yet. She needed to be on-site before she could really connect, and even then it might be too late.
Millicent. Henry. Where are you guys?
There was no answer, which scared Tara even more. She didn’t often walk this path without them, but today it seemed that she would.
Nate drove as fast as he could, but the farther north they drove, the worse the devastation.
“Oh good lord,” Tara whispered.
Nate glanced at her just as she turned to look at him. In that moment, Tara’s panic shifted and she felt a wave of comfort wash through her. Nate Pierce was a very old soul. She didn’t know what that meant to the situation at hand, but it was oddly comforting. She took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly.
We’re coming, Gracie. Can you hear my voice? Hold on, baby girl, help is on the way.
When Nate turned into what had once been a housing subdivision, it was obvious it had been in the direct path of the storm. It was less than ten minutes from her house to this side of town, yet it looked like another planet. There were holes in the ground where trees had once stood, an occasional fireplace rising up on a bare foundation like a stake marking the spot where the house used to be. The trees that were still standing were denuded of leaves, their skeletal branches stripped of bark and reaching toward heaven, as if begging for help.
The backend of the occasional vehicle could be seen beneath piles of debris that had been houses, but it was the people who broke her heart. Some were walking up and down the streets calling out names. Others were digging through what was left of their homes.
She saw her first dead man standing beside the upturned roof of a house. She knew he was waiting for someone to find his body before he moved on. She saw the shock on his face when he realized she could see him.
I’ll be back, she promised silently, and then looked away as Nate turned a corner and drove down yet another street before coming to an abrupt stop.
“We’re here,” he said.
Tara got out, her legs shaking, her heart pounding. The place was still filled with energy from the storm. She could hear screams and feel pain and fear from when it had actually happened.
When Nate grabbed her hand, it grounded the vibes, which helped her focus.
“Careful,” he said, guiding her around a sodden mattress lying on the ground.
They stopped in front of a half-dozen people who were sitting on a curb. The three women were crying. When the little boy with them saw Tara, he hid his face in his mother’s lap. The two men were in the same shape that Nate was. They all looked like they’d been to hell and got lost on the way back.
“Tara, this is my family. My father and mother, Martin and Naomi Pierce, my sister, Sally Washoe, and this is my sister, Delia Littlehorse, her son, Mico, and her husband John. It’s their daughter Gracie who’s missing.”
Delia stood.
Tara felt the devastation of them all as surely as if she’d lived it. “Tell me what happened,” she said.
“She was in my arms . . . and then she wasn’t,” Delia said, and then collapsed, sobbing.
Tara knelt in front of her. “I need to touch you. It helps me lock into the right vibe.”
Delia grabbed Tara’s arms. “Find her. Find my baby. Wherever . . . however . . . I beg you.”
But Tara didn’t hear a word Delia Littlehorse was saying. She was already in Gracie’s head, too scared to cry. When Delia turned loose, Tara fell backward onto her backside then scrambled to her feet, staggered a couple of times as she turned in a circle, then felt the pull and started walking.
“Tara, do you—”
She held up a hand for silence and the people behind her went quiet. Her steps were long and strong, while theirs were stumbling and weary as they followed her.
Within moments she was far ahead of them, but she could hear something they could not. She could hear Gracie’s voice. She was calling for her mama. What scared her most was that she
Millicent. Henry. Where are you guys?
There was no answer, which scared Tara even more. She didn’t often walk this path without them, but today it seemed that she would.
Nate drove as fast as he could, but the farther north they drove, the worse the devastation.
“Oh good lord,” Tara whispered.
Nate glanced at her just as she turned to look at him. In that moment, Tara’s panic shifted and she felt a wave of comfort wash through her. Nate Pierce was a very old soul. She didn’t know what that meant to the situation at hand, but it was oddly comforting. She took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly.
We’re coming, Gracie. Can you hear my voice? Hold on, baby girl, help is on the way.
When Nate turned into what had once been a housing subdivision, it was obvious it had been in the direct path of the storm. It was less than ten minutes from her house to this side of town, yet it looked like another planet. There were holes in the ground where trees had once stood, an occasional fireplace rising up on a bare foundation like a stake marking the spot where the house used to be. The trees that were still standing were denuded of leaves, their skeletal branches stripped of bark and reaching toward heaven, as if begging for help.
The backend of the occasional vehicle could be seen beneath piles of debris that had been houses, but it was the people who broke her heart. Some were walking up and down the streets calling out names. Others were digging through what was left of their homes.
She saw her first dead man standing beside the upturned roof of a house. She knew he was waiting for someone to find his body before he moved on. She saw the shock on his face when he realized she could see him.
I’ll be back, she promised silently, and then looked away as Nate turned a corner and drove down yet another street before coming to an abrupt stop.
“We’re here,” he said.
Tara got out, her legs shaking, her heart pounding. The place was still filled with energy from the storm. She could hear screams and feel pain and fear from when it had actually happened.
When Nate grabbed her hand, it grounded the vibes, which helped her focus.
“Careful,” he said, guiding her around a sodden mattress lying on the ground.
They stopped in front of a half-dozen people who were sitting on a curb. The three women were crying. When the little boy with them saw Tara, he hid his face in his mother’s lap. The two men were in the same shape that Nate was. They all looked like they’d been to hell and got lost on the way back.
“Tara, this is my family. My father and mother, Martin and Naomi Pierce, my sister, Sally Washoe, and this is my sister, Delia Littlehorse, her son, Mico, and her husband John. It’s their daughter Gracie who’s missing.”
Delia stood.
Tara felt the devastation of them all as surely as if she’d lived it. “Tell me what happened,” she said.
“She was in my arms . . . and then she wasn’t,” Delia said, and then collapsed, sobbing.
Tara knelt in front of her. “I need to touch you. It helps me lock into the right vibe.”
Delia grabbed Tara’s arms. “Find her. Find my baby. Wherever . . . however . . . I beg you.”
But Tara didn’t hear a word Delia Littlehorse was saying. She was already in Gracie’s head, too scared to cry. When Delia turned loose, Tara fell backward onto her backside then scrambled to her feet, staggered a couple of times as she turned in a circle, then felt the pull and started walking.
“Tara, do you—”
She held up a hand for silence and the people behind her went quiet. Her steps were long and strong, while theirs were stumbling and weary as they followed her.
Within moments she was far ahead of them, but she could hear something they could not. She could hear Gracie’s voice. She was calling for her mama. What scared her most was that she
Similar Books
It's Always Darkest Before the Fridge Door Opens: Enjoying the Fruits of Middle Age
Phil Callaway, Martha O. Bolton
