Everyone Knows It's Windy, 4/?
Title: Everyone Knows It's Windy, chapter four
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word Count: 4,984
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella (Sean, Scott, Elliott, Barry)
Supporting Characters: Double Trouble
Summary: The rain clouds unleash their fury, and everyone scrambles for shelter. Meanwhile, Barry wrestles with the car.
Will be posted to 10_hurt_comfort when complete.
Chapter Four
Thunder boomed overhead, at long last splitting the clouds open as they began to pound buckets of rain on the small Kansas town. The wind howled and ranted, violently attacking whatever trees and shrubbery had been left standing. Loose-hanging doors banged against their hinges until they were nearly ready to tear free altogether.
Elliott ran through the downpour, his curls plastered to his neck. He had been soaked to the skin within seconds. He was clutching Brittany in his arms as she shuddered, alternately staring at the disastrous state of her hometown and burrowing against his shoulder.
Sean ran ahead, holding onto the bag of supplies they had packed before leaving the half-collapsed house. After poking around a while he had discovered that Brittany's father taught at the middle school. That was where they were trying to go now---but in the storm Elliott was not even sure they were still going the right direction.
"It should be right around here!" Sean called over the raging gusts.
"Well, it's not!" Elliott called back. "Are you sure we're still going the way we're supposed to?!"
"Sure we are," Sean retorted. But he sounded uncertain. "At least . . . I thought so five minutes ago. . . ." He sighed in defeat. ". . . No, I'm not sure at all."
Elliott would have slapped his forehead if he had not been holding Brittany. He looked down at the frightened girl. "Did you ever visit your dad at the school?" he asked.
She hesitated, then nodded. "Y-yeah," she said. "Lots of times."
"Then can you tell us if this way seems familiar?" Elliott asked.
She squinted through the near-darkness. "Nothing's the same anymore," she said sadly. "I don't know."
"I don't see any lights, either," Sean frowned. "There should be some kind of lights set up, not just for the people inside, but beacons for people outside." He held his hand to the side of his right eye, trying to ward off the rain long enough to see something farther away than a yard. The remaining street lamps that still had power were on, but they were few and far in-between. Most of the electricity had been lost in the first tornado. The second, which was likely almost upon them, might take out the rest.
Elliott stumbled forward as an extra-strong burst of wind nearly knocked him off his feet. "I'm not sure we have time to keep looking!" he gasped.
Brittany threw her arms around his neck, panic-stricken. "Are we gonna be eaten by a tornado?!" she cried.
Elliott stiffened, Scott's fate again flashing before his eyes. He swallowed hard. Could he even say that it would not happen? They could be taken just as easily as Scott. He shuddered, holding Brittany close. He would do everything he could to protect her, but he might fail. In fact, that really seemed likely. He had not been able to save Scott.
"We are going to! We are!" Brittany screamed, growing hysterical from Elliott's silence.
Sean turned back. It was not hard to size up the situation. He reached out, laying a hand on the child's shoulder.
"Hey, of course we won't!" he said in a bright, cheery tone. "And I wouldn't lie to you. Everything's going to be just fine."
Elliott looked to Sean. Of course they needed to calm her down, but was it good to be so adamant that nothing would happen? What if something did? That would crush her even more.
Sean gave an inward sigh as he laid a hand on Elliott's shoulder. He wanted to talk with his childhood friend some more, but as long as they were trying to look after Brittany it was not a good idea. Naturally she would overhear, and she would understand most of what was being said. That would tear down everything he was trying to do to help the kid not worry.
And finding shelter really was something to worry about now. The objects being carried by the wind were getting bigger. He half-expected to see a cow flying past them any minute.
He whirled to look in the other direction, his drenched braids flying out. "There's a house over there," he announced, pointing to the outline of a building across the street. "It looks abandoned. Let's go check it out and see if there's a basement or something."
Elliott nodded, taking a deep breath as he tried to gather his crashing emotions. "Maybe we can wait out the rest of the storm there," he said, turning to start walking.
Brittany frowned. "What if the people don't like us being there?" she asked.
"They'll understand," Sean chirped. "If they ever find out to begin with. We'll probably be in and out before they're able to get back." If they even were able to get back at all. They might already be dead.
Like Scott might be. . . .
Sean forced the thought away as he headed up the walkway, kicking some debris out of the way with his foot. The front door had long ago been ripped from its hinges, revealing the darkened living room. Sean peered inside as he climbed onto the porch, then slowly entered, turning on his flashlight. Most things were in order inside. It was eerie, as if the occupants had just stepped out for a few minutes and could return at any time.
He glanced over his shoulder. "It's safe," he said. "Come on." He moved further into the room, not waiting to see if Elliott was behind him.
Elliott most definitely was, looking with unease at the nice furniture, knickknack cabinet, and various pictures on the wall. Some had crashed to the floor, leaving glass shards in every conceivable position---and some not so conceivable.
Brittany stared with wide eyes at a piece of glass that had become lodged in the top of a small wooden table. "How did that happen?" she exclaimed.
Sean shook his head. "Physics is a strange thing," he said. "Don't ask me to figure it out! But El, on the other hand . . . El actually likes it!"
Brittany immediately looked to the curly-haired brunet.
Elliott looked uncomfortable with being put on the spot. "You'll take physics when you're older," he smiled. "It's for big kids."
Brittany thought about this. "Like the kids Daddy teaches?" she wondered.
"Sure," Sean said. "And older."
But thinking of her father made the tears come to Brittany's eyes. Here she was, wandering around what used to be her hometown with two guys she had never known two hours ago. They could not tell her if her parents were safe. They had been supposed to be going to find her daddy, and now they did not even know how to do it. So now they were in someone else's home while the thunder crashed and the wind howled outside. What if she never saw her parents again?
