Free ALLUSIVE AFTERSHOCK by Susan Griscom Page B

while we had it, but I knew we needed to get home.
    “Good luck!” I shouted
over my shoulder and waved. The fire across the way took hold of the brush
where Max and I had been sitting only moments ago, engulfing the entire area in
flames as we hurried away toward the mountain.
     

~~ Courtland ~~
     
    At the sight of all the
destruction, I slowed to a jog. I wanted to get home as quickly as possible,
but the damage was devastating and shocking. No doubt my dad would be too drunk
to figure out what happened. I began running again, hoping he’d been sober
enough to take cover when the earthquake struck. My nostrils filled with the
stench of smoke and burnt rubber and I slowed down as a man staggered toward me.
Blood marred his face and his eyes darted around in confusion.
    “Are you okay?”
    The man stopped and gave
me a dazed and distant stare. “Uh, yeah. I ah … wouldn’t go that way if I were
you.” He pointed in the direction behind him. “Fire up the entire street. No
way to get through.”
    I studied the road behind
him. Smoke polluted the sky, changing it into a thick, black mass. “Thanks.” No
point in trying to go that way. I headed in the opposite direction, taking off
toward the woods. This way was faster anyway. I ran as quickly as I could, not
stopping until I got to my driveway and froze. My breath caught in my throat as
I watched flames engulf my entire home. Fear swept through me and I prayed my
dad wasn’t inside.
    I ran closer to the
inferno, shouting, “Dad, Dad! Where are you?” The roar of the fire was
deafening and muted my shouts. I stepped back unable to stand the intensity of
the heat, and then sprinted to the rear of the house. “Dad, please, Dad! Where
are you?”
    I had no choice but to
watch as flames devoured my house, my things, everything I possessed in this
life. Was my dad inside? God. “Dad, where are you?” I shouted over and over
again until my throat felt like sandpaper, until no more sound escaped. Dad
… please answer. Don’t leave me .
    He was all I had, even
though he spent most days in the company of a bottle of Jack, not really
noticing whether I was around or not. I couldn’t lose him like I lost my mom.
She died when I was ten. A freak patch of black ice covered the road and she
lost control of the car as it spun a one-eighty and slammed head-on into a
tree. They said she didn’t suffer. I don’t know for sure. Life was never the
same after that.
    Some measure of hope
told me my dad must be inside, trapped under something, and passed out. He
might still be alive. I ran toward the door but the heat blasted me, so I hurried
to one of the side windows and touched the glass, singeing my fingers. I yanked
them back and shook my hand while searching the area for something to break the
window. I picked up the planter we always hid the spare key under and threw the
whole damn thing, geraniums and all, at the window, shattering the glass.
Flames darted out, almost scorching my face, making me jump back. I sank to the
ground on my knees and buried my face in my sweatshirt. It still smelled like Shiloh’s
blood.
    For the second time
that day, I wept.
    With tears still
soaking my cheeks I stared up at the sky. Why do the clouds always seem so
tranquil, so majestic as if they hold the answers to the entire universe? I could
picture the Great White Spirit of my mother’s ancestors sitting among the
scatters of fluffy white clouds looking down at me. Now my dad would be joining
them. He wasn’t a Miwok, but I knew he loved my mom. The proof of that was in
the bottle he sat with every day. She would welcome him and take good care of
him.
    I sat huddled, hugging my
knees to my chest, and watched my home burn until there was nothing left but
smoldering ashes.
    Why is this world so
cruel to me?
    My mom was gone. My dad
was gone. Shiloh was gone. They were never coming back. My dad would never yell
at me for hiding his booze, Shiloh would never follow me to school again.