He didn’t know how long he sat there until the tears stopped falling enough so that he could wipe them away and clear the haze. The red of the digital clock near his bed caught his eye, 2 a.m.
He shook his head and turned on the light. That’s when he saw the newspaper on his bed where he’d left it. There were two images underneath the headline “Local Woman Survives Killer Wreck.” One was of Carrie Williams and one was of the destroyed car where she should have died. Just like his wife. What was so special about Carrie to have thwarted the odds? What was her secret?
He grabbed the paper and threw it against the wall. Then he grabbed few books and chunked them as well, the sound of the hardbacks clattering against the wall the only comfort he had against the chilly air and the pain in his heart he couldn’t seem to leave behind no matter how hard he tried. And he did. But the nightmares always found him. Always. And he was tired…so tired.
He had a third book in hand when his bedroom door swung open. His sister, Mary, stood there, one hand resting on her swelled belly and the other on the doorknob.
“Dallas! What’s wrong?”
He lowered the book, immediately ashamed. It was a nightmare, and he should never have woken his sister. She was pregnant and needed her sleep.
“I’m sorry,” he managed, refusing to look her in the eye, afraid of what she’d see.
“Are you all right?” she asked, stepping into the room. Her long hair framed her face, making her appear younger than she was, but the fatigue was evident in her expression.
“I’m fine.” He said. “Go back to sleep.”
“I thought I heard you call out. Did you have a nightmare?” She walked over to the bed and sat down.
“I’m fine.” He stiffened as she leaned close to him, and although she meant to comfort him, he wanted to wallow in his anger over Carrie Williams’s survival. It seemed that bright shard of emotion was the only thing which brought him comfort these days.
Mary looked at the wall and then at the books that lay there. Finally, she saw the newspaper with Carrie’s picture. She took a deep breath, walked to the newspaper, and gently picked up the newspaper to study it.
“Perhaps you should maybe look for a different job,” she suggested softly.
“And what good would that do?” Despite his best effort to reign in his emotions, his voice took on an edge.
“You need to get past…this.” She set the newspaper on the dresser near the door.
“Get past what, Mary? The fact that the Williams woman survived when Deb didn’t?” He raked his fingers through his hair.
“This isn’t about Carrie. It’s not her fault that she lived.”
“Nor is it Deb’s fault she died. Apparently nothing is anyone’s fault, but I have to live with it.” He stood and paced around the room, suddenly feeling way too confined.
Mary looked at him, her hand still resting on her belly, and he suddenly thought again of the child he would never have. How could he expect his sister to understand what it was like to have her child ripped away from her before he or she ever opened his or her eyes. It left him cold and broken. Every death since his wife’s had stayed with him. There were just too many to keep inside.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I thought that moving here would help, but I guess it hasn’t.”
He walked to the window sill. “You want me to forget. I know that. But I can’t. And if you had lost as much as I had, you wouldn’t be able to either.”
As he brushed his finger tips on the window panes, he felt his sister watching him, wanting him to turn and face her, but he wasn’t going to. He didn’t want to see the pity in her eyes.
Chapter Eleven
That night, Robbie found himself struggling with the same nightmare, and he woke bathed in sweat. A cold streak ran through him, stealing his breath, and he felt himself gulping air like he just couldn't take in enough. At first, he thought it was just the dream that had disturbed his sleep, but then he heard the rumble of thunder. Rain suddenly pecked the windows, sounding like hail.
Even from where he'd sat up in bed, he saw the furious bolts of lightning dancing violently across the sky, and he wondered how long the storm had been brewing before he'd woken. He didn't usually sleep through severe weather, but then again, he was beginning to accept his life had become anything but normal.
Storms really didn't much bother him; Carrie, on the other hand, hated them. She'd always had a fear of tornados, and furious storms usually kicked that fear into overdrive, which is what caused Robbie to look to the other side of the bed, where he expected to find to wife cowering beneath the covers, trying to hide from all facets of the storm.
What he discovered instead was that the blanket had been thrown back, leaving the sheets exposed and almost white with each lightning strike. In short, the bed was empty, and he was alone.
"Carrie?" he called, raking his fingers through his hair. His heart was still beating frantically, and while he'd thought he could calm his frayed nerves, that was before he saw the other side of the bed was empty.
Had Carrie taken off again? In this?
"Carrie!" He yelled even louder, hoping she'd answer him. Only the sound of her voice was going to stop the chaos building inside of him.
A huge cut of lightning split open the sky, and it lit up the room, spotlighting the empty bed. It was quickly followed by a menacing clap of thunder. Robbie paused for a moment, waiting for Carrie to answer, but none came. There was only the storm.
"Damn it." He propelled himself out of bed. With any luck, Carrie was just in the kitchen, wide awake from the storms and getting a snack to soothe her frayed nerves. Then again, Robbie wasn't counting on luck. He hadn't had much of that lately.
Another crash of lightning illuminated the bedroom, and he glanced over at the chair by the dresser, where he'd set a pair of jeans for tomorrow. Without thought, he marched over, grabbed the pants, and tugged them on, all the while still calling for Carrie.
