Storm

A sister goes in search of her supposedly dead brother, only to find something she wasn't expecting. WARNING!! This story contains descriptions of blood and mentions of abuse

Gail:

Blizzard W. Atherton. June 2002, to April, 2019. “May his spirit be lifted and carried by the winds that bore him,” is what my mother wrote, to put on his tombstone. He would have loathed it, and I hated the tombstone too. Blizzard always said my mother was too creative for her own good. My parents are huge meteorology nerds. That's why his name is Blizzard and why mine is Gail.

He was on his way to Olympia, with the rest of the school orchestra. They were competing in the state finals, or rather, on their way to compete. The bus barely made it out of the city, before something made it careen off the side of the road. Twenty-two kids rode that bus. Ten were severely injured, eleven only minorly, and one dead. And you know what caused the crash? A swallows nest had fallen onto the road in front of the bus, and the driver didn’t notice it until it was almost too late for the swallows. Already too late for my brother.

For the few weeks after the crash that I still believed he was dead, my life was a train wreck. People that I loved grew so distant, because as soon as Blizzard stopped living, so did I. My friends couldn’t deal with that. They had known Blizzard, and they had lost him too. I wasn’t alone in my grief, even though I wanted to be. It wasn’t until Blizzard’s memorial as I stood in front of those incredibly sad faces, that I realized he wasn’t dead. And that thought brought me back to life; it empowered me to live through the next couple of weeks, riding on this wave of wishes that everyone was wrong, and that I wasn’t searching for nothing.

Blizzard:

The most painful thing that has happened to me wasn’t the crash, it wasn’t seeing my best friend dead, it wasn’t pulling pieces of a bus out of my shoulders, no, it was watching my little sister look at my tomb with not a single tear on her face, all of her completely gone.  The sun was up, and it was a beautiful day, and she just stood there, staring at it. Not placing any flowers, not saying a prayer for my spirit to go anywhere, just standing there, defeated.

“Come on Gail, we need to go home,” my mother said to her.  Gail just turned, and started walking away, head not lowered, no ounce of respect on her.  That’s when I realized, she was just as dead as Anthony was. Just as dead as she thought I was.

I was hoping she would have some hope for me, that she wouldn’t give out just yet.  But I knew. She would make it to the memorial, for Mom and Dad, but afterwards her body would be in the exact same place she thought mine was.  

Before I saw her, I had felt giddy about this.  I’d wanted to pull a Tom Sawyer, to jump into my own funeral, and surprise everyone.  But she was so selfish! To just give up on me like that. Did she even see the body? Even realize Anthony wasn’t anywhere around?  I just needed some ounce of hope in her, anything but death. I watched her walk away, and I saw her spirit die, and I guess that that’s when I really died too.

Gail:

I walked into class and just sat down.  It really didn’t matter to me that I was more than a half hour early, or that the teacher wasn’t even in the room yet.  This had become routine. No one saw me come and go. It was just easier. I used to always walk with Blizzard, but I can’t do that now.  Usually, getting there insanely early meant that no asked any questions. Today though, getting there early helped me think. 

At the memorial, I had expected to see someone, who I didn’t.  Anthony Morrow, my brother’s best friend, and the only person he really trusted, should have been there.  Anthony had almost been like another older sibling to me.  If the memorial had had anything to do with me, he wouldn’t have tried incredibly hard to be there.  But it was Blizzard, so he would have done anything in his power to be there. Not only that, but I hadn’t seen Anthony in weeks.  That wasn’t particularly unusual, because for as long as I can remember, Anthony has been either trying to run away, or actually living anywhere but his own home.  His father was violent, and I knew that he would occasionally hit Anthony. So he didn’t always make it to school, or to after school events, but if Blizz needed him, he would be there.  So him not being at the service just wasn’t right. Him not being around my family at all wasn’t right. And if… 

“Hey Gail,” came the voice as two people filed into the desks across from me.  I forced my eyes to move out of their dazed state and focus. The girl spoke again. “I know you probably don’t want to talk, or really even be near other living things, but I read somewhere that-”

“Shut up Maggie,” the boy intervened.  I had been nodding solemnly at Margaret, trying to get her to finish talking and leave sooner. “She doesn’t care right now.”  She glared at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at me.

