As a shepherd looks after his flock when he is with them,
so will I look after my sheep.
I will rescue them from all the places where they were scattered
on a day of clouds and darkness.

Ezekiel 34:12

There isn't a way that things should be.
There's just what happens, and what we do.

Terry Pratchett

Oct 11, 2013 – [6:42 am]
Arcadia Bay Medical Center
Arcadia Bay, Oregon

"Sweetheart, you need to leave."

"Sorry." I shrug, keeping my eyes on the half-finished book of crossword puzzles on my lap. "Can't hear you."

"The storm is getting worse."

"I bet that's why I can't hear you." I hold up the book. I found it in the reception area a couple of hours ago, and it's been my only real source of entertainment since. I can't believe what not having cell reception has reduced me to. I wish I'd gotten around to downloading some games on my phone. "Help me out. Six letters. Tinker something Soldier Spy. I really feel like I should know this."

"Taylor!"

"Oh, right. Duh." I laugh, giving my mom a little wink. "That's with an 'i' though, right?"

She huffs. "Would you please be serious?"

"Guess what? I am being serious." I give her a pointed look. She looks a little like she wants to kick me. "I'm not going to leave you here on your own. End of story."

"I don't want to see you get hurt."

I definitely don't roll my eyes at her because I am a respectful and loving daughter who'd never do that. "Says the woman in the hospital bed."

"But..."

"The ambulances are going to be back any minute, then we'll both be getting out of here." Sighing, I drop the crossword book on the chair beside me. Standing up and stretching, I quickly check my backpack on the table next Mom's bed before moving toward the door. "Look, I'm gonna go find some staff and ask what's up, okay? They're probably going to tell me exactly what I just told you, and then I'll come back here and say I told you so."

"You get that sass from your father, you know."

"Sure," I quickly agree, heading off whatever anti-dad diatribe is waiting on the tip of her tongue. "I'll be right back."

The hallway is a lot quieter than I expect; totally different than it was just a couple of hours ago. The hospital has been running on its emergency generators since the power went out, and with almost everyone gone the dim lighting gives the whole place a creepily abandoned vibe.

Even though the hospital staff had already been evacuating patients when I got here last night, about half an hour after the storm warning went out, they hadn't been in any hurry. The skies were still clear then, and most people thought it was all a mistake. Still, anyone who wasn't in serious condition but still couldn't drive themselves got loaded into ambulances a few at a time, bound for the hospital in Tillamook.

It wasn't until about four in the morning, when the weather turned nasty, that people started to get nervous. Suddenly they were loading as many patients as they could into the ambulances. If I'd had my way, Mom would have been out of here hours ago, but the doctors said she needed to stay laying down, and that would've limited the number of other people they could fit in.

I'd kept asking the staff when she'd be getting out of here, I'd kept getting the brush off, and eventually I'd just given up and settled in to wait. That was a couple of hours ago, and while I've been putting up a brave face, Mom's not wrong about the storm. It's getting pretty scary out there. Even in the hallway, I can hear the wind howling and the rain pounding against the windows.

We'll definitely be on the next ambulance, though. I don't think there's anyone else left.

For about the ten-millionth time tonight, I feel my thoughts drift toward Victoria. She must have known the storm was coming. It'd be one thing to know that a storm warning was going out, but she specifically told me to have a raincoat with me when the skies were still clear. How could she have known that before anyone else?

God, I hope she's okay. I know she probably is; if she already knew about the storm, then she probably got out of town hours ago. That doesn't keep me from worrying, though, and a small, selfish part of me wishes she was here right now.

She'd better have some damn good answers when I see her tomorrow.

Wandering into the reception area, I'm kind of alarmed to find it deserted. "Hello? Anyone home?"

There's no one behind the admissions desk, and the cops who've been present all night are gone. I can't even hear anyone. Walking around the counter, I pull open the door labelled 'STAFF ONLY' and stick my head inside. It's empty, just like the halls, and I'm starting to get a bad feeling. Heading back toward Mom's room, I check every other room along the way. Nobody's home, and that bad feeling is getting worse.

"Where the fuck is everyone?"

