The Last Handful of Clover - Book 2: Gifts Both Light and Dark

2.69 Under His Wing

June 15, 1:34 pm

When ancient predators prowled the night, humanity's ancestors instinctively huddled together under the trees. When thunder crashed and the forests burned, they fled—but never alone. And when wolves circled and they could no longer run, they stood back to back—to fight and die together.

The living have always found their last solace and shelter in the arms of the people they love. Even in the ruins of Vesuvius, archaeologists found couples and families clinging together as they were buried alive, their bodies preserved for the ages by the falling rain of ash and fire.

As Salt Lake City descended into madness on that bright summer day in June, some citizens broke and fled, in cars overflowing with family, friends, and photo albums. But the vast majority retreated to their homes, huddling under blankets and in darkened rooms, watching their TVs the way their Neanderthal ancestors would stare into the fire, waiting for the predators to depart.

An hour and a half after it all began, Michelle and her two men were still clinging close to one another on the couch. Pil had slipped to the floor and had one hand wrapped around Michelle's left calf. Keith had his head in Michelle's lap, and another arm draped over Pil's shoulder. Michelle noticed that, unlike herself and Pil, Keith wasn't watching the TV, although he had also refused to let her shut it off. Instead, he just buried his face behind Pil's neck, listening intently, but finding some small safety in the darkness behind his closed eyes.

Each minute that passed brought news of new outrages, new madness. And the worst of it was, Michelle knew, that the TV was only showing them the tiniest fraction of what was really happening out there. The anchors knew this as well, even as they explained that the systems designed to keep everyone safe were quickly breaking down. There were not enough police to respond to all the reports of violence. The phones were still out over much of the city, both cellular and land lines. Most places still had power, but that could be the next to go.

Worst of all, there were now reports that some of the madness was actually affecting the first responders. In one case, a police officer had been seen opening fire on a crowd, and had only been stopped when a fellow officer took him down. A fireman had turned his hose on men atop their ladders, blasting them free like spiders blown from their webs. Before he was stopped, three firemen had been killed, one of them falling into the flames he was fighting.

The horror of it was almost more than Michelle could bear.

At least we're here together, she thought, looking at the two men. But I'm not sure there is really any safety in that.

She kept replaying in her head Howard's warning. He had clearly seen this coming, but he had told them so damnably little. There were few hints in his prediction of disaster that gave any clue what was actually going to happen. Or more importantly, why.

When the phone rang at 1:45, all three of them jumped as if a knife-wielding stranger had just burst into the room. Michelle had tried over and over, without success, to get a phone call though in that first hour—both on her cell and on the house phone. So the fact that Keith's land line was suddenly working shocked them all so badly that it took three rings for Michelle to lurch across the room and pick up the receiver.

"Hello?" she said tentatively, as if the person on the other end could still be that homicidal stranger.

"Oh, honey, thank God!"

Michelle instantly recognized the voice of her mother. And then her father was on the line as well. He must have picked up the other extension.

"Baby doll, are you okay?" he asked. "We've been trying for an hour to get you on your cell phone. We finally decided to see if you were at Keith's house."