This was Calvin Tearn.  He was weird. It was like he knew everything about you, though you knew almost nothing about him.  Even if I could pretend to everyone else that I was still dead on the inside, he would know the truth.

“I’m just trying to help!” Maggie started again, unknowingly coming to my rescue, as she drew Calvin’s attention away from me.  While they argued again, I tried to let myself zone out, to resume the train of thought I had built. I couldn’t take my mind off of Margaret and Calvin.  They were so loud and intrusive. I had known the two twins since sixth grade, but Hannah was the one I would consider a friend. Calvin was probably only here because Hannah was.  Actually, I thought that he was at Blizzard’s funeral without Hannah. I might not have seen him though. I just remember a flash of blond hair and green eyes, and that could have been either of them.  If he was there it meant that he would have seen me, not see Anthony. He already knew I was still kind of alive. There was no way I could fool him now. And as soon as he really knew I was okay, he would make sure everyone else knew it too.  

“Hello? Gail? Windy Wendy?” Calvin asked, waving a hand in my face.  I bristled at the stupid nickname, knowing my face was turning red and standing out against my dark hair.

“Be nice Cal,” Maggie snapped at him, obviously still sore from losing an argument.

“She’s doing that thing again.”

“What thing?” She sighed.

“The one where she’s read something so often she just kinda reads it over again in her head ‘cause she thinks we’re idiots who can’t tell when we’re not wanted.”

“Oh yeah, that thing,” she sarcastically shot back at him. Then, more gently towards me she said, “Gail, I just came to let you know you that there really are other people in this world who want to be near you, and that just because you think the world sucks doesn’t mean it does.” Then she walked out, and I kind of hung my head, hoping Calvin would leave too.  He didn’t, and instead leaned closer to me.

“It’s not a mystery, it’s not a book, or a story with a happy ending.  Your brother’s gone, no matter what you may think. Give it up, and get on with your life.  Okay?” He whispered looking directly into my eyes. I frowned and quietly shot back:

“I don’t care idiot. I know what I’m doing.” He laughed, and finally got up and started walking out, accidentally brushing his arm against mine.  His arm with a long bandage wrapped from his shoulder to elbow. He smirked as he caught my astonished expression.

“Violist,” he pointed towards himself with his thumbs, and continued walking out backwards to properly rub in my face the fact that he had seen my brother die, and I hadn’t.

Blizzard:

That night, I stayed in a dead man’s basement.  And I was the reason he was dead.  

I had met Anthony in second grade, and he meant everything to me.  He was my brother without actually being related to me, and I would do anything for him.  He wanted to come on the trip with us. So I snuck him on. We look similar, so all that had to be done was really a quick switch while different teachers were looking, and we were good.  We sat in the back, kind of hidden in the seats, and no one else really saw, or knew there was two of us there. Anyway, when the crash happened, we got thrown apart. I smashed through the window, but I saw Anthony get crushed between the seats as the truck behind the bus rammed forward too fast.  I just lied there, frozen in disbelief, and horror, and pain. There was my best friend, gone, and I was the only one who knew he was dead. No one else had known he had been on the bus. Then I started hearing them calling out names.

“Blizzard? Where’s Blizzard?” 

“Blizzard Atherton! Call out to us if you can!” I couldn’t.  I couldn’t speak. Rather, I didn’t deserve to speak. Anthony was gone, and I was going to be next.

“Oh my gosh, I think I found him!” I vaguely saw a girl run across the road… away from me.  She ran towards Anthony. “Oh gosh, I don’t think he’s breathing!”

“Quick, someone call for help!”

“No, it’s too late.  There’s no pulse.” And with that, everyone truly believed Blizzard Atherton to be dead.  

I waited for what felt like forever until I could walk, or really crawl and stumble away from the sight.  I don’t know how long I waited there. It could have been hours, it could have been days. There was blood pouring down my face, and most of it caught on my lip and nose.  My shoulder was crying in pain from the jagged metal I had ripped out, and my head was throbbing. I just made my way back home; we’d only really been on the road for forty minutes.  When I got back is when I saw the tombstone, and Gail. And then pieces started clicking.  

