Lutum et Sanguis
 

MICHAEL:

It's gonna take Kelly forever to get out of DC. Traffic's a mess. Signals are out everywhere-not that people have a fond regard for them, but they do have a habit of helping.

I hope her car doesn't croak. She's been having trouble with it, and no way can she afford a new one. I just try to keep it limping along best as I can.

God, I wonder if she'd keep me around even if I couldn't fix cars.

Ally's getting nervous, she hasn't heard from Langly and she can't get hold of him, even though his voice mail works okay. She's pacing. And Patrick's gone from whining to screeching. He tries to go play, but he feels crummy, and he doesn't really know why, he just knows he feels lousy, and he gets mad and he starts yowling.

I pick him up. He's like, he has no idea what he wants...

Actually, he does. He wants his daddy...

And Daddy is now a box of ashes sitting on the dining room table. I don't think they told him that yet-I think that'd be too freaky. In fact, I kind of freaked out when Ally told me. She was like, no big deal, we always have a box of dead guy's ashes on our dining room table, at least that's what it sounded like when she said it.

Miranda's like been totally calm through all this. I don't get it. Shelby's a little freaked, but Miranda's like, hey, it's not an earthquake, big fucking deal.

Hey, Miranda. It could be a very fucking big deal.

I hope for Kelly it's a lot less of a big deal than it might be.

Patrick's whimpering now, not shrieking, he wants his daddy. Oh God. I think I'm gonna cry. This is like such a memory for me...

You wonder where your dad went, and why, and what you did. When you're a little kid, you think you're the center of the universe, and whatever happens, it was something you did.

Which is a lot to put on a little guy.

Ally tells Miranda and Shelby to get out and start cleaning the pool. I mean, I'd have done it, but hey, it's not like Ally expects Miranda to kill herself around the house, so I'll let her. Miranda bitches, but Shelby's like, come on, let's do it, maybe we can go swimming later.

And holding Patrick, well, at least I can try and do something other than pace while I wait for Kelly. I've said it before. Guys don't like being passive and just waiting. We don't do it well. I mean, I don't think I'm helping Patrick all that much, but at least it's something. We sit in Langly's recliner, and I rock him.

He's warm. I tell Ally this. I mean, I'm not a great judge of that stuff, but he feels like he's all sweaty and icky, and his little heart's beating fast.

Ally says he probably is, kids get like that after they get immunizations. She comes over and kisses him on top of the head-she loves that little guy.

Holding him, I'm thinking, maybe I should do something with my life that involves kids.

I mean, they seem to like me. They sure as hell all glom on to me. I got no idea why, but for some reason, they think I'm cool.

Ally lights up a smoke. She grabs a beer and asks me if I want one.

Not right now. I think I'm the one who's gonna be driving to Warrenton, so I pass.

"You know, Michael," she says, looking over at me with Patrick, who's still not real happy but quieter than he was, "I think you should do something with kids."

This is like too weird.

"I dunno. What could I do?"

"I don't know...teaching? Pediatrics? Counseling? You sure have the touch with them."

"Don't know why."

"Maybe they sense you're an empathetic soul." She's sitting on the floor now, dragging away at a Marlboro Light. You can tell she's edgy-she takes real short, hard drags, not like the long slow ones she does when she's kicked back.

"I don't know."

"Maybe you should think about it."

Already am, Ally baby.

Patrick's twitchy again, I set him down. I tell him to get his Legos, he says he doesn't wanna play, but I tell him I can build him a helicopter (hey, I was good at this as a kid, and some things, you just never forget), and he's like, okay. I don't think he feels like doing anything.

And this'll give me something to keep me going till Kelly gets here.
 

Patrick thinks the helicopter I made is cool, and I offer to build a B-1. Hey, he's got five buckets of the stuff, and I make a pretty damn decent B-1.

Miranda comes in. She's been cleaning out the pool, but she's less huffy than you'd think, considering she had to do something she was told to do. Miranda doesn't take direction well. Add that to being a sore loser, and she is one challenging chickie.