Elliott swallowed as he carried her out to the kitchen, in search of a basement door. "It's going to be okay," he said quietly, for his own benefit as well as hers. "We won't be here long. Then we'll keep looking for the school."
She shuddered, looking up at him. "What if Mommy or Daddy go home and I'm not there?!" she wailed. "They'll be scared."
"We left a note," Sean said as he moved to open the fridge.
"It's probably been hours since you've eaten, right?" he said, changing the subject.
She gave a slow nod. "Uh huh." She rested her head against Elliott's shoulder as she watched Sean. Curiosity was written across her features as he peered inside the refrigerator. "Is there anything good?"
"Oh, lots of stuff," Sean returned. "Fresh white bread, peanut butter, cheese, catsup, mustard, mayo . . ."
Elliott shook his head in amusement when Sean started listing condiments. Brittany giggled.
"Could I have a cheese sandwich?" she asked.
"Sure," Sean returned. He opened the cupboard in search of a knife. Hopefully the tornado would hold off long enough for all of them to eat. He was quite hungry himself, and he was sure that Elliott was as well.
Elliott set Brittany down at the kitchen table before collapsing into the seat next to her. "I don't know that I'll have anything," he sighed.
"You could have the peanut butter, if you're that worried about the cheese," Sean said. "But it says it's all natural. The cheese, I mean. That's actually getting to be pretty popular these days."
Elliott smiled a bit, but just shook his head as he removed his dark red fedora and studied it. It was soaking wet, of course. And maybe it would not dry out properly so it could still be worn. But oh well. He could always get another one.
"You're worried about your friends," Brittany said from the next chair. She looked at him, her eyes filled with kindness.
Elliott started, looking over at her. "I . . ." But he could not say that he was not worried. He would never be believed. He looked back down at his hat.
". . . Yeah, I am worried," he admitted. "We haven't heard anything at all from one of our friends."
"Oh." Brittany frowned. "Just like how I don't know about Mommy and Daddy."
Elliott nodded. ". . . It's really rough, not knowing," he said.
She reached across the space between them, patting his hand. "Maybe we can find out about all of them soon," she said, again with the hopeful wisdom beyond her years.
"I sure hope so," Elliott said, touched by her attempt to comfort him.
Sean kept silent as he made the sandwiches. Now the storm had gotten so bad that his cellphone could not get a signal. He could not even call Barry. At least before, they had been in contact with him. Now they did not know about him and Jeff any more than they knew about Scott.
They were on their own.
****
The rain pelted without forgiveness on the limp and lifeless form. With a groan he began to revive, his fingers curling slightly on the hard, cold pavement.
Was he dead? No . . . it would be strange to be getting drenched in the afterlife. And ow . . . ow. His head . . . ! He moaned again, wishing it was a soft pillow under his cheek instead of asphalt. He could not burrow into asphalt.
He forced his eyes open. What had happened? He remembered rescuing Double Trouble, and then being pinned down himself, and the one twin not wanting to lift a finger to help him. . . . But the other . . . he had kept insisting they should free him. Had they?
He looked to the side, keeping his head in the same position. He was at the far end of the parking lot. The gas station had completely burned to the ground, the metal skeleton of the frame standing out hauntingly against the dark sky. The rain must have put out the flames, unless the fire had just burned itself out.
"Hello?" he called, as loud as he could make his voice go---which was not very loud. And it did not help that the wind was screaming in his ears.
Gritting his teeth, he laid his palms flat on the pavement and tried to push himself up. His arms shook at the attempt, and after a moment he had to lay back down in exhaustion. But from the brief look around he had succeeded in acquiring, he had to gather that he was alone.
"Great going, Scott," he mumbled to himself. "You have now been knocked unconscious twice in one day. You're lucky you don't have brain damage yet."
And what was he going to do now? He had been rescued by the flames and the beam---either by Double Trouble or someone else---only to be left behind. By the time he could finally manage to get the strength to stand up, he might be coming down with pneumonia. He could already feel a sniffle coming on.
Where were the others? He had wondered and worried about them so many times in the last hours. And there were never any answers. They could all be dead, for all he would know. But he clenched a fist. He would not think of that. They were alive. They were all alive and they were concerned about him.
What was that? He blinked, staring into the distance. There was a light, far away from here---or at least it seemed to be. It was just a faint pinprick in his line of vision. But it was more light than he had seen since awakening. And it gave him hope. There had to be someone where the light was, maybe even one of his friends.
Again he began to push himself up. His arms still shook, but this time he managed to exercise enough control over them to stay off the ground. He bent his knees, bringing them underneath him. Now he was kneeling on the asphalt, still staring at the light. It had not moved. Would it stay in place long enough for him to get to it?
Standing up was the next challenge. There was nothing he could hold onto for balance, so he held his arms in front of him again, struggling to steady himself amid the merciless downpour. He stumbled, leaning hard on his uninjured leg. But then, breathing heavily, he succeeded in drawing himself upright.
He took a step forward, then another. He could still see the light, far in the distance. Now it was flickering. He swallowed. Would it go out? No . . . now it was steady again. Maybe he would be able to make it over there. Even if it went out, he could still head in its general direction. But he hoped it would stay.
"I've got a light in my soul from you," he sang quietly to himself as he limped forward. "A light in my soul that burns true blue. I've got a light in my soul from you that never dies."
****
Barry frowned as he made his way back to where the cars had been left. The skies had finally opened---almost as soon as he had left Jeff---and now the rain was pounding down so hard it actually stung. It was going to be even more difficult to move the cars now. The water would make the smooth surfaces slippery.
