The Rain | Part 1 | The Beginning Read online

  Finally, the boys realize the futility of their efforts and let go of my dad. A moan escapes my lips, but I’m still unable to move. Blake and Ty manage to get the woman off of them. With a loud hiss, she plunges herself back into the boat, looking for another victim.

  She has her choice of countless people who still cower inside the ride. None of them even once tried to intervene or support us. I can’t fault the moms holding their scared toddlers tight to their chests. But some of the dads could have helped; I think before the last part of my rational brain shuts down to the immense grief and pain enveloping me.

  A roar rises up, and a group of four people rushes through the shallow water towards us. They must have come from one of the other boats ahead of us.

  Ryan grasps my arm painfully and pulls me forward. “We need to get out of here, Viv.”

  Blake, with no more reservations left, throws another woman who has flung herself at him off and joins our small group as we dash through the shallow water towards one of the stages filled with mannequins.

  “Has anybody seen Antoin?” Jason asks, shouting to no one in particular.

  The boys stop, and all of us turn to look back at our boat, where we last saw Antoin. Nobody seems to have seen him since all of this started. He didn’t join the group to try to help my dad. Dad. Hot tears make their way into my eyes.

  There are still people fighting each other in several other boats, but we can’t seem to find the over-six-foot-tall boy.

  “Sanders, let’s go find him,” Ryan calls, already making his way back to the boat, promptly followed by his best friend, Jason Sanders.

  “Shit,” Blake mutters before he joins them.

  Ty puts his arm around me. I didn’t even notice how violently I’m shaking. He doesn’t say a word but pulls me into a tight hug. I’m numb and emotionally spent. I let myself go and lean into him while sobs wrack my body.

  After what seems like an eternity, I slowly start to register voices around me again. “… hide. Let’s get behind those props, McCarthy.” Jose says.

  Ty half carries me somewhere, with face buried in his chest, I can’t see anything.

  “I’ll take her.” I hear Ryan’s voice.

  I’m handed off from one boy to the next, like a sack of potatoes, ending up pressed against a different chest. This one is wider and warmer and smells like Ryan. A hand strokes my hair back, and low words of comfort are whispered in my ear, but I can’t make them out. I lean into Ryan, and the pain over losing my dad washes over me like a tidal wave.

  “Think we are safe in here?” The question sounds like it’s coming from Jason.

  “For now.” Ty’s voice, definitely Ty’s.

  “I need to get out there and find my mom,” Blake says in his distinctive deep voice, making my head pop up from the comfort of Ryan’s chest.

  “Is it safe out there, in the park?” I manage between hiccups.

  Ryan shakes his head, the bristles on his chin brush against my hair. “I dunno. I heard shots earlier. I think it’s just as much of a madhouse out there as it’s in here.”

  Blake gets up. “Probably, but somebody needs to check, and I need to find my mom, so I’ll go. You guys stay here; I’ll be back in a flash.”

  “Suit yourself,” Ryan says. “But we won’t wait here forever, Thornton.” He adds warningly.

  “Noted,” Blake responds. His face is set and determined, but the glance of loathing he is giving Ryan is not hard to miss.

  After Blake turns away from Ryan, his eyes meet mine, and I read the sorrow for my dad’s loss in them. I understand his need to go find his mom, who is our math teacher/bus driver/volunteer chaperone, and the reason Blake is here even though he is not on the football team.

  “Blake, it’s madness,” I try, before a different thought occurs to me: “Has anybody tried calling anyone? Has anybody called 9-1-1?”

  The blank stares directed at me give me all the answers I need. It’s almost comical; we’re all teenagers, we always have our phones in our hands, and now that we need them most, we forgot all about them. I pull mine out, as does everybody else.

  Within seconds whispered conversations take place all around me, but I tune the voices out for the only one that counts for me now. My mom answers on the first ring.

  “Vivian! Are you alright? I heard something is happening at the Amusement Park.” Her voice is an octave higher than usual and a lot faster. “I was just about to call you, honey.”

