* * * * *
We wait forever in a booth in Betsy’s Kitchen. Betsy does let us dig into some bread sticks while we wait, which are also amazing like the burgers. Dorian's aunt vanishes into the kitchen and starts making phone calls. She apologizes a lot. Tells somebody she doesn't care if they miss Dancing With The Stars. Tells someone else that this can't wait until morning.
She sighs, tossing her apron somewhere behind the counter, and sits at the table beside us. “I got most of the Outbreaker families in the county coming. Of course, there are a few who don't care what happens to the human residents here.” She glares out into the night. “They're the ones that should have stayed in Mobley.”
“What happened in--” I start.
“Agreed,” Dorian says. “The Curts are real jerks.” He faces me and Tommy. “Not all Outbreakers try to avoid hurting people. You can probably tell that by the news every spring. There are some, that, well...”
I hold up a hand. “I get it.” An awful taste rises up in my mouth. I picture some town leveled, with only slabs where houses once stood and trees missing their bark. “God, to think that some of that stuff was done on purpose...”
“Sometimes it's an accident, too,” Dorian says. “Younger Outbreakers can't control things as well. Same for newly turned ones.” Shadows grow long on his face. “That's worse in a way.”
“Way worse.” I debate whether I should stretch my legs and go outside.
“It was only a barn,” Betsy tells us. “That's nothing to get too upset over.”
Dorian forces a grin. “I suppose we can always blame each other. Since we, you know, merged and all.”
“We could.”
Tommy stands. “While you guys are talking about what it's like to be a walking disaster, I need to hit the bathroom.”
He's gone from the booth pretty fast.
Too fast.
Dorian points at the empty space with his thumb. “So I have competition?”
Oh.
Dorian's joking, of course. Isn't he?
I force a laugh and stare at the closed bathroom door. Tommy sure isn't.
I'm silent for a while, poking at the ice in my glass of water. Tommy takes forever to come back. “You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah.” He eyes his own glass like he's trying to find answers in the water.
I feel Dorian's gaze on me. It shifts from Tommy and back to me, over and over and over. Then another thought hits me. “I'm not looking forward to public speaking.”
“We'll help you,” Dorian says. He looks at Tommy. “Won't we?”
“Sure,” he says.
They start arriving five minutes later.
First, an old couple stare at me and Tommy with their brown eyes. The black flecks in them deepen until Betsy tells them that we're safe. Then a woman and a couple of older kids come in. One of the boys has his shirt on backwards like his mother pulled him out of bed and made him dress in a hurry. She parks them in the corner and gives them an iPad to play with while she takes a seat near the window.
With each person that comes in, my pulse rate goes up a little more. My mouth dries, but my stomach's too upset for me to risk drinking the water.
At ten to eleven, every seat in the restaurant's filled and the curtains are pulled tight. Every pair of eyes is brown flecked with black. Tommy shrinks back in his booth. I join him in trying to hide. We're the only two in here who aren't old Outbreakers. Tommy has it worse than me. He's the only human.
Dorian's parents are the last in. They squash up against the wall. Dorian's father gives him a look that says he's going to be in trouble when the meeting's over.
Betsy calls silence. It's clear that she's the one with authority here.
“It's almost eleven,” a woman in the back complains. She puffs up, trying to sound irritated, but I can hear the shaking in her voice. They know this is serious.
“I don't care how late it is,” Betsy says. “Listen.”
I can feel every gaze on me as I tell my story. Even the kids in the corner lean over their booth, trying to catch every word. I stutter a lot and cough. The heat that blasts across my face convinces me that it's doing a disco show of colors. The only good part is that Betsy lets me sit while I tell it. If I had to stand up, I'd die.
The only thing worse than describing my first transformation is talking about the second one. Thankfully, Dorian helps me with that part even though it must be tough for him, too. At least I'm talking to Outbreakers. It's nothing bizarre to them.
I leave out Uncle Cassius. That's one part I can't bear.
I really, really wish he had never gone out to that barn.
Tommy takes over at the end and tells about the return to the barn and the force that's going to strike on Friday.
Our story ends with an explosion of questions. The whole restaurant fills with noise. Chairs scrape. Hands slap down on tables.
“Quiet!” Betsy stands in front of us. She's Judge Judy in a dress. I half-expect her to produce a gavel and bang it on the table in front of her. “If you want someone else to confirm this story, ask my sister and her husband over here. They witnessed Allie's second transformation, and I for one believe her. Remember, we've all learned that nothing is impossible.”
The place calms down into grumbles and mutters.
“Good,” she says. “Now, we don't have time to argue about whether this girl has told us the truth or not. We need to discuss what to do about Madeline and her group. If I remember right, she and her father live ten miles out of town, right?”
“I think so,” someone says, a man near the counter with dirt under his fingernails. “I always thought she and her family were human. They’ve been here for generations.”
“Madeline will probably still give the orders to the Deathwind to attack on Friday night,” Betsy says. “She grew up here, from what I understand, so she’ll know exactly how to go after everyone. Even if we do manage to capture her and her followers, we probably won't stop it. Still, we need a party to go out to their property tonight and bring them back to town. I'll take volunteers now.”
I stiffen.
Uncle Cassius. He'll be one of the ones they bring back.
And then what?
I fight the urge to stand and say something. Tommy shoots me a warning look. So does Dorian. On the other side of Betsy, several men and one woman raise their hands.
“Good,” Betsy says. “Remember. The Deathwind won't go after regular Outbreakers. My nephew just tested that theory this afternoon.”
“Maybe we can make Madeline call it back,” Dorian says. “We can keep them in the jail or something until they do. You know, until we hear the whole story.”
“We're not entirely sure what we're dealing with,” Dorian's mother says. “If this is true, I don't think I want Madeline here in town. Sure, the bars at the jail might be reinforced, but that can’t stop her from transforming at the next storm, breaking out, and hurting our human neighbors. These new Outbreakers attract bad weather.” She shoots me a quick, apologetic glance. “They’re saying we could have more storms on Thursday.”
Note to self: check the weather constantly on Thursday.
“It's still better we take care of her instead of let her loose out in the world,” another guy says. He stands and waves the volunteers towards him. “Let's go get them. Now.”