Weighted Silence (Complete)

Chapter 19: Dion

19Dion

Soon as Saylor was asleep, I pulled on my coat and backpack, jotted a quick note on a scrap of paper that said I'd be back soon, and to text if she needed anything, then, I harnessed and leashed Maggie and ran out the door. The wicked blowing of the snow offered little option for anything other than driving, so I hooked Maggie into the front seat of the car and climbed in. A minute later, I was flying down the mountain road toward Town Hall, barely taking the time to park and kill the engine before I grabbed Maggie's leash and jogged up the steps.

Mrs. Truman looked up with a somewhat worried frown as the two of us burst through the front door, snowflakes powdering our shoulders and fur. Lifting a small smile, she gestured her head toward the stairs. "He's waiting for you in his office, honey."

Inclining my head to her, the dog and I took the steps two at a time, then jogged down the hall to where I knocked on Mayor's door.

"Come in, Dion."

Gasping from both adrenaline and running, Maggie and I entered. Mayor was standing before the large window across the room, staring out at a snow covered Main street. He had one arm folded over his rounded stomach, the other lifted to massage his forehead. He turned when I closed the door, drawing my attention to the second man who was slowly standing from where he'd been seated in a leather chair before the desk. I vaguely recognized him, but couldn't quite recall from where, meaning he wasn't a part of this town.

They both met me with a frown as I stood in the doorway, shivering with both cold and adrenaline. Beside me, Maggie was nudging my hand with her nose, as though sensing my unease, and I rubbed her head absently as I stared between the men.

"Come take a seat, son." Mayor said softly and gestured to the chair beside the stranger.

I shrugged out of my backpack and coat and set both on the couch at my right but didn't bother to take the offered seat. Rather, I went to sit on the arm of the sofa, my eyes passing between the two.

"Dion, this is Michael Humphrey." Mayor gestured to the man. "He's the head pastor of your parent's church in Denver." The man inclined his head, then came to extend his hand to me. I met it briefly, but my eyes didn't leave Mayor before I dug my board and marker out of my backpack, then wrote in quick, shaky writing,

"Tell me what happened."

It was Michael who answered. "Got word that there was a bombing in the middle east today. In Jack and Martha's village."

A wash of cold pooled from my head to my toes. Even though Mayor had told me there was an accident when he'd called, he hadn't been too keen to give me the details over the phone. Now that I knew, I could barely stop shaking as I wrote again, not bothering to wipe away my previous comment.

"Are they okay?"

The two exchanged a glance. A bad sign, before Michael turned to me again. "We're not sure just yet. We've lost communication with them. I've got a team in the next city over— they're the ones that informed me— and they're going to head out as soon as it's safe; see what the damage is."

I shook my head before he'd even finished talking, my fingers already writing. "That's not good enough. Someone should find out today."

"It's not so simple, Dion." Mayor spoke up, stepping around the man to come stand in front of me. "The village has been reduced to rubble. I imagine authorities have the whole area cordoned off."

Blowing out a breath, I wiped the board, staring at the blank white surface for a long minute before I wrote again. "Who bombed it?"

They both shrugged, but it was Michael who spoke. "Could have been anyone. They're in a high friction area. Lot of conflict between neighboring countries. There's no telling."