If Anthony had never snuck on, I would have sat up front, next to my other friends.  The bus might not have crashed then. But Anthony wouldn’t have been on the bus if his father… 

Built up rage boiled inside of me as I thought of him.  Anthony’s father, a vile and malicious man who never cared for any other human except for himself.  I felt like hitting something, like everything inside me was going to explode.

Without thinking, I walked over to Anthony’s house.  I opened the door with the key under the mat. I could hear the T.V. running in the other room, and could kind of see the blue light reflecting onto walls around me.  I made my way into the kitchen, and shakily grabbed at a drawer that I thought should contain something sharp. I pulled out a serving fork. I didn’t know I was going to kill him, or if I should.  I was just mad, and needed to do something. 

I walked into the room where he was, and stood behind him for a few minutes.  He belched and scratched under his arm, and that’s when I couldn’t control myself any more.

“Anthony’s dead, and so are you.” I muttered at him.  He didn’t hear, and just stayed glued to the show in front of him.  I raised the fork above him, and brought it down as hard as I could.  He let out a wretched scream, and I did it again and again, until the fork broke. I ran back to kitchen and came back with a butter knife this time, and brought it down on him. Then, he wasn’t screaming anymore, and his head was a bloody mess of hair and skin.  He was just slumped over the arm of the couch. It was uncanny how much his body resembled Anthony’s, both bloody with skin torn and flapping back against broken tissue, and with thick black hair sticking to and flying away from the ravaged scalp.

I ran out of the room, crooked fork and bloody knife still in my hands, and back into the kitchen.  I found a lighter as soon as I could, and started a fire in a pot on the stove top. I tossed the fork in, and watched it become red hot.  I put the fire out and used a pair of salad tongs to take the fork out. I brought it back to Anthony’s father, and pressed the metal to his face.  I don’t know why. It felt right, to cause this much more pain to him, even if he was dead. I left him there and took the tongs back to the basement, and crouched in the corner.  The only thing I had had to eat in several days, it must have been, was almost two bottles of water and a package or five of chips. The blood had clotted in my nose and forehead, and my shoulder just ached now.  I was at peace, though.

Gail:

“I told you it’s a dead end.  You really need to just give up.” Calvin annoyingly pointed out.

“And why would I give up now?  Because you’re tired of talking to people?” I shot back.  He just glared at me as he let the papers he was holding fall on his face.  I’d had to pester him for almost three hours before he agreed to answer my questions.  It was a start, even if he reminded me every five minutes that it was a hopeless endeavor, which I didn’t believe.

“Look, I don’t owe you anything. I’m helping you by being here, and if you want me gone, just say the word.” He sat up, trying to be serious.  I looked up from what I was writing to properly give him a look of annoyance, exasperation, and hatred.

“You wouldn’t leave if I tried to make you.  I know you want to be here, and want to help, so stop pretending like you have better things to do.” He rolled his eyes at me, but didn’t refute my logic. “We’ve only been here for two hours, and we already have butt loads of information about what happened.”

“Butt loads?” he snickered.  I kicked him, and he glared at me again. “I just think that you have all the information you can get right now.  You won’t find anything else. You have accounts from more than five different people on the bus, the bus driver, the volunteers on the trip, and several teachers.  What else do you need?”

“We have information on Blizzard.”

“Who is dead.”

“But we don’t have information on Anthony.”

“Who you are assuming is also dead.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“There’s incongruency in the reports.  Here, Mrs. Lyben said that after Blizzard got off the bus he came back without his jacket, and he said he left it on the bus.  Ten minutes later, Mrs. Lyben got back on the bus, and Mr. Cornfeill came out to ‘round up the stragglers’ and according to him, Blizzard came back with his hoodie on.  Anthony must have snuck on then, and they’ve been pulling this one since second grade.  They look so much alike that they can pass as each other if there’s something partially obstructing their face.” Calvin just looked at me with a blank stare.  I just looked back down at my paper again, partially embarrassed by my outburst of theory.

