Follow Jesse? Follow my baby sister? Was she crazy?
How did she know where to go? She was naïve for her age, she had the attention span of a gnat, and she was never able to focus on her surroundings. Just moments before she missed Mom’s injuries and zeroed in on my change of footwear. This was the kid who thought that if a woman was pregnant with one baby for nine months, she had to be pregnant with twins for eighteen months. This was the kid who, in response to hearing the song Greensleeves said, “If she used Kleenex she wouldn’t have green sleeves.” This was the kid who painted a picture at school of a sunrise and titled it, “Morning sunset.” This was the kid who said that all three of the little pigs were stupid; instead of making houses out of straw, wood, and bricks they should have bought a motor home because that way the big bad wolf would never be able to catch up.
Actually, that last one made sense.
And what did we have to lose? I wasn’t getting any signals from the possessed part of my brain. All it told me was that we really, really needed to get moving. Our new companions must have been feeling the same thing because they went to the bedroom to tie sheets. I was happy to let them do it because I needed to spend those last moments with my mom.
Her breathing was not as rapid as before, but it was shallow. Her face was bloodless, almost as white as a new RB. I shuddered at the thought that if we didn’t get her help soon, that was what she’d become. I willed myself not to cry so they would know they could count on me to look after my sisters. KC couldn’t help herself. Her tears spilled onto my mother’s pale cheeks as she kissed her forehead. She whispered, “We will come back for you.”
Jesse hugged her gently and confidently said, “I promise, we will meet up soon. I know we’ll be together again.”
I squeezed my mother’s hand and echoed that promise. “We are survivors. We will get through this.” Her body relaxed when I said that and her eyes closed in sleep.
The three of us shouldered our split kits and took my parents’ along for good measure; KC holding onto my mother’s while I held on to my father’s. My father was right behind us, dragging his leg instead of limping. We discovered the others had already tied the sheets to the leg of the bed and had scampered out the window. Their expectant faces looked up at us from below, waiting for more directions. I sent KC down first, then Jesse, but not before she tossed down old lady Simpkin’s walking stick. It makes a soft thud on the damp ground. I gave my father a quick hug and then he held me at arm’s length like he was trying to make sure I was up to this overwhelming task. He looked me right in the eye and said, “Don’t come back for us. We will get better and we will look for you. Just find Doom; he has a cottage in Pennsylvania you can go to. We can meet up there. Now go. Go!”
Doom didn’t mention his parent’s mountain home until the last conversation, so how did my father know about it? I wanted to ask him this and more, but he gently pushed me towards the windowsill. The only thing that made me obey was the buzzing in my head. It was growing frantic, urging me to hurry before it was too late.
I started down the bed sheets, still reluctant to leave my injured parents behind. Jesse was already tugging on my pants before I hit the ground. “I know where to go but we have to go now!” She broke off into a run like she was possessed. The others eagerly followed her, but I hung back for a moment. I stood there long enough to see my father’s worried face suddenly lit up from a light within the room. I was there long enough to hear, “I’ve found another one! He’s trying to escape out of the window!” And I was there long enough to see the butt of a rifle point itself at my father’s head.
I turned and ran after the rest of the refugees, severing the fearful look shared between father and son.