Chapter 7

The team tries to hurry to get cleaned up. Feeling sore all over, Clarke tries to tighten his fists under what remains of the hot water. As he feels the temperate water flow over his naked body, the muffled sound of AC/DC in the background, with Dallas singing along, brings a smile. Hector walks over from the spot in the corner, smacking his best friend on the shoulder.

"Helluva game, amigo. But let it go; tonight, we party like it's 1999, and we were alive back then."

Clarke winches, arching his shoulders back, "Easy! I didn't realize how much defense guys get the holy crap beaten out of them," Clarke backs out of the water, "Besides, I'm meeting Tracy for dinner. However, I promise we will meet up for lunch or something tomorrow."

Hector scoffs, walking away, "Sounds good. Don't do anything I wouldn't do. If you do, make sure you name it after me!"

"Oh, hardy-har-har! If I do anything, believe me, it'll be named after you out of pure spite!" Clarke teases as they share a laugh.

Alone, Clarke finally turns off the shower before retrieving his towel and wrapping it around his waist. The steam from the showers makes its way through the changing locker room area. The team continues to breathe in the fumes. It helps to ease their tension while some rub in some ointment. Everything comes to an instant halt when the coaches come from the office. Coach Sparks leaves his hands behind his back.

"TEAM! Gather 'round!" He announces as everyone turns their eyes toward him, "Tonight was a complete shit storm. We barely survived one of the most brutal opponents on the schedule. Y'all pulled together after halftime more than you ever have before. I am so incredibly proud of every single one of you!" Coach Sparks brings out the game ball from behind his back, "This week's game ball goes to Dallas Nightstorm. He played hard and stepped up, forcing opportunities that led to us getting the win."

As Dallas walks up, everyone claps and cheers, tugging down his faded black Guns N' Roses t-shirt. Tucking part of the front into his ripped blue jeans. Coach Sparks rolls the ball to Dallas's hands, followed by a handshake. The team celebrates by clapping or whistling.

"Okay, y'all, you don't have to go home, but you can't stay here! Goodnight, gentlemen!" Coach Sparks teases, unaware of the lurking danger.

The Hillsboro team showers and remains behind with friends who drove to the game. Stalling for time, the Hillsboro crowd follows people driving to Cowboy Lake. They blend in with the crowd, partaking in the usual festivities. No one is the wiser about the intruders.

Clarke pulls up at The Best Buckin' Pizza, parks, and joins Tracy inside. Once he's seated, there's a strawberry lemonade on the table. Tracy is across the booth, smiling when he settles in the seat.

"Hello, handsome. Do you come here often?" Tracy greets with a sarcastic remark.

Looking at Tracy sitting there wearing a low-cut bright green v-neck shirt. Clarke stares at the heart charm necklace and can't resist the urge, "Nah," he begins and twists his head a little, "I meet my so-called 'hos' here that everyone at school thinks I sleep with from time to time."

Tracy scoffs, kicking Clarke in the shin, "Ho? Did you seriously just call me a ho?"

Sharing a laugh, they close their eyes, feeling antsy being out in public since Clarke and Tracy still want to keep things private.

"So, how do we play it off if anyone asks if we're dating?"

Tracy sits there, rubbing her chin with her thumb and index finger, "That's a good concern," she says and ponders, "I guess we can say that we bumped into each other like last week. I mean, everyone knows we're friends. We can make it look simple as long as we don't hold hands, play footsy, or kiss."

Both appear unhappy and refuse to look at the other. When a male server arrives, carrying an appetizer basket, "Here's your variety sampler, enjoy," the secret love birds return their attention to each other.

"Thanks, Ashton," Clarke says.

"Anytime, enjoy your apps. Your pizza should be out in the next few minutes."

Sitting on the wax paper in the walnut brown plastic basket are several deep-fried foods, including mozzarella sticks with pizza sauce, potato skins covered with sour cream and chives, boneless buffalo wings, and breaded fried pickles with a side of ranch.

"Wow! You went all out," Clarke mentions, reaching for a mozzarella stick.

The only response is a shoulder shrug. Tracy reaches for a potato skin. She closes her eyes when she inhales the steam from her food, causing her mouth to water, "God, I love this place! I hope New York has somewhere this good when I move there."

"Speaking of New York, I received an invitation to Syracuse University. I can add it to the other few places interested in me," Clarke shares, which causes Tracy's eyes to light up.

"Are you serial? I may have you follow me to New York? That's flippin' awesome!"

The conversation stops to give Ashton time to set the pizza on the table with ceramic plates and napkins, "Is there anything else I can get you?"

Clarke looks to the inside edge of the table and doesn't see a container of crushed red peppers, "Um, if it ain't an inconvenience, may I get a thing of the spicy red peppers?"