I don't expect a response, but I still get one.

"They aren't here."

I freeze mid-step, like all of my muscles have locked up at once. I know that voice. I'd know it anywhere and turning around just confirms it. Kate Marsh, dressed in t-shirt and sweatpants, just standing there in the hallway not ten feet from the door of my mother's hospital room.

"Hi, Taylor," she says, quietly.

"H-hey, Kate."

"I heard you from down the hall." She gives me a tight, nervous smile and glances over my shoulder. "You must be here with your mother?"

"That's...yeah." I swallow, wishing my mouth weren't so suddenly dry. I told Mom about what happened to Kate (I had to, or she'd just have found out from someone else) but the version I gave her downplayed my own involvement a little. And by a little, I mean a lot. She'd be so ashamed of me if she knew what I'd done.

How couldn't she be? I'm ashamed of me.

And now all Kate has to do is walk in and tell the truth and my mom will never look at me the same way again. I'm trying to think of the best way to quietly beg her not to when her first words catch up to me. "Wait, what do you mean they aren't here?"

"The hospital staff," she hesitantly explains. "They left about twenty minutes ago."

"That's..." I struggle to grasp the idea. "That's impossible. They can't just leave."

"They did. The ambulances hadn't come back and the phones still weren't working, so the last two nurses left."

"You're wrong," She's got to be wrong. This can't be happening. "They can't just fuck off and leave people here."

"I know. I...I tried to tell one of them that there were still patients here, but she kept saying I was wrong. That everyone was evacuated. I said I could show her, but she wouldn't come with me. She kept saying everyone was gone, over and over. She wouldn't listen."

Attentional fixation. When you're freaking so badly that your brain goes full-on broken record. You lock on to one idea and hold on like it's a life preserver.

Been there. It sucks.

"The other one...she offered to take me with her." Kate continues, looking embarrassed even admitting it. "But I couldn't just...there were other patients still here."

They're gone. The staff is gone. They ran for the hills and left us here to die. Like we aren't even people.

"Taylor?" Kate's reaching out to me. She looks worried. "What's wrong?"

I try to answer, but there's a squeezing pain in the centre of my chest that's making it hard to form the words. My hands are already shaking, and I can feel myself breaking out in a sweat as I fight to breathe. "I...I c-can't..."

A sudden crash of thunder echoes down the empty hallway, startling me. I try to turn around, get back to Mom's room (Mom can always calm me down when I'm like this) but my feet get tangled up somehow. I fall against the wall with a loud thump, gasping as I slide down to the floor.

I can't focus. I can't think. I can't fucking breathe.

I'm gonna die here.

We're all gonna die here.

"Taylor?" Mom calls from her room. "Is that you? Are you alright?"

Before I can even try to respond, Kate's rushing past me and into the room. She's talking to Mom. Oh, god, Kate Marsh is talking to my mother and she's going to talk about what I did and then Mom will hate me. I try to stand up, but my legs won't cooperate. I don't know what Kate's saying, but I can still hear snips of Mom's voice over the rushing in my ears. "...xiety atta...elp her calm do...ll her to brea...e'll be alri..."

Suddenly, Kate's back. She's sitting on the floor next to me, grasping both my hands in hers and speaking softly. "I'm right here, Taylor. You can get through this. Just concentrate on your breathing."

Breathing. Just breathe. Right. I can do that.

"That's it. In and out. Nice and slow." She looks back through the door and nods. "You're doing great."

Breathe in. Breathe out. Repeat. Feel the solid ground under me. Repeat.

"Stay right here. I know it's scary, but you're safe." Kate's voice is gentle and even, like she's done this a thousand times, and slowly I feel the clenched knot in my chest start to loosen. The rushing in my ears fades away. The tingling in my arms and legs gives way to the dull ache of muscles clenched too hard for too long.

Finally, finally, I can breathe easy again.

Holy fuck...I haven't had an attack that bad in a long time.

"Are you feeling better?" she asks. "Is there anything you need?"

"I...uh..." I force myself to focus. "Just...just some water."

She rushes off, returning a minute later with a cup in one hand. "Here you go."

