* * * * *
I wake in the mud.
The weak sun peeks through the clouds, forming weird shadows through the soybean plants. They're tattered like a million fists have beaten them. Moisture seeps through my clothes. It’s cold and lifeless.
I’m exhausted.
I shudder and stare into the darkness behind my eyelids. It’s a black pit, welcoming me to its depths. Cars zoom past somewhere, close and distant in their own world. They thud each time they pass over a pothole in the road, wherever it is. I'm glad they can't see me lying here. I hope they can’t, that they won’t find me.
The barn. We completely obliterated it.
We could have smashed the farmhouse instead. Or picked up the cars going down the road instead of that tractor. I’m relieved but I’m not. Things could have turned out way different. Neither one of us had any control.
Oh, god. I don’t want to think about it. But I do. I can’t stop imagining the roar. The power…
The world turns to light. The sun’s coming out. My clothes get hot. The darkness behind my eyelids turns brown, then red with the sun trying to invade my eyes. Thunder rolls, far away.
I curl up tighter. I'm past caring. No one's here.
Except--
I breathe deep, forcing my heart to slow.
The boy who ran after me. He should be close. We both must have turned back right here.
I lift my head from the ground, blinking away tears. It’s not easy to sit up or to ignore the pain in my chest. I’m still shaking.
There's no one.
Only smashed soybean plants and stray leaves lie scattered around me, dead and stomped down into the mud. The tractor lies yards away, mangled and half-crushed. My heart sinks to the ground until I see that nobody’s inside or lying near it.
There's no boy as far as I can see.
Then where--
Did he die or something when we collided?
Oh, crap.
I stand and watch as a car approaches, slows, thuds over something in the road, and keeps going. It's not Tommy’s car. This isn't even the same road he dropped me off on. How far have I gone?
But the boy who chased me should be here.
"Hello?" I call over the field. I turn in a full circle, never more alone in this flat land. The plains stretch out on all sides, an ocean of grasses and plants. Across the road, debris from the barn lies blasted everywhere. There's nothing but a concrete slab left. The farmhouse some distance from it has a lot of shingles missing.
I did that.
We did that.
"Hello?" Panic rises.
Something's moving beyond the destroyed barn. Something blue. And it’s coming towards me.
It's the car I ran from. The boy's parents, probably. They’re driving along a bumpy track only fit for farm equipment. Their car bounces along the line between two fields. They're coming to pick up their son.
It's too late for me to move. I can see their headlights. Their shadows behind the windshield. What are they going to think when they find me standing here and their son missing?
The car rushes past the destroyed barn, speeding up as if trying to avoid the sight. With one final lurch, it pulls onto the road and races towards me.
I'm paralyzed. My brain goes blank. What will I say?
I try not to look at the barn. At the destroyed tractor. At the ruined crops. I’ve got to be ready to face this, whatever it is.
The car stops with the squeak of brakes. The back door flies open and someone climbs out and straightens. He holds his hand up to his face, blocking out the sun. Curly brown hair falls around his ears and his mouth falls open.
It's the boy.
My mind explodes in confusion. He should be here if he changed back along with me. Not in that car with his parents. Why--
He beats on the top of the car and faces the people inside. "It's her!" He faces me again. Even though he's tanned from a whole season in the sun, his face is paper. The side of his black shirt has mud on it from where he fell in the other field. His clothes are soaked from the rain. He cups his hands around his mouth. "Are you an Outbreaker?"
My legs move, carrying me closer to him. The word rolls around in my head, teasing me, growing bigger and bigger. Outbreaker. I try to wrap my mind around it, to catch it and make some sense from it.
"I…I don't know."
The boy drops his hands from his mouth. The look on his face matches the confusion I feel.
That makes two of us.
The front passenger door opens. A man steps out. His muscular build matches the boy's. His arms bulge against the sweaty flannel shirt he wears. It’s his father.
