Chapter 5: Hiraeth

- (noun) a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, and the grief for the lost places of your past.

It is one of those fleeting moments you don't really want to happen, but you cannot scramble away from it, so you just have to brace for impact. I'm waiting for the shot – a bullet I'd rather not have implanted in my skull – because I have no other choice. I am unsure if I will even feel it, if it will only be a zap of electricity before nothing. That's the thing with death: it is a one-way ticket.

There are shots that follow, but none of them find their way into me like they were originally destined to. Nothing else seems to make it through my cluttered brain after that. My eyes keep closed all the while my body drags across grass and embeds itself into a tree that I only recognize from the sting of sharp bark in my back. I open my eyes and what I see is something that is past overdue, something we tried to avoid through hiding and covering our tracks, but we are never so fortunate to be granted with such luck.

The barn is burning and alive, no longer stuck in an endless time loop and in a place the sun just doesn't quite reach. And here is Optimus Prime spinning on our lawn and mad because he was the secret our barn had withheld until he erupted from the structure. And I guess – I really do – that the barn found its job. I guess it can be happy, although it's currently crumbling and swallowed by smoke. I guess so.

My brain wandered but my surroundings, however, did not . . . because that is the real part. The earth under me is shifting and moving all the while Optimus takes his rage out on the federal agents and soldiers. It almost seems wrong because they were both designed to protect; but when it came down to the wire, who turned on who? People. My own kind. Yet I am taught in school to be afraid of Transformers.

My hands grab fistfuls of grass when Dad pushes Tessa and me down, still using one of our oak trees for cover. Optimus is drawing closer and bodies are flying, but I try to imagine them as test dummies rather than the real, living, breathing version. I can pretend it is not happening, I can pretend that it is not death. I can pretend.

Lucas dives over our porch swing sprouting out from the tree and I see tools fly out of his belt when he hits the ground in front of me.

"Cade!" I hear Optimus Prime call out to my dad. "They're going to kill you!"

I think they made their intentions known and got the message across to me the second a gun was to my head.

"Get out of here!"

And so, we do. I scramble up on to the soles of my shoes and sprint after my dad, Tessa, and Lucas. The four of us dart past the house. Optimus does some kind of barrel roll to get out of the line of fire and suddenly one of our trucks explodes, flipping forwards. I stop for a second to turn and look over my shoulder. My legs are shaking, whole body is thumping, and I can feel the heat from the flames. Dad comes and grabs my arm. We keep going.

The only good thing to ever come out of Ms. McGatlin's visits is the fact that she took her car through the fence yesterday and broke it. Despite messing up a section of the power grid, the gap she created is what we use as an escape route. We're heading through a wheat field that runs off of our property, and I can see the neighbor's cattle moving around in a crazed and panicked way in their pasture, some kicking at one another. I start to wonder what all of our neighbors are actually thinking at this moment, but their houses are still and dark, so they are most likely hiding until we go away. Whenever all of this does.

The wheat in the field is still growing and the strands only brush up to my knees. I pump my legs to go faster until it hurts, until I am almost up with Dad; he is always the fastest because he is an adult with longer legs and bigger lungs. That's when a soaring sound from overhead pierces my ears and I let fatigue take over while I move down into a slower pace of a jog. I don't lose the group and I am right with Tessa for the impact of destruction.

What is happening with the sounds and smells and sights do not click with me, not until they have to . . . When the missiles hit the ground, when the missiles hit the barn, when the missiles hit the house, when the missiles take everything. It's gone, all of it, and the only thing I can do is make some sound and latch onto my older sister because I cannot stop running, because I cannot feel my legs anymore . . . or anything.

There are soldiers coming at us, heading across the ridge of the next hill that leads down into the valley with a pond. Our hill also takes us there. We don't slow down much because of that factor, and I'm thinking because Dad knows we have Optimus we are going to maybe be okay, but I do not see any Transformer right now. Not like you can miss them once they're transformed and freaking out on your used-to-be property.