And he had forgotten that Double Trouble's convertible had turned completely upsidedown. He ground to a halt as he arrived back at the site where they had left the automobiles. He would never be able to turn it over himself. Even with his strength, pushing their own car onto its wheels from its side could be harder than he had anticipated.
He gritted his teeth. He had never really looked towards Double Trouble's car, now that he thought of it. They had all been too worried about Scott to wonder about the criminals' vehicle. And now this was an unforeseen complication. If their own car worked, it was the only one they could use. They would have to make multiple trips. Jeff would have to leave his uncle behind for who knew how long.
He took out his phone, frowning more at the obnoxious "No Service" message flashing on the screen. The storm was too fierce to allow for communication. He had been going to call 911 and ask what the situation was with the ambulance that had been sent for. But they could not depend on it coming. They had to stick with the original plan.
He stuffed the phone back in his pocket as he approached the dark blue car. Placing his hands on the roof, he braced himself as he strained to push on it. But it was no use---it barely moved an inch, if that. He did not have the leverage necessary to push it the way it needed to go.
He sighed, turning to lean against the roof as he pushed his hat back. Maybe if he had a rope long enough and strong enough, he could tie it around part of the frame and pull the car rightside up that way. But would he be able to do it all on his own? He really had needed Jeff's help.
"Aw man! We're never going to get out of here now!"
He stiffened. Was that one of the twins? He peered through the sheets of rain. Yes, Double Trouble had somehow arrived without him realizing. They were staring at their upsidedown car in frustration and disbelief. Then one of them turned, seeing the blue car.
"Hey, the detectives' car is still here too," he said. "Maybe we could turn it over and get out of here in it."
"One of the detectives is here too!" the first twin hissed. "The big guy. We'd never have a chance."
Barry pushed himself away from the car, starting to walk over to them. "I need to take the car in order to get some badly injured people to the hospital," he said, pretending he had not just heard their exchange. "Help me turn it over. If it works, maybe I can do something for you."
They looked at him with suspicion clearly evident in their expressions. "Oh yeah?" said the first. "And what makes you think we'd help you? Let alone trust that you'd do anything for us."
"You don't have much choice, do you?" Barry returned. "Your own car is upsidedown. Aside from using a crane, there isn't much that can be done for it."
The twins looked at it, then at each other. "What would we have to do?" asked the second.
Barry crossed to the trunk, unlocking it and pulling a travel kit out from inside. "Not much," he deadpanned. "Just play tug-of-war."
While they gawked in disbelief, he took out a rope and then moved to stand in front of the roof. The windows had already been rolled down due to the unwelcome heat. Now the interior of the car was of course soaked, but it did not make much difference since he and everyone else was soaked too. He reached out, leaning forward to thread the rope through the divider between the front and back windows. He was taking a chance by turning his back on the twins, but he had a hunch that they would stay and try to help, if for no other reason than that they wanted to steal the car if it still worked. He would just have to be ready for it.
He tied the rope firmly in place before straightening up and walking with the other end to stand in front of the underside of the vehicle. "Now, take hold of the rope and start walking away from the car," he directed.
Double Trouble came over, grasping the rope as Barry had instructed. As Barry led them, they followed, all straining on the rope with all their might.
"Is it even gonna hold?" one twin called over the sound of the rain.
"It'd better," Barry said. "It's the only rope I've got."
They continued to pull, falling silent as they concentrated. The car was starting to move, rocking slightly as they struggled. Then, ever so slowly, it began to creak. Barry gave a final lunge, bringing the twins with him. The car moaned and groaned behind them, at last crashing onto its wheels. Double Trouble crashed to the ground, the pressure released.
Barry turned to look back at them. One of the twins seemed especially winded, staring at the ground as he gripped the asphalt with his raw fingers. The other was regarding him in concern.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Yeah, sure," the exhausted one mumbled. "Just give me a minute."
Barry sighed, following the rope back to the car. He untied it from the frame, pulling it to him and wrapping it around itself several times. Then he tossed it onto the backseat.
Crossing to the driver's side, he pulled the door open and slid inside, fishing his keys out of his pocket. Now was the test. Would it work at all? What would he do if it did not?
He inserted the key into the ignition and turned it. The car sputtered, not wanting to wake up. But Barry was insistent. At last it roared in defeat, the motor coming to life. Relief washed over him. Maybe they would be able to get those people to the hospital after all.
He switched on the headlights. Only one came on, flickering before growing steady. At least there was one.
"Okay," the first twin announced as he walked over to the car, "we helped you get it up. Now we're taking it over." He smirked in the darkness. The second twin was just behind him, his expression identical.
Barry pulled out a pair of handcuffs. "I'll give you a free ride," he deadpanned. He could take them back to the bank, but from there he was not sure what to do with them. He hated the thought of leaving them with some of the wounded people while he took some of the others with him for the first trip.
"No thanks," said the first twin, kicking out at him. "We're not RSVPing to that party!"
The handcuffs went flying, skittering down the road. And now both twins were attacking the driver's door, trying either to force it open or push their way through the window. In all the confusion Barry was not sure which. He fought back, elbowing one while trying to shove the other. Then he grabbed for the door handle. Maybe he could fling it open without warning, startling them and sending them crashing backwards. He really did not want to leave them roaming around the town. But he would not waste time trying to capture them now, not when he was needed more elsewhere.
"Hey! Cut it out!"
Barry stiffened at the new, familiar voice. Could it be . . . ?
The twins had stiffened too, momentarily losing hold of their concentration. Barry sent the door flying and slamming into them, causing them to pitch backwards with identical yelps. At the same moment, a black-clad form stumbled towards the passenger side.
"Barry!" Scott cried, his voice weak. He swayed, grabbing onto the open window.
