We won’t be there for another five minutes and my hair is already falling out of the messy ponytail I shoved it into upon running out the door. I’m scared to death, and Josh knows it. He looks away from the wheel and over at me. “You’re white as a ghost.”
“You’re very observant.”
“Gee, thanks. What’s wrong?” It’s a stupid question, the answer to which Josh already knows, so I don’t bother to respond. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Even if I didn’t, now would probably not be the best time to back out, Josh. I’ve been trained, same as you. I know how to help these people.”
“I know you do.” He’s my mentor; he was there for all my training; he saw me pass the tests with flying colors. So why doesn’t Josh seem convinced?
Josh pulls Chevy pickup to a stop, and I gasp upon looking out the window- I have been rooting under the seat for my backpack, and as the damage a single tornado has caused meets my eyes, I’m unable to believe. “Bless us and save us, Mrs. Davis,” I whisper, a phrase I haven’t heard since fifth grade when Billy Mason would irritate Mrs. Lee.
I’m climbing out when Josh grabs my arm. “Veevie?”
“What?’
“Try not to get, like, too involved with the people. It just makes it harder.”
“Joshua, what is it that makes you assume I’m incapable of helping rescue these people? Is it the fact that I can’t pee standing up, or what?”
“I know you’re capable. Just...” he trails off. “be careful.”
“I know .”
We walk over to what seems to be the center of command, what looks to be the remainder of a ranch style home, where a stout woman with a clipboard is giving out orders. “Josh!” she says, upon seeing us.
“Hey, Tam. This is Aviva Collins- she’s mine. Student, that is- she’s a rescue rookie. Veevie, this is Tam Heathans, head of Tulsa Red Cross and an all-around great lady.”
Tam, a good twenty years older than Josh, blushes at his compliment and turns to me. “Aviva- that’s pretty.”
“Means ‘springtime’,” I tell her absently- I’m looking around at the millions and millions of tons of rubble that’s accumulated under the cloudy sky, the result of a storm that couldn’t have been more than thirty feet wide at its base, but with unfathomable power. I’m surrounded by whole houses reduced to piles of wood and brick, sprinkled throughout with small appliances, toys, and the occasional dresser filled with clothes.
“These people- their entire lives are out here,” I blurt without thinking.
Tam looks at me sadly. “Ah, the part they forget to tell you in training.” She snaps back to business and studies the clipboard. “Okay, guys, I think I’m going to split you up- Josh, they’re working with the dogs down a block or so, and they need strong bodies.” Tam’s hazel eyes take in my tiny, five foot three frame. “And Aviva, I think I’ll put you over with Liz. She’s doing primary med care, the less serious stuff.” She waves to a girl with a shock of bright red curls. “That’s her.”
“Sure.” I nod and head over to the tallish girl. “Hey.”
Liz smiles. “Hey, what’s up? I’m Liz.”
“Veevie.”
“Hey. So you’ve been through Red Cross Prep, I take it?”
“Yup.”
“Okay. Well, we’re doing what we can with the minor stuff- we’re massively short on supplies, as usual, but we’re doing okay. Um, that guy over there needs stitches in his lip, and you’ll find everything you need in the white van over there....” Liz goes on, and soon I’m stitching up Mr. Odessa, trying not to look too bewildered.
I haven’t been working for more than forty-five minutes when someone taps me on the shoulder; I turn around, expecting to see Liz. Instead, I’m met by Josh’s boyish face. “What’s up?”
“Well, Veevie, how’d you like to have some real fun?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“ You’re needed by my crew- there’s a guy stuck in the basement of a house that’s practically collapsed, and you’re the only person here small enough to get in there and get him out.”
I stare at him. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“Then you’re crazy.” I’m terrified at the thought of venturing into a house partially eaten by a tornado named Jackie- it was the only part of training I had a problem with- but Josh is challenging me with his eyes. He doesn’t think I’ll do it, I realize. He doesn’t think I have the guts. He doesn’t think I care enough.
“I’ll do it.”
Josh leads the way through the remnants of the outskirts of Tulsa to a house not unlike the one Tam is using for headquarters; however, the roof of this house is partially crumbled, and two of the walls have buckled, defeated. My breath catches in my throat, and I’m reminded, suddenly, of going to Playland when I was eight. My sister Thalia, my senior by four years, convinced me to ride the Big Bad Wolf, this huge roller coaster. I have a heights issue, but she convinced me it’d be fun, and, reluctantly, I agreed.
I was fine until we got to the first big hill. I didn’t say a word, but according to Thal, I gripped the handle of the car so tightly she thought I was going to pass out. I was sure I was going to die. That’s how I feel now: passionate fear, tinged with the mocking knowledge that I had yet again managed to get in over my head.
“She’s going to save this guy?” asks one of the burlier rescuers, and I flash him what my father likes to call “The Veevie Collins Death Stare”.
