“Fuck this,” Lauren spat, missing fully her father’s virgin utterance of her pet name since returning. “I’m coming there, Dad. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Lauren, no!” Alan’s tone went vastly stern. “Don’t come here! Don’t even waste your time. Just stay at home and wait for us. We’ll be there before long and we’ll talk.” He paused. “Listen…something’s happening here today…in the valley. We don’t yet know what it is or what it means for us. And I want you where it’s safest. Coming here puts you at risk, and it won’t help Grace. So please just stay put.”
Lauren pulled the radio away and stared at it hatefully. She wanted to defy him and see her sister. She wanted for nothing more than to march to the Vincents’, kick the front door in, and hold the good doctor at gunpoint and watch him piss his pants as she had before. But it was rare for her to explicitly disobey her father’s wishes. He wanted her at home and had a reason for it.
She squeezed the PTT, her eyes slamming shut in clear conflict with herself. “Okay, Dad, fine…I’ll stay. Call me when you know something.”
“Of course we will. We’ll see you soon. Stay safe and close to the radio. We love you.”
Lauren sighed and looked to the sky. She didn’t want to be here, she didn’t want to be alone at home right now, but her options had all but eroded away, as would a coastal shore mauled by storm-driven tides. As she yearned for an end to this dreadful turn of events, she felt the radio’s speaker vibrate in her hand. Lauren pressed it to her ear and listened intently, reasoning it was her dad with news of Grace.
“Is the frequency in use? I say again, is the frequency in use? Is anyone monitoring this channel? Over.”
It wasn’t her father at all. She couldn’t be sure, but the voice sounded an awful lot like Will Sharp. Lauren keyed the transmit button. “Hello, I hear you. Who is this?”
The caller replied instantly. “Lauren? Is that you? It’s Will. How do you copy?”
“Yes, it’s me. I copy you fine.”
“Good, that’s good. Thanks for coming back to me. I’m with Nate Fischer, and we’re in a jam…are you in a position to assist?”
Lauren wasn’t sure what that meant, but was alerted despite her distress. Will sounded okay, but his tone was grave and hurried. He had shocking news to convey. “Sure…I’ll try.”
“Roger. Our present location is the old Perry residence on the far end of the valley…we have urgent traffic to remit to the unit. Are you anywhere close to Neo or Richie? Or the chief?”
Lauren went to offer an immediate reply but thought her answer through first. “No, I’m alone, Will. Neo…he’s hurt…out of action.” She stumbled over the words. “Woo Tang was here. He left for the church…I’m not sure, but I think something happened there.”
“Roger that, full copy,” Will muttered, exhaling his burden over the mic. “Lauren, this is serious. Doesn’t matter how you do it, but I need you to run the chief down and get your radio in his hand. I must speak directly to him. Do you understand? Can you make that happen?”
Lauren swiveled, her heart skipping a beat. Woo Tang was long gone by now, though she couldn’t estimate how long it had been since he’d left. A foot pursuit was her first notion, but she felt jittery and didn’t know if she could intercept without her afflicted frame giving out on her.
Then she spotted a lone ATV parked beside the cabin, hustled to it, and verified the ignition key present before calling back. “Will—I’ll get him, I just need a minute.”
Snapping the radio to her waist by the belt clip, Lauren straddled the Honda Rancher and cranked the engine alive, then revved the throttle and gunned it to the driveway’s edge, skidding sideways onto Trout Run Road. Aligning her path of travel, she accelerated hard, hurtling the four-wheeler to highway speeds, slowing only when she neared the entrance to St. James Church.
Woo Tang was on the incline above, about to make entry into the church’s diminutive gravel parking lot. His transceiver still glued to him, he peered over his shoulder upon hearing the Rancher’s engine on approach. When the tires gnashed the gravel of the entryway, he rotated fully and dispatched a scathing glare to the driver.
Lauren pulled beside him. She shut off the engine, unsnapped her radio, and presented it to him. “Here, Jae, it’s Wi—”
“Lauren Russell! Unacceptable! I ordered you to remain ho—”
“Dammit, Jae, I heard what you said!” She shoved the Baofeng in his face. “Here! Take it! It’s Will!”
Woo Tang accepted the smaller handheld while lowering the other, and his gaze became inexpressible in an instant. Passions he had never allowed to surface were becoming visible and were manifesting into a morbid singularity no single word could define.
Lauren had never seen him falter, but the events of today were weighing on him immensely and seemed to now be tearing away at his resilience.
“Thank you. My…apologies,” he said to her finally, and turned away to make his call.
Lauren dismounted and started to follow, but the scene before her struck her like a pitiless thunderbolt to the soul. She gasped loudly and froze. The smoke she had seen from a distance was in full view now, and the primitive church that had stood here for as long as she could remember, the one she was now expecting to see, was no longer there. A jagged mountain of smoldering rubble comprised of fractured wood, shattered panes of century-old stained glass and ripped-apart portions of tin roofing was all that remained of it. There was nothing left of the steeple nor of the bell formerly suspended within, which had jingled spiritual hymns on Sunday mornings. Whatever had happened to her family’s shed had done so here in analogous fashion.
Lauren shuffled past Woo Tang
