Book 3 - Retrievers

III - Safe Room

Russia is dragged back toward the house, and he finds himself nearly tripping over his own feet. His head whips around, trying to see anything that would catch his eye. At first, nothing. Then, motion catches his attention. He focuses on it and sees what looks like a long pole swishing by.

His stomach sinks.

Wind rushes through his ears, and the siren distorts. It's choppy and broken. And the volume seems to keep increasing. His ears begin to throb, but with both his hands full, he can't do much about it.

America dismisses his magic.

'What was that?'

America pulls him along to the back door.

"What's going on?" Russia shouts.

"We just need to get back inside!" America yells back.

Russia notes the panic in America's face and begins running faster. America pulls open the backdoor and slams it closed as soon as Russia is inside.

The siren rings loudly from outside, and the inside of the house is eerily quiet.

"Where are the states?" Russia asks with a gasp.

"They're probably trying to get into the safe room. Come on," America says, pulling Russia back to a small, almost unnoticeable door under the staircase.

America knocks a rhythm on it and after a moment, it opens to Dixie poking his head around the door, and a gun barrel pointed out the crack. As soon as Dixie recognizes them, he sighs.

"Amy?"

"Yeah?"

"We can't stay down here for long."

"What do you mean?"

"That... thing done f***ed up the HVAC outside. We ain't got no circulation."

"Are you guys okay?!"

"Yeah, for now. Nothing's comin' in, but we at least have the exhaust leavin'. "

"Okay. Russ and I will go out there and see if we can get it working again," America says, finally turning to Russia, "if that's okay with you."

Russia nods and tries to ignore the sirens swelling outside. It sounds wrong.

"Is this what your tornado sirens sound like?" Russia asks, following America through the still house.

His skin pricks up at the emptiness.

America shakes his head, "No. This is just as wrong as you think it is."

America begins digging through a toolbag, handing Russia a large wrench and a Philips head screwdriver.

"Come on," America says, "let's make this quick."

Russia nods and follows America to the back door. America slowly opens the door, and the wall of sound hits Russia right between the eyes. He takes a sharp intake of breath and realizes that America had already left the doorway.

Russia closes the door and hurries to America's side, holding the broken bottle out in front of him.

Russia's footsteps are careful, and he tries to make them quiet, but he honestly can't tell how loud he is being because the noise remains obscured under the ringing.

Russia follows America around the outside wall to a choking air conditioning unit. Or at least, that's what it looked like. It whizzed and whirred loudly, shaking.

"Shit," America curses, "that's not good."

America walks around it and shuts it off.

The siren gets closer and swells in volume.