She's eyeing me in a very spooky way. Her eyes look real still, dark.

"Kelly's mom's dead." She says the words real quietly.

I drop my B-1 wing section currently under construction. "Say what?"

"I said, she's dead."

"Where'd you find this out?" I'm sorry, I'd like to know where some fifteen-year-old gets her information. I mean, she's sly enough, but still...

She never takes her eyes off me. "I just know."

Ally hears this. "Miranda, please. You don't know." Ally's got this look like, even if you do, you damn better keep your mouth shut.

"It's true. Wait and see." I'm shocked because there's no scorn in her voice, which is real rare. She actually sounds, well, compassionate. "I'm sorry."

"Miranda, I think you're being premature." Ally doesn't want to deal with Spooky Miranda right now.

"Just like I was premature about Langly proposing to you, right?" Miranda shifts her eyes to her mom...and she does look a little spooky...and Ally looks a little nervous.

"That was different." Ally grabs another Marb, her second in ten minutes. Ally smokes about one an hour on a regular day. She's really getting stressed here.

"No. And by the way, Mom, quit stressing. Langly's fine."

Ally looks at her like, goddammit, I hope you're right, says nothing, and smokes away.

I go back to construction of the fuselage on the B-1.

I hope to God that spooky chickie is wrong.

Unfortunately, she's got a good track record.

That scares the hell out of me.
 

We hear a car. Doesn't sound like Kelly's though-Kelly's got a four cylinder engine, this is an eight.

Only one around here with an eight is...

Dad. Thank God.

"No!" Patrick objects when I get up on my feet.

"I have to go see my dad, okay?"

"I want my daddy!"

Oh Christ. How do I tell him he can't? This tears me into ribbons. And this day's getting hard enough, thank you very much.

"I'll be right back," I promise him.

"No! Stay!"

"Hey Ally, see if that's my dad, okay?" I call to her, but no need, I hear keys and voices.

I suck in my breath and let it out. It's Dad. I yell to him that I'm in the living room.

"Thank God you're all right," he comes over and puts a quick hand on my shoulder.

"Been here the whole time, no problem." Well, not exactly, but he worries enough, dammit.

He looks like hell.

And he's being followed...by Langly, and a dude I don't recognize with a bandaged head. Wonder where they picked him up.

Patrick jumps up when he sees Langly, who I see has a bandaged arm-what the fuck happened to these guys? Pentagon was supposedly untouched.

"Daddy!" He screams.

Now I'm the one who's confused...I thought...

I don't think Langly cares. He just looks like he got his day made.

Ally explains that the other dude is Bryce, who works with Langly, and when she sees him she leads him to the sofa and says she's gonna get him something to drink. He says something about getting him a beer, she's like, no fucking way.

Langly's holding Patrick with his good arm. He lucked. Langly's a rightie, and got the left one hurt. He'll be no worse for wear.

"What you guys working on?" He's looking at the pile of Legos on the floor. Patrick and I spread out when we work.

"I was in the middle of building a B-1," I explained. "I just about had the fuselage done, but I dropped one of the wings, I got to fix it."

Langly sets Patrick down, and Patrick is annoyed, but Langly's like, can I play too? And I guess Patrick thinks that's cool.

Which is good, because I hear Kelly pulling in.

I feel my heart drop into my stomach.

I hope Miranda is wrong, wrong, wrong.
 

"Langly, you're filthy, get in the shower," Ally's on his back about that.

"Only if you're coming with," he leers over at her.

You know, sometimes these two just piss me off, the way they're so fucking clueless about everybody else around them. I mean, Kelly could have some real problems right now, and all they can think about is boffing each other under water. And Patrick's real grumpy now, and he doesn't want Langly or me to get up.

Tough titties, kiddie. Take it out on your old man.

I run outside to Kelly. She looks real distressed. Well, duh!

"We have to go. Now. Can we take your car, mine stalled twice and I almost didn't get it started again," she grabs my arm and keeps moving towards the Stang, which, by the way, is not in great shape itself.

