Daddy's Little Girl Read online

  The road no longer had a street sign and only went south, but it seemed to be their only option, and since it was paved, Ramsey decided it was worth a shot.

  Half a mile later, another road connected with it, making a T. Once again, no signpost was visible.

  “Is it on the map?” Ramsey asked.

  Tess didn’t reply right away, her finger tracing their route from the interstate to the exit they had taken, toward the road they were currently staring at. “I think this is it,” she said, looking up for a moment and then back at her phone, eyes squinting.

  The iPad had not survived.

  From where he sat, Ramsey could just make out what appeared to be a town near her finger, one that he guessed was the same town the exit sign had promised: Smallwood.

  “Yep, this is it,” Tess confirmed. “And it runs parallel to the town, so we should be able to cut over after about two miles or so.”

  “Okay, great,” he said, hands guiding the vehicle into the turn.

  “This town is not going to have any power,” Tess said four minutes later, the two having been blocked by more downed power lines.

  “Yeah, and how long do you think it will take for ComEd or whoever services it to get all the way out here?” Ramsey asked, trying to mask his frustration.

  Tess started thinking about this, finger in the air as she pretended to calculate the time within her mind.

  “It was rhetorical,” Ramsey said while making another three-point turn, this one much more difficult than the previous one given how narrow the road was. “Why don’t you find us a new route into town?”

  “There was a road about a quarter mile behind us. It goes to the south. If we take that, we will be parallel again to the town, just further away from it, and then can cut across.

  “Okay.”

  “That was a house, wasn’t it,” Tess said.

  “Yeah,” Ramsey confirmed.

  It had stood in the center of a field, one that was now scattered with debris that had once been the house and barn, nothing but the foundation and part of the first-floor wall standing.

  “Should we head over there and see if anyone needs help?” Tess said.

  “Do you see anyone moving around?”

  “No.”

  Ramsey hesitated, debating whether or not they should stop. Eventually he decided against it, the lack of movement around the house making him think that if there were survivors, they were trapped somewhere and that the best option was getting emergency personnel to them because they would need equipment and expertise to rescue them.

  “The best help we can get anyone out here is getting to town and letting them know where exactly the tornado hit,” he said. “They’ll know who was home and who wasn’t and how to account for those that are missing and whatnot.”

  “Okay.”

  They continued onward, heading south on the road that Tess had directed them toward to get around the power lines, eyes peeled for the road that would take them west again.

  A few minutes later, they found one and turned onto it, their eyes spotting another house that had been leveled.

  Once again, no one was moving near it.

  “I hope they got into a storm shelter,” Tess said as they passed by.

  “Me too,” Ramsey said.

  “Do you think this was the same tornado that passed over us at the bridge?”

  “I think ours was too far south to have been the one to hit these farms,” Ramsey said. “Unless…”

  “Unless what?” she asked.

  “It takes a very strong tornado to level houses this completely. F-four or F-five. Maybe a strong F-three, but…I’m thinking it was a four. What got us might have been the edge of the tornado if it was a four or five. That’s probably why the car survived as well as it did. Had a four or five passed directly over us, it would have taken the car right out from under the bridge or smashed it up against the girders.”

  “But what about the sign? It was pretty mangled.”

  “The edge of a tornado could do that. Those signs are tough but don’t stand a chance against a tornado. An F-two would do that.”

  “Hmm.”

  The more he thought about it, the more he felt that a separate, smaller tornado had been at the bridge, maybe one that had spun off from this larger one. All that, however, was something the experts would decide based on what the radar had shown and what eyewitnesses had seen and measured damage paths. Right now, for them, all that mattered was getting into town so that they could get the car looked at and, hopefully, find a place to stay while it was assessed.

  Another farmhouse appeared south of them, this one only partially damaged.

  Around it a family was moving about surveying the damage.

  Their movements were exploratory rather than frantic, which meant they were likely all okay. When a member was injured, the rest of the family wouldn’t be taking a stroll around the house looking at the damage; they would be taking the injured member to the hospital.

  The next house hadn’t been so lucky and like the others they had seen, it was leveled.

  “You know what the one positive thing about this is?” Ramsey said.

  “What?” Tess asked.

  “This was farmland and everything is spaced out. Can you imagine if this tornado had gone through a suburb area, or even the downtown area where houses are side by side?”

  “Oh.”

  Nothing else followed.

  They continued down the road, moving at a crawl given the lack of a windshield, both looking around at the destruction the storm had wrought, eyes peeled for situations that might require their immediate help.

  “Turn up here,” Tess said after several minutes of nothingness.

  Ramsey did and nearly cried out as a figure emerged from the field, the white from her dress the first thing he saw as she came at the hood of the Kia, a hand held up to stop them.

  Had they been going faster, Ramsey might not have been able to brake in time, but given the gentle speed, the Kia came to an easy halt.

  “Help,” the girl muttered, a hand to her head.