Barry looked at him in stunned concern, all at once filled with mixed emotions. Scott was alive! But . . . how badly was he hurt? And was he even going to be able to get into the car? He was fumbling with the door, while Double Trouble were getting up to come around and shove him away. Barry flung the driver's door at them again.
Scott gritted his teeth. The passenger door was too mangled. He could not open it. But he had to get inside the car! In desperation he hoisted himself at the window, trying to force his slender frame through the space. Barry reached out, grabbing onto his vest to help pull him inside. At the same moment he slammed the driver's door shut and revved the engine. They had to leave now!
Scott yelped as he tumbled onto the seat. The tires squealed, the car flying forward. Barry drove ahead for several yards, then began to steer the car around to make a U-turn.
Scott shuddered. "W-what are you doing?!" he exclaimed, feeling sick by the abrupt movements. He turned away, holding a hand over his mouth. Luckily, nothing happened.
"Right now I'm not sure," Barry frowned. He would not be able to get very close to the bank, unless the wind had assisted and blown away a lot of the debris from the road. And as soon as they stopped, the twins might try again to take over. They were standing again now, watching the car go past. And they looked ready to give chase.
Scott groaned, slumping back against the seat as he stared blankly at the ceiling. "I . . . I was so worried," he choked out. "I didn't know if you or the others were alive. . . . And I knew you'd all be worried about me."
"We have been," Barry said. This was certainly an awkward reunion. He could not even fully concentrate on it, as he wanted to. He had to keep his eyes on the road.
Scott breathed heavily, willing his stomach to stop playing hopscotch. "Where are they?" he asked, unaware of how tightly he was gripping the armrest. "El and Sean and Jeff?"
Barry hesitated. ". . . I'm trying to get to Jeff now," he said. "But I don't know how close I can bring the car. We're trying to take the wounded people in the bank to the hospital. The ambulance hasn't been able to get through.
"Sean and El . . . they're with the child of one of the tellers," he continued. "When I heard from Sean, they were going to look for her father."
". . . When was that?" Scott closed his eyes. They were starting to slow down, probably approaching one of the messes left by the tornado.
"I'm not even sure," Barry said. "It could have been two hours by now."
He brought the car to a halt. He could not get it any closer; now it was almost against the fallen telephone pole. And Double Trouble were coming from behind. He could see them in the rearview mirror.
Scott could sense the tension in the air. "What is it?" he asked, opening his eyes again.
Barry sighed. "Triple trouble," he deadpanned.
Scott frowned at the sight of the barricade stretching across the road. "What do we do?" His thought process was similar to Barry's. They would never be able to leave the car while going to get the wounded people. Double Trouble would steal it. But how would Jeff get the wounded people here? He would not even know they had brought the car as close as they could.
Barry shook his head. "I don't know. Someone needs to stay with the car . . . but you're in no condition to do so."
Scott swallowed. ". . . I'll go tell Jeff then," he said. "Maybe I can help him bring someone back. . . ." He was unaware of how flushed he had become, but the pained lilt in his voice was obvious.
Barry switched on the overhead light, his frown deepening when he saw the reddened skin. "Scott, you're in no condition to leave the car either," he said, reaching out to touch the younger man's forehead. "You're burning up."
Scott shivered. "Your hand is cold," he mumbled, grabbing the bottom of the window.
Barry brought his hand over Scott's. "Scott, listen to me," he said. "You're sick. You've done your part. We'll figure something else out." He hesitated. "Now you're one of the tornado's casualties. I can't send you out in this."
Scott looked back at him, his eyes bleary. "If I don't go . . . who will?" he asked. "You need to stay here. I know I can't fight off Double Trouble." He forced himself to sit up straight. "There's other people who are hurt more than me. And if the ambulance really can't get through, what'll happen to those people? Barry . . ." He grabbed for the window once more. "I'll be alright. I have to do this. On my honor as an ACME agent, and as a decent human being, I have to. You know that."
Barry stiffened. Now he was faced with the same type of decision Jeff had been forced to make. Double Trouble would never agree to help them any further. Those felons could not be trusted. He and Scott were on their own. It was either him or Scott, and he had to admit, it would be far more dangerous for Scott to stay behind than for him to go on ahead. But neither idea appealed to him in the least. Scott was sick. How far could he even get before he might collapse? How could Barry gamble like that with his close friend's life?
Scott laid a hand on Barry's shoulder. "I'll be back," he said. "I promise." He would not make Barry give his blessing. The conflict in the older man's eyes was all too clear, but Scott could sense it was there without seeing. He would not put that burden on Barry.
With that he knelt on the seat, hoisting himself up to the window again.
Barry watched him. No, he could never agree to this, even though it was the only choice. But he could help Scott through it as much as he could.
He got out of the car, coming around to the passenger side. As fast as was possible, he brought an arm around Scott's shoulders and took hold of his hand, helping him clear the window. Scott lowered himself to the ground, wobbling dangerously. But he clutched Barry's hand, forcing himself to straighten up.
"It's my choice," he said, seeing the look in Barry's eyes. No, he did not particularly want to do it. He wanted to rest. But he would go anyway, continuing to put himself last. He had to think of the greater good.
Barry saw all of that in Scott's expression. And for a brief moment he pulled his friend into a firm embrace. Surprised, Scott froze. But then, slowly, he hugged back.
Double Trouble's footfalls on the pavement made Barry pull away, his eyes narrowing. "Go," he said.
Scott nodded, bending down as he placed his hands on the telephone pole. He could not jump over it, as Jeff had done earlier. But he could still get across it.
He lowered his body into a kneeling position on the pole. Then he slid off onto the other side, using the thing to get his balance as he straightened up. With one last, encouraging smile at Barry, he limped away.
Barry stared after him as he vanished into the storm. This was something Scott had to do . . . but at what price?
