Henry Franks A Novel

thirty one





In the flashes of lightning, Henry caught glimpses of his father struggling to breathe. Justine’s arms were warm around him, but he couldn’t stop shivering. His father kept talking, struggling to stand up as words dripped out like individual drops of blood.

“When you woke up I called Dr. Saville,” his father said. “She left Birmingham to try to help you but there was little she could do. Then, a few months ago, I woke Chrissy up. Thought I’d figured it out.”

The hissing was everywhere, thunder and wind buffeting the house. Rain beat against the roof as though they lived under a waterfall.

“What?” Henry asked. “Figured out what?”

“Fix her.” His father gasped, then closed his eyes, collapsing back to the floor as he turned his head to look at Henry. “Didn’t … ” he said. “Didn’t work.”

“Dad?”

“I kissed her. One last time.” A tear fell, mixing with the blood. “Was going to end it, finally.”

“Oh,” Henry said, his hand falling to his side.

William took a deep breath, eyes wide and white in the darkness between lightning strikes. “She bit me. Broke free.” He sighed, turned away. “I tried to find her. You have to believe me. I tried. Left food and medicine out for her, Henry. I tried.”

Henry moved his hand forward to rest on his father’s arm once again.

“Then what happened?” Justine asked.

“Murders. Started a couple days later. I don’t know what she’s doing any longer.” He turned to face his son, fighting to stand up again. “I’m sorry.”

Lightning threw shadows around the room. Outside, a shutter ripped off with the sound of breaking wood. The front door banged open in the wind. They heard it rip away, flying down the hallway to crash against the wall.

“Get out,” William said. “Henry, go!”

“We’re not leaving you.”

Justine slid around him, reaching out a hand to help William stand, tugging on his sleeve.

Thunder rocked the house; for a moment, the hissing stopped. Then, louder than before, it was everywhere, crawling across their skin. Lightning strobed through the rain as the wind pressed in against them, shooting through the open front door.

“Find another way out,” his father said, kicking with shaking legs to slam the bedroom door closed. “Just leave me here.” He reached his hand up to his face, looking at the blood on his fingers. “I waited when I got home for her to come in from the storm. She attacked me.”

“Dad.”

The door to the bedroom crashed back open.

“She’s here! Go!” William thrust himself out of their grip, standing on shaking legs between the doorway and them. He looked back at Henry. “Get out!”

He picked up the floor lamp and then pointed at the window, its broken shutters flapping like wings. “Now!”

“I love you,” Henry said, but the storm drowned out the words.

William shook his head, then turned back to the door, wiping the blood out of his eyes so he could see.

The hissing came closer, carried on the wind, along with rain and leaves and branches freshly ripped off trees and still trailing Spanish moss. William swung the lamp around, threatening his balance.

Glass shattered as Henry battered at the window with the IV stand, clearing a space. Using the shaft, he broke out the jagged pieces from the bottom of the sill, then helped Justine through. Sharp edges cut her fingers and one of the shutters caught her side as she fell to the ground. Henry took one last look at his father then jumped through, breaking the remaining glass with his shoulder and landing hard on his side in a pile of broken branches.

Wind pounded them flat and the trees above them swayed beyond the tipping point, almost touching the ground. Rain hit hard enough to bruise, pounding into them. More branches whipped by, striking exposed skin and drawing thin trails of blood across their faces.

Henry scrambled to Justine, covering her with his body as the storm’s fury washed over them. The remaining shutters beat against the house in time with the thunder.

Rain stormed through the house as William backed up against the wall, swinging the lamp in circles. Between flashes of lightning, Chrissy entered the room, hair flying around her face in the wind.

“Henry?” she asked, the name nothing more than a hiss.

William held the lamp in front of him, the point dipping toward the ground as he ran out of strength to hold it up. In the shadows, he held his arms out to his wife.

“Chrissy.” Blood dripped into his eyes and he swayed with the wind, too weak to fight the pressure of the storm. “I love you.”

His knees buckled, dropping him to the floor as the lamp clattered away.