Without warning, a car appears from the other side of the hill where the soldiers are. It's airborne and hits some of the men while others roll out of the way. None of them get up, and I try not to think about it too much as the car slides around the side of the pond, kicking up dust. When it stops and everything clears, I tug on my sister's arm.

"Tessa! Tessa – "

She recognizes the vehicle, too, and the two of us bolt down the hill into the valley with whatever strength is left. Dad and Lucas follow more slowly because they don't know, but I do. And, oh, Tessa sure does.

Tessa and I practically race right into the little car because we've been running so long that it is now hard to think about stopping. She's yanking at the back door handle and jumps in, crawling over two seats to get all the way to the left. I scramble in after her, practically falling over myself.

My older sister's boyfriend, Shane, reaches over the passenger seat and pops open the door there. He shouts to Lucas and Dad, who are still lagging behind some, "Come on . . . hurry up! Get in the car!"

"Shane, for once, I'm actually glad to see you and your overpriced car." I say, finally gathering up my bearings. I have no idea how he knew about what was going on here, but if he wanted me to like him, this is a good start.

"Always a pleasure, kid." he says in a breath, accepting my usual sarcastic attitude. Only this time I am actually glad for him. Just this time.

He yells at the other two to hurry up again and Tessa calls out to our dad, and then Lucas is sitting beside me, and Dad is up with Shane in the passenger seat. I buckle myself in while car doors are slamming and the engine roars. The seatbelt is one of those racing car ones, but I have ridden in this car enough times to know how it works. The other newbies don't seem to have much trouble, either.

Shane spins his car around the pond to go back the way he came, the way we were trying to go all along. The helicopter that has been patrolling the perimeter the whole time for coverage up above stoops down too close for comfort. I let myself think for a second and realize that we should have known when not only a team of black SUVs rolled up the driveway, but also a helicopter thundered behind them that we were not getting out of this easily. They would have found something, there is always . . . something. But despite my thinking, Shane floors it, and I'm back in the moment.

My body lurches when we accelerate, back and forth through the motions of the rally car. It doesn't really bother me as much, though, because we at least now have fast transportation to get away. I have done this before – well, not exactly like this. I have sat in the back, the passenger seat, and maybe in the driver's seat like once because Shane let me drive it down a regular straight road a few feet before Tessa freaked out and told him to stop. According to him, I "Wasn't hurting anythin'", but Tessa thought different because she used the Dad card, and that's when everyone shut up. She and Shane have been dating for a while now and I have just recently – like two or three months ago – started to get them, but I think the majority of it is Shane's cool rally car, despite it being pricey.

Shane is okay. But just okay.

The five of us are going parallel with the cow field to the right, the status of the cows are not doing much better than earlier. By now, all of them have moved to the far end up on a hill, but I can still see all of their forms and black coats peeking out from the low sun and high grass. I get pulled back into my seat when our car swerves. There is a black vehicle tailing us, definitely government-looking. It's hard to tell what kind it is because I have never seen anything like it. I think there may be another one somewhere back there, but between all of the dirt being picked up to create dust clouds, and my hair attacking my face in dirty-blonde mounds from the open windows, it is hard to tell.

I have ran around in these fields back when I was younger and Tessa still liked to come out and play tag, but never did we tear through them at speeds like this. Every dip in the terrain, every bump – I can feel it. It makes you think about how the earth is shaped, everything is different.

"What's happenin', baby?" Shane asks, obviously directed more so to Tessa than anyone else. He half glances back at her, then he is at the rearview mirror. His eyes swish quickly to and from all the other aids because there is a lot going on. "Who are they?"

"It's the truck!" Tessa yells back, sitting up in her seat. "They want the truck!"

The moment I knew was eventually going to happen because Dad has been quiet for far too long comes.

"Who are they?" he questions, then jabbing his eyes at the driving Shane, "Who are you?" I wait for him to remember. "And who are you calling 'baby'?"

There it is.