Calvin faked a cough surrounding the word “Poirot” and I kicked him again.  I really hated working with him, but actually interacting with a human was refreshing, and kind of nice.  Then the nice calm was shattered. My phone rang, and I answered.

“Gail, I need you to come home right now.” My mom frantically said over the phone. “Something really bad has happened.” 

“Okay,” I answered her. She sounded really worried.

“Who was that?” Calvin asked, actually sitting up for once.

“My mom.  I have to go.” I started gathering up the papers into a pile.

“Go where?”

“Home.” I gave him a strange look. “Why does it matter?”

“Oh, no reason. I should go home, too.” The edges of his ears turned bright red, and he started gathering up papers too.

I said goodbye as I left and walked home.  My house wasn’t very far from the school. As soon as I got home, my mom practically threw me into the passenger side of the car, and flew into the driver’s side of the car.  She let her head fall on the wheel and exhaled.

“Mom, are you okay?” I asked, really scared by what was happening.  My mom didn’t react this way even when my brother “died”.

“Mr. Morrow is dead,” she whispered.  I felt like something hard had hit me in the gut, something like a car, or a boulder.

“Where’s Anthony?” I whispered back, trying desperately to hide the hope from my voice.

“Missing.  The police found some things in his room, and they think it was a suicide.  They said that Mr. Morrow was murdered, and they think Anthony did it.”

“What? But Anthony’s so…” I trailed off as I realized that Anthony might be capable of murder.  He hated his dad. He’d even joked about killing him once before, but Blizzard had been appalled… Blizzard.  With him gone, who knows what Anthony might have done.  He was unstable without my brother.

“We’re going to go see Anthony’s mom,” my mother said finally raising her head to put the car into gear.

Later, after the visit to the hospital, where Anthony’s mom happened to be losing the battle with cancer, I thought it over again.  What if Anthony was still alive? They’d both been on the bus, but what if Blizzard did die, because he sat in the back with Anthony?  And Anthony, suffering some sort of trauma, came back to exact revenge on his dad? It really seemed way to plausible. I needed to go over to the site of the murder.

I reached for my phone, and put it in my back pocket as I grabbed my coat and ran down the stairs.  My parents were in the living room, watching some documentary on storms ro something.

“I’m going to go on a walk,” I said as I opened the front door.

“Okay, but… ” my mom trailed off as she saw my face.  She knew I was on a mission, and she also knew better than anyone not to stop me.  

I started walking, and without really realizing it, my feet carried me the opposite direction than I wanted to go in.  I walked straight up to Calvin’s house. I hadn’t even really realized that that’s where I wanted to go. I knocked on the door several times, when Calvin’s mom, Rory, answered. 

“Is Calvin here?” I inquired sweetly, trying to act five instead of fifteen.  You know, like when you used to ask if a friend was home so you could play together.  Except now, I wanted to sneak around a crime scene where there was probably lots of police and other authoritative figures to get past.  Calvin materialized in the doorway.

“Yeah, he is,” Calvin sarcastically replied. I very valiantly resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

“Why do you need him?” Rory asked, trying to get out of the dangerous water she sensed around us.

“We have a school project we need to finish,” I looked at him pointedly.

“Oh yeah!” the realization dawned on him. “It’ll only be a little bit Mom.  I’ll be back soon.” He waved back at her as he practically flew down the steps, and he waited until she closed the door to launch into a barrage of question.  “Did you find anything? Did you find Blizzard, or Anthony? Did you see the body? Do you have any evidence for the police? Do yo-”

“Oh my gosh, someone else died!” I cut him off. He looked startled, obviously not expecting that. “Sorry.  Just let me speak.”

“Okay,” he muttered, subdued and surprised.

“Anthony’s dad was found dead this morning.”

“Anthony’s dad?”

“Yeah.  The police think that Anthony did it.”

“Wait, but, he’s dead,” he asked, confused. 

“Not necessarily.” I started slowly.  “Anthony could have been the one to survive the crash.”

“Do you really believe that?” He asked.