"Maybe Ally'll let us take hers," I suggest. Last thing I need at a moment like this is having the 'Stang crap out on us.

We ask Ally, who's trying to calm Patrick down while she's Saran-wrapping Langly's arm and ignoring Bryce's pleas for Vicodins, and she's like, fine, whatever, keys are somewhere.

Aargh!

Kelly gives me a look that says, be quiet or I'll shoot you, and she silently mills through Ally's purse. To my relief, she scores pretty fast. Occasionally Ally's been known to remember to slip her keys in her purse, but it's pretty fucking rare. Trademark in Chateau Langly, anyone needs to drive anywhere, there's like this mad scramble for keys, complete with cursing and accusing anyone who gets in their way of taking them.

I'll take that over what I think might be coming...but I don't think I got a choice here.
 

The county road's a fucking mess. Mud and trash everywhere, a few felled trees, none blocking the road but with tons of branches all over the place. Tow trucks are doing a thriving business this afternoon. I swear they're all on this stretch, so it takes a long time to get to Warrenton. This is not helping Kelly. She looks freaked. She just keeps saying, please, please, please.

And all the traffic controls are out. The VPL crews are out and about, but so many people are out power, it's gonna be awhile in a lot of places.

"You know any shortcuts?" I ask Kelly. We haven't been out this way in ages.

"If I did, I'd have told you." She's snapping at me, and I don't appreciate it, but I don't know that I'd be any better were I her.

Hell, I'm not her and I'm not a whole lot better.

"God, what is wrong with these people!" Kelly, cool little Kelly, is just about shrieking when she sees the traffic lined up on the road and barely crawling.

"I can't push it faster than it's moving, Kel." I mean, if I could, Jesus Christ, I'd have transported her over this mess by now. And I'm kind of snapping at her, which I shouldn't do, but I can't help it. I don't like how she takes it out on me when she's stressed out. She's gotta not do that. I try not to do it to her.

Don't think this is the time or place to have that discussion, though.

We finally get to within a half mile of the Warrenton Diner. Kelly says she's gonna get out and start walking, she'll get there faster, and I'm like, I don't think so, but she says she can't just sit here, I'm like, fine, I'll catch up to you.

Trust me, there's no love lost between Betsy Martin and me. But I'm praying to whoever will listen that she's okay.

Once again, I feel that horrible knot forming in my guts.

Miranda better be wrong this time.
 

BYERS:

We sit in silence, taking in the damage around us. No, the place didn't fall down-well, not completely, at any rate-but the roof is destroyed, and the south wall is completely compromised.

We've got to get out of here.

"John! Where's Tivvy?" Juliet looks utterly panicked.

In all this, I momentarily forgot the cat. Oh God.

I am so embarrassed. And fearful. Should anything happen to the cat, I would die. Tivvy is so many things to us. She's a symbol of our love, and an object of our affection, and a constant source of amusement for us. She is a wonderful cat, both for what she is and for what she means to us.

I get up and try to work around the wreckage, taking in what has been destroyed and what was simply damaged.

The furniture? That belonged to each of us in our lives before one another. I know it sounds cavalier to say it, but we can afford new furniture-furniture that will be ours together. I'll not mourn for the loss of the sofa and a few tables and lamps.

The computer? It's probably ruined. But I do back everything up, and I don't think the external storage media cases I keep things in are disturbed.

In the bedroom, the damage is not so severe. The window broke, and there are shards of glass everywhere, but the bed appears to have survived otherwise. And our collection of photographs, friends and family, are untouched.

I'd like to think this is symbolic.

In the meantime, I need to find the cat.

She's not under the bed. I can't locate her in the closet. I check the corners of the room.

No such luck.

I will die if anything happens to her. I swear.

I check the bathroom, which passed through the incident without difficulty. There's water on the floor, but that's about it. No Tivvy, though.

Goddammit!

