Abandon — reading order
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Canto Four
They were speeding down a dark road when Dan reached back to place a hand on his daughter. “How’s she doing?”
“She’s starting to calm down,” Peter said.
“No...” Gemma said, crying. “She’s starting to die. Please Dan, get us there soon, or she’s not going to make it.”
He could hear his daughter’s light grunts and heavy breathing. “I’m sorry,” she said, in her little girl voice. The kid who had just graduated fifth grade was coming out again.
“It’s okay, honey,” Dan said, wiping a stream of tears from his eye. “It’s okay.”
His eyes darted back to the road as a car came at them. He hit the brakes just in time to miss the front end of the vehicle. It barreled past them and crashed into the side of a house. The car went through the wall, stopping inside the living room.
Dan snapped out of his stupor at the sound of his wife screaming, “Go!” He hit the gas and sped down the road, still looking back at the gaping hole in the house through his side mirror.
Minutes later, they reached Billy’s house. It was a large ranch style home, occupying the corner lot at the crossroads. Dan slid between two large oak trees, and came to a stop in the man’s green, front yard. The SUV left deep, muddy tracks across the grass. Dan jumped out and yanked open the back door. Peter handed off Ann’s legs and then crawled out. Dan slid the unconscious girl out and cradled her in his arms.
“Dan!” Gemma said, getting out. “What if they’re sick too?”
He stared at her for a few seconds, uncertain what to do and then rushed up to the front stoop. He banged on the door once and it opened. Billy, an older man with salt-and-pepper hair, a chubby face, and large-rimmed glasses, stood behind the threshold with a double barreled shotgun pointed at Dan.
“Billy, I need your help. It’s Ann,” he said, but Billy could see the blood dripping off her limp hands and onto the concrete.
“What’s wrong with her?” he asked from behind the gun.
“She cut her own wrist,” Dan said. “She’s dying. Please…”
“Barbara, get the first aid kit!” he yelled over his shoulder. He pointed the gun at Gemma and the boys. “They stay outside.”
“It’s too dangerous out here,” Dan said. “Have you seen what’s going on?”
Billy exhaled hard, lowered the gun. “Around back is a door that leads into my crawl space. I don’t want you in my house, but you can stay down there for now.”
Gemma grabbed her terrified boys and led them around the side of the house without looking away from Dan. Their eyes were locked until she disappeared around the corner, and he was left there with Billy. The weight of his daughter bore down on his shoulders.
“Inside,” Billy said, holding the door. Dan rushed into the house and Billy closed the thick wooden door and bolted it. “Put her on the island in the kitchen.”
Dan ran to the kitchen and laid his daughter on the marble top. Barbara, a thin, frail woman with long, curly black hair, sat the first aid kit down next to Ann, and then grabbed some towels and a large pan of water. She reached into the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol. Billy cleaned the blood away by pouring water onto it and examined the wound the best he could.
“It’s been a while, but I think I can handle this. You need to go to your family,” Billy said. “I’ll let you know when I’m done.”
“But…” Dan said.
“No buts,” Billy said, stopping him. “I can’t work on your little girl if you’re standing over my shoulder. Go, I’ll take care of this. There’s a stairwell in the back on the left.”
Dan hovered a moment longer, watching as Billy worked on his daughter’s wrist. His little girl was unconscious, sleeping like the dead. He walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway. He found the door, unlocked it and stepped down into the damp crawl space below.
Once his foot hit the damp earth, he had to slouch his head and shoulders to move around. His wife and two sons were resting up against a cinderblock wall. All of them were crying. She had her arms around both, trying to console them but Dan could see it in her eyes: she needed them just as much.
“Is she all right?” she asked, sniffling.
“I don’t know,” he said. He slid down the wall next to Peter and put his arm around them. They all huddled a little closer, holding each other in a tight embrace.
“I shouldn’t have made fun of her so much,” Peter said.
Outside, they could hear howls and screams tearing through the night. Dan scooted closer to his son and took his hand, squeezing it. The nerve-wracking sounds carried on until just before dawn.