"Absolutely! I can't believe I forgot to put them on the table when I seated your girl. That's my bad y'all."

"No harm, no foul," Tracy mentions as she uses a shiny stainless steel triangle pizza spatula to pick up her first slice.

Clarke ignores the steaming, deep-dish double pepperoni pizza. His attention remains on the appetizers, specifically the boneless wings. The sauce's tanginess leaves a satisfying aftertaste mixed with the flavored lemonade. Tracy sees how much he's enjoying the meal, but she struggles to maintain the composed cover. The feelings blossoming within her soul turn from enjoyment to fondness. She gasps when she realizes her feelings are growing deeper, shocking Clarke.

"What's wrong?" Clarke asks when she sees Tracy's cheeks starting to glow.

Clearing her throat, Tracy motions with her hands on her chest, "Pizza went down the wrong way. I'm okay."

Unsure whether to buy the excuse, Clarke nods.

"Good. I'd hate to have to perform the Heimlich on you," he breaks, then turns serious, "I'd hate to see anything else happen to you."

Tracy's caught off guard by the statement. The concern pushes how she feels even further into certainty that she's decided to bend her rule for Clarke. Tracy cannot control her actions but remains hidden by taking another bite. The rest of their time at the restaurant is mainly spent in silence until the peaceful evening ends.

Events at Cowboy Lake turn ugly after someone recognizes some of the players from Hillsboro. Near the fire-fueled trash can, hostilities are quickly provoked. On both sides of the standoff, players on each team are ready to throw hands if verbal insults don't stop.

"Cheating bastards!" Dallas screams with a middle finger aimed at the enemies.

"Fucking pussies! We kicked your asses, and you know it. Y'all had to get our coach kicked out to win, and if it wasn't for you, ya fucking wannabe wetback we'd a stomped your inbreed asses. That's alright, though, since y'all ain't got any dicks we'll take ya gals back and show 'em how to enjoy a real man since they probably need vibrators to feel anything over an inch."

That's the insult bringing the standoff to an end. Both teams clash in battle. Most Brighton players maintain the upper hand with help from their classmates, holding Hillsboro players. One of the students flees, calling for help.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

"HELP! There's a huge brawl at the lake," the female student screams, "Get the cops out here before someone gets killed!"

The emergency operator types in the information, "Authorities will be on the way shortly. Please stay on the line until they arrive," the male voice is overheard radioing deputies, "Dispatch to all available units, report of a physical altercation at Cowboy Lake in progress. Caller strongly believes that serious injury is imminent."

"Deputy Teller here. I'm en route to the lake with backup close behind."

"Ma'am, deputies will be on site. Stay on the line until they pull up."

The caller-operator call lasts for only two minutes before the sirens are heard. Knowing shit is about to hit the fan, the Hillsboro brawlers try to get away, but they're tackled and held in place until the deputies pull them apart.

Outnumbered, the authorities take out tasers if anyone tries to reignite the fight. No one is placed in cuffs, but the star running back for Hillsboro sees an opening.

"You're dead motherfuckers!" He shouts after he yanks Deputy Teller's pistol from the holster.

"No!" Deputy Teller screams, trying to rush the young man, mainly hitting the bulletproof vest. The final shot sprays blood all over the pavement.

"TELLER!" Deputy Rodgers screams.

Facedown on the ground, Deputy Teller, gasps with one hand covering the wound. When the gunman pivots to the other deputies, Deputy Rodgers shoots him in the shoulder.

"Ten-thirteen, ten-thirteen, officer down! Send EMS immediately to Cowboy Lake!"

Waiting for the reply from dispatch feels like hours for everyone standing around after two other deputies take the shooter into custody.

"Emergency services are en route to your location."

Carefully holding Teller's head in place, Deputy Rodgers rolls her onto her back with assistance from another officer. Using a handkerchief, Deputy Rodgers applies pressure to reduce the bleeding, "Stay with me. C'mon, Kendra, open your eyes," he pleads with tears in his eyes, "Don't leave me."

When paramedics park and rush from their rig, Kendra is barely breathing. They hear blood gurgles in the back of her throat until a breathing tube is slid into her lungs.

"I'm in! Start bagging her, now!"

Quickly placed on a backboard, Kendra Teller is strapped for transport in critical condition. The first responders load and go. Deputy Rodgers wipes away tears, standing there watching the ambulance pull away, "God, please don't take my fiancé," he whispers.

Not long after the suspect is arrested and placed in police custody, state troopers reach the lake and order everyone to head home. Dallas can't believe what happened. Shaken with Deputy Teller's blood splattered on some of his clothes, Dallas returns to reality when a state trooper shakes him.