I help Juliet back to her feet and seat her in the one chair that does not have glass and debris in it. She wants to help me find the cat, but I think she'd better sit.

I check every place I can think of. No Tivvy.

I can see the look of panic rising in Juliet's face, which only serves to increase mine.

Oh, God, not Tivoli...I have this horrible vision of the flying cow in 'Twister' and I feel sick...

When a small, fluffy creature emerges from behind what used to be a bookcase. She stretches, yawns, and looks at us as if to say, what's the trouble?

I truly am the luckiest man in the universe.

Now I just need to figure out where we're going to sleep tonight.
 

FROHIKE:

"Hold still! You're as bad as Patrick!" Allison's trying to wrap Langly's arm so that it will be waterproof where it was sutured. Langly is not being intensely cooperative, complaining that she's using too much plastic wrap and if he has to go through this every day for the next five days...

"Excuse me, people, but did anyone think to call Byers and Juliet?" Nobody has mentioned them in all this.

"Oh fuck. I'm sorry," Allison drops her work momentarily and throws her arm over her eyes. "Langly, you're done here." In the meantime, a very unhappy Patrick crawls all over Langly, and doesn't want him to get up.

"He got a little unnerved by the storm, did he?" I ask Allison.

"I think it's mostly that he was immunized this morning-and he got everything, since I have NO idea what he's had in the past, if anything," Allison mumbles as she dials the cordless. "Shit!"

"What is it?" I ask her.

"Number's not in service-they must've gotten blown out. Shit!"

"Let me try." Allison has a prodigious memory for numbers, but she is also intensely distracted at this moment.

"Hey, Ally, I really gotta get in the shower," Langly whines at her.

"Miranda!" She sticks her head into the dungeon doorway and yells for her daughter.

"What?!" Miranda is not pleased about the interruption, and makes no attempt to hide her irritation.

Allison is really too soft on the child. In my humble opinion.

"You need to come up here and watch Patrick for a while!"

"Oh, Jesus, all right!"

I would not put up with some of the attitude from my kids that she puts up with from hers.

I get the same result-'I'm sorry, the number you have dialed is not in service...' the disembodied computer voice sounds even more ephemeral than usual. Not to mention full of static.

I try again. As usual, chaos reigns here, and I don't concentrate that well at this noise level.

Same response.

"I'm heading over to Byers's," I announce.

"Hey, I'm sure he's okay. He's Byers. He'd know what to do," Langly says as he pulls out his ponytail.

Yes, he'd know what to do...provided he's all right.

And that could be a significant 'if' at this moment.

"You want me to come with?" Langly asks.

"Maybe you'd better do something about that hair first."

Bryce is yelling for painkillers now, as opposed to just moaning for them. Langly lecherously invites his wife to come and wash his hair.

This irritates Miranda no end. "You dragged me up here so you two could do the nasty in the shower?! You two are disgusting!"

Patrick is trying to persuade Miranda to play with him, Miranda's saying, let's watch a movie, which he doesn't want to do, and they begin arguing.

I think this might be a good time to get my ass out of here.
 

MICHAEL:

Finding a place to park is hard, considering everything is mud. Last thing I want to do right now is get Ally's Neon unstuck. At least she's not fussy about dirt.

The trailer park is a zoo. Ambulances, police and fire, and lots of frantic, crazy people. A couple propane fires, too. I can tell from the smell.

I try to see into the park, but Kelly's mom's trailer isn't visible from the entryway.

I push my way through a bunch of people to try and find her. I can't see her in this mob. It's a fucking big trailer park, and lots of people are out here, most of them looking for relatives and stuff, but we probably got a few looters and gawkers, too.

I hate people like that. They just piss me off so bad.

I don't see Kelly, but she catches me, and grabs my arm. She's beyond panicked now.

"Michael...they think one of the trailers that burned is my mom's...and no one's seen her yet..." She's trying not to cry. It's not working.

I do the only thing I can do in this situation. I wrap my arm around her.

And wait.

Wait for bad news to become real.

END OF PART 85