He whispered a prayer for his friend's protection before turning to face the twins.
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word Count: 4,984
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella (Sean, Scott, Elliott, Barry)
Supporting Characters: Double Trouble
Summary: The rain clouds unleash their fury, and everyone scrambles for shelter. Meanwhile, Barry wrestles with the car.
Will be posted to 10_hurt_comfort when complete.
Chapter Four
Thunder boomed overhead, at long last splitting the clouds open as they began to pound buckets of rain on the small Kansas town. The wind howled and ranted, violently attacking whatever trees and shrubbery had been left standing. Loose-hanging doors banged against their hinges until they were nearly ready to tear free altogether.
Elliott ran through the downpour, his curls plastered to his neck. He had been soaked to the skin within seconds. He was clutching Brittany in his arms as she shuddered, alternately staring at the disastrous state of her hometown and burrowing against his shoulder.
Sean ran ahead, holding onto the bag of supplies they had packed before leaving the half-collapsed house. After poking around a while he had discovered that Brittany's father taught at the middle school. That was where they were trying to go now---but in the storm Elliott was not even sure they were still going the right direction.
"It should be right around here!" Sean called over the raging gusts.
"Well, it's not!" Elliott called back. "Are you sure we're still going the way we're supposed to?!"
"Sure we are," Sean retorted. But he sounded uncertain. "At least . . . I thought so five minutes ago. . . ." He sighed in defeat. ". . . No, I'm not sure at all."
Elliott would have slapped his forehead if he had not been holding Brittany. He looked down at the frightened girl. "Did you ever visit your dad at the school?" he asked.
She hesitated, then nodded. "Y-yeah," she said. "Lots of times."
"Then can you tell us if this way seems familiar?" Elliott asked.
She squinted through the near-darkness. "Nothing's the same anymore," she said sadly. "I don't know."
"I don't see any lights, either," Sean frowned. "There should be some kind of lights set up, not just for the people inside, but beacons for people outside." He held his hand to the side of his right eye, trying to ward off the rain long enough to see something farther away than a yard. The remaining street lamps that still had power were on, but they were few and far in-between. Most of the electricity had been lost in the first tornado. The second, which was likely almost upon them, might take out the rest.
Elliott stumbled forward as an extra-strong burst of wind nearly knocked him off his feet. "I'm not sure we have time to keep looking!" he gasped.
Brittany threw her arms around his neck, panic-stricken. "Are we gonna be eaten by a tornado?!" she cried.
Elliott stiffened, Scott's fate again flashing before his eyes. He swallowed hard. Could he even say that it would not happen? They could be taken just as easily as Scott. He shuddered, holding Brittany close. He would do everything he could to protect her, but he might fail. In fact, that really seemed likely. He had not been able to save Scott.
"We are going to! We are!" Brittany screamed, growing hysterical from Elliott's silence.
Sean turned back. It was not hard to size up the situation. He reached out, laying a hand on the child's shoulder.
"Hey, of course we won't!" he said in a bright, cheery tone. "And I wouldn't lie to you. Everything's going to be just fine."
Elliott looked to Sean. Of course they needed to calm her down, but was it good to be so adamant that nothing would happen? What if something did? That would crush her even more.
Sean gave an inward sigh as he laid a hand on Elliott's shoulder. He wanted to talk with his childhood friend some more, but as long as they were trying to look after Brittany it was not a good idea. Naturally she would overhear, and she would understand most of what was being said. That would tear down everything he was trying to do to help the kid not worry.
And finding shelter really was something to worry about now. The objects being carried by the wind were getting bigger. He half-expected to see a cow flying past them any minute.
He whirled to look in the other direction, his drenched braids flying out. "There's a house over there," he announced, pointing to the outline of a building across the street. "It looks abandoned. Let's go check it out and see if there's a basement or something."
Elliott nodded, taking a deep breath as he tried to gather his crashing emotions. "Maybe we can wait out the rest of the storm there," he said, turning to start walking.
Brittany frowned. "What if the people don't like us being there?" she asked.
"They'll understand," Sean chirped. "If they ever find out to begin with. We'll probably be in and out before they're able to get back." If they even were able to get back at all. They might already be dead.
Like Scott might be. . . .
Sean forced the thought away as he headed up the walkway, kicking some debris out of the way with his foot. The front door had long ago been ripped from its hinges, revealing the darkened living room. Sean peered inside as he climbed onto the porch, then slowly entered, turning on his flashlight. Most things were in order inside. It was eerie, as if the occupants had just stepped out for a few minutes and could return at any time.
He glanced over his shoulder. "It's safe," he said. "Come on." He moved further into the room, not waiting to see if Elliott was behind him.
Elliott most definitely was, looking with unease at the nice furniture, knickknack cabinet, and various pictures on the wall. Some had crashed to the floor, leaving glass shards in every conceivable position---and some not so conceivable.
Brittany stared with wide eyes at a piece of glass that had become lodged in the top of a small wooden table. "How did that happen?" she exclaimed.
Sean shook his head. "Physics is a strange thing," he said. "Don't ask me to figure it out! But El, on the other hand . . . El actually likes it!"
Brittany immediately looked to the curly-haired brunet.
Elliott looked uncomfortable with being put on the spot. "You'll take physics when you're older," he smiled. "It's for big kids."
Brittany thought about this. "Like the kids Daddy teaches?" she wondered.
"Sure," Sean said. "And older."
But thinking of her father made the tears come to Brittany's eyes. Here she was, wandering around what used to be her hometown with two guys she had never known two hours ago. They could not tell her if her parents were safe. They had been supposed to be going to find her daddy, and now they did not even know how to do it. So now they were in someone else's home while the thunder crashed and the wind howled outside. What if she never saw her parents again?
