Chapter 1: Up In Flames

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PART ONE: AFTERMATH

Chapter 1: Up In Flames

For me, the Great Disappearing began with a single, drawn-out howl.

"Gus, shut up!" I shouted groggily in the direction of my bedroom door, yanking the pillow out from under my head and clutching it tightly against my ears, trying to block out our dog's high-pitched wail. "Everyone's trying to sleep!" Though I doubted anyone was any longer. I wouldn't have been the least bit surprised if he'd woken our neighbours, the Millers and the Hanekes, too. If so, Mom would be baking multiple trays of her famous banana walnut muffins come morning. They were the staple of all her peace offerings - made when Ty and his friends used to accidently break windows while playing baseball in the backyard; whenever Gus escaped and excavated someone's rose bed or petunias; and any other occasion where a simple "we're sorry" wasn't going to suffice.

The sound of my voice seemed to have a calming effect on Gus and his howl diminished into an anguished whimper before stopping entirely. I waited another full minute before deeming it safe to remove the pillow from my ears. The scratching on my bedroom door commenced almost immediately. "Gus, come on," I pleaded, exasperated. "If you peel off the paint with your claws, Dad's going to lose his mind AND he's going to start kennelling you at night again." Of course, Gus couldn't understand my not-so-empty threat, but really I was just buying time. I was still hoping Dad or Ty would get up and deal with it, so I wouldn't have to leave the warmth of my down duvet for the frigid, unforgiving hardwood floor.

When the whimpering kicked up anew, I sighed, rolled onto my stomach and extended my hand down the side of the bed to the floor, where I felt around for the power bar. I thumbed its switch and the string of light-up flowers that I'd draped across my headboard flickered to life, sending a dull multi-coloured glow out across my room. As if on cue, the scratching and whimpering ceased. But I knew better. If I hit the lights and tried to go back to sleep it would start up all over again. He'd only stopped because he'd seen the light beneath the door and knew I was coming. Gus was one of those dogs that was way too smart for his own good.

Relenting, I threw off the sheets and sat up. I was immediately struck by how unnaturally quiet the house was. It seemed impossible that Gus' insistent racket hadn't woken anyone else up - or were they all lying in their beds silently hoping the same thing I had been: that someone else would rise to the occasion? Well, they were about to get their wish. I plunked both of my feet down onto the floor and cringed; it was as cold and unwelcoming as I'd expected. That was Gus' fault too. I'd had a great pair of moccasins until two weeks ago when he'd decided they were his mortal enemies. I arrived home from school that day to find their dismembered slipper corpses spread out across the living room floor in sprawling swatch of torn fur and half-chewed leather.

Thanks Gus, I thought bitterly, for probably the hundredth time since then, and tromped gracelessly across the floor towards my bedroom door. I'd just extended my hand to grab the knob when three loud but distant booms stopped me dead in my tracks. Confusion quickly gave way to a cascade of sinking dread when they were immediately followed by several smaller ones. They sounded like gunshots or firecrackers, but not quite. I instinctively turned towards the window, nearly jumping out of my skin when Gus released a high-pitched keen from the other side of the door. Obviously I wasn't moving fast enough for his liking.

I swung back around - my curtains were closed so it wasn't like I could see what was happening outside anyway - and opened the door. Gus propelled himself into the room in a blur of black and white fur, a frantic doggy projectile that bounded around my legs in awkward, skidding circles. Despite my solidifying unease, I bent over and caught hold of his collar. "Hey, buddy, calm down," I cooed, stroking that soft patch of white fur behind his ears. Even as I did, he strained towards the hallway, nearly knocking me off my feet. At almost sixty-five pounds, Gus was no small husky. "Okay, I got it, go with you into the hallway," I said, still petting him. "No problem, big guy. Just let me check something first, okay?"

Gus whimpered and gave another hard yank in the direction of my door.

"Suit yourself," I said, untwining my fingers from his collar. "But you're still going to have to wait."

Gus bolted back to the doorway, almost losing his footing on the hardwood along the way, and unleashed another ear-numbing howl.

Shit.

