Chapter 10
Colt
At first I thought only a chick would pick a game this lame game, but four other boys and two little girls have joined us so I guess it isn’t that ridiculous. Not any more stupid than me running around in circles like a kid in preschool who lifted up a little girl’s dress and has to dart away to avoid getting sent to the principal’s office.
Lifting up Rory’s skirt might be fun. Too bad she’s wearing yoga pants.
On second thought, it’s not too bad. She looks good in them. Darn good.
For a minute my mind drifts to what she felt like in my arms last night.
“Goose!” Rory yells, then takes off shrieking around our group of seven…eight since a little girl with pigtails just plopped down outside the circle. I smile to myself as the child slowly scoots forward as if trying to gauge if she’ll be included or instructed by a parent to leave. This game might be mind-numbingly stupid, but it’s keeping the kids entertained, we’re all stuck here when we’d rather be anywhere else, and it’s the day before Christmas.
The day before Christmas.
Time to put away petty resentments and pointless grudges. After all, laughing kids is a whole lot better than crying ones, and I’ll do anything to avoid hearing that sound. Although I wouldn’t mind having a few kids of my own someday, crying or not.
Since when do I think about kids? Startled by thoughts I don’t even recognize, I snap out of it just as Rory plops down next to me. Her knee bumps against mine and stays there, pressing in little tighter as everyone maneuvers to make room for two additional kids. Pretty sure we’ll be running a freaking daycare before this hour is up, but if it means I get to spend the day next to this hot specimen of a supermodel, I’ll let every kid here join our game. Maybe even lead them all in a cheesy rendition of We Are the World, We Are the Children. I could sing Michael Jackson’s part; Rory could be Diana Ross.
And if someone could please rip open my head and take out my idiotic brain, that would be just great.
An elbow jabs me in the side.
“Colt, get up and run. John tagged you!”
And this is the thing about Rory—in the ten minutes since we began this game she’s memorized every child’s age, name, and face and practically given them nicknames. And then there’s me. I can’t even remember to notice when a half-sized human whacks me on the head.
I let out a yell and take off.
I’m halfway around the circle when it happens.
Lightning hits.
Thunder crashes.
Metal slams against the window and shatters.
People scream.
And everything goes black.
I can’t see anything but the glowing light of an exit sign.
The storm just got worse.
Within seconds, these previously well-behaved kids are in public meltdown mode complete with spit, snot, trembling lips, and wildly spinning limbs. Only a child can switch moods that instantaneously and not be accused of multi-personality disorder.
On second thought, maybe I don’t want any of these pint-sized monsters after all.
“Colt, what’s going on?”
I feel Rory’s hand slide into mine, and my panic fizzles. I know she’s scared. I know she’s worried. But any excuse to feel her skin pressed against mine is one I can live with, even a violent storm that may or may not flatten this building before the danger passes.
“I’m not sure. But I have a feeling this storm is just getting started.” A man carrying a high-beam flashlight and wearing a brown apron walks out of the dimly lit kitchen, talking on a cell phone as he breezes past without looking anyone in the eye. If worry took on human form, this is what it might look like. “And if that guy is indication, it’s worse than we know.
Five minutes and three lightning strikes later, my fear is confirmed.
* * *
The power is out all over the island, but that isn’t the worst news.
“Three more days? What are we supposed to do for three more days?”
That’s the worst news.
Even if this stupid hurricane lets up, we can’t go anywhere. At least not until power is restored. According to local chatter it could take three days. The news keeps getting better and better.
We’re back in our room because we were instructed to go here and stay. On the way up, we passed a vending machine in the hallway that contained one package of powdered donuts, three bags of Doritos, and a pack of Doublemint gum. I shook the machine until a few things fell out. I’ve turned into a kleptomaniac like Rory, but whatever. I refuse to feel guilty. Besides, we left one package of Doritos, and I’m currently living through the torture of watching Rory lick her white, sugar-covered fingertips one by one. It’s what I get for stealing things.
My eyes get stuck on the movement for a moment, but then I roll them and focus on her question. It’s only the millionth time she’s asked it in a handful of minutes, and each time I give the same darn answer.
“They said at least three, and I have no idea.”
“What if the lights never come back on?”
“No idea.”
“What if we run out of food?”
“No idea.”
“What if the bathrooms quit working and we run out of toilet paper?”
I cringe.
“No idea.”
“What if she never stops crying?”
I glare at the chick one bed over. Seriously, can’t her husband do something to stop these stupid emotions? So they’re on a honeymoon, big deal. They’ve got the rest of their lives to make love and crap. I slide my gaze to Rory.
“No idea.”
“What about Santa Claus and gifts and all these kids?”
I didn’t think of this. Poor kids. Duck duck goose isn’t going to satisfy all the rugrats on Christmas morning. Still.
“No idea.”
She shoots me a glare.
“You are absolutely no help.”
I shoot her one back. “Look princess, you’ve known me for exactly…” I hold up my non-working phone with its dead battery and shrug. “Not very long. Any of my friends back home could tell you that I’m not all that self-sufficient when disaster strikes. I mean, it’s not like I had to be when my father is freaking—”
That gets her to pause. An eyebrow goes up. “Your father is freaking…who?”
I swallow. Idiot. “No one you would know,” I lie. “Let’s just say he’s not very good under pressure either.” And let’s just say that was the biggest understatement ever delivered in the history of understatements.
She continues to give me the once-over, clearly not buying my answer. But then heaven sends me a gift in the form of a crash in the hallway outside our door.
Something awful is taking place outside. All we can do is stare at each other.
I’m brought out of my trance when Rory’s hand settles on my knee.
This girl. Once touch and my heart picks up speed.
And then of course she’s starts talking and I’m wishing once again to be back in that trance.
“What if it’s more than three days? What if we’re stuck here forever?”
I scrub both hands over my face.
“No idea.”