Elliott swallowed as he carried her out to the kitchen, in search of a basement door. "It's going to be okay," he said quietly, for his own benefit as well as hers. "We won't be here long. Then we'll keep looking for the school."
She shuddered, looking up at him. "What if Mommy or Daddy go home and I'm not there?!" she wailed. "They'll be scared."
"We left a note," Sean said as he moved to open the fridge.
"It's probably been hours since you've eaten, right?" he said, changing the subject.
She gave a slow nod. "Uh huh." She rested her head against Elliott's shoulder as she watched Sean. Curiosity was written across her features as he peered inside the refrigerator. "Is there anything good?"
"Oh, lots of stuff," Sean returned. "Fresh white bread, peanut butter, cheese, catsup, mustard, mayo . . ."
Elliott shook his head in amusement when Sean started listing condiments. Brittany giggled.
"Could I have a cheese sandwich?" she asked.
"Sure," Sean returned. He opened the cupboard in search of a knife. Hopefully the tornado would hold off long enough for all of them to eat. He was quite hungry himself, and he was sure that Elliott was as well.
Elliott set Brittany down at the kitchen table before collapsing into the seat next to her. "I don't know that I'll have anything," he sighed.
"You could have the peanut butter, if you're that worried about the cheese," Sean said. "But it says it's all natural. The cheese, I mean. That's actually getting to be pretty popular these days."
Elliott smiled a bit, but just shook his head as he removed his dark red fedora and studied it. It was soaking wet, of course. And maybe it would not dry out properly so it could still be worn. But oh well. He could always get another one.
"You're worried about your friends," Brittany said from the next chair. She looked at him, her eyes filled with kindness.
Elliott started, looking over at her. "I . . ." But he could not say that he was not worried. He would never be believed. He looked back down at his hat.
". . . Yeah, I am worried," he admitted. "We haven't heard anything at all from one of our friends."
"Oh." Brittany frowned. "Just like how I don't know about Mommy and Daddy."
Elliott nodded. ". . . It's really rough, not knowing," he said.
She reached across the space between them, patting his hand. "Maybe we can find out about all of them soon," she said, again with the hopeful wisdom beyond her years.
"I sure hope so," Elliott said, touched by her attempt to comfort him.
Sean kept silent as he made the sandwiches. Now the storm had gotten so bad that his cellphone could not get a signal. He could not even call Barry. At least before, they had been in contact with him. Now they did not know about him and Jeff any more than they knew about Scott.
They were on their own.
****
The rain pelted without forgiveness on the limp and lifeless form. With a groan he began to revive, his fingers curling slightly on the hard, cold pavement.
Was he dead? No . . . it would be strange to be getting drenched in the afterlife. And ow . . . ow. His head . . . ! He moaned again, wishing it was a soft pillow under his cheek instead of asphalt. He could not burrow into asphalt.
He forced his eyes open. What had happened? He remembered rescuing Double Trouble, and then being pinned down himself, and the one twin not wanting to lift a finger to help him. . . . But the other . . . he had kept insisting they should free him. Had they?
He looked to the side, keeping his head in the same position. He was at the far end of the parking lot. The gas station had completely burned to the ground, the metal skeleton of the frame standing out hauntingly against the dark sky. The rain must have put out the flames, unless the fire had just burned itself out.
"Hello?" he called, as loud as he could make his voice go---which was not very loud. And it did not help that the wind was screaming in his ears.
Gritting his teeth, he laid his palms flat on the pavement and tried to push himself up. His arms shook at the attempt, and after a moment he had to lay back down in exhaustion. But from the brief look around he had succeeded in acquiring, he had to gather that he was alone.
"Great going, Scott," he mumbled to himself. "You have now been knocked unconscious twice in one day. You're lucky you don't have brain damage yet."
And what was he going to do now? He had been rescued by the flames and the beam---either by Double Trouble or someone else---only to be left behind. By the time he could finally manage to get the strength to stand up, he might be coming down with pneumonia. He could already feel a sniffle coming on.
Where were the others? He had wondered and worried about them so many times in the last hours. And there were never any answers. They could all be dead, for all he would know. But he clenched a fist. He would not think of that. They were alive. They were all alive and they were concerned about him.
What was that? He blinked, staring into the distance. There was a light, far away from here---or at least it seemed to be. It was just a faint pinprick in his line of vision. But it was more light than he had seen since awakening. And it gave him hope. There had to be someone where the light was, maybe even one of his friends.
Again he began to push himself up. His arms still shook, but this time he managed to exercise enough control over them to stay off the ground. He bent his knees, bringing them underneath him. Now he was kneeling on the asphalt, still staring at the light. It had not moved. Would it stay in place long enough for him to get to it?
Standing up was the next challenge. There was nothing he could hold onto for balance, so he held his arms in front of him again, struggling to steady himself amid the merciless downpour. He stumbled, leaning hard on his uninjured leg. But then, breathing heavily, he succeeded in drawing himself upright.
He took a step forward, then another. He could still see the light, far in the distance. Now it was flickering. He swallowed. Would it go out? No . . . now it was steady again. Maybe he would be able to make it over there. Even if it went out, he could still head in its general direction. But he hoped it would stay.
"I've got a light in my soul from you," he sang quietly to himself as he limped forward. "A light in my soul that burns true blue. I've got a light in my soul from you that never dies."
****
Barry frowned as he made his way back to where the cars had been left. The skies had finally opened---almost as soon as he had left Jeff---and now the rain was pounding down so hard it actually stung. It was going to be even more difficult to move the cars now. The water would make the smooth surfaces slippery.
And he had forgotten that Double Trouble's convertible had turned completely upsidedown. He ground to a halt as he arrived back at the site where they had left the automobiles. He would never be able to turn it over himself. Even with his strength, pushing their own car onto its wheels from its side could be harder than he had anticipated.