Nothing from anyone for a minute. Shane turns his attention to driving. That's what he is good at, anyways.

Dad presses, "I know you heard me!"

They both admit to it at the same time in one big garble of speech. Yes, they're dating. Yes, they're boyfriend and girlfriend.

And, yes, now Dad is going to freak out since he is anti-dating, anti-growing up, anti-whatever. He doesn't want it, but it is happening. At least with my older sister.

"What?!" Dad barks, looking at Shane. "You're not her boyfriend!"

"Yes, he is." I try to say quietly and to myself, like in some sluggish way. But my dad still hears, of course he hears . . .

His eyes are on me now and he is turned back to face me. "Wait, you knew about this?"

Maybe – sort of – kind of? "Not really."

He twists his head and tells whatever is out the open passenger window: "C'mon, Cassie!"

I didn't say yes. Oh, give it up, Cas, he knows. How could he not?

Tessa swoops in to try and help calm the situation, not that it really can be soothed, "His name's Shane and he drives, Dad."

Lucas leans out his window, gripping the frame. I almost forgot about him because he hasn't had much of any comment towards our family feud. "What kind of cars are those?" I hear him ask. "They're so scary!"

I look and now there is another car same as the other one attempting to creep up on us. Dad warns Shane about the second vehicle. Shane swings us around and we end up speeding right in between the two cars as they are slowing down to turn and follow us. Sliding sideways into a corn field, I don't think I catch my breath again until the car finds traction and collects itself. We are in a lane, towering corn stalks on both sides, and no sign of the other team in this car chase. Dad and Shane are looking around because this is a straight stretch of land where it is easier to stay in line. Nothing. Then the helicopter is back.

And that's what I'm looking at when we get plowed into by one of the stupid, advanced authority-car-thing – whatever the hell it is. We rise up before going back down. The only thing damaged is Shane's window, which was the only window closed; it smashed during impact. Brushing off the glass, our rally car keeps going.

So we do, too.

It takes some time before we lose the "scary cars". It takes driving through farms, fences, and vegetation before we reach the core of Lockhart: the center of town.

But even here we are targeted because I can hear the sirens wailing while we dive in and out of traffic. A pulsing sound from above indicates the helicopter is bearing down on us again. Everyone knows now, everyone is against us.

All Dad did was buy a sad, worn-down truck so he could strip it for parts because we're broke, because we were about to lose everything.

But we lost everything, anyways.

Buildings and cars and people fly past the car window. "Mr. Yeager, this is not how I wanted us to meet, okay?" Shane informs Dad, taking one hand off the wheel to talk. "I'm Shane, and I'm a completely – "

"And I am not talking to you," Dad cuts in sharp to get his point across. He grabs the loose hand, slapping it back on the steering wheel. "Drive the car!"

That's his angry voice. It is not that I hear it much because I don't, but that doesn't make me like it, either.

The screaming sirens draw closer until they are in my face, and we have to swerve again. There is not much for me to hold on to because I am in the middle seat, so I go for grabbing my own seatbelt. We take the turn so roughly that the car almost spins around completely, nearly flipping. But then we flop back down to Earth, and a choir of crashes happens behind us, but we're off again, so I'm not sure if it matters as much.

Shots sound and bullets hit the pavement around us and the frame of the vehicle. I duck down, we all do, really – sway down the road. At this point, it feels like my heart is in my throat and thumping loudly and I try to drown out what is happening, but I can't, I just can't. Because, at the end of the day, getting shot at in a moving vehicle where you can't see anything coming is not okay. It is not fun. So, I let it slip, and, yeah –

"Shit!" I say it and I don't mean it, but I do. I hear my name being called by no other than Dad. And I just reply with nothing short of the truth because he hates when I beat around the bush:

"Dad, if there is any time cussing could be justified, now is it."

He doesn't reply and I think I might have stumped him on that, but there is too much going on to tell. I can't see his face. I hear our car screech around a bend either due to the windows being down or non-existent from the crash earlier.