  Blood was present, most of it on the side of her face, but some standing out on the dress she wore.

  And then she fell, her legs simply giving out, body crumpling onto the hood of the car and then down the side near the passenger tire.

  Ramsey and Tess both jumped from the vehicle, Tess getting to her first given that they were on the same side.

  The girl wasn’t unconscious, but she was delirious, likely from whatever had struck her in the head.

  “It’s okay,” Tess cooed, one hand holding the girl’s left hand while the other was against her back, steadying her. “You’re okay.”

  Ramsey knelt down beside her.

  She stared at him with wide eyes, ones that took a moment to focus.

  “Can I see?” he asked, hand motioning to her head.

  It took a second for her to comprehend what he was asking. Once she did, she gave a slight nod and removed her hand.

  A huge swollen bump was present, blood marking where the scalp had torn.

  “Are you hurt anywhere else?” Ramsey asked.

  Once again, it took a moment for her to comprehend and then she said, “No.”

  “Okay, that’s good,” he said and then looked her up and down just in case she was unaware of any injuries that her body was masking.

  Nothing beyond the head wound seemed to be present, and all the blood on her dress was likely from that given how much the head would bleed when the scalp was broken.

  “Can you tell me your name?” he asked.

  “I-I-” She blinked several times and shook her head, hand going back up to touch her wound.

  “Ramsey,” Tess said, eyes motioning toward the girl’s wrist, the sleeve of her dress having come undone and fallen to her forearm.

  A nasty-looking rope mark encircled the flesh.

  Ramsey reached for her other wrist, the girl watching him as he carefully unbu
ttoned the cuff and rolled back the sleeve.

  A rope mark encircled the flesh around that wrist as well.

  Seeing this, Tess looked at him, concern present.

  Ramsey looked around to see if anyone else was near.

  No one seemed to be.

  Rain began to fall.

  “Let’s get you into the car,” Ramsey said.

  The girl didn’t resist or protest, her hands simply reaching out for their arms as they helped her up.

  “I got her,” Ramsey said once they were at the back door of the Kia. “Why don’t you open it and make sure we got all the glass out?”

  Tess nodded.

  A few seconds later, she gave the all clear and together they helped the girl into the back seat.

  Two

  “I don’t know how many twisters,” her father’s voice echoed, “but right now it looks like the worst of it was west and south of town. I’ve counted at least twenty houses that were completely destroyed, others that are still standing but will probably have to be torn down, countless mangled vehicles that were thrown from God knows where, and at least”—he paused—“Lindsey, if you’re listening, I want you to turn it off right now.”

  Lindsey felt a chill and started to reach for the switch on the scanner, but then realized that there was no way her father would know whether or not she complied with his instruction, not unless she told him later, and she let her hand fall back to her side.

  “I’ve counted four dead bodies so far. Two of them I’ve identified as locals. The others were in cars that may have been picked up from the interstate or some other road and tossed into the fields. There are also tons of power lines down. I’ve flared three areas where roadways are compromised, but I’m guessing there are several more that need to be marked.”

  Nothing else followed for several seconds.

  Lindsey had thought her father was going to mention a name she would recognize. Maybe he had been planning on it but then, realizing she would likely have ignored his instruction to turn off the scanner, decided against it.

  Oscar?

  He had been planning on driving over after school, the two having agreed to spend the afternoon together since her father was working the three to eleven shift.

  Had he gotten caught in the storm? Was his one of the vehicles her father had spoken of?

  Mentally, she urged her father to confirm or deny it, but all that followed on the scanner were reports from other officers about more power line situations and vehicles they had found that were crushed like tin cans.

  One also advised that one of the goalposts on the south side of the football field had been mangled, but that the school itself seemed okay and could serve as a shelter for those who were now homeless or without power.

  Five minutes drifted away, and then ten.

  Reports of more dead bodies came in, but none of them were named.

  Nothing about Oscar echoed.

  She looked down at her phone.

  The battery was at five percent.

  Past experience told her that if she tried to make a call, the phone would die, and plugging it in was not an option since the power was out.

  On my way, his last text had read.

  She had followed it with a Yay! And then, as the sky darkened, Hurry!

  A “Read at 3:16” note sat beneath the text bubble.

  She typed, You OK? And hit Send, eyes watching as it was delivered, waiting for a “Read” note to appear.

  None did.

  Could he still be driving?

  If so, he could at least pull over and send a message letting her know he was okay.

  Or ask if I’m okay!

  Anger appeared but then was replaced by dread.

  Oscar had not asked if she was okay, and he would have following the storm. He was a good guy, and even if his motivation for coming over was because she had promised to give him a squeaky, she knew that he cared about her deeply and those feelings toward her and his desire to spend time with her were a foundation that everything else was being built upon.

  What if his body is right outside?

  What if he was pounding on the door to be let in while you were in the basement curled up in the corner?