Parched, I down the whole thing in one gulp. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"No, seriously. Thank you."

"It was nothing. Your mom told me what to do." She shrugs, looking down. "She's probably worried about you."

"Yeah. Okay." I climb to my feet, a little shakily, and follow Kate back into Mom's room.

"Taylor, sweetheart, are you alright?" As soon as I'm close enough, she reaches out to grab my hand.

"I'm fine, mom. I just got a little overwhelmed for a minute."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm okay now."

She doesn't look like she believes that for a second, but she doesn't push back. Turning to Kate, she says, "Thank you so much for helping her...er...I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"It's Kate. Kate Marsh. Nice to meet you."

"Helen Christensen." Mom looks my way from the corner of her eye as if to ask, is she that Kate Marsh? I give her a quick nod. "Nice to meet you as well, Kate. I suppose you're waiting for one of the ambulances, too?"

Kate looks at me, then slowly shakes her head. "The ambulances were supposed to be back almost an hour ago."

"Well, they must be on their way, right?" Mom frowns, turning to look out the window as if one will appear on command. "What did the staff say when you asked them?"

"The staff are all gone, Mom."

For a second, Mom just stares at me like I've started speaking in another language. "I beg your pardon?"

"They left." I feel my hands tremble a little and force them to stop. "They left us behind and...and they aren't coming back."

"Oh," she says, taking a slow breath. "I see."

I've wanted to be just like my mom since I was a little girl, because if there's one word that describes her perfectly, it's fearless. I've never once seen her get overwhelmed or knocked off balance. Even now, it's like I can see her clamping down on her anxiety and figuring out what to do next. She's been my rock for as long as I can remember.

How she ended up with a anxious mess like me for a daughter, I'll never know.

"Alright then." She nods. "Kate, do you know how many other patients are still here? Aside from us, I mean."

"Just three others." She hesitates, fidgeting a little. "But one of them is...er..."

"Is what?" I press.

"...maybe you should come see."

"Frank Bowers?!" I don't know what I expected Kate to show me, but the sight of Arcadia Bay's resident drug-dealer handcuffed to a railing hadn't been it. "What are you doing here?"

"What the fuck do you think I'm doing here?" he growls, pointing to the white bandage that's wrapped around his head, obscuring one eye. "I was trying to get out of town when the wind just about slapped my RV off the damn road. Ran into a tree, cranked my head on the wheel. Couple of cops found me and drove me here."

"You know him?" Kate asks, only a little distracted by Bowers' dog, who's practically begging for her attention.

"We're...acquainted," I say, glancing at Kate. "I meant, how'd you end up handcuffed to the wall?"

He snorts. "Forgot I was holding. It was just some grass, but the cops spotted it stickin' outta my pocket. Cuffed me on the spot then forgot all about me. Can you believe that? Haven't seen the pricks in half an hour."

"They probably took off with everyone else." Completely against my will, I feel a twinge of sympathy for him. He may be a dirtbag, but he doesn't deserve to be left like this.

"Whaddaya mean, everyone else?"

"The hospital staff left, too. Except for my mom and a couple of other patients, we're the only ones here."

"Are you fucking kidding me?!"

"Sure, Bowers. I'm just kidding. This is all one big goddamn joke." I lean in, eyeing the cuffs. "We gotta get you out of these things."

I swear I saw a video once about how to lockpick a pair of handcuffs, but all I can remember is how obnoxious the 'like, comment, and subscribe' bit at the start was. I also remember reading about people who broke their own thumbs to escape handcuffs, but I don't think he'd would like that idea too much.

Kate clears her throat softly, catching my attention. "The hospital maintenance room is just down the hall from mine. They'll probably have a screwdriver." She points to where the end of the railing meets the wall. "If we unscrewed it, couldn't the handcuffs just slide off?"

"Yeah," I nod. "Yeah, that'd probably work."

"Okay," she smiles. "I'll be right back."

She heads off at a jog, Bowers' dog trotting happily beside her.

"Looks like your dog found a new friend."

"Happens all the time." He snorts. "Pompidou's the biggest suck-up on Earth."

"Pompidou?"

"That's his name. Problem?"