  I breathe a slight sigh of relief. Just hearing her voice is soothing my tightly spun nerves. “It’s chaos here, mom. I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “The news says there was some kind of attack, but nobody has any details yet.”

  I close my eyes for a second and see my dad’s angry face snarling at me; I open them immediately. “Everybody is attacking everybody, it seems,” I manage.

  I’m not ready to tell her about dad. Not yet, anyway.

  “Are you safe? Where are you?” She wants to know.

  “We are inside the Pirates ride. Don’t worry; we are hidden and safe. Nobody knows we are here. People are fighting everywhere, but I don’t think they know we’re here. Mom, I heard gunshots outside earlier.”

  “Stay where you are, baby, for as long as you can. I’m sure the police will be there soon. Is your father with you?”

  I dodge an answer by saying, “I’m with Ryan, Blake, and some other guys from the team.”

  My mom can smell avoidance two hundred miles away, or as in this case, over eight hundred. “What are you not telling me, Vivian?”

  I hesitate; I don’t want to tell her. I’m loath to relive the moment my father tried to attack me. Or when he murdered somebody –and I’m positive, the person he attacked is dead. Nor do I want to think about the moment he died. But I also realize that there is a fair chance for me to die here as well, and my mom deserves to know what happened to her husband, even if he is her ex.

  “He is dead,” I whisper, hoping she will leave it at that.

  Heavy silence hangs between us for a few seconds; I can hear her taking deep breaths, controlling her emotions. She is very good at that.

  “Listen to me, Vivian. I know it hurts losing your dad, but you need to concentrate on surviving this. Do you hear me?” Her voice gets more forceful with every word she says.

  “Stay with Blake. He knows how to survive. Stay hidden for as long as you can. Put your phone on silent. I will come to you as soon as I can.” She promises determined.

  “Okay, mom.” My voice sounds strange to me, so small.

  “I love you, Vivian.”

  “I love you too.”

  Neither one of us wants to hang up. I listen to her moving around, picture her inside her cozy new house. Hear drawers open and close. The sounds are so familiar they make me ache with the yearning for home. I suspect she is packing her bags to come for me.

  The hard sound of racking gets my attention. She is getting her gun ready, which makes me almost smile. GI Jane, I think. My mom loves guns. She has guns hidden all over the house because ‘You never know when and from where you’ll be attacked.’

  “How is your battery?” She asks suddenly.

  I glance down at my phone. “About halfway.”

  “Okay, we can’t stay on the line forever.” My practical mom, but I also hear the pain and worry in her words.

  “We’ll need to hang up now. But I want you to call or text me as often as you can. Let me know what’s going on. Shut all your apps down to preserve as much battery as possible. No Instagram updates.”

  “I promise.” My voice is still small. I really don’t want to hang up. I hate to lose the fragile connection we have. Even though on a rational level, I understand she isn’t able to help me right now, at least she seems closer.

  My heart drops when we finally end the call. Mom said she would be on her way to come get me, and I believe with all my heart, she will make good on that promise.

  When I lift my eyes from the sc
reen, I see the same confused, frightened expression on everybody else’s faces, except Blake; his facial expression is grim. And he is looking at me. “I can’t get a hold of my mom, but my dad says he’ll come get us.”

  “My mom said the same thing,” I tell him, aware of the others listening.

  Our eyes meet, and a moment of understanding passes between us. Neither one of us is particularly happy with our absentee parents right now. My mom left my dad for Blake’s father and vice versa. Even though this happened two years ago, the scars are still fresh. This is the reason why Blake and I haven’t talked in ages. We used to be best friends since we met in Kindergarten, which is how our parents became friends.

  There was always something special between Blake and me, but we were still too young to explore our feelings. Once we got older, the split between our parents made it impossible to hang out and see if there was the possibility of an us.

  Ever since then, we have avoided each other successfully, despite several attempts by my mother and his dad to play house with us. Somehow, he or I always managed to be absent during any kind of family activity. Until now. Until this ill-fated Amusement Park treat.