He gritted his teeth. He had never really looked towards Double Trouble's car, now that he thought of it. They had all been too worried about Scott to wonder about the criminals' vehicle. And now this was an unforeseen complication. If their own car worked, it was the only one they could use. They would have to make multiple trips. Jeff would have to leave his uncle behind for who knew how long.
He took out his phone, frowning more at the obnoxious "No Service" message flashing on the screen. The storm was too fierce to allow for communication. He had been going to call 911 and ask what the situation was with the ambulance that had been sent for. But they could not depend on it coming. They had to stick with the original plan.
He stuffed the phone back in his pocket as he approached the dark blue car. Placing his hands on the roof, he braced himself as he strained to push on it. But it was no use---it barely moved an inch, if that. He did not have the leverage necessary to push it the way it needed to go.
He sighed, turning to lean against the roof as he pushed his hat back. Maybe if he had a rope long enough and strong enough, he could tie it around part of the frame and pull the car rightside up that way. But would he be able to do it all on his own? He really had needed Jeff's help.
"Aw man! We're never going to get out of here now!"
He stiffened. Was that one of the twins? He peered through the sheets of rain. Yes, Double Trouble had somehow arrived without him realizing. They were staring at their upsidedown car in frustration and disbelief. Then one of them turned, seeing the blue car.
"Hey, the detectives' car is still here too," he said. "Maybe we could turn it over and get out of here in it."
"One of the detectives is here too!" the first twin hissed. "The big guy. We'd never have a chance."
Barry pushed himself away from the car, starting to walk over to them. "I need to take the car in order to get some badly injured people to the hospital," he said, pretending he had not just heard their exchange. "Help me turn it over. If it works, maybe I can do something for you."
They looked at him with suspicion clearly evident in their expressions. "Oh yeah?" said the first. "And what makes you think we'd help you? Let alone trust that you'd do anything for us."
"You don't have much choice, do you?" Barry returned. "Your own car is upsidedown. Aside from using a crane, there isn't much that can be done for it."
The twins looked at it, then at each other. "What would we have to do?" asked the second.
Barry crossed to the trunk, unlocking it and pulling a travel kit out from inside. "Not much," he deadpanned. "Just play tug-of-war."
While they gawked in disbelief, he took out a rope and then moved to stand in front of the roof. The windows had already been rolled down due to the unwelcome heat. Now the interior of the car was of course soaked, but it did not make much difference since he and everyone else was soaked too. He reached out, leaning forward to thread the rope through the divider between the front and back windows. He was taking a chance by turning his back on the twins, but he had a hunch that they would stay and try to help, if for no other reason than that they wanted to steal the car if it still worked. He would just have to be ready for it.
He tied the rope firmly in place before straightening up and walking with the other end to stand in front of the underside of the vehicle. "Now, take hold of the rope and start walking away from the car," he directed.
Double Trouble came over, grasping the rope as Barry had instructed. As Barry led them, they followed, all straining on the rope with all their might.
"Is it even gonna hold?" one twin called over the sound of the rain.
"It'd better," Barry said. "It's the only rope I've got."
They continued to pull, falling silent as they concentrated. The car was starting to move, rocking slightly as they struggled. Then, ever so slowly, it began to creak. Barry gave a final lunge, bringing the twins with him. The car moaned and groaned behind them, at last crashing onto its wheels. Double Trouble crashed to the ground, the pressure released.
Barry turned to look back at them. One of the twins seemed especially winded, staring at the ground as he gripped the asphalt with his raw fingers. The other was regarding him in concern.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Yeah, sure," the exhausted one mumbled. "Just give me a minute."
Barry sighed, following the rope back to the car. He untied it from the frame, pulling it to him and wrapping it around itself several times. Then he tossed it onto the backseat.
Crossing to the driver's side, he pulled the door open and slid inside, fishing his keys out of his pocket. Now was the test. Would it work at all? What would he do if it did not?
He inserted the key into the ignition and turned it. The car sputtered, not wanting to wake up. But Barry was insistent. At last it roared in defeat, the motor coming to life. Relief washed over him. Maybe they would be able to get those people to the hospital after all.
He switched on the headlights. Only one came on, flickering before growing steady. At least there was one.
"Okay," the first twin announced as he walked over to the car, "we helped you get it up. Now we're taking it over." He smirked in the darkness. The second twin was just behind him, his expression identical.
Barry pulled out a pair of handcuffs. "I'll give you a free ride," he deadpanned. He could take them back to the bank, but from there he was not sure what to do with them. He hated the thought of leaving them with some of the wounded people while he took some of the others with him for the first trip.
"No thanks," said the first twin, kicking out at him. "We're not RSVPing to that party!"
The handcuffs went flying, skittering down the road. And now both twins were attacking the driver's door, trying either to force it open or push their way through the window. In all the confusion Barry was not sure which. He fought back, elbowing one while trying to shove the other. Then he grabbed for the door handle. Maybe he could fling it open without warning, startling them and sending them crashing backwards. He really did not want to leave them roaming around the town. But he would not waste time trying to capture them now, not when he was needed more elsewhere.
"Hey! Cut it out!"
Barry stiffened at the new, familiar voice. Could it be . . . ?
The twins had stiffened too, momentarily losing hold of their concentration. Barry sent the door flying and slamming into them, causing them to pitch backwards with identical yelps. At the same moment, a black-clad form stumbled towards the passenger side.
"Barry!" Scott cried, his voice weak. He swayed, grabbing onto the open window.
Barry looked at him in stunned concern, all at once filled with mixed emotions. Scott was alive! But . . . how badly was he hurt? And was he even going to be able to get into the car? He was fumbling with the door, while Double Trouble were getting up to come around and shove him away. Barry flung the driver's door at them again.