The storm seemed to worsen, and Carrie didn't answer. By the time he'd reached the mudroom, he knew why. She wasn't even in the house. He gritted his teeth, slipped on his work boots, and headed outside, not caring that he hadn't grabbed a shirt. The driving rain was just going to plaster it against his body, anyhow, so what difference would it make?
He debated whether to go look for her at the edge of the drop, where she might have gone for a moonlit swim or back to the site of the accident. He figured she was in one of the two places because he just couldn't puzzle out any new hiding spots. What he really wanted to know was why. Why the hell would she leave their warm, dry bed and slip out into the night with a violent storm that could turn dangerous at any moment? What was she thinking? Granted, Carrie didn't always pay attention to her own safety, but usually she kept her focus on the life growing inside her, knowing that if she got hurt, the baby would, too, and Carrie wouldn't hurt it. She couldn't.
Except by accident.
Beyond frustrated, Robbie threw open the back door and shoved the screen wide as his hands felt for keys. Yes, he'd shoved them in the pocket earlier, but he was still hoping he wouldn't need them. Still, he'd learned long ago to always be prepared, whether he wanted to be or not.
"Carrie!" he yelled, but even as he stepped outside, he wasn't ready for the wind. It was one thing to hear the storm while safe behind solid walls but another to feel it trying to shove you back into the house. Every step took work and determination and also added to the fears he had about his wife's safety. She never should have left the house. Now he had to find her before something else bad happened--if it hadn't happened already.
Lightning flashed all around him, and even though he tried to take in his surroundings, the momentarily brilliance seared itself into his vision, making everything blur. He waiting for his sight to return, yet by the time it did, the rain beat down that much harder, almost like hail.
Another fork, of lightning--this time much closer as it struck a tree. The air seemed to pop
and snap as the lightning sizzled into the bark and snapped the branch from the trunk of the old oak. Robbie, standing beneath it, knew the branch was falling toward him and darted ahead, just in time. The branch tumbled to the ground where he'd just stood. He was out of breath and slightly panicked but alive.
Where was Carrie?
He looked around, but between the darkness and the violent rain, he couldn't see anything besides vague shapes rising in the night. No matter how loudly he called, his voice seemed lost in the violence swirling around him. He doubted she could hear a word though he yelled at the top of his lungs. Hell, the storm was so loud he could barely hear himself. The world had given in to chaos and that chaos seemed to have consumed them both.
Worried, he tried to run toward the cliff's edge, but he considered himself lucky to even still be moving forward at all against the raging wind. The rain pelted his body, cold and hard, but he knew it wouldn't have mattered if he'd worn a shirt. It would have been just as wet and cold as his skin by now.
Once Robbie had finally reached the cliff, he blinked a few times, trying to clear the rain from his eyes, yet no matter how hard he worked at it, there was always more.
More thunder and lightning. The rain was pouring down harder. Hell, had the weathermen predicted this storm? He tried to remember but couldn't, and it didn't matter. Carrie was all that mattered.
He scanned the water. It was roiling, strewn with whitecaps as wave after wave pummeled the shore. The world spun in the crash of water on rocks--the wind, the thunder. It all blurred.
"Carrie!" he yelled again, but his voice was lost in the violence around him. Frustrated, he set his hand just above his eyes, trying to block the rain so he could see the water below. The moment he peered downward, he realized that even with the violent lightning flashing off the water, he couldn't see anything in the water. If Carrie were down there, she probably wouldn't still be floating. The storm was far too wild and dangerous. If she had gone swimming, she would be far below the surface now, far beyond any help he could give her.
He gritted his teeth and took a deep breath to calm himself. She's not in the water, he thought. She's got to be somewhere else.
Lightning flashed in the heavens, and he forced himself to scan the water one more time, watching the endless rolls of water without finding any sign of Carrie. Part of him was relieved, another panicked.
Robbie turned and headed back toward his truck. Granted, he didn't want to drive in this weather, but he didn't care. He had to find Carrie.
More lightning, and Robbie found himself looking up. There, silhouetted against the sky, he saw Carrie standing on the roof, her arms stretched toward the heavens. The rain had molded her white nightgown to her body, outlining the swell of her belly.
"Carrie!" he yelled, feeling the hammer of his heart grow more frantic. She couldn't hear him; he could barely hear himself. What was she doing? She stood out as a ready target for the lightning. He had to get her off the roof.
"Carrie!" he yelled louder. Nothing. She stared at the sky, unaware of anything else.
"Damn it." He rushed for the house, or tried to. The wind was blowing so hard it pushed back at him, effectively slowing him to a walk.
It seemed to take forever for him to reach the back door, and by the time he did, he was freezing. As he slipped into the mud room, he frowned, thinking he'd left the light on, but the room was dark. He fumbled with the switch, but the power was out.
Still, all Robbie could think of was Carrie, standing at the peak of the roof, arms reaching for the storm-tattered heavens as lightning split the sky around her. It wasn't possible, he told himself, wanting to believe he was still dreaming, but no matter how much he desired that, he knew he was awake--wide awake and thrust into another level of hell.
