as thick as waterfalls, and I positioned the heaviest piece of fabric I’d grabbed—a waterproof Anorak jacket we’d had since Virginia—over Thandie’s head.
I didn’t know where to go.
I didn’t know where wecouldgo.
Starting for the encampment the doctor had mentioned seemed like our only option, but setting out tonight would be foolish. We had to find somewhere to hunker down, and there was a neighborhood close by that I believed I could get us to before we were washed away. At least one of the multi-car garages lining the abandoned street had to be empty.
I lifted a corner of the jacket and took a peek at Thandie to make sure she was okay. Gratefully, she was quiet, but as those round eyes stared up at me, I saw all the fear she was too young to express. I saw, in her eyes, that she was asking me to do the very thing I’d failed to do for her mother.
Please, Uncle Gage.
Keep me safe.
“You okay, sweetheart?” I pulled a smile from a deep, deep place, my voice rising above the noisy rainfall.