"No."

It suddenly occurs to me that I've never actually been alone with Frank Bowers. We aren't exactly on conversational terms, and before now, I'm pretty sure I've only said a dozen words to him, and ten of those were 'I'm here to get a dime bag. No cheap shit.'

"So...uh...what's new?" I ask, kinda awkwardly. "I mean, besides all of...this."

He gives me a look but doesn't answer.

"Right." Clearing my throat, I gesture to the purplish bruise on the side of his face. "That looks pretty painful."

"I don't wanna talk about it," he snaps.

"Okay. Sorry."

Kate's back a minute later (thank fucking god) with a flat-head screwdriver in one hand.

"Is this the right kind?"

"Yeah, that's perfect." I nod. There's a cover over the end of the railing, but the screwdriver makes it pretty easy to pry off. Removing the three screws holding the railing to the wall is even easier, and Bowers' handcuffs slip right off.

"Damn," he mutters, eyeing the cuff still attached to his wrist. "And here I was starting to consider breaking my own thumb."

"I thought of that too. Didn't think you'd be into it." I turn to Kate. "You said there were two other patients?"

"Mhm." She nods. "Come on. They're in the library."

"...the library?"

So it turns out that the Arcadia Bay Medical Centre actually does have a library, even if it is just a smallish room with a few bookshelves and a couple of couches.

Most of the books are pretty obviously donations. Lots of Danielle Steele and John Grisham, at least three copies of The DaVinci Code, Chicken Soup for pretty much every kind of soul, a few For Dummies books and...holy crap! They have the entire Babysitter's Club collection, including the Super-Specials! There's even a couple I haven't read!

...don't you fucking dare judge me.

"Kate?! We were getting worried!" The relieved voice pulls my attention away from the shelves (gotta remember to come back and grab some of those BSC books later) and over to a woman sitting on one of the couches.

She's bundled up warmly, wrapped in a blanket over top of a sweater, and she's got one of those clear plastic oxygen masks hanging around her neck. She's older than Mom, but not way older. In her fifties? Maybe even her sixties? Her hair is mostly gray with a few streaks of dark brown, but what really stands out about her is her eyes; they both have a cloudy white sheen over them.

Kate's kneeling in front of her, and from the way the woman doesn't quite look at her while they speak softly, it's a safe bet that she's either blind or close to it.

Next to the couch, sitting in a wheelchair and eyeing me and Bowers curiously, is a guy who's got to be pushing eighty, at least. He's missing an ear, both of his legs end just above the knee, and the beat up old ballcap that reads 'USMC 1 Div' make it pretty easy to guess why.

"Taylor, this is Jillian," Kate says, gesturing to the woman, who looks more or less in my direction and gives me a little wave. I guess she can see a little, after all. "And that's Douglas. Douglas, Jillian, this is Taylor and...er...do you prefer Frank or Bowers?"

"Either works." Bowers shrugs.

What the hell? When Kate said there were two other patients left behind, I figured she meant people in comas or full-body casts or something. I mean, I can understand why Mom kept getting passed over for a ride out of here, and I can definitely see how no one would be too excited to deal with Bowers, but Jillian and Douglas look like they could've left anytime. What are these two still doing here?

"Jillian kept letting other patients leave ahead of her," Kate explains, like she'd read my mind. I guess I don't have much of a poker face.

"Seemed like the Christian thing to do." Jillian shrugs. "Victim of my own good nature, I suppose."

"My daughter was coming to pick me up in the morning." Douglas gestures to the far couch. "I was taking a nap in here when Miss Marsh found me."

"Wait...you fell asleep, and they just left you here?"

"Seems like."

This is unbelievable. Who could do that? If I ever see those nurses again, I'm gonna kick the shit out of them. "That's fucked up."

"No argument from me." Douglas snorts. "So, Miss Marsh, did you come across anyone else, or just these two?"

"Taylor's mother is here, as well." She looks to me. "She just had back surgery, didn't she?"

"Yeah." I glance over my shoulder. "She's still in her room."

"Suppose that's where we should be, then." Douglas nods, releasing the brakes on his wheelchair. "Lead the way, young lady."