“Yes, I am. And since your substantial bodily proportions have rendered you unable to do so, sir, I ask only that you treat me with the same respect as you would anyone else. Or I might be forced to call you ‘Chub’.” Josh stifles a laugh, and some of the butterflies in my stomach die.
I’ve won Chub’s respect. He cocks an eyebrow and hands me a dirty, lemon yellow hardhat. “May the force be with you,” he intones solemnly.
“Okay, Veevie,” says Josh, pointing to what could only be described as hole construed by part of what was once the porch and the dusty cement of the driveway. “That’s where we need you to get into. Go down the incline about five feet and you’ll end up in the basement. We don’t think he’s hurt too badly-he can move, but he can’t walk. No neck injuries or anything, but one or both legs may be broken.”
“Ouch,” I commented. “Um, this probably makes me sound really dumb, but how exactly do you want me to go about getting him back up out of the hole? You keep calling him a guy, which implies weight.”
“It sounds gruesome, but if you can kind of drag him over to the bottom of the incline, we can get him up.”
“Ewww...you’re right. It does sound gruesome.”
Josh half-smiles, and gives me a quick hug. “You can do it. You know the drill, Veevie- no sudden movements. We don’t know how stable this house is.”
“Great,” I mutter, running a hand through my dark, wispy hair and putting on the hard hat. “Wouldn’t Mom love it if she knew I was doing this?” I take a deep breath and get down on my hands and knees, crawling into the tiny hole. “Wish me luck, everybody!”
Part Two
I’m first hit by the change of temperature when I get into the minuscule, tunnel-like space- the thick summer heat doesn’t reach this far. The air is filled with dust, though, and I say a silent prayer of thanks for the light on my hat. “Hello?”
“Fancy meeting you here,” says a voice up ahead.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m just great, thanks. Waiting for the tea and crumpets to be delivered.”
I giggle in spite of myself, and through the dust I see blond hair and blue eyes, which remind me of my aunt’s cat for some reason. “I can’t act official and help you if you’re going to make me laugh.”
“Sorry.”
“That’s okay. I could use a little bit of humor.”
“You could?”
“Okay, okay. Now, I have to get you out of here. Is it just your legs that hurt? Nothing in your neck or back?”
“Nope. Just my legs, which hurt like hell.”
“Promise me?”
“Girl Scout’s honor.”
I laugh again. I like this guy. God, Veevie. This whole rescuing thing will probably work better if you don’t try to pick up the guys you’re sent to rescue. “Okay. That’s actually good- that your legs hurt, I mean. It means that there isn’t any nerve damage.”
“Yippy skippy.”
“You’ll thank me later. Okay, what I’m going to do is move you a little, towards where I came in. There are a bunch of guys over there who’ll get you up from there.”
“Aright.”
I get a secure grasp under his arms from behind, and get him over a few feet. I stop dead when I hear the rumbling. Oh, God. Oh, God. Rumbling. Rumbling is definitely not good. Not good at all.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing.” I think fast. “They’re, uh, moving some of the rubble up above so we can get out without getting squelched.”
“Oh.” He doesn’t believe me, I can tell. I’ve always been a crappy liar. He’s not going to call me on it, though. He doesn’t have time. Just then, the ceiling, which was only a few feet above my kneeling body to begin with, crashes down even lower. The hole, our only source of natural light and only method of escape, crashes down as well.
They told me what to do in situation like this in training. Keep the victim calm at all costs, they said. Don’t panic. Help will come. Keep calm.
Whoever it was who wrote those instructions were obviously not trapped in a small, dark, coffin-like space with an invalid and no way out. I struggle to breathe.
“What’s your name?” he asks, out of the blue.
“Veevie.”
“Really?” He thinks a moment. “You look like a Veevie, I guess. I’m Taylor.”
“You look like a Taylor. Nice to meet you.”
“Veevie?”
“Yeah?”
“Was my family outside?”
“What’s your family look like?”
“Blond. And there are a lot of them- I have six brothers and sisters.”
He sounds scared for them, so I lie, and pray I do a better job of it this time. “Oh! Yeah, I saw them. A few bruises, nothing more. They’re fine.”
“Good.”
I find a lock of his hair and twist it around my finger, unaware I’m doing it.
“Veevie?”
“Yeah?”
“How old are you?”
I study his face in the eerie light being cast by the flashlight. “Older than you, I think. I’m seventeen.”
“Yeah. I’m sixteen.”
“Yeah? What grade?” I’m grateful for something, anything, to talk about- talking has always calmed me.
“I guess a junior- I’m home schooled.”
“Lucky!” I cry. “I always wanted my mother to home school me. I’m always so bored in school.”
Taylor’s hand finds mine, and I hang onto this stranger for dear life.
“Veevie?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you scared?”
“Why, are you?”
“Nah.” Now it is him who is lying, and he knows I know it.
“Me neither.”
Then I slip into oblivion.
