The Resurrected Compendium Read Free Page B

Cal pulled himself off of her, Abbie looked up. Blinking into the frigid spray, she saw the shower head had come completely unhooked from the wall. Water gushed out in fits and spurts, soaking the wall and the place where the ceiling ought to have been but now showed only the first pale and hesitant blush of morning sky.
    Cal sat back, legs drawn up, and rubbed at his eyes. “Holy shit. Holy shit.”
    Abbie sat too, her joints creaking and scars singing the way they did even when she slept in the softest of beds — she could only imagine how she’d feel in a few hours. Water pattered down all around them, but though it was cold enough to force her teeth to chatter, she couldn’t muster the energy or coordination to get herself out of the tub.
    She did find some words. “What…was that?”
    “Cyclone.”
    “You’re fucking with me, right?” Laughter bubbled up and out of her, incongruous and painful as it shook her aching back and shoulders. “A tornado? At night?”
    Cal pushed up with one hand on the side of the tub, stepped over, slipped on the wet floor but caught himself against the edge of the sink. He fumbled for a towel, and she had time to be embarrassed again that she hadn’t had the maid service come in to change them. Not that it mattered, they were on their way to being soaked. Besides, he’d had his mouth between her legs, would he really care if he wiped his face with a towel that had been in the same place?
    The sound of a car horn drifted to her over the patter of water and her own delirious chuckles. Abbie took Cal’s outstretched hand and let him pull her upright. He wrapped a damp towel, not as wet as she’d thought, around her and shoved her through the doorway into the bedroom…or at least what was left of it.
    The windows had blown inward, scattering glass across the carpet. Hail the impossible size of her fist gleamed on the dresser, the floor and the beds, which had been stripped of sheets and comforters but otherwise incongruously left untouched. It melted even as she watched. One wall of the room had buckled, showing glimpses of the parking lot outside. Wet pavement. Downed trees. She could see a red pickup truck tilted on its side. The blaring horn died as she listened.
    Abbie clutched the doorframe as Cal stepped around the glass to stand in front of the windows. He didn’t seem to care that he was naked — but she suddenly did. Blinking, she sought any sight of her suitcase, which had been left open in the corner of the room now exposed to the daylight. It seemed unlikely the storm had taken the sheets and comforters and left her underpants, but she took a step or two in that direction anyway.
    “Watch it.” Cal grabbed her elbow to keep her from stepping on a jagged shard of glass. “Jesus, Abbie. Stay put.”
    “I want my clothes.” She sounded petulant and pouting and hadn’t meant to, but tears were suddenly thick in her throat. She covered her breasts with one arm, but it wasn’t enough. The world had forced its way inside this shelter, and not even a suit of armor could protect her from that.
    “I’ll get your clothes.” He swiveled carefully on the rug and took both her upper arms. “Look at me.”
    She did. Cal didn’t smile, but his gaze pinned her. He made sure she was looking into his eyes before he spoke again.
    “This is going to be all right.”
    The world tipped a little. Too much drink. Not enough sleep. Oh, yeah, and a tornado that had torn apart her motel room.  
    “Almost everything I owned was in my suitcase.” Some of it had been in the dresser drawers, but those looked like they’d been emptied too. Some of her belongings were in her car, but she didn’t dare hope it had escaped the red pickup’s fate.
    “We’ll find your suitcase. Your things. It’ll be okay.” Cal rubbed her arms with his fingertips.
    She shivered and sucked in a breath, feeling at least a little more sober. A little less tipsy-topsy, as she’d always said to her