I hold back when we get to Mom's room, letting the others go ahead of me. Bowers is in the rear, and I reach out to grab his sleeve before he can go in. "Hey. Hold on a sec."

"What?"

"Can I...I wanted to ask you something. I mean, I wanted to ask if you could do something for me." I look away, rubbing the back of my neck. I can't believe I'm worried about offending a drug dealer. "The thing is, that's my mom in there, and I...uh..."

"Relax, kid," he interrupts. "I don't know you. Never met you before in my life."

I relax a little. "Thanks."

Following him into the room, I notice two things right away. The first is that Pompidou has already jumped up onto Mom's bed and wriggled his head under her hand, and the other is just how pale she looks. She's putting up a brave face, politely introducing herself to Douglas and Jillian, but I'm pretty sure she's not doing as well as she wants everyone to think.

"Hey, Mom." Moving to her bedside, I lower my voice. "How're you doing?"

"I'm alright, sweetheart." She turns toward me a little and winces. "I...I just need a minute."

I've never seen Mom look so shaky; it's a little unnerving. Leaning over, I murmur, "Seriously, are you okay?"

"I'll be fine," she insists. "I really just need a moment."

Even I can tell that's bullshit, but it's not like there's anything I can do to change it. So, if she says she needs a minute, I'll get her a minute. "Well, how about I just, y'know, handle stuff. While you're gathering your thoughts, I mean?"

She gives my hand a little squeeze, relieved. "That'd be wonderful, Taylor. Thank you."

Alright, no big deal. I just need to keep anyone from doing anything stupid until Mom can think of something. Wandering over to where the others are talking, I try to figure out how to do that.

"We could just hunker down here," Bowers suggests. "Find a solid room at the centre of the building? Or down in the basement?"

Crap, they're already making plans. Well, I might as well see where this goes.

"No way," Jillian shakes her head. "You said that warning was for an F5. Nothing holds up to that. They can tear a house right off its foundations."

Okay, that sounds pretty scary.

"Come on," Bowers scoffs. "It can't be that bad."

"No. It's worse." Douglas said. "I grew up in Kansas, son. Smack dab in the middle of Tornado Alley. I actually saw an F5 up close when I was a kid. I'm not bullshitting when I say that those things are like the wrath of God himself."

...the fuck?!

"Believe me when I tell you," Douglas continues. "If one of those hits Arcadia Bay, it'll wipe us off the map."

Okay, fuck that noise. There's no way in hell I'm going to let my mom die here because of some fucking nightmare superstorm.

"So basically," I cut in, loudly enough to get everyone's attention. "If we stay here, we're toast?"

"If it's as bad as they say?" Jillian nods. "Definitely."

Well, this one is a no brainer. "So I guess if no one is coming to get us, we just need to find a way to get to safety ourselves."

"Yeah?" Bowers snorts. "And how do you expect us t-"

"You got a better idea?!" I snap, surprising myself.

"Look, I'm just sayi-"

All I do is take a step forward. It's not like I was going to take a swing at him or anything; I'm not that crazy or that stupid. I just wanted to get in his space a little. But as soon as I do, he actually falls back and raises his hands.

"Jesus Christ! Calm your tits, will ya?"

What the hell? Did Frank Bowers, Arcadia Bay's infamous drug dealer, just flinch away from a teenage girl like he thought I was gonna kick the shit out of him? I share a quick look with Kate; she seems a little surprised, too.

"Fine. Whatever." I take a second to think. "Alright. We obviously can't go anywhere on foot. I've got my car, but there's no way we'll all fit in it." Understatement of the year, considering my little two-door barely has a back seat. "And your RV isn't here, is it?"

"Even if it was, it wouldn't do us any good," Bowers mutters. "Half the engine is jammed in a tree trunk."

"So, anyone have any other ideas?"

"I've got one, maybe," Douglas says, scratching his chin. "The medical center's got a shuttle bus they use to run people over to Tillamook. It oughta be parked around back. So long as those cowardly pricks didn't take it, that is."

A shuttle bus. Okay. That's something we can work with. "How big is it?"

