Storm

Chapter 7

Marylou's hand was moist with saliva, and the shitty part was that it wasn't even her own.

"Keep quiet," she hushed in Amy's ear.

Just outside past the door and the thin classroom walls they could hear the men walking by and mumbling to each other, and when Marylou pushed the door ever so slightly to look outside, she saw the halos of the men's flashlights scanning wildly, growing bigger, closer by the second, sweeping the extension of the corridor in search for life.

Roaming gangs. Drifters. Men in packs scouting the wilderness of the Storm. They were almost exclusively bad news, in Marylou's experience. She'd take a deep breath and face the rain and the fear of Ghosts, given the lack of options, no problem, but she'd hide and run and cower from real people walking in groups like those guys with their bats and guns and their sense of morality long washed out with the rain, if ever it was there.

The Ghosts Marylou had never seen kill anyone. Other people, well... Marylou had the scars to justify avoiding them.

Now the door was closed again, and the voices put the men right outside the door, and Amy's breath was wet and irregular against the palm of Marylou's hand and Marylou wished someone would press a hand against her mouth too, because she felt like screaming some bad words.

Amy whined and Marylou pulled her close and locked eyes. She breathed in, slow and strong, and puffed out like a cigarette drag, and poked Amy in the chest for her to do the same. Then again, then again. Keep calm. Breathe with me.

Amy breathed in and out, in and out, following Marylou's command, and her chest seemed to slow down a bit and her eyes went softer. Marylou nodded and forced a faint smile between her lips.

"There's a fire here," she heard one of the men calling, outside. "Still smoking."

"Windows are boarded all over the place too," another one called. "Someone definitely uses this place as a hideout. Or used it, until very recently."

"Maybe they heard us coming and fled."

"Let's be safe. Check the classrooms."

Marylou felt Amy's lips tremble against her hand. She pushed herself against the door and pulled Amy with her. Be cool. Be cool. No sound. No tears.

Come on, Amy. Be scared of Evil Noodle all you want, but right now, with these guys out there, I need you to woman up.

It was an internal room they were in. No windows, just a ventilation opening over the blackboard, sealed with bolts and not wide enough for either of them.

Marylou heard the screech of a door coming open, close, and steps fading out then back in, somewhere to their right, maybe the adjacent classroom. Not far.

A loud crash startled her to a jump, and by a hair's breadth she didn't scream.

"What was that!?" the man's voice called.

"Window just gave in," the other one replied. "Shit, rain's mean tonight."

"It's been like that for the past few days. It' getting worse, I told you."

"Here goes Donny with the crazy talk again."

"I'm telling y'all, it's coming back. There's gonna be another Fall."

"There's gonna be another Fall, yeah, yeah, and the government is responsible for The Storm, and the Ghosts are really FBI agents with invisibility suits and the president is a lizard."

There was laughter and a resented grunt and footsteps growing closer, closer, closer, louder and louder and in a second Marylou's whole body jerked as she felt the movement in her back. The doorknob turning against her skin, twisting the fabric of her shirt. She pressed back and slid down to the floor and pulled her hand from Amy's mouth and stuffed it between her teeth and bit and closed her eyes and prepared for the worst as the door leaned slowly back.