"Man, I don't know how I'm drivin' this good." states Shane, eyes locked on what's ahead. "It's like today I've gone to a whole other level."

Comforting, I guess?

Dad doesn't think so. "Road, focus! Stop talking!"

Guess not, then.

Heading further into the depths of town, the little car I'm in zooms down alleyways, smashing into boxes and trashcans. Lucas admits that he did call the number on the billboard that I am trying to forget and claims that they were supposed to send a check, not a death squad. I tell my father how I tried to stop him, but none of this really matters because here we are running just as we've been for the past half an hour or more. Lucas is with us and Dad, Tessa, and I still care for him because he's practically family, practically all I've known since my dad and him are childhood friends. He stepped in after things happened with Mom and yeah. Yeah.

Shane says to hold on and I grab my seatbelt again when we curve in to face a building with a large glass window out front. There is a decorative sign that reads: "BINGO" and people inside, but they'll move . . . right? They sure do when we crash through the glass window, wiping out a few tables and many chairs. The building is small and we head out through a loading dock in the back. To me, it doesn't feel all that real, but it is, it was – we went through a building in a car.

It looks like we drove ourselves into a courtyard by the factory. The place is empty.

Lucas looks over his shoulder. "We lost them!" he announces, patting the back of Shane's seat. "Good job, stranger from the corn fields."

I smile. Rounding the factory, I catch a glimpse of moving metal on the side of the building. I have to crane my neck up to see two Transformers: Optimus and a significantly smaller and darker one. They're scaling the factory and I remember that he had mentioned his friends earlier, yet I didn't think I would be seeing any of them soon. Not here, not in sleepy Lockhart, Texas.

The thought of them being friends vanishes, however, when the smaller one shoots at Optimus and rams his – head? – down into the roof of the factory.

"Oh my God . . ." I gasp out. Lucas says that the scary cars are back, and my attention moves off from the two Transformers fighting on top of the roof. The two scary cars swarm us in the back, two more of those SUVs are heading our way. They're going to block us in.

"Loose 'em at the factory, Shane!" instructs Tessa from beside me. Shane makes a quick swipe to the left to avoid the four vehicles. Down another back alley and we come out the other side twisting and screeching going right. Looking back, moving hair from my eyes, and grabbing onto the shoulder of Shane's seat to steady my small form, I note that they're on us again; seems like for the thirtieth time.

"I thought you knew how to drive this thing," I catch Dad commenting to Shane. "Go!"

We burst through a gate, tearing it from its hinges and flattening the chain-link under our four tires. We're practically flying again, and I think the blurry mess whizzing by could be the shipping dock. I've been here before. Then here come my old friends, the black SUVs. The chase carries on as Shane guides us around this industrial maze, trying to throw the others off. However, the second they start to suffocate us, Optimus Prime jumps in and, more or less, tackles them.

Cars fly up, shipping containers fall, something explodes. It feels like an earthquake, a clap of thunder, and everything in between. Vibrations from the boom cause Shane's car to wobble and shake. We slide on nothing up until Shane straightens his car out.

I get a good idea of what's to come once we enter the car garage that flows out of the factory. The dim lighting inside consumes and swallows us up. Normally, it would be a relief from the strain of the sun, but not today. Today, I want to see. Today, I want to know. Today, I want to feel.

I just want to feel this chase run out of miles and settle down. But, like I said, we're not that lucky.

The modern government cars tracked us down once more. One goes on either side of us, but they are forced to merge back together when we start the climbing part.

One, two, three, four . . . I count within the time we rise. It feels like riding a carousel, one that turns quick and jagged. Up on the fifth floor . . . we should get rid of them for good here.

