Meltdown

Chapter 8

I didn't know where to go, what direction to travel in. The rain was coming down harder the longer I was outside and I headed for the first shelter I saw, the bunker barn. Inside the drafty building, the roof was leaking in spots. I managed to crawl underneath the broken down tractor and pull the hatch open. Once I'd dropped down to the dirt floor below me, I immediately went to the faucet and filled the basin full of fresh water. I rinsed my skin as well as I could and fell down onto the mattress. I didn't know if I should cry, or sleep, or just die. I wanted to keep running, and I felt more trapped than ever before. If it wasn't the rain keeping me in a place I now hated, it was my lack of intelligence. I had no idea where to go or what to do next. I almost failed out of high school and now I was flunking out of life.

Angrily, I threw the pillow against the wall. When that didn't alleviate my rage, I started throwing the empty cans and books as hard as could, not caring when they bounced back and struck my body. No tears would come, no matter how hard I got hit. The tightness in my chest didn't dissipate at all, not even when I stood up and slammed my fist into the packed dirt wall. A scream came from somewhere, but it didn't register in my mind that I was the one who let it out.

My hand throbbed in time with the beating of my heart. It was impossible to move two of my fingers without pain so intense I saw tiny white spots dancing behind my eyelids. A new determination filled my gut. I climbed the ladder and looked outside. The skies were still light, but I remembered that first time Bellamy took me up to the fields. The rain had stopped and I could hear footsteps coming toward the barn from the house. I didn't wait long enough to see who was coming. Instead, I took off into the wall of corn in front of me. After I'd disappeared behind a few rows, I stopped to get my bearings.

If I closed my eyes tight enough, I could picture Bellamy standing next to me, pointing up into the night sky.

"Run in that direction and don't stop until you see a huge oak tree. Off to the left of that is an old shack."

I could hear his words echo in my head as clearly as if he were speaking them to me right now. I ran as fast as I could, holding my hand against my belly. The drying stalks slapped against my face, leaving welts that ripped into the ones the rain already made. My naked arms were getting cut up as well, so I stopped long enough to pull my arms out of the short sleeves. From inside of the t-shirt, I grabbed hold of the material and kept it tight against my body. There wasn't anything I could do to protect my face other than slow down, but that wasn't an option. Not when I could hear Bellamy's voice calling out over the crop.

It felt like I ran for miles. My lungs burned and the muscles in my legs screamed in agony. I had to stop to catch my breath and when I did, I noticed the corn stalks were browner here than they were in the middle. I remembered once when Murphy, Atom, and I went into an old field to make a party pit, they said you could tell when you were far enough away from the edge because the plants weren't as dry. I took this as a sign that I was close to the edge of the field and pushed through the pain to keep moving.

When I finally cleared the field, the huge oak tree that towered high above me was the most beautiful sight in the world. I looked toward the left and saw the dilapidated structure that Bellamy must've been talking about. It was surrounded by thick foliage and I don't know that I would've seen it if I didn't know to look for it. I remembered the map on the wall had a big green circle somewhere out here and I silently prayed this shack was it.

The door was hanging off its hinges, the wood rotting from neglect and age. I pulled my arms back into the sleeves and winced when I moved my hand too much. Moving cautiously, I slowly entered the building, swiping new cobwebs away from my face with every step I took. The building was empty other than dead leaves and animal droppings. I jumped back a step when a mouse scurried across my feet, squeaking angrily that his resting place had been disturbed. Turning a slow circle, I looked for a sign that anything in here could be moved, or lifted out of place, to reveal a secret passageway.