  Once the thought was planted, she had no choice but to check and stepped out the front door.

  Holy shit!

  Tree branches were everywhere, as were pieces of debris, the street and yards littered with chunks of what had once been walls and floors and roofs. Even a toilet had been ripped free and thrown, sod torn up where it had skidded to a halt fifteen feet from the front door.

  Fortunately, all the houses on her block were standing, though most were missing shingles.

  Siding had been peeled away as well.

  And the trees had all been shorn, the spring blossoms completely gone, along with many branches, each one looking as if it had gone back in time by a month.

  “Crazy, isn’t it?” a voice said, causing her to jump.

  Dennis, a boy she had grown up with and had been friends with during grade school, was standing by the front porch.

  “Yeah,” she replied.

  “I guess it was coming right for us and then just fizzled out over by the school.” He smiled. “Must have known I have a math test tomorrow.”

  “Must have,” she said, eyes still taking in all the debris.

  “Can you imagine? It was so powerful that it sucked up all this stuff and then threw it all over the neighborhood as it spun itself out.” He pointed. “I mean, look, you’ve got a freaking toilet in your yard. Chances are someone was shitting in it this morning, and now it is in your yard.”

  Lindsey turned and gave him a look.

  “And soon the looters will come out,” he added.

  “Looters?” she asked, shaking her head. “No one is going to be looting anything.”

  “Just wait,” he said.

  She felt a buzz from her phone and looked down.

  You OK? the text read.

  It wasn’t from Oscar, but from her friend Gloria.

  Yeah, she typed and hit Send.

  “That him?” Dennis asked.

  “Him?”

  “Oscar,” he said. “Bet he’s bummed.”

  “Bummed?”

  “He was coming over, wasn’t he?”

  “What?”

  “Wait, he wasn’t coming over?”

  “What are you talking about?” she demanded. Then, remembering that the two had gym class together in the afternoon, asked, “Did he say something to you about coming over?”

  “To me, no. But I overheard him talking with Tony and Mike.”

  “And?”

  “And what?” Dennis asked.

  “And what was he saying?” she urged.

  “Just that he was going to your place after school and that your dad wouldn’t be there.”

  Lindsey stared at him, horrified that Oscar had been so vocal about a get-together that needed to stay a secret because her dad would kill them if he found out.

  “Oh, and something about how Tony better not have poked any holes in it.”

  Lindsey’s eyes went wide. “Holes in what?”

  “I don’t know, they were on the other side of the lockers.”

  Lindsey couldn’t find any words.

  “Anyway, glad you’re okay. Seems we got lucky.”

  “Yeah,” she muttered, eyes going back to the debris.

  More people were out and about now, looking around their homes, studying the damage.

  Twenty-five minutes earlier, they had all been huddled in basements, awaiting destruction as the roar of the storm descended upon them. She had been one of those people, knees pulled up to her chest, arms around them, tears gushing. Death had been lurking, waiting, and now it wasn’t. She should have been overcome with happiness at having been spared, the volume of debris all over the place evidence of how powerful the tornado had been, yet the only thing she could think about was Oscar and how he might have been telli
ng everyone they were going to be having sex.

  Were we?

  She had promised to touch him, to reach into his pants and explore his manhood.

  They had talked about it at lunch, while in his car, their hands having already done some on-top-of-the-clothes stuff, which she had liked. His fingers on her breasts, gently rubbing her nipples through the tight shirt and bra she had been wearing, a sensation of them trying to poke free of the material appearing. And she had felt him through his pants, her fingers reaching beyond the bump to cup the underside of his testicles, Liz having told her guys really liked that.

  Afterward, walking back to class had been difficult, especially for him given his obvious arousal.

  At no point had she said they would do anything that would require the use of a condom, yet from what Dennis had heard, Oscar obviously had gotten one from his friends, which meant he was expecting them to have sex.

  She shook her head.

  That would have been too much.

  Touching each other she was fine with.

  Her hands on him while his fingers were inside her—it was something she had actually been looking forward to. She had even considered using her mouth on him, though wasn’t fully sure that she would go that far. Questions on what such an act was like had been voiced to Liz, her boasting about having swallowed her boyfriend while at a party having intrigued Lindsey and Gloria, but how exactly such an act was pleasurable to the giver was still a mystery.

  “Does it taste like pee?” Gloria had asked.

  “No, gross!” Liz had replied.

  “Well, then what?”

  Liz struggled for an answer and finally said, “You just have to experience it to understand what it’s like.”

  Gloria had grimaced and said, “I don’t know.”

  Lindsey, however, had been intrigued, though she didn’t dare voice that.

  Liz had then reminded them to make sure their boyfriends reciprocated. “Teach him how to use his tongue early on so that you’re not the only one going down.”

  Thoughts on that and what it would feel like had dominated her mind for days, and it was something she really wanted to experience. Something she had been hoping would unfold that afternoon.