Ell Sadem

ELEVEN: FALLOUT

—Ella—

Numbness is all there is. Numbness and an acute burn behind my eyelids. I want to sleep. I want to lie down and never get up again. He is dead. Uncle Kieth is dead. That is why Dad can't work things out with him, and that is why I can't just go to his house instead of Gramma's. I let my head fall back against the tree, the light still burning through my eyelids and heating my skin.

Leaves crunch and twigs snap. Voices murmur like the breeze.

A cold touch grazes my cheek.

I flinch away, eyes snapping open to stare at the offending hand and then at the impassive face it belongs to.

Hollow and cold eyes stare down at me, "Does anything hurt?"

I shake my head dumbly, words stuck in my throat.

"Let's get you somewhere safe, then, shall we?" The rank-less medic nods and stands, towering over me.

I scramble to get up, my legs wobbly as I stagger away from him. My knee buckles and I fall back.

Multiple pairs of eyes fall on me, no ranks over their heads.

—|—

—Cowell—

An ambulance's red and blue lights flash as the coroners load a body bag into the back. A few uniformed officers and what looks like an MP roam the parking lot.

I slow and swing into a parking space beside a patrol car, my hands sweaty and my chest tight. Stupid. I'm stupid. That's all there is to it and no amount of mental gymnastics can change that. My fingers deftly fumble with my seatbelt, and I don't think to close my door as I climb out, the morning air dank with the stench of death.

A man in a dark gray suit bristles as I approach, "The road's been blocked off, you're not supposed to be here."

I stop just out of reach and pull open my jacket to show him my badge clipped to my belt, "One of those body bags has a suspect for a case I'm working." It's only partly a lie.

Just from the way he walks, I can tell he's got a gun, and by how close his hand is to his side he's itching to use it. Dubious expression aside, he nods a gesture and holds his hand out.

I take the hint and toss him my badge. Shifting, I scan the treeline behind him; he's got to be here somewhere.

The officer looks up at me after a second, eyebrow raised. "Cowell?"

"That is my name, yes."

He just stares for a long moment as if contemplating something, then holds out my badge.

I grab it from him, a lump growing in my throat. He has to know the body isn't why I came. "Where are they?"

"The kids?"

"No, the monkeys." I shift, aggravation forming like an unreachable itch.

The guy's lip twinges into a sneer that he hides when he turns and starts walking towards the trees, "The Hayes boy's getting looked after in one of the cruisers and the other one's getting his statement taken but Mercy went up a tree and we can't coax her down."

The tension in my jaw builds, and it's all I can do to pry my teeth apart so I don't break them. "The groundskeeper doesn't have a ladder you can use?" Why doesn't he mention a fourth?

"She's too high."

Of course she is. She was anxious enough already; throw in a shooting and finding her uncle strung up dead in a tree, and she's bound to be as skittish as a wild deer. "And you've contacted her parents?"

"The call wouldn't go through, so we sent a uniform after them."

The call didn't go through? I don't like that. The landlines don't just go down the way cell signals do, not anymore. I pull out my phone and punch in the dad's number.

The line is nothing but empty static—no ringing, no error tone.

I stare at my phone, check the signal, then redial. Both landline and cell? His daughter just happens to find his brother dead next to the guy who tried to kill her after stalking her for years, and no one can contact him? If this is the Covot again, so help me I'm going to blow my own brains out to save them the trouble. I'd thought I left them in the Citadel with the rest of that nonsense.

"Mr. Cowell?" Robbie's voice cuts through the thick atmosphere.

I turn, looking for the face that usually comes with trouble.

The kid squeezes between two officers, pulling away from a medic, "Get OFF!" He nearly swings at the guy.

"Hands in your pockets, kid!" I make a beeline for him, my heart moving into my throat.

He makes a final jerk to pull the guy off of him, glaring at him as he sticks his hands in his pants pockets, shoulders squared and legs braced.

I wave the medic off as I approach; he doesn't look like he needs it anyway. When I get close enough, I put a hand on his shoulder, "What hap—."

"I'm sorry." His face contorts from his earlier defiance to ashy panic, "I'm sorry, we were just goofing around and I don't—I don't know how it happened he was right in front of us!" He rakes his fingers through his hair pushing it back out of his face. "Then Ella freaked out on us and we went after her and, and I don't know, he just wasn't there!"

"Slow down," I grab both his shoulders to try to get him to look at me. "Now, from the start; what happened to my son?"

Robbie takes a deep breath, "Okay, so you know that stupid story about a dugout that comes and goes? Well, Mark found it and we went to explore it for fun and Ella tagged along. We go in, Ella stays out, asks where he is and we somehow didn't remember him coming but he did—I know he did—next I know it's day, my watch is wrong, and there's two people in a frikn' tree!"

All I can physically do is stare, my mind not fully processing what I just heard.

"You don't believe me, do you?" A little anger twinges in his voice, his hands balling into fists as he glares up at me.

"I haven't said anything yet, kid." I let my hands drop and step back. "If you found Paddler's Dugout, then take me to it."