Nowhere I Know

Nowhere

I Know

Nowhere Series Book 1

James Marie York

Published by Jamie York at Smashwords

Copyright © 2014 Jamie York

ISBN 9781311742490

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

www.jamesmarieyork.com

For My Boys –

For turning the tables and pushing me to finish what I started.

As always you are my inspiration.

Genesis 1:20

And God said, Let the water teem with living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the expanse of the sky.

Chapter 1 - Waking Up

As I struggle to open my eyes, I wonder what happened last night to make me hurt so badly. My body aches all over, like I was beaten-up by the biggest bully on the playground. As far as I can remember though, I didn’t do anything to deserve this kind of pain – so far I can’t remember much though.

As I slowly finish waking up, I realize I am lying in the middle of our kitchen floor. This is not something I do on a regular basis. My first thought is, what my mom is going to think of me passed out on the kitchen floor; the next is why I am feeling such a draft. As I look up and around the room I notice that all of the glass is out of the windows and there is a cool breeze coming through.

From my place on the floor I start looking over my body for fresh cuts and scrapes. Aside from a little mud on my blue and white striped t-shirt and a strange large wet spot on the leg of my jeans, I don’t see anything questionable. Now that I know there is nothing obviously wrong with me, I relax a little and look around for the glass. There is none on the floor, under the windows or anywhere else in the room, which is bizarre, but probably has saved me lots of pain and stitches. I shudder, needles really freak me out and the thought of having one go in and out of my skin dragging a piece of thread behind it almost makes me pass out again.

I take a deep breath to steady myself and wonder in an off hand way why all the glass would be gone. As the air inflates my chest I moan.

I may not be cut up, but I am still extremely sore.

I try to roll over onto my side and cry out in pain. It feels like every inch of my body is bruised. My heart starts fluttering and I start to panic. You can’t get this hurt without remembering it, can you? What happened to me? Why can’t I remember?

I lay there staring at the ceiling desperately trying to remember how I ended up on the kitchen floor. I see only blackness in my mind. It’s almost scarier than the pain in my body. Do I have amnesia - did someone hit me - if someone did hit me, are they still somewhere in the house? Are they the reason all the glass is gone? Thoughts swirl through my addled mind. The only reason I can think of for amnesia is a blow to the head like people get in the movies.

I reach up slowly and gently start to feel my head for any signs of trauma. Aside from a few sore spots, there is nothing that would indicate a massive attack on my skull.

I want to scream in frustration, but I’m worried that will cause me more pain, so I keep my mouth shut.

I try to take inventory of all the places that hurt, but there are too many. The only thing I know for sure is my knee hurts worse than anything else. I ease my pant leg up over the injured knee and see that it is already starting to bruise, turning a nasty shade of purple. The swelling doesn’t look too bad thankfully. I wonder if I landed on it when I fell.

As I struggle to get up off of the floor, I hear a moan coming from the other room. My heart skips a beat. At first I worry about who it could be, then everything starts to flood back. I fall back to the floor, as I am overwhelmed with memories of what happened right before I was knocked out.

The storm, the tornado, and my best friend holding my hand as we both screamed and ran for the house. My already racing heart races faster as I remember how terrified we were when we realized the danger we were in.

The storm came on so suddenly that I am not really sure how many people would have made it to shelter. One minute the sun was shining and we where sitting on the deck relaxing and listening to my iPod - a typical Saturday afternoon in April - the next thing I knew the sirens were sounding and south of town was nothing but a big black smudge moving quickly towards us.

If you live in tornado alley during the spring, you expect storms, even storms with tornados. You know if you hear a freight train headed your way, odds are you had better get below ground unless you actually live by the tracks. We tried, we just didn’t make it far enough.

I can’t even remember how we made it into the house. The last thing I remember was trying to reach the back door and the wind ripping me backwards. It had seemed as if for every step forward I made the storm pulled me back two. It reminded me of one of those dreams where no matter how hard you try, you just can't run fast enough to get away from the bad guy. You know the one - where your legs move in slow motion almost like they are in molasses. Unfortunately, this was no dream.