"Big enough for us." He slaps his wheelchair's armrest. "And it's got a chair lift."

Bowers grunts, nodding slowly. "Don't suppose you know where the keys are, do you?"

"If they're anywhere, they'll probably be at the nurse's station."

"We just need someone to do the driving part." I turn to Bowers again. "You up for it?"

"Oh no," He shakes his head, wincing a little when he does, and gestures to his bandage. "Bad idea. Even if my head hadn't gotten knocked around, this is the kind of night you'd want a driver with depth perception." Reaching over, he scratches Pompidou between the ears and the dog's tail thumps happily on the bed. "And this blockhead's a shitty driver."

I look to Kate, who shakes her head. "I've never driven anything. I don't even have a license."

"And mine's expired." Douglas says, like that's the only issue. Jillian shrugs and gestures helplessly to her eyes.

And 36 hours ago, Mom was in the middle of back surgery.

Fuck.

Fuck.

"I guess I'm driving, then," I say.

"What?!"

Startled, I spin around to see Mom staring at me like I'm insane. And to be honest, I kinda know how she feels. I feel like I should be freaking the hell out right now. I should be shaking and hyperventilating again, curled up on the floor and chewing my fingernails down until they bleed, because apparently I'm going to be driving a shuttle bus of abandoned hospital patients through the middle of a fucking tornado.

"Sweetie, I don't know if..."

"I'm the only option we've got," I interrupt, clamping down on my nerves. She can't argue with that, and she doesn't try.

"Have you ever driven something that big?" Jillian asks.

"Does it matter?"

"I suppose not," she admits.

"Ain't too hard," Bowers says. "Just go easy on the corners and don't let the wind shove you off the road."

"Oh, is that all?"

"Pretty much," he smirks. "Let's go see if we can find those keys."

Which, it turns out, actually doesn't take a lot of time.

Following Douglas's suggestion to go check the nurse's station, I instantly spot the grey metal key holder mounted on the wall behind it. Unfortunately, it's locked and the key to open it isn't just laying around. I briefly consider searching the dozens of drawers, cabinets, and shelves behind the desk, then a much better solution catches my eye.

"Y'know, I actually might be able to pick that lock," Bowers says, eying the key holder. "Just need a couple of paperclips or someth-"

"Or," I interrupt, lifting the nearby fire extinguisher off its wall hook. "I can just hit it really hard till it breaks open."

"Shit, that'll work too," he laughs, taking a couple steps back. "Go for it, killer."

So I do, and it turns out that a hardware store key holder doesn't offer a ton of protection against a desperate 18-year-old girl with a fire extinguisher and a lot of misplaced anxiety to work out. It only takes a couple of solid hits to knock the thing off the wall, then one more to break the holder's cheap lock. There're a bunch of keyrings inside, but I have a pretty good feeling about the one with a tag marked 'shuttle bus'.

"Sweet," I say, dropping it in my pocket. If everything else is this easy, I'll have Mom to safety in no time. "C'mon, Bowers. Let's go."

"Alright, I'm com...whoa..." Stumbling a little, he stops to lean against the wall. His visible eye squeezes shut as he presses a hand to his head. "Son of a..."

"What's wrong?"

"Headache," he mutters, looking pale. "Fuckin' nasty one."

I hesitate, then reach out to take his arm. "You don't look so good. You should probably sit down."

He briefly resists before letting me lead him to a chair. "Yeah. I just need a second."

"I don't think so." This is exactly what I get for thinking things were going well. "You've probably got a concussion or something. Just stay here and...I don't know...don't pass out. I'll go get the bus by myself."

"I could go with you."

I spin around to find Kate standing there (I swear, someone needs to put a bell on her or something) with a hesitant smile, because of course she'd volunteer. That's exactly what I need right now - more time alone with Kate Marsh. A couple of days ago I was in my dorm room, getting wasted and trying to forget she existed, and now she wants us to go for a walk through an abandoned hospital together. I can't think of anything less appealing...except for the idea of going alone.

But let's face it; I haven't got any other options.

"Sure," I hear myself say. "Why not?"

"Alright," she nods. "Just give me a minute. I'll be right back."