Free Her Yearning for Blood by Tim Greaton

 
     
    Her Yearning f or Blood
    Episode One
     
    1
     
    Three loud explosions sent dust spew ing up like a sooty volcanic plume above the abandoned military base. I gritted my teeth and rushed a s fast as my leg brace and crutches would allow a cross the endless, cracked expanse of concrete . The acres of hard, bleached concrete was all th at remained of the military buildings that had been torn down and hauled off when the town council had forced the US Army out of town fourteen years e arlier . Far ahead, the distant tree line towered over sparkles of afternoon sunlight that reflect ed off the windshields of several parked cars at the overgrown entrance . Glancing back, I saw a dark haze filling the sky. Another explosion vibrated the ground beneath my feet and sent s omething whizzing p ast my head . Ducking and twisting sideways, I caught one of my crutches on the rough concrete . For one terrifying second, I thought I might fall and re-shatter my right knee. Fortunately, fate and my instinct to shift my weight to the opposite crutch k ept me upright even as the padded aluminum stabbed into my left armpit.
    I gasped with pain and drew in a shuddered breath.
    The air smelled like a mixture of burnt rubber and diesel exhaust . I coughed, pulled myself upright and rubbed under my arm and along sore left ribs as I tried to get my bearings. I was no longer sure I faced the cars, and t he filthy cloud had already filled the sky making it impossible to see the treetops ahead. Tiny specks of black began to fall like ash from a nuclear winter.
    It terrified me to think what the boys might have done .
    A dozen teenage girls scream ed somewhere behind me . Their male counterparts yell ed from someplace further off . I couldn’t believe that I had willingly let myself become part of this catastrophe.
    “Rachel, Amanda ! ” I called out .
    When neither friend responded, I hobbled toward what I hoped was Amanda’s car. The screaming faded as I swung through the flat, murky landscape. Soon, the only sounds I heard were the soft thud of my crutches touching down and the swish of cloth as I swung forward again .
    Thud, swish. Thud, swish.
    I had only been to the base a few times but had noticed that concrete-sealed manholes dotted the edge of the military base every few hundred feet. I always assumed the y were old wells or maybe vents to the soldiers’ septic system , but the boys at school had been convinced they were entrances to all manner of underground military secrets. When I heard they had planned to find their way in to those vertical tunnels , I imagined pry bars and sledge hammers, certainly not explosives! Any fool should have known better , especially if the rumors of secret laborator y catacombs and stockpiles of weapons were true . E xposing them to explosives should have been the last thing anyone wanted to do.
    I never should have come.
    Thud, swish.
    I stopped to massage my aching side and felt pretty certain I had cracked a rib . At th is rate, I would be in a wheelchair before senior year even started.
    “Rachel, Amanda!”
    It was getting hard to breathe and the smog burned the inside of my nose and throat. Covering my mouth with my blouse collar , I inhaled several semi-clean breaths. T he cloud of grit continued to drift and swirl downward, making it impossible to see. How had I let Amanda talk me into this ?
    B ut even as I asked the question , I knew the answer : I had hoped Evan would be here.
    Stupid!
    I’d already crippled my self for him, and still he didn’t—
    No. I would not allow myself to complete the thought.
    Idiot !
    “Rachel, Amanda!” I yelled . I w ait ed thirty seconds and yelled again .
    The last I knew, Amanda had been flirting with a football player near one of the concrete manholes and Rachel had been with the new boy who had moved in to the low-income apartment complex where she and her grandmother lived. That left me alone to wander in hopes of finding Evan who, of course, would