Page 76 of Riot Reunion
Wren turns away from the window, sliding his hands into his pockets. “We drawing lots then? It’s still pissing down out there.”
“I’m going.” I can’t bear the thought of sitting here, waiting to find out what’s going on up there.
“Me, too,” Carrie adds.
Presley sets her jaw, rubbing her left shoulder, working her fingers into the joint as she heads toward the front door. “Yep. Count me in.”
“You’re not feeling great, Chase. You should stay here and rest.” Pax is the voice of reason for once, but Presley shakes her head, long red hair swaying. The look of determination in her eyes brooks no argument. “I’m not an invalid. Everyone else is going, so I’m going.”
Pax considers arguing, I think, but his girlfriend’s steely expression dissuades him from opening his mouth again. “All right. First sign of you feeling off and we’re coming right back. You already said you were feeling dizzy.”
“A dizzy spell won’t kill me, for crying out loud. The fresh air will probably make me feel better. Come on. Let’s go.”
***
We drive in two cars.It’s two miles up a winding, switchback road to Wolf Hall, and the rain’s showing no signs of abating. No sense in walking up and getting soaked to the skin. A hundred feet before the academy driveway proper, the huge iron gate bearing the school’s crest and name stands locked across the roadway, preventing us from going any further. I’ve never even seen the gateclosedlet alone locked. Pax and Presley pull up in his car first, the brake lights of the Charger glowing red orbs up ahead, lighting up the streaking rain. In Dash and Carries’ rental, we come to a stop behind them.
“Looks like we have to walk from here,” Dash says.
The school looms up ahead, as foreboding as ever. The place hasn’t changed at all since we left, which is hardly surprising. It’s only been five months. The same ivy still chokes the stonework. The flying buttresses still prop up their stone statues. The pinnacles, and pointed archways, and sloping wings of the school remain as they ever were. The elaborate stained-glass windows stand in darkness, no light from the interior to illuminate them as we get out of the car, all of us drawing our jackets tight around us against the elements. As if determined to drench us down to our underwear, a gust of wind sends the onslaught of fat raindrops lashing at us sideways, driving into our faces as we approach the gate.
“I don’t think we should climb over,” I say. I’m not afraid of heights. I’d do it, but let’s be smart about this. There’s no way the gate can be opened from the other side—not that I can see, anyway—and the chances of slipping, falling, and breaking an ankle as we try and scale down the wet, slippery wrought iron on the other side are high indeed.
“This thing’s pointless,” Pax says, jerking his head to the left, toward the forest. “It’s only to stop vehicles. Not very good at keeping people out if you don’t bother extending the fence all the way around the property now, is it?” Extending a hand, he reaches for Presley and guides her close behind him, showing excessive care as he leads her into the trees.
In a second, they’re gone, swallowed by the gloom and the rain that comes down even harder now, sheets of water crashing down on the blacktop.
“If anyone knows how to break in, it’s Pax,” Wren says, shrugging. “He spent so much time sneakingoutof the academy that he knows all of Wolf Hall’s access points.” His collar is popped against the weather, and his black curls are wet, rainwater beading and dropping from the tips of his wet hair, but from the unbothered look on his face, you could almost surmise that he hadn’t even noticed that it was raining. “Feeling brave?” he asks, shooting me a devilish grin.
“Sure. Why not.”
I follow him into the forest, his hand holding mine tight. Carrie and Dash are right behind us. We leave the road behind, and the six of us disappear into the dark.
It doesn’t take Pax long to figure out a way in. The trees provide some shelter from the rain, but our feet are coated in slick mud by the time we all push our way through a small gap in the hedge that runs parallel to the lake. My Chuck Taylors will never be the same again. I can feel the mud squeezing between my toes as we strike out toward the main academy building, heads down, shoulders up around our ears, bracing against the cold.
“I think it’s safe to say the place isn’t on fire,” Pres shouts. “Even if it was, the rain will have put it out by now.” Strands of her hair plastered to her face, she holds her arm awkwardly as we trudge up the hill. Pax has to grab her twice to stop her from falling when she slips in on the water-logged grass.
I’m beginning to think that we’ve wasted our time coming up here. Carrie’s right. It would be pretty freaking hard for something to stay alight in this downpour. And it’s so hard to see anything, anyway. It’ll be virtually impossible to figure out if lightningdidstrike up here.
Dash jogs up to the main entrance of the school and tries the doors. Naturally, they’re locked. Every window is in darkness, sealed up tight. Every entryway locked. We hurry around the perimeter of the school, searching for damage, but find none. “This is madness.” Pax glares up at the building, baring his teeth in annoyance. “Fuck this. There’s nothing to see here. There’s a bottle of whiskey with my name on it back at the house. Come on. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
No one argues with him. We’ve done our due diligence. There are no flames licking up the walls of Wolf Hall. No giant smoking hole in the side of the place. A hot shower and spiked hot chocolate are sounding mighty fucking good right now. Our small group gathers close, walking as quickly as is safe in the mud slick that has formed around the rear of the school, outside the old English department, when Wren slows his pace next to me. Lifting his head, he scans from left to right, searching the darkness.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I can smell smoke.”
Sure enough, when I inhale deeply through my nose, I can detect the acrid smell of smoke over the wet grass, and fresh dirt, and chemical reek of petrichor, courtesy of the electric storm still going strong in the sky above. Presley huddles into Pax’s side, scanning the shadows. “Where is it coming from?”
“Up ahead.” Pax points, but his eyes must be better than mine. I only see the pitch-black silhouette of the forest to our left, and the blocky, towering shape of the west wing of the academy to our right. We set off again, straight ahead…and it doesn’t take long to discover the source of the smoke. In the parking lot, a single car sits abandoned, half-parked beneath the branches of a massive live oak tree. One of the tree's branches has sheared away from the trunk, charred and blackened, the width of the bough too wide for a man to wrap his arms around… and it has landed on the roof of the car. Curls of smoke rise from both the car and the tree. As we get closer, it’s clear that the lightning struck both at the same time; the paintwork on the side of the Subaru Outback is pock-marked and blistered, bubbled up and streaked with a weird black pattern that looks like the jagged roots of a tree. The car is absolutely destroyed.
“Hot fucking damn.” Pax whistles.
“Hope no one was inside.” Pres hugs herself, ducking down to look inside the Subaru, but the gigantic tree limb has totally crushed the roof, making it impossible to see inside. She wobbles a little as she stands up again, momentarily losing her balance, and Pax’s morbid fascination with the wrecked car instantly morphs into a very serious concern.
“Right. That’s it. We’ve had our fun. This thing isn’t about to blow up, and this weather’s for the fucking birds. We’re getting you somewhere warm and dry. Now.”
“Yeah. Actually. I’m—I’m feeling a little—” She sways, her hand reaching out for something to grab onto, and nearly goes down.