The two other drivers attempt to rush us, get us panicked, have us slip up on this icy terrain. People roll down the windows and hang out that way, begin shooting at us. I fold into myself and cover my ears because it is better to handle it that way. I know what happens on the fifth floor of the car garage by the factory because it usually goes on after rally car races and such. Because there is a ramp for a reason. Shane once showed me the gears to switch in the car and what all to do, and I have seen other people do it, but never me. I hear him prepare his little yet mighty car. It squeals, turns, and then we're facing it, and I'm sitting up and holding on. I think Lucas and Dad are yelling and shouting, but I remain silent.

Up the little ramp, weightless for a few seconds, and BANG! we hit the landing ramp and roll back on solid ground. My head swims.

As predicted, the ones chasing us did not make it, and they crash and burn, we rise. Lucas cheers. We do a donut.

"Tessa!" Dad roars and it comes in a wave to the back seats. "You are so grounded!"

Nothing about me, yet. But I am sure Tessa will drag something out of him later.

It doesn't take long to notice that some of the car is dragging behind. I know I felt something more when we reached the bottom.

Shane curses, "Shit!" We skid to a stop, and it almost feels good to be still for a moment or two. "The rim's cracked."

That means we are done. That means we are stuck. Because the car cannot go anywhere if the rim is all bent out of shape, and it is not like Shane can call up a tow truck when the better half of Texas wants to chase us down. He twists the key out of the ignition and the little rally car finally sleeps. I hear collected sighs, tapping on the steering wheel – breathing, shifting . . . the living stuff.

Sitting in the car is like being in a bubble about to pop. We found out all this new information we're trying to take in, and, for whatever I know, it could be moments away from spilling out into the open. The silence is not so much a silence but rather bordering hesitation. A promise that there will be more.

My ears pick up on gravel breaking under pressure and the rumble of a warm engine. There is that sliding noise tires make when they snap in a certain direction and loud honking inviting my attention.

"Optimus," Dad announces his arrival. He directs his eyes to the three of us in the backseat. "C'mon! Move, move!"

I allow my body to do as it wishes, and it performs some kind of shuffle-slide over to Tessa's now vacant side as she exits the car. Clambering out after her, I basically kick the car door open since it tries to swing back around and close in on me. I know my limbs are going every-which-way during the process, but I am in my head right now and not controlling what is beneath it.

I run to Dad and grab his hand, joining a chain Shane, Tessa, and he have already begun forming. We jog a couple paces forward – wait. Lucas – his – his foot is stuck, hold on . . . okay, here he comes . . .

A clunk on metal sounds. The smaller, darker Transformer who was set on fighting Optimus Prime earlier lands on a platform diagonal from my form where he probably has a good view of us all. This whole scene that is about to play out.

The Transformer throws something on the ground, and I break free of my head to return to the rest of me. Someone screams to run and that is the last thing I hear before my eardrums explode. So much is happening, but it is silent and slow to me. I run without grabbing hold of someone else to aid me, my arms thrust before me, and my elbows dig into the nothingness of air. The heat is threatening my ankles, my eyes are watering, but I guess pretending that there was something seemingly unimaginable chasing me whenever I ran the mile in gym class saved me in the end.

I make it to Optimus with bigger people I sometimes have trouble keeping up the pace with. Ashes rain from the sky and cover me in even more earthly debris. The truck's passenger door opens by itself, and I try to hide my surprise to this action I have always had to do manually by focusing on the steep slope to get into the vehicle. I'm little and I hate that, and I'm coughing when I hoist myself up to the seat. My lungs hurt.

I gaze out the dirty windshield because Dad is paused halfway into the driver's seat, and I want to know what's up.

Now all of me hurts.

The flames at home burned the barn, burned the yard, burned the house, my room – even that book I was unsure if I would ever read, but now the opportunity is gone. Everything I have ever owned that are not the clothes on my back is gone.

And I guess someone got bored of burning things and wanted to start taking people away from me again because Lucas is still out there. Lucas is there but he isn't, this is Nothing Lucas. Nothing Lucas is burnt to a crisp and melting away. I would not know it was him if there did not used to be five of us and now here sits just four.

Nothing Lucas was Something Lucas a minute ago.

Until the fire took him, too.