“We’ll see,” I sighed as I took off at a brisk pace.  I could hear Calvin behind me. I almost wished I hadn’t gone to get him.  I needed to think about what I was saying and thinking. I couldn’t really believe Bliz was dead.  I really couldn’t believe that I had hoped for nothing. I didn’t want to believe that he was gone.  I needed him to be alive.

The house was surrounded by tape, and a few police cars were outside.  I immediately put my head down and started walking along the opposite street.  I saw Calvin walk around to my side from the corner of my eye. After we were almost two houses down from Anthony’s, we crossed the street, and slunk around to the back of the house.  There wasn’t a blockade in the back, and the windows were open.

“This feels really illegal,” Calvin whispered as he climbed through the window.

“Everyone who owns this house is dead.  It’s fine,” I whispered back, not believing myself.  We started walking around quietly. I led Calvin to where I remembered the basement steps to be.

“It’s the only place I feel safe,” Anthony had told us before.  He’d hid in the basement when his dad got really bad. If he was here, and alive, that’s where he would be.

Blizzard:

I felt both weak and strong in the same instant.  The police had been focusing on the corpse I had left behind, and for whatever reason, hadn’t searched the house in depth.  Until now, at least. Now I heard two voices above me. 

“But wouldn’t it be better if it is Anthony?” said one of them.  I was confused. Why were they talking about Anthony?

“I don’t know.  If it is Anthony, my family won’t be affected.  If not, there’s a world of trouble ahead of us.” The voice was feminine this time.

“It might not have been either one of them.  They could have both died.” The first voice pleaded.

“There’s really not many other possibilities.”  That was it. I was bored with this, and so confused.  My head felt wobbly too. I really needed something for my shoulder.  It was bleeding again, and hurt so badly. Then, the door rattled. I needed to think quickly before they came down the steps.  I looked around. There, in the corner was a toolbox and some boards of wood. I ran over as quickly as I could and snatched up a screwdriver from the box.  I waited until the door opened, then I ran.

Gail:

“There’s really not many other possibilities,” I said as I opened the door.  I was filled with tension, and elation. This was the most exciting thing to happen to me.  If only it wasn’t so personal, then it would be better. I stepped into the room and before I could think something, or rather someone hurtled at me.  I felt Calvin behind me push me out of the way as the projectile human slammed into him. It barely made Calvin move, though. He just pushed the figure away from himself a little.  The attacker landed on the ground, and immediately huddled onto himself, obviously in pain and needing medical attention. Then, he turned his head, and I froze.

His ebony hair was the in the same messy state as when I had last seen him, but with dried blood clinging to it.  His glasses were crooked and broken on his face and his scared brown eyes were wild. He had blood all over his face, and his clothes were practically just scraps of fabric somehow staying on his body.  His shoes were gone, too. His eyes locked onto mine, and all I could think about was how people used to say how similar we looked to each other. Now, the differences stood out like a black cat in winter. Lost in thought, he shocked me out of it by saying:

“You gave up,” and those words hit me harder than anything before had.  Not even the words “Your brother is dead,” could have affected me like Blizzard’s last words did. Then, he hurtled at me again, and this time, I pushed him away from me.  His head landed on the concrete with a sickening thud, and just like that, I was the reason he was really gone..

Two weeks later, we held a real funeral for Blizzard.  Calvin and I pretended we had never been in the house that night.  I may have later, when the police questioned my family, mentioned something about a basement.  They found the body, brought in a specialist who basically figured out the same story that I had, but with more evidence.  It turns out that Blizzard had made a stop at a convenience store, where he had stolen a little bit of food. It was the only thing he had eaten or drunk for almost two weeks, which was why he was so weak.  He had been bleeding from the crash internally and externally, and the last blow to his head was it. The detective blamed a fall on the injury. I had to stand in front of the same people at the funeral and the memorial, and speak about how he died.  I couldn’t shake from my mind the fact that he died, technically, at my hands.

And this time, my last memory of my brother wasn’t him giving me a hug as he left the house.

Author's Note

Hey! This was mostly to play around with relationships and emotions in characters, but any feedback at all would be helpful!