“Is everyone here?” Evan asked the room full of people breathing hard and shuffling blindly.
A series of exhausted voices spoke up between coughs. Evan counted eight including himself.
“Okay, that’s eight of us, and I’ve got Kylie, so that’s nine.” He had located a plush chair and was gently draping the girl’s body across it. “Alik, you have Mom, right?”
“Yeah, I have her. That makes ten.” Alik found a couch and was carefully laying her down on it. Theo was hovering anxiously beside him so Alik moved aside and let him have room to check her vitals even in the dark.
“Is Mom okay?” Alik’s voice cracked with fear.
Evan was too afraid to speak through his immediate sense of nausea at the thought that his mother was anything but fine.
“She’s breathing and her pulse is good. I think it’s just a matter of time before she wakes.” The brothers nudged Theo aside to be near her. He moved down to her feet, to allow the boys access to their mother. He began to unlace her shoes. He eased them off her cold feet, then worked on removing the dripping socks beneath.
In the inky-black room, Evan felt for himself his mother’s pulse and breathing. Only then did he exhale the breath he was holding.
“Hey, Ev. A little light, please?” Theo called from the other end of the sofa.
“Light. Sure, I can try.” Evan reluctantly let go of his mother’s hand to stand and look around for a light source he could capture and amplify. “The sandstorm has blocked any moonlight and my lighter is waterlogged in my pocket.”
“Let me see what I can find in the kitchen,” Alik offered.
“I’ll help,” Farrow spoke from a corner of the room.
A tremendous gust of wind shook the wood framed house violently. What sounded like pictures came crashing to the floor having been knocked clean off the walls. Everyone instinctively crouched and threw their hands over their heads.
Maze huddled protectively atop Danny who drifted in and out of consciousness on the floor in the middle of the room.
When the wind eased up, Alik and Farrow stood and instinctively reached out for one another.
“Everyone okay?” Sloan asked.
Another round of responses rose from the ink black room.
“I’m going to see what I can find to shove against the windows,” Creed stood from his crouched position and started walking carefully toward the wall taking the brunt of the pounding. Broken glass and wayward sand crunched beneath his heavy boots as he moved to locate the windows. Even with his naturally adept night vision, he was struggling to make out more than hints of silhouettes around the blackened space.
Alik and Farrow walked, hands outstretched, feet shuffling until they found a corridor that led to the kitchen.
“You start here, and I’ll go to the other side. They have to have left something helpful somewhere,” Alik hoped out loud.
“Right,” Farrow coughed. Her hands found a drawer and opened it to feel around at the contents.
Hand towels.
The next drawer clanged loudly when she yanked it open. Careful to avoid sharp edges, she felt around the utensils inside.
“Wait, I’ve found a bunch of candles, but I don’t feel any matches. Dang it!”
“Well they have to have some somewhere if they’ve got candles,” Farrow offered.
Alik stopped to cough deeply before returning to the search—reaching into one cabinet after another, finding useless cups, plates and bowls.
“Can I help?” Cole’s voice sounded from the general direction of the doorway.
“Sure,” Farrow and Alik said at the same time.
Moments later, the room filled with the distinct sound of matches being shaken in a box. “Found ‘em,” Cole chirped happily.
“Where were they?”
“I tripped over what felt like a toddler sized rocking chair out there.”
A sandpaper-gritty sound blended with the roar of sand pelting the house. Cole held the lit match above his head as they looked around orienting themselves.
“I figured the parents probably put the matches on top of the refrigerator. At least, that’s what my dad did when I was a kid.” He shrugged before turning to head back to the others. Alik grabbed a candle before he and Farrow hurried after him, following the yellow glow.
“Cole found matches!” Farrow announced just as the flame singed Cole’s fingers and went out.
“Ouch!”
“Thank goodness!”
“Excellent!
Again, they heard the distinct sound of a sulfur-tipped match being dragged across sandpaper and another match was lit. “It’s all you, Ev.” Cole nodded in the dim light across the room to Evan.
Evan couldn’t help but grin as he reached his left hand out ready to grab the flame.
Light having nothing to do with the flame Cole held blossomed just above his open palm. A churning orange sphere glowed hot and alive a hair’s breadth above his skin.
“That’s different,” he breathed, honey eyes locked onto the ethereal-looking orb.
He opened his palm wider and the ball grew in dimension and brightness.
“How are you doing that?” Farrow asked, amazed.