S. Bodeen - The Compound

Terese admonished me. “You said run. You didn’t say which way.”

Lexie was breathing hard as she set the little ones down. She shook out her arms. “We saw the helicopter and ran the other way.”

Terese put Lucas down and pointed at Lexie. “She made us keep running and running. I thought we were lost.”

I had to smile.

Lexie lowered her voice. “Where’s Dad?” I shrugged, then shuddered. “Either the helicopter or…”

She looked in the direction of the hatch. “Did it blow?”

“You didn’t feel it?”

She shook her head. “We smelled it, though.”

I took a deep breath, hoping it would clear my head. “We need to take care of Mom.”

Lexie clutched my arm. “And then what do we do?”

“We wait.” I grabbed a hand of each of the little ones, while Lexie and Terese each took one of Lucas’s hands. Once we reached Mom, I plopped down beside her and spread out my legs, trapping Quinn between them. He leaned back into me and pointed skyward. “Pitty. Pitty.”

I looked up at the stars. “Yeah, they are pretty.”

Within moments, the sky grew lighter in the east, and I could see everyone more clearly.

Mom still seemed to be resting okay. Her hair had drifted around her face and she looked peaceful.

Lucas found a stick and drew in the dirt, humming as he worked.

Cara took handfuls of dirt and screeched as she threw them up into the breeze.

Terese held her arms out to her sides and spun and spun and spun, until she got so dizzy she fell, giggling, to the ground.

Lexie undid her braid, spread her hair out on her shoulders, and stood, eyes closed, as the wind softly blew her long hair out behind her.

I saw a couple of lights in the still dark sky to the west. As they neared, I started to hear them. On my feet at once, I said, “Helicopters.”

Lexie came to my side.

Terese stood on my other side and leaned into me, linking her arm in mine. She was shaking. “Are they good or bad?”

I put an arm around her. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

The choppers landed about a hundred yards away. The dust rose in swirls around them. One was very big and nearly a dozen people got out. Several wore flak jackets and carried weapons.

I nudged Lexie. “Get the little ones.”

They were just a few feet away, and she quickly hustled them over to where we stood.

Other men got out of the helicopter and started our way.

I took a few steps in front of my family, arms out to my sides. “Stay behind me.”

Through the haze of dust, we saw someone leap out of the helicopter. Someone not in uniform. There were shouts, and one of the uniformed men grabbed him immediately, trying to restrain him, but his arms and legs thrashed, and he broke free, running in our direction, the others giving chase.

But they couldn’t catch him. He would reach us before they did, and I had no way of knowing his intentions.

My stance became wider, firmer.

But as he got closer, I saw he was me. With longer hair.

My arms wavered where I held them.

But he couldn’t be me. Because he was screaming my name, long and drawn out, almost mournful.

He sprinted closer, arms pumping, legs nearly a blur, and I began to tremble.

When he got within twenty yards, he started to slow, until he was jogging, and then he was walking.

He was there, in front of me, and halted only a step away.

From behind me, in reverent tones, Terese and Lexie spoke his name.

My shaking arms dropped of their own accord. I stepped forward to close the gap between us and found myself wrapped in a tight embrace.

An embrace that smelled blessedly familiar of jerky, smoky and greasy.

Eddy.

My breaths became sobs that matched his, shudder for shudder.

We were saved.

THE FIRST RAYS OF MORNING SUN CREEP TOWARD ME AS I straddle my surfboard in the warm Hawaiian waves. Except for the waterproof brace on my wrist, I assume I’m indistinguishable from any of the other early-morning surfers bobbing near me. For all intents and purposes, I could be one of the locals, deeply tanned and taking advantage of the superb dawn wave action. Nothing on the outside gives any indication of where I’ve been and what I’ve seen.

The rescue is becoming a blur. I had been operating on adrenaline, and reuniting with Eddy had shut everything down, made me a basket case. But I do remember, quite clearly, parts of that night.

The FBI and National Guardsmen threw those shiny silver blankets over each of us and hustled us onto one of the helicopters. They wanted to take Mom straight to the hospital on the medevac chopper, but she refused to be separated from us. And we made our intentions just as clear not to be apart from her. So they flew us to our cabin, where they had set up a base of operations after Gram had called them about the IM conversation. Phil’s helicopter had led them right to us. On the ride, Mom clung to Eddy and cried, before releasing him long enough for him to meet his new siblings. He was surprised, but didn’t stop grinning for a second.

When we reached the cabin, the place was swarming with people in uniform. We stepped off the helicopter and I heard a bark.

Cocoa.

I leaned down, my arms embracing her as she leaped into me. Cocoa’s cold nose went straight into my neck.

“Hey, girl.”

In my ear were those little pig-like grunts she’d always made. Her tongue was warm and wet on my face, licking at the tears that were rolling freely again. I laughed, trying to push her down even as I petted her. She was a little gray around the muzzle, but still smelled like cedar chips and dog shampoo.

Then Gram was there. I waited my turn. As she came to me, sobbing and moaning, my mouth crumpled and I wept yet again. We all did. Gram encircled me with her ample arms and smothered me with kisses that left me reeking of White Shoulders and Bengay. Nothing ever smelled so good to me.

Els stood behind her, tinier than I remembered. I towered over her by more than a foot. Naturally her expression was one of disapproval. But I was even relieved to see her. With tears still running down my face, my arms went around her, picking her up off the ground.

She smacked me on the head with her purse. “You brat.”

I set her down. Not before I noticed she had tears in her eyes. With one small, wrinkled hand she reached up to pat my face. “The house was too quiet. I haven’t had a headache for six years.”

I laughed and told her not to get used to it.

After our initial family reunion, a few members of the FBI pulled me aside for questioning. Of course, everyone thought Dad had been killed in an RV fire with the rest of us six years ago. Although the rest of us showing up alive shot some major holes in that story, and we had proof he’d been alive in the Compound: four more siblings. But we had no proof he wasn’t dead now. Because we actually didn’t know ourselves.

Medical personnel flew Mom to the hospital in Spokane where she had our little brother, Finnegan. We were all reunited a couple days later at our house in Seattle. We flew on a private jet, and on the drive from the airport, I stared out the limo’s privacy glass at the world I hadn’t seen in so long.

I hadn’t expected people to be flying in spaceships, but I was a little disappointed. Other than different makes and colors of cars, and new buildings everywhere, the changes were subtle. I didn’t feel as alien as I’d expected. The world had gone on without us, but we hadn’t been left behind.

The first week home was a nightmarish one of being surrounded 24/7 by news vans topped with satellite dishes, and reporters doing the evening news. We kept the curtains shut and watched television, careful to stay away from any news channels. Which seemed to be every other channel. So we watched reality television. Like the people on the islands who had to survive on nothing and then got voted off. Funny, none of us really liked that one. Too big a dose of reality.