I worry again if anyone made it far enough inside to be completely safe. I can’t remember another storm that moved in that fast – especially one that was so strong – with no warning.

I live in a small town that is sometimes missed by the big city TV stations when weather is moving in, but when it is severe they will normally let us know.

I’ve never really worried about it before since according to an old Native American legend the creeks that surround our town supposedly protect us. Until today I thought that legend was true - our town had never been hit directly by a tornado before. I guess that is just another myth laid to rest.

I hear another low moan, I finally make it to my feet and I try to run into the dining room; unfortunately it is more of a fast hobble instead. I hope it doesn’t mean I have done more damage to my knee than I am going to want to admit. Every time I put any pressure on my foot my right knee sends spikes of pain up into my hip and down into my ankle. I tell myself to just keep moving and it will get better.

To make it even more exasperating attempting to move through the house, my long black hair keeps falling into my face. I must have lost my hair tie somewhere. Trying to see through the curtain of hair makes it almost impossible to not trip over the trash that is now scattered around. Irritated, I roughly shove my hair out of my face and try to move on.

As I make my way through the dining room doorway, I find Cam lying under the half smashed table. His lightly tanned face is already starting to turn black and blue were the table hit him. There is a large purple colored goose egg on the left side of his forehead going up into his hairline and his left cheek is also starting to swell. His light brown curls are covered in blood on the right side of his head, but I don’t see the actual cut so I am hopeful that it isn’t too bad. I can’t see much else because of all the trash piled up around him, but I do see blood on his white t-shirt and that scares me even more.

I rush over and start digging him out, pausing once to run my hand over the right, and uninjured, side of his face.

When people first see Cam, they immediately think he is the typical jock. He is 6’4 and 195 pounds, which doesn’t give him a very sensitive look. He can normally be found in a plain white t-shirt and faded jeans with his Adidas high tops, and that only intensifies his thug look. The truth is, he is very sweet and is always looking out for the little guy – he is the type that uses his large presence to intimidate those that would be bullies. That is one of the reasons he is so popular with everyone at school.

As I look around, I notice the glass from the large picture window behind Cam is gone in this room as well.

It also appears we have gained a lot of debris from the neighborhood if what I am digging though is any indication. There are newspapers and patio pillows and even plants that look like they were torn up by their roots. It all combines to make a dirty wet nasty mess.

Once I can see the majority of his body, I am still not sure how badly he is hurt and I don’t want to move him and make it worse. Also, the table lying across his legs is huge and made of solid oak. There is no way I can move it by myself.

I start searching for the phone through my tear-blurred vision. I blink repeatedly as I fight against the tears, I do not have time to break down right now. Getting help for Cam is first on my list, then I’ll see what I can find out about the rest of the town. I finally find the phone buried under a stack of books and papers next to the still intact fish tank.

That gives me a pause. How can there be this much destruction, but the glass on the fish tank is unharmed? My mom’s fish are still making colorful waves as they swim around in their glass encased home. I have heard stories about the strange things tornados did, or didn’t do, but to actually see it is something else. I shake my head to clear it and move on. This is no time to be distracted.

I finish dialing 911 on the phone and put it up to my ear. It takes me several seconds to realize there is no dial tone. Dial tone is just something that you expect. I close my eyes and take a deep breath – of course there is no dial tone! We just lived through a tornado; there won’t be electricity in town right now. For the first time ever I wish for one of those old fashioned corded phones.

I pat myself down and find that my cell phone is somehow still in my pocket. In my rush to get it out I almost drop it. Holding my breath I slide the button to wake it up.

There is nothing there, no bars, no nothing – just searching for signal. I have absolutely no service.

I think of the cell towers around the area. How can they all be down? There must have been more than one tornado because I don’t even want to think about a single tornado large enough to take out all the towers.