I got up and dragged him back into my bedroom, shutting us both inside. If I couldn't get him to quiet down, perhaps I could muffle the noise somewhat, before he forced our entire family out of their beds in the middle of the night. If the twins got up, Mom would have a hell of a time convincing them to go back to sleep; most days those two resembled little Energizer Bunnies more than a pair of gregarious five-year-olds. Though Mom was always quick to point out that Ty and I had been the same way when we were younger.

Gus huffed his displeasure and began pacing back and forth in front of my door like a caged lion, making those same snuffling sounds he did whenever he was annoyed. It was a huge improvement over the howling and keening, though, so I left him to it, and turned my attention back to the window. There had been several more booms while I'd been comforting the dog, and each one ratcheted up the bone-chilling uneasiness that had enveloped me. Is this what the beginnings of a panic attack feels like? I wondered, unsure I was going to be able to convince myself to put one foot in front of the other and make my way across the room to pull back the curtains. A quick glance at the red glowing numbers on my digital alarm clock informed me it was just after three in the morning. Yes, something was wrong. Very, very wrong. I knew that as surely as I knew the world was round and the sky was blue and the planets in our solar system orbited the sun. But I had no idea why I knew that or how. And that frightened me just as much as whatever unseen thing was awaiting me behind my vine-printed brown curtains.

More than anything I wanted to throw open my bedroom door, run down the hall to my parents' room and crawl into their king-size bed with them, just like I used to when I had nightmares as a kid. Who knows, maybe Becca and Mae were there already. Then I thought of how much Ty would tease me if he found me lodged between them. He'd never let me live it down. I knew exactly what he would say too: "Are you seven or seventeen, Cass? You know you're going to have to put on the big girl pants sometime." Ty thrived on giving me a hard time. Whenever I complained about it, Mom said that that was the job of big brothers and it just meant he loved me. I'd inevitably wrinkle my nose at that and vow revenge, which always left her shaking her head. "I'll never know what I did to deserve you two, " she'd mutter under her breath.

Still, regardless of what Ty thought of me, I wished he was here right now. He played varsity football and would never be intimidated by something as stupid as crossing the floor to the window and opening the drapes. But he wasn't here. And if I went across the hall to wake him, that would prompt its own barrage of ridicule. No, I was completely on my own with this.

Just breathe, I told myself, and took a wobbly step forward and then another. I'd almost reached the window when a bang louder than any that had come before it rattled the entire house. I heard something crash to the floor downstairs and shatter. What the hell is going on?

The lights flared, then dimmed, then flared again, before cutting out entirely, casting Gus and I into absolute blackness.

I cursed under my breath, stuck my hands out in front of me and used touch to guide me the rest of the way to the window. Once I got there, I hesitated; my shaking hand gripped the cotton of the curtain and refused to budge. I shut my eyes, steeled myself for the worst, and yanked. The metallic whish of the metal hoops against the curtain rod sounded outlandishly loud, as if my terror and the darkness itself was amplifying my senses. I was still holding onto the fabric when I cracked my eyes a slit and peered outside. It took me a good twenty seconds to make sense of what I was seeing, then I squeezed them shut again. No, it couldn't be. I was dreaming. Must be. Had to be.

Beyond the deserted streets and carefully manicured lawns of our subdivision's maze of cul-de-sacs, I'd seen the glow of downtown - on fire.

I opened my eyes again, and nightmarish tableau spread out before me anew - the usual late-night electric light pollution had been consumed by a fiery red haze, punctuated by bright white flashes and those same bangs I'd heard since waking. Only now I know what they were. Explosions. Had we been attacked? Was this terrorism? Some kind of natural disaster? Something else? I reached down and pinched the soft flesh of my side hard, not quite believing I was awake and seeing what I was seeing.

Post-pinch I was still standing there. A bit sorer, but just as awake as I'd been the entire time.

I definitely wasn't dreaming.

The city was definitely burning.

I spun around on my heel and ran for the door, tripping over Gus in my haste. He let out a pained yip as my foot connected with his ribcage, but I kept moving. A moment later he fell in step behind me.

"Mom! Dad! Ty!" I screamed. "Wake up! Wake up now!"

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