Quaking (24 page)

And they are gone and I gulp and wheeze, trying to get air into my lungs, past the pain of my winded chest, when I hear the muffled voices of the Wall and I know I have to move. Now.

I am crawling, freeing myself from the bushes. I struggle to my knees, pushing myself forward. It is excruciatingly slow. But I am moving. I am getting closer.

The singing ends.

Out of the blackness I see the flicker from a lighter.

And suddenly everything is clear and I see how close I am and I scream. “Sam! Sam! For God’s sake, get out, Sam!”

A light turns on outside the Meeting House, shining on the steps and the path up to it. It also lights up the faces of the Rat and the Wall, holding their flaming gas-filled bottles. They are all frozen for a minute like people dancing in one flash of a strobe.

“Sam! Bombs! Get out!” I scream loudly.

The door opens. And it is Sam.

Someone shouts, “Now!” and there is a spark, a flying flame, a crash of glass, a flash of light, the smell of gas, and fire.

Where Sam used to be.

He is gone.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

 

I
am screaming.

I get up and try to run but my feet are frozen stumps and I stumble to the ground. My numb hands will not push me upright so I shove forward with my knees and try to pull with my elbows. My knees and elbows scrape the path, shredding, but I do not care. I need to get to Sam. Please let me get to Sam.

People run down the steps. I can see the Quaker feet. I am lifted up.

“Matt! It’s Matt! Are you okay?”

I squirm and scream, guttural noises that do not sound anything like “Sam,” but they know what I mean.

“We’ve got him,” a man’s voice says.

“It’s all right,” a woman’s voice tries to tell me.

And then more voices behind me. “There they go!” I hear a car engine revving and tires squealing.

“I can’t read the license plate!”

“It’s an old Chevy! I can tell by the taillights!”

“I’m going after them!”

The voices get fainter as I am carried up the steps of the Meeting House. People are stamping out glowing embers on the concrete porch. A woman clutches a fire extinguisher, spraying dust around the front door. I smell burned wood.

I look around wildly for Sam but I cannot see him.

A man holds a cell phone to his ear and tugs on his hair with his other hand. “One casualty. We need an ambulance fast.”

Casualty?
Casualty?
What does he mean?

“Sam!” I scream.

I am standing in the hallway now. I turn toward the Meeting room, take a step, and fall flat.They are there, holding my arms, picking me up again. Someone puts a large jacket around my shoulders. I hear people saying, “Matt!” I see Laurie’s face in front of me and she pushes the hair out of my eyes. But I want Sam.

I press forward into the Meeting room and there is a crowd of people in the center of the circle of metal chairs and I know Sam is in the middle of them but I cannot seem to get there.

I hear his name being screamed but this time it is not me. It is Jessica.

I turn and see her running through the doorway with Rory in her arms. Her face is wild and her hair looks gray as death. Rory is screaming, “Sam-I-Saaaaam!”

Jessica dashes into the circle and drops to the floor and I know she has found Sam. I stumble and try to get there, too. It takes forever.Why does it take so long? I push through the crowd of people.

I hear Rory again. “Sam-I-Saaaam!” Then, “Maa—!” He sees me, and reaches his arms up to me.

I try to answer but I can only squeak. I reach my arm out to him but there are a million people in between us. Jessica looks up. She is crying. She reaches one hand out to me, above the crowd. Finally. I have a target and can move straight, fast, toward her.

I drop down by her side. I feel her hand on my face. But I see her other hand on Sam’s chest. I see his sweatshirt. It is intact.Then I smell the acrid, singed, burning smell, and I am scared to look at his face. If it is there.

My eyes are cloudy. Is his face a murky mess, or is it my eyes?

I hear sirens. I do not want them to come. Please, God, do not let them take him away! Please, God, let him live.

“Saam-I-Saam!”

For Rory’s sake, let him live.

Jessica sobs.

For Jessica’s sake.

The sirens are louder.

For my sake.

I hear the paramedics’ radios crackling.

“Over here!” someone calls.The radios get louder. And I can hear the stretcher coming.

No!
Please go away!

“It’s all right, Matt,” I hear a man’s voice saying, softly, quietly, shaky, quaking.

“No.” I shake my head through my tears.“No, nothing is all right.”

“But I’m okay,” he says, and he pushes himself up on one elbow with a groan. His other Michelin Man arm comes around me. “I’ll be fine.”

Sam! I blink and wipe my eyes. His face is red. His hair is singed. And there is blood flowing from his forehead. But he is smiling like a kindergarten drawing of the sun.

“Sam!” I scream, and reach my arms around his neck and hug him. Tight.

He pulls me close and his curly hair is tickling my face and the burned smell makes my stomach jump and his Michelin Man arm is squeezing me hard and I do not mind at all.

Jessica is laughing and crying at the same time and joins our hug. I press my head against hers and both of our heads are gulping, breathing, wheezing, crying, laughing, and I do not know where her head ends and mine begins, as if she is a part of me and I am a part of her.

Rory is saying “Saaaaam” over and over.

I pull him into the hug, too, so he is surrounded by us and he is safe and we are all gasping with the same breath.

“Ma’am, you need to back away,” the paramedics say. “You need to let go.”

“No!” I shout. It sounds like a mighty rumble that rises from deep inside of me and breaks through my soul.

The paramedics step back but still hover around us, trying to get to Sam. They do not look happy. I do not care. I am not letting go of Sam.

There are police now, behind the paramedics. “Did anyone see who did this?”

“No,” a woman’s voice says. “They got away.”

I hear Jessica’s sob and I stand up, but I am still holding on to Sam’s hand. “I can tell you what happened.” It comes out loud and powerful. It is exactly how I mean it to be.

Everyone turns to look at me, the police officers, the paramedics, the people from Meeting—Phyllis is there, and Chuck and Laurie, and the lady who called me “dear” at the last Meeting I went to—and I see other faces I know, too. My heart is pounding and I can hear my breathing but I hold my head up because there is no need to cower anymore. I have faced the Beast and his power over me is gone. I am the one with the strong spirit.

I look around the Meeting House at the expressions on each face—questioning, worried, surprised, sympathetic, kind, proud. I do not even mind being in the spotlight. “I will tell you everything,” I say, my voice sounding thunderous in the silent room. “He will not hurt anyone again. It is over.”

Sam squeezes my hand and I look at him. He is smiling through his burned face and I smile, squeezing his hand, too. I reach out my other hand to Jessica and she grabs it, sniffing back her tears. And I realize I am crying also. But I am crying for everything that went before, all the pain that used to be.

Rory’s eyes shine up at me from Jessica’s lap. “Maa—? Tay?”

I look from Rory to Jessica to Sam, and I nod yes.

Even though I am crying I nod. “Yes!”