Scott gritted his teeth. The passenger door was too mangled. He could not open it. But he had to get inside the car! In desperation he hoisted himself at the window, trying to force his slender frame through the space. Barry reached out, grabbing onto his vest to help pull him inside. At the same moment he slammed the driver's door shut and revved the engine. They had to leave now!
Scott yelped as he tumbled onto the seat. The tires squealed, the car flying forward. Barry drove ahead for several yards, then began to steer the car around to make a U-turn.
Scott shuddered. "W-what are you doing?!" he exclaimed, feeling sick by the abrupt movements. He turned away, holding a hand over his mouth. Luckily, nothing happened.
"Right now I'm not sure," Barry frowned. He would not be able to get very close to the bank, unless the wind had assisted and blown away a lot of the debris from the road. And as soon as they stopped, the twins might try again to take over. They were standing again now, watching the car go past. And they looked ready to give chase.
Scott groaned, slumping back against the seat as he stared blankly at the ceiling. "I . . . I was so worried," he choked out. "I didn't know if you or the others were alive. . . . And I knew you'd all be worried about me."
"We have been," Barry said. This was certainly an awkward reunion. He could not even fully concentrate on it, as he wanted to. He had to keep his eyes on the road.
Scott breathed heavily, willing his stomach to stop playing hopscotch. "Where are they?" he asked, unaware of how tightly he was gripping the armrest. "El and Sean and Jeff?"
Barry hesitated. ". . . I'm trying to get to Jeff now," he said. "But I don't know how close I can bring the car. We're trying to take the wounded people in the bank to the hospital. The ambulance hasn't been able to get through.
"Sean and El . . . they're with the child of one of the tellers," he continued. "When I heard from Sean, they were going to look for her father."
". . . When was that?" Scott closed his eyes. They were starting to slow down, probably approaching one of the messes left by the tornado.
"I'm not even sure," Barry said. "It could have been two hours by now."
He brought the car to a halt. He could not get it any closer; now it was almost against the fallen telephone pole. And Double Trouble were coming from behind. He could see them in the rearview mirror.
Scott could sense the tension in the air. "What is it?" he asked, opening his eyes again.
Barry sighed. "Triple trouble," he deadpanned.
Scott frowned at the sight of the barricade stretching across the road. "What do we do?" His thought process was similar to Barry's. They would never be able to leave the car while going to get the wounded people. Double Trouble would steal it. But how would Jeff get the wounded people here? He would not even know they had brought the car as close as they could.
Barry shook his head. "I don't know. Someone needs to stay with the car . . . but you're in no condition to do so."
Scott swallowed. ". . . I'll go tell Jeff then," he said. "Maybe I can help him bring someone back. . . ." He was unaware of how flushed he had become, but the pained lilt in his voice was obvious.
Barry switched on the overhead light, his frown deepening when he saw the reddened skin. "Scott, you're in no condition to leave the car either," he said, reaching out to touch the younger man's forehead. "You're burning up."
Scott shivered. "Your hand is cold," he mumbled, grabbing the bottom of the window.
Barry brought his hand over Scott's. "Scott, listen to me," he said. "You're sick. You've done your part. We'll figure something else out." He hesitated. "Now you're one of the tornado's casualties. I can't send you out in this."
Scott looked back at him, his eyes bleary. "If I don't go . . . who will?" he asked. "You need to stay here. I know I can't fight off Double Trouble." He forced himself to sit up straight. "There's other people who are hurt more than me. And if the ambulance really can't get through, what'll happen to those people? Barry . . ." He grabbed for the window once more. "I'll be alright. I have to do this. On my honor as an ACME agent, and as a decent human being, I have to. You know that."
Barry stiffened. Now he was faced with the same type of decision Jeff had been forced to make. Double Trouble would never agree to help them any further. Those felons could not be trusted. He and Scott were on their own. It was either him or Scott, and he had to admit, it would be far more dangerous for Scott to stay behind than for him to go on ahead. But neither idea appealed to him in the least. Scott was sick. How far could he even get before he might collapse? How could Barry gamble like that with his close friend's life?
Scott laid a hand on Barry's shoulder. "I'll be back," he said. "I promise." He would not make Barry give his blessing. The conflict in the older man's eyes was all too clear, but Scott could sense it was there without seeing. He would not put that burden on Barry.
With that he knelt on the seat, hoisting himself up to the window again.
Barry watched him. No, he could never agree to this, even though it was the only choice. But he could help Scott through it as much as he could.
He got out of the car, coming around to the passenger side. As fast as was possible, he brought an arm around Scott's shoulders and took hold of his hand, helping him clear the window. Scott lowered himself to the ground, wobbling dangerously. But he clutched Barry's hand, forcing himself to straighten up.
"It's my choice," he said, seeing the look in Barry's eyes. No, he did not particularly want to do it. He wanted to rest. But he would go anyway, continuing to put himself last. He had to think of the greater good.
Barry saw all of that in Scott's expression. And for a brief moment he pulled his friend into a firm embrace. Surprised, Scott froze. But then, slowly, he hugged back.
Double Trouble's footfalls on the pavement made Barry pull away, his eyes narrowing. "Go," he said.
Scott nodded, bending down as he placed his hands on the telephone pole. He could not jump over it, as Jeff had done earlier. But he could still get across it.
He lowered his body into a kneeling position on the pole. Then he slid off onto the other side, using the thing to get his balance as he straightened up. With one last, encouraging smile at Barry, he limped away.
Barry stared after him as he vanished into the storm. This was something Scott had to do . . . but at what price?
He whispered a prayer for his friend's protection before turning to face the twins.