"Son, son!" An African American male yells, "Snap out of it. Are you hurt? Is that your blood?"

"N-N-No, sir. It's that lady cop that was shot. She, she protected me from being shot," Dallas stutters.

The dark skin trooper places his hands on Dallas's shoulders, taking him to a police cruiser. Dallas feels the AC blow against his skin after being placed in the front passenger seat. He's given time to collect himself before Deputy Rodgers comes to get a statement.

Suddenly the door opens, and Dallas sees the deputy kneeling with a recording device in his bloody hand, "Hey there, kid. Trooper Brown informed me that you said the gun was pointed at you. Is there anything you can tell me about why you was targeted?" Deputy Rodgers says with a somber Texas twang.

"It was because of the game. Those guys wanted to come after my team for making a comeback win. They were pissed over how one of them was kicked out of the team with their coach," he verbally reports, sniffling, "That lady protected me. I've never had white people be that kind to me. She saved my life, and I don't know how to thank her."

Without realizing it, Deputy Rodgers shuts off the recorder and embraces Dallas.

"Kendra Teller is her name. We're engaged, but she values every life and person she encounters."

"What's your name, sir?" Dallas says, "I'm Dallas Nightstorm from El Paso."

"I'm Jeffrey Rodgers. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, young man."

Soon after the hug ends, Deputy Rodgers collects his things to drive to the hospital to check on Kendra. Dallas stays in the state trooper's cruiser until he quits shaking. When he's calm enough to drive home, everything replays in his mind, making it difficult to sleep.

News of the incident and shooting travels to the state capital of Austin. An emergency meeting between the Texas governor and mayor of Brighton takes place. The issues from the fallout of the accidental death of Johnathon, added by the shooting of a law enforcement official, create a hurricane of issues. Before dusk on Sunday, a difficult decision has been made that the community isn't going to enjoy after it's announced.

The entire student body is informed that homeroom is being extended during morning announcements, "Good morning Brighton's brightest. I don't have much to report this morning. Homeroom is going to be extended with a video message from the mayor. We will be tuning in shortly. So, teachers, please ignore the bell and turn your TVs to Channel Four; thank you."

Clarke doesn't pay attention at first, but he turns to the TV when the mayor begins with the official city seal in the background.

"Hello, Brighton residents. I hope the clouds in the sky don't rain on your day, but I have something to share with everyone," The mayor interconnects his fingers while taking a long, deep breath, "Before I begin, I am relieved to say that Officer Teller is in stable condition. May we all say a prayer for a full recovery from her injuries. My office has spent the weekend speaking with officials and the governor."

More residents tune in to watch or listen to the announcement, "The main topics have been the concern and safety of the public interest. We have suffered more tragedy than any community should experience in the last few weeks."

With a stern expression, the mayor hesitates, giving everyone watching a chance to grasp his words, "First, a family lost their son after ruining a promising future by assaulting a young lady," The mayor's face softens, showing agony.

In the background, the natural light darkens with a rumble of thunder.

"That leads to the latest tragedy from this weekend. Deputy Kendra Teller was gravely wounded in the line of duty. Our hearts and minds go to her and those close to her. However, Governor Riley and I have discussed how to prevent further catastrophes. Cowboy Lake is now off-limits after dusk until further notice, with a strictly enforced curfew for anyone under eighteen years old. From Saturday through Thursday, curfew begins at ten o'clock and ends at five the following day. Friday nights, it will be extended to eleven. The only way anyone under eighteen will not be fined is by being escorted by an immediate family member. I apologize for any inconvenience this may have on our youth, but your safety is our, no, is my main objective. Thank you."

Parents are relieved, but the students boo and swear as the broadcast ends, and the channel returns to regular broadcast before a news alert pops up.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the viewing area. The National Weather Service has issued a tornado warning for the following counties: Bell, Bosque, Coryell, Falls, Hamilton, Hill, Limestone, and McLennan. If you're outside, please find a safe spot inside. Stay away from all windows."

Following protocol, the teachers start gathering the student body into the gym since it doubles as a shelter, "One by one, don't rush. Y'all know the drill!" The gym teacher yells over the roar of students talking.

Tracy walks inside the gym and sees Clarke sitting with Hector, Jamal, and Dallas has Laura and Aurora on both sides. She walks across the lacquer-covered pine floor. Thunder continues to shake and rattle everywhere around Brighton.

With the weather worsening, most of the students in the gymnasium watch the weather channel or the local news for updates. Unaware of what's going on at home, Clarke sits with Tracy, touching his hand to hers, trying to keep their new relationship on the down low.

Conditions continue to worsen. Daisy and Wade meet against their attorney's advice. While she rushes to open windows, Wade makes it nearly impossible to stay focused on the storm.