  Now he is almost a man. A man who wears a grim, determined expression on his face when he nods at me. “I have to go find her.”

  And with that, he turns away from us and walks towards a green exit light further down the stage. After the door closes behind him, it appears as if I’m even more keenly aware of the screaming and yelling still happening all around us. Muted bangs accompany the ruckus from the outside. All this is making for a cacophony of noises tearing at every nerve inside of me. My legs scream at me to run. The problem is, where to? Where could I possibly run to? We are so much safer here, hidden behind stationary mannequins and props.

  Still, my body, my brain, wants to do something. Needs to do something.

  “What is happening?” I ask in a shaking voice.

  “World War Z,” Conner says and puts his hand up for a high five that doesn’t come.

  I realize nobody wants to oblige him because the other five boys feel the loss of their coach almost as hard as me. Almost. He was their coach, but he was my father. Again, a wave of loss washes over me, and all I want is to lose myself in it. All I want is to be at home, in my bed, with a pillow over my head and cry, but I can’t. There is more going on here than my father having been murdered. There will be a time to mourn him properly, but for now, I need to be aware if I want to survive.

  “Did you guys find Antoin?” I finally remember that Ryan, Jason, and Blake went to search for him.

  Jason shakes his head. “You don’t want to know.”

  Somehow his words irritate me. Of course, I want to know. No, I need to know. I need to understand what is happening here. The anger pushes the sorrow away, and I embrace it. It’s a lot better than the pain. With more force than necessary, I ask, “What happened to Antoin?”

  Ryan takes my hand, and that gesture irritates me too. I’m not a damsel in distress who needs to be protected from the evil world. Even though I might have appeared like one so far, but that person isn’t me. Not really. I don’t need shielding from the bad things. I can take care of myself. With might, I pull my hand out of Ryan’s and repeat with all the force I can muster. “What happened to Antoin?”

  “He’s dead,” Ryan says. He looks down at his hands, and suddenly, I’m ashamed. I acted like a selfish bitch when I pulled my hand away. He might not have taken my hand to comfort me, but because he too needed some reassurance. His world was turned upside down nearly as much as mine.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper and take his hand in both of mine.

  When I scan his face, I notice he has new bruising on his eye and lip; I realize he must have gotten into another fight while looking for his friend. I squeeze his hand, trying to encourage him. We stay that way for several minutes in uncomfortable silence.

  “Did you get a hold of your parents?” I ask, just to break the silence.

  He shakes his head, no. “They went on a trip to Hawaii the day before yesterday.”

  “This is so messed up,” Jose exclaims, and his fingers pound against his phone.

  “What?” Jason asks.

  “911, Sanders. They keep putting me on hold and say the average wait time is like fifteen minutes. What the hell, man?”

  We all stare at each other, at a loss for words. My eyes wander back to the few boat rides that are visible in the haze. Some people are still fighting, but there are fewer than there were a few minutes ago.

  “This is driving me crazy. We should do something,” Ryan says. He lets go of my hand and runs his fingers through his hair.

  Jason points at the boats. “I’m not going back there. Those people are all freaking crazy.”

  We sit in silence.

  Ryan pulls me closer, and I lean against his chest, closing my eyes. Our world turned upside down. My dad is dead, and Blake has gone looking for his mom. The thought of both of them possibly dead sends jolts of pain through me. Making me realize how devastated I would be should something happen to Blake.

  For a fraction of a second, the morale part of my brain screams at me that I’m pining for Blake while seeking comfort from Ryan. I tell that part to shut up; there is a lot more at play than teenage crushes and love triangles.

  The thought of my mom coming for me comforts me. And Blake’s dad. I do not doubt that they will save us. Blake’s dad was a Marine; he will know exactly what to do. I shift in Ryan’s arm to get more comfortable. A squishing sound draws my attention to my wet footwear. I free myself from Ryan, who looks at me questioning.