And his mother. A woman with brown curly hair emerges from the drivers' side. The three of them stare at me, no answers coming over their features. I feel like some new germ under a microscope.
“Um…” I start.
"You've got to be," the boy says. Another car clunks by as if punctuating his sentence. He shakes his head. "You just had an Outbreak. But why are you all the way over here? We drove across three farms looking for you.”
I step closer. We’re only a few feet apart now. I can’t stop staring at the boy’s weird eyes. Maybe there are answers here after all. "Outbreak? What’s an Outbreak?”
The woman speaks to her son. "Maybe she doesn't know what she is."
The boy turns away and faces her. He's got to be rolling his eyes or something. My face heats. His mother whispers something to him. At last he turns and looks at me, his features screwing up like he’s about to rehearse some lines.
"An Outbreak," he explains, "Is when you pass out, leave your body, and turn into a tornado. It usually only happens during storms. Every Outbreaker gets them. It starts in your teens." He brushes his hand through his hair. "Your parents didn't tell you what you are? That blows more than usual. No joke intended."
I snort anyway. Wow, what a change from what I was five minutes ago. “But I didn’t leave my body. All of me just transformed.” I look at the boy’s parents. “You two saw it. You must have. You were right there in that car. That must be why we wound up in two different places when it was done. Your body stayed behind.” So these people are like me. Well, almost like me. I’m losing it.
"We did see it," the father says. He's got those eyes, too--brown with the black spots. He narrows them at me. "It’s not like anything we’ve seen an Outbreaker do before. And I’ve never seen anything like when you two--”
The boy cringes. “Dad—“
“Okay, Dorian. We don’t have to discuss it now.”
“Please, not on the side of the road.” Dorian shifts leg to leg and checks for traffic. He catches sight of the destroyed barn and turns away. His face has paled and gone tight.
We all wait for someone to speak, but only silence stretches out. A distant roll of thunder sounds through the air.
Dorian turns to me. “You waiting for someone to pick you up?” There's more in his question. He wants to hear my story as much as I want to unravel his. I'm close, as close as I'll get to figuring this out before I find that woman and the old barn again.
“I am. I still have my phone. I think.” Miraculously, it’s still there in my pocket. A bent sign nearby tells me I’m on Highway 32. I can tell Tommy to find the destroyed barn. Or to follow the path of destruction. God. “But once my friend gets here, can we talk a bit? Meet somewhere? You see, I've only been like this since last week and I really, really need to figure out what's going on before I kill somebody.” My words quiver and spill. If anyone will understand, it's these people. They're my only key to this new world I'm trapped in. Maybe even my only hope.
Dorian drops his gaze to the dirt. Behind him, the debris from the shattered barn litters the ground. Now a couple of people have come out of the house to inspect it.
He turns and
watches. He groans and his shoulders slump to match mine.
We did that.
The mother turns her gaze to look at the destruction. She walks around the car, her face sad but resigned. It's as if I'm not there. She turns to her son. “These things happen, Dorian.”
“Yeah, I know.” He turns away from her and climbs back into the car, slamming the door so hard I'm amazed the glass doesn't shatter. He crouches down, avoiding the scene that we've left.
The two people out by the barn hug, embracing each others' misery.
A lump in my throat grows tighter. My teeth hurt. I'm as at fault for that ruined livelihood as he is. But I keep my face steeled and force myself to look at Dorian’s parents. “I'm sorry.”
“There's nothing to apologize for. This is what we have to live with." The woman's face is long with years of it. She shakes her head. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean not to answer your question. One of us will meet you tonight in Evansburg. There's a place called Betsy's Kitchen there. It's a safe place for us to talk. Is eight a good time?” She faces the car. “We need to get our son home.”
I nod, unable to take my gaze off Dorian behind the glass. He glances at me. Our gazes meet. We share that horror in silence until his parents climb into the car and drive away.
I watch the car go. It clunks over a section of the road.
Then I see.
The concrete has been scoured right off, leaving a brownish, dead stretch in its place.