To The Grave

Chapter 8. Randall. Day 46.

I sat on the futon, staring at the ceiling. "Are you awake?" Marty's voice took me by surprise. I sat still, remaining quiet. Pretending I was asleep was easier than talking about what happened.

He sighed, shuffling around on his bed. I listened to the flick of his lighter, smelling smoke begin to fill the room. He moved off his bed, moving closer, he pushed the window open, stepping over me to climb out onto the roof. He groaned softly in pain, his chest black and blue with bruises.

It was quiet for a moment, before the sound of an acoustic guitar filled the night air. I continued staring at where the wall met the ceiling, the green paint spilling off the wall onto the popcorn ceiling.

I pulled down on the sleeves of my sweater, feeling the cold setting in against my bruised body. A loud roar echoed through the air, not coming from Marty or the guitar. I sat up, looking at the large airplane flying close to the ground. I leaned out the window watching it suddenly rocket for the sky. Something fell out of the bottom of the plane, sinking towards the ground.

"Woah!" Marty set the guitar beside him, shuffling to his feet.

A loud blast filled my ears. I looked up as fire erupted in the distance. Marty climbed quickly into the house, hearing two more loud blast fire in the distance. He pulled the window shut, looking at me. I moved my face closer to the glass seeing the fire blast through the air, spreading across the city at the bottom of the hill.

I pushed the window open, hoping to hear the sound of sirens wailing in the distance. I could hear screams, but no help was coming. The bedroom door flew open, Ferris shining a flashlight on the two of us. He looked up the hallway, his sisters running into the line of view from my spot on the futon. I looked back out the window, seeing the fires burning brightly.

I turned back to Marty, watching as he pulled a jacket over his long, scarred arms, pushing the window open. He stepped out onto the roof. "Marty, get back inside." Molly's voice shouted across the room.

"No, I want to see if it's spreading." He yelled back.

The loud plane roar came back. I leaned out the window, pulling Marty back into the house. Another loud blast exploded, rattling the earth beneath the foundation. Marty jumped back up, looking at the fire again.

"Kids!" A scream echoed from downstairs. Molly and Ferris ran down the stairs, leaving Marty and I with their younger sister. Marty fixed the sleeves of his jacket, watching the flames outside.

Molly ran back up the stairs, rushing into the room. She pushed her faded pink hair away from her face, "Pack your shit, then go downstairs to help mom and dad pack." She ran the back of her hand across her cheek, pulling her sister to their bedroom.

I grabbed my backpack from under the futon, pulling the zipper open. I pushed my glasses onto my face, looking back at Marty. He was reaching into the space between his mattress and the wall. His thin fingers pulled out a plastic bottle of Fireball. He placed the bottle to his lips, taking a large shot as he stood up. The bottle was tossed into the air, the liquid swirling around the bottle, landing in my lap.

He moved across the room, pulling his closet, open he tossed clothes across the room onto his bed. I unscrewed the red metal cap, dropping it onto my lap. I took a long sip of the whiskey, squinting at the flavor. I stood up, replacing the cap and gathering the last bit of my belongings.

I looked around my room at what little remained. I lifted my backpack up, slinging it over my shoulder. The world outside was loud, screams and sirens wailing in the distance. I turned out of my bedroom, closing the door behind me. The house was silent, as it had always been. I pulled the little remaining food from the kitchen cupboard, shoving the can of chips and single pack of Pop-tarts into my bag.

I pushed my front door open, looking at the chaos down the street. I set my skateboard on the pavement, pushing myself up the street, towards the school. Everyone seemed to be heading there, directed by the police officers standing on every corner.

A large perimeter was set up around the school. Large trucks sat in the parking lot, blocking off most of the view inside. Crowds pushed against me, shoving for their spot inside. A large school bus moved away from the front of the school, revealing a large crowd shouting and demanding they leave next.

"Kid, where's your parents?" A voice asked me. I looked up at an officer, young and blonde. Her eyes were overtaken with fear and stress, yet she remained calm as she spoke to me.

I shook my head. I shook it because it had gotten easier through the years than to say my father had died. I was six years old when it happened. I had seen it. I had accepted it. But now, I had no idea how to say my mother had died, that I had heard it but been unable to do anything because I was on the other side of her desperate phone call. So I just shook my head.

She nodded, not needing a further explanation. "You can call me Clarke." She turned around leading us to the front doors of the school. Her fingers pointed to a bench. "Just wait around here, buses have been coming every half hour to take more people to the major cities."

She quickly rushed off, being swept away in the waves of people. I looked down at my phone, pressing my fingers against the screen as I walked away from the crowded front of the building. I moved the phone to my ear.

"Marty, I'm at the school. It's crowded as hell, and- Courtney?" I asked, looking at the blonde girl.

She turned around, revealing a puffy tear-stained face. "Randall." She shouted my name, pushing her body closer to mine.

"We'll be there in like an hour, my mom wants to pack everything." Marty sighed into the phone, trailing off to argue with someone. I hung up, shoving the phone into my pocket.

"Where's Calvin and your parents?" I asked the girl still hugging me.

"My mom never came home yesterday. My dad left to find her late last night." She stopped, looking at the large tear in her jacket. "Calvin didn't make it." She whispered the words, just loud enough to be hear through the cries and chatter around us.

Marty grabbed his drum sticks, holding them tightly in his hands as he moved away from the drum set. He looked at the instruments lined up in his room. He shook his head frustrated, "I'm pretty pissed to leave all my stuff behind."

I rushed down the stairs, finding his older brother helping pack what little was left of the food into a laundry basket. Their dad carried it out to the car. I moved outside, feeling the heat from the fires. I set my backpack next to the car, helping load in everything.

"We should take two cars. Mine is bigger than Molly's, we can carry twice as much stuff." Ferris stood near the front porch steps.

"That's twice as much gas." Their father shook his head.

"Twice as much food, clothes, water, and gas we can carry." Marty spoke up. I stood back, watching him keep shoving supplies into the car. "Also I mean I'd rather spend the next I don't know how long, in a car with just Ferris and Randall than in a car with everyone."

"You're an ass. Get your three's shit in there." Their dad let out a long sigh, looking back down the road at the fires.

I grabbed my backpack, running down the driveway to Ferris' car. I pulled the door open, tossing my stuff inside. I turned back down the road, hearing a loud explosion. A large cloud of smoke erupted into the sky. I looked back to Marty, seeing him carry out the last bit of stuff from the house. The girls closed the door behind them, climbing into the SUV. I climbed into the car, watching as we pulled away from the house.

We followed the white SUV out of town, following a few other cars. I rolled the window down, reaching down into my backpack, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. I opened the box, pulling out two. I tossed one into the passenger seat, watching Marty catch it. He pressed the window down, lighting the toxic smoke.

"I liked that house a lot." Marty whispered, blowing out smoke.