“She’s right outside the trailer” Josh breathes.
“Let’s go, then!” Avery says, running in the direction of her car. But when she realizes no one is following her, she turns back around. “What the hell, Josh? Are you coming or not?”
Josh stares at me, the excitement unfurling like pink blossoms on his cheeks. “I have to go.”
“You sure you don’t have room for one more?” I manage to eke out a smile.
He’s found Nora. I need to be happy for him.
“Regan, you don’t have to do this. I understand. Things are . . . different now.”
“Maybe. But I owe you,” I say. “If my father really is responsible for all this, then I want to do everything I can to make it right. Part of that is helping you bring Nora back home.”
Avery storms over to us when she sees Josh pulling me in close for a hug. I can tell that she’s about to blow up again—there’s a vein near her right temple that pulsates when she’s reached maximum hostility levels—but Josh thankfully issues a preemptive strike.
“I’m not going anywhere without her,” he says.
Forty-Five Flat Rock Road is nothing more than a dented mailbox.
The house behind it is simply a pile of rubble. Forty-Seven fared a little better; only half the house is missing, leaving part of its interior visible. Thanks to the rising moon and the relatively clear yet code-yellow night, Josh, Avery, and I can make out some of the upstairs rooms, but the downstairs is shrouded in darkness. Then I see it. Number Forty-Nine: a large blue house.
Although it still seems to have a solid foundation, four of the front windows are shattered and covered with swaths of plastic. There is a gigantic hole in the roof, covered by a black tarp, and from the looks of the sawed-off trees near the side of the house, I figure a heavy branch came crashing down on top of it.
We hurry toward the steps, their iron railings bent into odd spiral formations, folding out in opposite directions. I hear a crackle of thunder echoing in the distance, which is followed by the sound of wet drizzle tapping on our shoulders. As Avery starts frantically ringing the bell and banging on the door, I pull out my umbrella from my bag, open it up, and try to peer in the right-side window, but the plastic is a little too thick and smudged to see through.
“Hello?” I say, turning up the volume on my O2 so my voice can travel over a larger distance.
“Is the lock still working?” Josh asks, moving Avery aside so he can inspect the lockpad.
“Give me your passcard so I can check,” Avery barks, holding her hand out at me.
I dig inside my bag, latching on to the card with my fingertips, and give it to her. Once Avery waves the card, a blinking red light appears on the lockpad.
“Yeah, it’s functioning.” She tosses the passcard to me, and I catch it with my free hand.
Josh nods his head to the left side of the house. “Maybe we could get in through a broken window or something.”
“Good idea,” I say.
He leads us down the steps and along a narrow, muddy path that winds around the house. As we walk by, my eyes trace the layers of blue siding and watch the rain dribble down them. Avery shoves past me, probably because I’m moving too slow for her, but I can’t help it. My legs still feel like they’re made out of solid rock.
“Okay, here’s one,” Josh says, and then motions to me. “Can I use your umbrella?”
I hand it over to him and once he closes it, he uses the umbrella to knock away two pieces of jagged glass that are still attached to the window frame, which is about five feet off the ground. Then he hands it back to me and bends over, cupping his hands and weaving his fingers together. “I’ll boost you up.”
I nod, tossing my umbrella into the bag, and then my bag through the window. I listen to it land and I don’t hear any crunching or crashing sounds, so thankfully it doesn’t sound like there’s anything dangerous on the other side of the wall. I put my foot into the stirrup-like hold Josh has made with his hands and grab on to the windowsill, lifting myself a little bit. Then he hoists me up, very quickly, like I don’t weigh more than a puppy. When I’m level with the window, I swing my free leg over, and then the other. Soon I’m inside the house, my fingers coiled tightly around the strap of my bag, ready to use it to beat off an assailant.
“You okay in there?” Josh calls out.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Great, I’m sending Avery next.”
Oh joy.
I pull my tab out of my bag and initiate its flashlight option, sending a small beam of brightness into the dark room. There’s not much furniture or anything else in here—just a stained carpet and the middle piece of a sectional couch with rips in the green upholstery. Looters must have cleared this place out not too long after the tornadoes.
I hear a thump behind me and turn to see Avery going from a crouch position to a statuesque pose. She glances around, her eyes heavy with worry, and takes a few steps until she’s standing in the middle of the room.
“Nora?” she says loudly. “Are you here?”
No answer. Not a good sign.
Josh is the next one through the window, and now that we’re all here, we take off our O2s and move forward, heading down a hall with uneven floorboards that leads toward the remains of the kitchen. Crumbled plaster and small pieces of glass litter the once-beautiful mosaic floor like cookie crumbs.
All of a sudden, we hear a noise. A whimper, maybe? Someone else is in this house.
“Avery, you check the front rooms,” Josh whispers, reaching for his tab and, taking a cue from me, turning on the flashlight function. “Regan, you stay in the back. I’m going up.”
“No, I’ll go up,” Avery says, pulling out a tiny bottle with a miniature spray trigger. “I’ve got mace.”
“Of course you do,” Josh says.
Avery spins around and I watch her gallop down the hall, until she turns a corner on the right. Josh follows, using his tab’s light to give him better visibility, but makes a left at the end of the hallway. I listen to Avery climb the stairs, each step creaking as she places her weight on it. The creaking stops, and I know she’s reached the top. My heart jackhammers inside my chest as I stand here, alone.
Then I hear another muffled cry. But it isn’t coming from upstairs.
I tiptoe over to an open wooden door across from the dining room, which has nothing inside it except for a chandelier that’s dangling from the ceiling by one or two electrical cords. I peer down a flight of dark steps and begin to descend, using the light from my tab as a guide.
“Nora?” I say, my voice cracking a little.
I can still hear Avery moving around on the second floor. Where is Josh? I reach the bottom and hold up my light. The floor is granite, regulation material in what were once considered flood zones. And when this house was built, Lake Saint Clair would only have been a block away.
I hear a muffled noise.