A few inside lights were still on, visible through the windows. Lacie knocked on the door several times, but there was no indication that anyone heard her. Once she spotted Charlie through the floor-to-ceiling panes of glass outside the main office, but his head was down and his earbuds were in, and he passed without a single glance her way. After a while she had to face the fact that she was not going to get back into the building to retrieve her phone.
Lacie looked heavenward into the inky blackness of the night sky. She could stay here, where the tiny bit of light that spilled out through the school windows gave her some small measure of comfort. Or she could go back to the empty parking lot and sit in her car until someone came looking for her. Between Corinne and Shane and their similar penchant for worrying about her, it shouldn’t be long at all.
That was a comforting thought.
A sudden flash of lightning and subsequent crack of thunder made her jump even as the first few fat drops of rain splattered in front of her. Decision made. Back to the car it was.
A vicious wind whipped up, lifting the maple leaf seeds into miniature tornadoes made visible with each subsequent streak of lightning. The storm was approaching hard and fast, something not unusual for the late spring when the daytime temps rose in stark contrast to the cool nights. Within seconds the skies opened up, and Lacie put on a burst of speed, running towards the safety of her car.
She rounded the corner, already drenched to the bone from the icy downpour. Huge puddles formed along the sidewalk; the rain came down in torrents, faster than it could drain away. Another booming crack of thunder hit so close she could feel the charge lifting the fine hairs on her soaked arms; behind her, the school went dark.
In the dark it was impossible to see where she was going; she knew only that she was headed in the right direction. She stepped off the sidewalk and right into a patch of mud. She’d been running so fast that it was impossible to adjust her momentum, and she skidded. There was a sharp stabbing pain in her ankle as her foot caught on something. The next thing she knew, she was looking up at the stormy sky.
She hit the ground hard. All of the air was knocked out of her lungs with a huge whoosh upon impact. Instinctively she opened her mouth to gulp in air, only to choke on the deluge of water pouring down onto her from the flooding gutters above. Forcing herself onto her side, she expelled the water in a series of racking coughs until she was finally able to take a breath.
She almost wished she hadn’t. A new rush of pain from her back, making it hard to expand her rib cage as she gasped for air. It joined with the burning flame shooting up from her ankle, the ache from her broken hand – which she was now sure extended to her wrist as well, and the sensation of a metal spike being driven into the back of her shoulder.
Lacie would have cried if she had been able to find enough air to do so. Instead, she clenched her teeth together and tried to push herself up, only to flop down in the mud several more times when her ankle refused to hold her weight. Resigned to crawling on her knees and one hand – at least it kept the rain out of her face – she finally started moving forward, seeking any kind of shelter.
“Lacie! Jesus Christ!” Suddenly strong arms were lifting her upward. She screamed at the pain the movement brought and heard a series of oaths in response. Then she was scooped up into powerful arms, held against a body covered from head to toe in a dark hooded rain slicker.
“Craig?” she croaked, recognizing the familiar scent of his aftershave. Her mind was so fuzzy; the sound of the rain mixed with a loud buzzing in her ears, making it difficult to hear a response.
“I’ve got you, baby. Jesus. Don’t talk. Hang on.”
Craig shifted her against his body as he opened the door to his SUV and lifted her inside. “Your truck...” she protested, knowing that she was covered in mud, dripping wet, and, if the warm, sticky stuff on her upper back was any indication, bleeding all over his new vehicle. The Durango was Craig’s pride and joy.
“Fuck the truck,” he growled. Her next feeble objection was lost as the passenger door slammed, instantly reducing the cacophony of the storm to the muffled deluge against the metallic exterior.
He joined her a minute later. The cab was so warm, and she was shivering uncontrollably. She felt a blanket being draped over her, and heard Craig asking her questions, but it was hard to concentrate when her head hurt so badly. She didn’t think she’d hit it – her shoulder had taken the brunt of the impact – but she must have jarred it enough to give her a nasty headache. And why was she so dizzy all of a sudden?
“Car wouldn’t work,” she mumbled as she fought to keep her eyes open. She should stay awake, she knew that, but it was a losing battle. “Lost my phone. Couldn’t call for help. I fell. Hurts.” Forming a coherent sentence was becoming increasingly difficult; single words were so much easier.