  “My feet,” I whisper-explain. Loathe drawing attention to our hide-out, even though I doubt anybody would hear us through the screaming and shouting.

  My discomfort must have been a starting signal for the others to take care of their own wet feet because now there is a lot of twisting, turning, and grunting coming from all sides. As all of us, as inconspicuous as possible, distort ourselves behind plastic mannequins and wooden crates to take our shoes and socks off.

  Chlorinated water trickles out of my Converse after I tip them over, mingling with the salty tears running down my face. Dad, the thought repeats itself over and over in my mind.

  After I’m done with my shoes and socks and put them out on the stage to dry, I seek refuge back in Ryan’s arms. The terror of still ringing out gunfire and muted screams here and there is terrifying. My eyes stare straight ahead, not really taking anything in. I suppose my mind is just numb and shut down. I don’t think I actually dozed off for a few minutes, but it’s kinda like that. Situational awareness is still tuned into the cavernous space, but my mind and body are out. At least for a minute here and there.

  Until Ryan stiffens, the sound of a door closing and muted footsteps bring all the terror right back to the forefront of my mind. I open my eyes, and when they fall on Blake, I sigh in relief.

  With a subdued groan, he slides down against the wall. Everybody’s attention is on him.

  “What’s going on, Thornton?” Jason inquires.

  “Did you find your mom?” I ask.

  “Are the cops coming?” Jose wants to know.

  Blake shakes his head. “It’s so much worse out there than it is in here. It’s a madhouse out there. People are killing each other everywhere. There’s no way I can possibly find my mom right now.”

  “Are they zombies, Blake?” Conner asks with way too much enthusiasm in his voice for my peace of mind, earning himself glares from all of us.

  “I don’t know,” Blake says. He looks tired and defeated. “I really don’t know.” His hand moves through his hair and ruffles the short black ends.

  “I mean, do you guys think Coach was a zombie?” Blake asks, giving me an apologetic tilt of his head. The other boys stare questioning at each other.

  “I dunno.” Ty finally says.

  “Yeah, me too,” Blake confirms. “The attacks seem random. The ones that are … craz
y…. or whatever they are, they attack anybody. No matter if the other is… normal or… crazy or whatever you want to call it.”

  “So you have no clue, Thornton, is what you’re telling us,” Ryan says smugly.

  Blake shrugs, not taking the bait: “I don’t think they are zombies, but they are dangerous.”

  Their discussion sends cold shivers down my spine. I just watched my dad getting murdered, are we really contemplating zombies right now? But the tone of Blake’s voice and his desolate demeanor have me crawl out from Ryan’s embrace and towards Blake to put my arm around him.

  “We’ll find your Mom. I’m sure she’s okay,” I say with more conviction than I have, and he gives me a grateful smile.

  I press closer against him and touch something hard. I pull his shirt up and expose a gleaming black Glock.

  “Nice,” I say, and Ryan hisses. “What the hell is that man?”

  The others wear various expressions on their faces.

  “Where did you get that?” Jason demands to know.

  “A dead cop,” Blake answers with a flat voice.

  Before we can get into a gun debate or why Blake took a gun from a dead cop, I intervene with the obvious question. “What are we going to do?”

  “We need to stay here until whatever this is dies down out there,” Blake advises.

  “Who made you the boss?” Ryan asks, his expression hostile.

  He looks from Blake to me. I realize he probably sees Blake as a threat. Not just for being the leader of our motley crew -which his position as captain of the football team ensures, but a threat against whatever he and I have going on.

  I sigh with the absurdity of it all. Don’t we have other problems right now than bruised egos and alpha male syndromes. I also realize that with all the testosterone going around, it’ll be up to me, as the only girl, to keep the voice of reason. Strangely, the thought of contributing for a change is making me feel better, stronger.

  “That’s a good idea. My mom said the same thing.” I say before anybody can jump into the argument.

  My words earn me an irritated glare from Ryan and a crooked smile from Blake. They both know precisely what I intended to do. I roll my eyes at both of them.