Free Child of the Storm by R. B. Stewart

found her again already. Her mama had become a spirit
guide, just like John Stone said, and was like a bear, because she knew Celeste
loved bears so. She might have told Odette all that, but Odette didn ’ t care for such notions and might not
have understood. But John Stone understood and he looked worried standing over
there by the door — maybe worried Celeste would share their
secret when she shouldn ’ t. So she didn ’ t.
    Odette
sat on the edge of the bed and gathered Celeste up in her arms. She spoke so
quietly that Celeste thought she might just be talking for her own ears and for
no one else to hear, but Celeste heard. “ To have lost them
both, ” she whispered. “ Thank heavens I didn ’ t lose you as well. ”
    But
there would be little time for such lingering reunions and gentle comforts.
With Aunt Odette there, everything would have to speed up, because there were
important things to resolve.
    While
she had arrived by horse and wagon, within the hour a machine arrived ; a truck driven by a man who never spoke but took his
direction from Odette. With John Stone ’ s help, he brought in
a long box and they took it into the room where her mama was. Then Odette took
Celeste out back of the house to explain what would happen next while the box
was filled and taken back out to the truck again. Celeste understood but was
polite enough not to let on to her aunt.
    “ We must leave at
once, Celeste, ” Odette said. “ If there is anything you need to take,
you must collect it now. ”
    Celeste
tried to think of what might be lost inside her old house, but could only bring
Neighbor to mind, and he had been taken by the storm. The storm had taken
everything. She shook her head. “ Can ’ t think of anything, ” she said.
    “ Anything you need, we
can get in New Orleans. We must make it to the station in time for the train. I ’ m sorry it must be so quickly, but
there is no other way. It will be for the best. ”
    Celeste
nodded.
    The
back end of the truck was like any old wagon ’ s ,
but most of it had been tented over by a large tarp. At the front, where the
horse should have been, there was an odd sort of metal box — big and black with spots of rust and
road dirt on it. That was where the truck kept its belly full of noise and
smoke. Celeste touched the wheels of the truck as she passed, noting how
different that feel was from wood or iron. Not cold like iron in the shade, or
warm like well used wood, but tough. Tough like callus on a bare foot. She was handed up to sit
next to Odette, and eyed the driver, thinking how his neck looked like a turtle ’ s.
    The
truck rumbled and smoked, and Celeste left her old world behind.

 
    They
came to another town after some long time bumping along the road. She had a
good sense for time just by the change in the light and height of the sun. A
chunk of the morning was spent in watching the roadside slip by faster that her
legs could make it go. But this was just a town much like the one near her
home. All the same sort of buildings, just arranged in a different way and with
more of them. Just more of the same thing, until they
unloaded at the train station. It was nothing special either. She was
handed down to the ground by Odette, who motioned her to move along with a
press against her back, as she motioned two men to attend to unloading the
truck with a sharp wave of the other hand. Odette made people and things move. “ We ’ ve little time, ” she told Celeste. “ That ’ s the train
approaching now. ”
    The
floor trembled and there was a sound like far off thunder or a deep wind.
Something was coming. Something so much bigger than the
truck. Odette opened the door onto a platform like a long porch that
either belonged to the station or to the long train that had just arrived. Here
was a dragon fresh from a story, if not exactly as she might have pictured it
from the telling. A thing so full of fire, it could have eaten ten trucks like
the one that