Robbie ran through the house, shuddering each time he heard thunder and saw a brilliant arc of lighting blast through the darkness. He had to get to Carrie. He made it to the hall without running into anything, but then his waist connected with the trestle table a bit farther down. He'd known it was there but was in such a rush he'd misjudged its proximity and nearly fell in his rush.
"Damn," he snarled and propelled himself past it, thinking only of the trapdoor not far away that would take him to his wife.
Robbie was breathing hard as he lunged up the steps. The minute he set foot in the attic, he could hear the wind raging. The rain pounded the roof, and despite his best efforts to the contrary, he kept imagining Carrie out there, her bare feet molding to the peak of the roof as she stood with her arms reaching towards the heavens.
He was halfway to the trapdoor when he heard something big and awkward thud to the ground outside. Immediately, he imagined it to be Carrie--that she had fallen.
"Carrie!" he yelled, his fingers fumbled with the door, and rainwater beaded in his hair before pouring freely into his eyes, blinding him. He had to brush his hands across his face to see.
His fingers trembled as fear cut through him, and it was only through sheer determination he managed to budge the door open. The wind fought him, forcing him to brace his whole body against it and push.
As the door swung wide, Robbie realized his mistake. He still clutched the handle, and but the combined force he exerted and the strength of the storm almost sucked him right outside. He managed to hang tight and released the trap door.
"Carrie!" he yelled again, but he knew doing so was useless: his voice quickly died amid the storm's fury. Hard rain spewed into the room.
Bracing himself, Robbie started onto the roof, his gaze darting between the shingles, where he set his feet, to the ground as he struggled to check whether Carrie had plummeted. Lots of fallen tree branches ripped clean from their trunks, littered the ground, but no Carrie, thank God--at least not that he could see. Logic told him that if she had fallen, she would be on top of the branches, not buried beneath, so maybe she was still on the roof and safe.
Turning his attention back to his feet, he grimaced as the cold rain slammed him again, but of course the rain wasn't the worst of it--the wind tried to bat him around, much like a wind sock, and the only way he could manage to keep his balance was to crouch low, as near the roof as he could manage and still keep moving.
Was Carrie still up here, standing tall, reaching for the sky as though the clouds had buried something overhead more valuable than her own life? She hadn't even been looking down. Carrie hated heights--absolutely hated them because they terrified her. Normally, she wouldn't go anywhere near the roof, and if she had to get on it, it damned sure wouldn't be in the middle of a storm like this, when she could easily tumble to the ground, possibly killing both her and the baby.
And that would be if the lightning didn't get her first.
The storm seemed to hear his thoughts. The sky erupted in a brilliant flash of white that blinded Robbie. In that span of time, he felt a wave of disorientation strike him, and the wind almost knocked him off balance. Almost.
Sensing he was close to free-falling, he leaned closer to the roof and gritted his teeth, waiting for the world to reappear amid the stumble of light he couldn't seem to blink away.
"Carrie!" he yelled, seeking comfort in hearing her voice. He knew if he could somehow hear her, he could get to her and the nightmare would eventually be over. But here again, the storm drowned him out. It would have been impossible for Carrie to hear him. Hell, it would probably have been impossible for Carrie to have heard herself think in this tempest.
The darkness crept back slowly, and Robbie let go a sigh of relief when he could finally see again. Maybe he didn't feel any closer to Carrie, but at least he wasn't blind anymore. That was something.
When, at last, Robbie could see clearly enough, he turned toward the peak of the roof. Carrie stood as before, her arms still outstretched.
"Carrie!" he cried again. He wanted to believe she'd look down from the sky and find him, but that didn't happen. Even though her rain-matted hair hung low on her forehead, almost in her eyes, she too
k no notice of it, seeing only the heavens.
"Damn it," Robbie snapped, forcing himself to start slowly shimmying higher. More than once, his boots scuffed the shingles, and even though he sought a secure location, he felt himself slipping and scrabbling for purchase, but scrabbling was better than picking himself up off the ground.
It seemed to take forever to get to the peak even though it wasn't that far. He often slipped, and more than once, his grip gave way, but Robbie refused to give up.
By the time he straddled the peak, almost close enough to touch Carrie, the rain had turned to hail, blasted full force from the sky. Robbie could barely look up at all, but something told him Carrie's position was relatively unchanged, though that didn't seem possible. How could she keep looking up in this weather?
"Carrie!" he yelled, hoping this time she would hear. No such luck.
Robbie didn't have a clue what was happening. All he knew was he needed to get Carrie off the roof. If Carrie couldn't hear him or, worse, ignored him, he was just going to have to get close enough to touch her. Maybe that was the only way to break her obsession.
Bracing himself for more forward motion, Robbie started to shift his weight, inching along ever so slightly. More lightning arced through the air, dangerously close.
Without thought, Robbie simply reached. He hunkered low, trying to escape the flash; the resounding clap of thunder was deafening.
In that instant, Robbie felt himself slide to the left. He tried to shift his weight, but he found himself slipping toward the edge, gaining momentum as he went.
Robbie splayed his hands, trying to stop himself. Panicked, he took one last look at Carrie, and that's when he saw the brilliant arc of light coming at him. He had no time to think before the lightning consumed him, and all he could do was scream.