The Chickadee Girl

Choices Made on a Tuesday Night

As she closed in on the chapel, Isa continued to call Tristan's name. Though she had no reason to think that he might be inside, the mere possibility filled her with dread. As she dashed over, she saw that the main doors had drifted open. She ran inside, and positioned herself in the doorway, looking wildly upwards for any sign that the ceiling was about to come crashing down on her head. There was no falling debris at all - the chapel ceiling looked the same as it always had. She made her decision.

"Tristan!" She surged forward and began digging through the rubble from the collapse, sure that at any moment she might find his body broken beneath a pew. The shattered stained glass from the high windows lay littered about her feet like jagged jewel-toned leaves. Deep green hymn books with the school logo emblazoned on their covers were strewn about; it looked as if someone had murdered a library. A haze of dust drifted in the air, as if some over the bricks had simply disintegrated, as opposed to falling. Desperate, she dug through hymn books and bricks and dust for a few minutes, choking and hacking as her lungs burned. Her eyes watered and stung. She continued to dig through the debris anyway, but as she overturned a splintered pew and scanned the floor, she could see that the collapse had been localized - the wall had simply fallen in, with no clear visual clue as to why. One thing, however, was clear: Tristan was not here. 

A brick or piece of plaster fell onto the piano, which was still shrouded in its black cover: a few dissonant notes reverberated through the chapel, a grim sound. She turned on her heel, and sprinted out of the building, pausing for only a split second when she heard a crack like splintering metal - the weather vane on top of the infirmary slid down the roof and clattered to the ground. She watched in disbelief as several tiles from the infirmary roof followed, each shattering into tiny pieces on the cement of the driveway below. 

What the hell was happening? This was no earthquake. Her feet were firmly planted on the ground. 

And now she was sprinting back in the direction of Peyman, only one thought keeping pace with her pounding feet: She had to find Tristan. 

She burst in through the front door of  her residence just as something shattered behind her: a window up in the dining hall had just smashed, seemingly of its own accord. She tore down the hall, and threw open the door to her bedroom. 

No one was there. 

Frantic, she checked under both beds, and in the closet. 

"Tristan! Tristan, if you're hiding from me, we have to run! Something's happening!" 

There was no answer. No footsteps in the hall, and no slamming of doors. 

She reeled, her panic deepening. "Tristan, please! Buddy, don't hide! I'm so, so sorry! I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you! I'm so sorry I left you alone! I was wrong!" 

Her faltering voice went nowhere - it was swallowed up by the carpet, and the empty rooms that surrounded her. She sprinted to the window, and looked outside - nothing. She ran from one end of the hall to the other, checking room after room for him. Calling him until her voice grew hoarse. He must have gone looking for her when she hadn't returned. Where could he be? 

She raced back into her room, and shut the door behind her. She paced the floor. Think, Isa. Where would he have gone? She stopped in her tracks, a thought half-formed.

Would he have...?

She never finished the thought, because suddenly she gasped and shrieked, startled by an abrupt and jarring noise. A noise she hadn't heard in over a month. It sounded like a scream, like a beast in pain. 

Tristan was gone - the light outside was failing. 

The payphone in the stair alcove was ringing.