OK – so, I need to find help for Cam and I have to do it on foot. I don’t mind walking I’m just not too thrilled about leaving him lying here by himself. I can’t see any way around it. There is no way to move him with that table still on top of him and so far I haven’t heard any one else in the vicinity to help move it. I’m hoping the ambulances will be starting to make rounds now that the coast is clear. If I can just find one of them I can direct them over to my house. They will be able to move the table and take care of him once they have him free.

As I look down on him lying on the floor so helpless, I remember the day we met and I was the helpless one.

It was 10 years ago – we were in the 1st grade. I had just moved to town after both my parents lost their jobs. I don’t remember much from that time; mostly just that I had to leave everything I knew.

That first day of school I was scared out of my mind. I was worried that no one would like me and I wouldn’t be able to make any new friends. I felt sick to my stomach and lightheaded. Walking into an unfamiliar school full of strangers was almost more than my little heart could handle.

As I walked into the strange classroom I started to cry. I could hear the snickers from the back of the room and murmurs of cry baby as I looked for an empty seat. Cameron saved me when he walked right up to me and said You can come sit by me if you want. The snickers stopped and there were no more whispers as we walked back to his desk. There he introduced me to Kaelyn and the three of us have been inseparable since.

As we grew older, our parents expected Cam and I to become more than friends, but it was just too weird. It doesn’t help anything that he is one of the most popular boys in school and I am considered a geek.

He is the captain of the football team, tall, almost blond, and cute with little dimples when he smiles. When you combine that with his lovable personality and perfect body, all of the girls go head over heals for just one date with Cam.

I am the one that always knows the answer, even if I haven’t studied. I typically wear jeans and a t-shirt to class and I don’t bother with make-up. My long straight black hair is normally pulled up in a messy bun just because I don’t want to waste time trying to make it look presentable.

Besides my jet black hair, I am completely average – 5’6 and I stay a pretty average weight for my height. Although - if I indulge in sweets as much as I would like to, that would no longer be the case.

I am lucky that my complexion is more olive toned and smooth; it doesn’t need anything except washed in the morning. I suppose I might be kind of pretty if I made some effort, but I just don’t see the point.

Kae, on the other hand, is only 5’1 and on the chubby side. With her cute little cherub face and freckles across her nose she is adorable. She has brown curly hair just past her shoulders that she is always trying to straighten. Unfortunately for her – it doesn’t straighten, it just frizzes.

Cam and I are both from single children homes and Kae’s brother is 8 years younger than her, so the three of us started taking care of and sticking up for each other like siblings would. I can’t even count the number of times Cam has stood up for me or Kae through grade school and middle school. I know that a lot of the times Cam had to stand up for me is when the other football players were actually ribbing him about me. It makes me feel bad, but I don’t know what I can do about it without making it worse.

I force myself out of the past and back to the here and now. I have to get moving if I am going to get help for Cam and I really want to check on Kae. I slowly and gently kneel down and give Cam a kiss on the cheek. Don’t worry, I will be back as soon as I can with help, I whisper to his unconscious form. I still don’t like leaving him, but I know I have no choice.

As I start to get up off the floor, I hear the strangest and most terrifying sound. It freezes the blood in my veins.

I stop moving which leaves me in a half crouch that I won’t be able to hold long – my knee is already protesting.

If I thought the sound of the tornado was bad, this is 100 times worse. I don’t know what could make that noise, but I am fairly certain I don’t want its attention on me.

The sound comes again, only closer this time. It sounds like chunks of metal grinding against each other – but more organic somehow. I look around trying in vain to find the source of the sound.

I look up when I hear scratching noises coming from the direction of the window. Standing on the windowsill is the most enormous bird I have ever seen.

The bird stands at least 3 foot tall and is black as night except it’s eyes. It’s eyes are an un-natural electric blue, unlike anything I have ever seen in nature before. Then it opens its mouth and I see teeth.

Its teeth are long and sharp with what looks like a serrated edge on the backside. I can’t help but think teeth like that only belong on a carnivore – made for ripping and tearing flesh. Then it makes that