Chapter Three Hundred and Fifteen
Clarissa took Phoebe's hand in her own, leading her onto the plane. She placed their bags in the overhead bin, and taking her seat. She thought about John, Claire, Thomas, and a few of the others on the bus traveling by ground. John had told her that he didn't feel comfortable that far off the ground and he'd prefer to ride in the bus that Steven had supplied for them. She hated the idea of not having her children close to her, and the idea of them driving across the country over two thousand miles and arrive two days after she and the others got into town and settled into a hotel several miles from the damage before they even reached Texas.
John crawled into his bunk, wiggling around until he was under his blankets with his head on the pillow. He could hear the hum of the tires on the pavement as Thomas drove, the rocking of the bus somehow a comfort in the dark bunk room. He pulled the little curtain to his window back, watching as the headlights of passing cars flew by, the lights of Phoenix Arizona creating a nice glow in the dark.
"It's pretty, for a desert." Claire rested her chin of his mattress, before she leapt into his bed to cuddle.
He nodded, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as she nestled into his side. "Yeah."
She kissed his throat, able to feel that he hadn't shaved. "What's on your mind?" She asked, understanding why he didn't shave on the bus since it moved and he used a straight razor, but he was never this quiet. Not unless he was over thinking.
He shrugged, lifting his chin as he closed his eyes. "Do you think they're alright?" He mumbled, his larynx vibrating against her lips with the words.
She propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at his tan skin and dark eyes in the last bits of the Phoenix lights. "I think they're fine." She smiled, the very last street light reflecting in his eyes like a flash of honey before it was swallowed by the dark of night. "What happened with you and planes?" She whispered, able to hear Kaylie crawling into her bunk for the night.
John gave a little huff, his eyes drifting to look out the window. "My Grandma was in a plane crash when I was two… she was the only person who ever gave a shit about me." He watched as a little red, blinking light flew overhead. "I barely remember her, but she was flying up to Michigan after that storm hit… and…" He couldn't finish the sentence, swallowing with the memory of seeing the crash on the news when he'd been put in the hospital for two days just as a precaution after a rescue worker had found him half-drowned, and soaked to the bone. He'd had a slight case of hypothermia, but other than that, he'd been fine. Although, he did remember looking like a drowned rat with how thin he'd been and his shaggy hair.
Claire nodded, tracing her fingertips over a few raised lines on his chest and pressing on the pressure point on his right pec that she always used to make him relax. "And that was when it happened." She let him pull her closer to his body, pressing herself farther into his ribs. She could feel his heartbeat, his breath slightly off as the memory took hold. "Baby… I'm so sorry…"
Kaylie curled on her side, listening silently as John and Claire spoke, remembering the first time she'd seen him in kindergarten... still shaken from that storm and obviously suffering from the early signs of PTSD. Everything had started with that damn storm… and it had only gotten worse with every passing years.