"I knew meeting you was going to bite me in the ass!" Daisy screams in his face.

Wade doesn't waste time rolling up his sleeves to begin with an insult, "Oh, get over yourself. Why don't you go fuck Steven and get that bitch chip off your shoulders."

Unable to keep her temper under control, Daisy turns around, shoving Wade against the wall. All he sees is a chance to hate fuck his rebellious unfaithful wife in the red dress she's wearing without a bra.

"Yeah, you know I like it rough!" He says, licking his lips.

"Don't even think about it. I don't know which whore you've been fucking since I kicked your ass out, but you're not about to give me something Ajax can't wash off."

Unable to accept no, Wade grabs the top of his business shirt, topping off every button as it rips open, "No slut turns me down!"

Running to the kitchen for a knife, Daisy's heart pounds harder the closer Wade gets. Her hand holding a butcher knife trembles, "Fuck off, you sick son of a bitch!"

Wade fakes an advance, but Daisy overswings. Quickly taking her by the arm, Wade gets a tight grip on Daisy's wrist, forcing the knife to fall. They hear it bounce on the yellow-tinted linoleum. The fight escalates with a backhanded slap to Daisy's jaw. She's knocked to the floor, where Wade falls, using his weight to pin her torso.

"Get off!" Daisy screams, biting at Wade's nose.

Sexually moaning, Wade grinds his crotch into hers, "It shouldn't take me long to do that. God, you're hot when you're pissed at me. I love it!"

When Wade bangs his forehead against her nose, things worsen, shattering it as the blood pours. Everything starts to blur, but Daisy fights, feeling his hands tugging her dress to her hips, exposing her satin black bikini panties. As she struggles, Wade's patience wanes. Lifting his body off hers to slam it against Daisy, using his weight to gain some control through force.

"I am going to fuck you whether you like it or not," Wade tells her, breathing on her neck, "You're still my wife. That makes you my personal servant! Now be a good girl and don't move."

Unbuckling the leather dress belt and undoing his gray slacks, Daisy battles to regain her wits. She reaches up, biting his neck when Wade pushes her panties over enough to slide his short, fat cock into the trimmed, semi-dry vagina. Wade screams, retaliating with a couple of solid strikes to Daisy's face as he chokes her with the other hand.

"Fuck you, you hard-headed bitch! Now you're going to get it!" He yells, spitting in her face, plunging himself into her body, "Yes! Goddammit, yes! You feel so much better than Betty."

Grunting as he pumps his hips, fate intervenes. The intensity of the wind picks up more, crashing a large tree branch through the double doors seconds before tornado sirens blare.

"What the fuck!"

The hum of a tornado is similar to a freight train. It howls over the sirens, throwing everything in its path around with ease. Wade stops to dash for the bathroom to hide in the tub, afraid of getting sucked from the house, leaving Daisy on the floor as heavy rain and debris fly through the busted opening.

Everyone inside the gym at the high school screams when the lights go out. The wind whistle creates a near panic, but the teachers and staff do their best to keep everyone calm. Tracy takes Clarke by the hand, squeezing with all her strength.

"I'm scared!"

Clarke tightens his grip, "I have you! I won't let go!"

An urge to kiss swells between them. Knowing they can't act on their wants, Tracy gently squeezes Clarke's hand. The signal is returned with a smile. Scared out of their minds, Clarke and Tracy listen to the skylights rattle under the storm's pressure. One skylight panel shatters, allowing rain to pour into the gym. Everyone screams, but the howl of the wind drowns most of the shrieking.

"I wanna go home!" Tracy yells, clutching Clarke's shoulder and chest.

Wrapping his arm tightly around her, Clarke shuts his eyes, "It'll be over soon! I won't let go. I won't ever let you go!"

The walls trembling intensifies until it ends almost a minute later with sunlight piercing through the darkness. Collectively, the students begin to relax before gathering their belongings. Before anyone can leave the gym, the principal walks to the center of the gym with his arms out.

"May I have your attention, please? We are going to dismiss everyone shortly, but for right now, I need all of y'all to remain here or in the concourse. Teachers, please divide into two teams. Team number one, stay here to monitor the students. I need the second team to stroll around campus to ensure that buses can pull up safely to start sending students home."

It takes nearly an hour to get the all-clear to start loading students or let them drive home. Various parts of Brighton are damaged, with police checkpoints in place. Finally able to make a break for the motel, Wade exits the cellar. Feeling lucky, he walks through the house and discovers Daisy against the island unconscious. Unfamiliar with checking vitals, he guesses she's dead after kicking her in the stomach and doesn't flinch.

"Got one last feel of your body, and now it looks like the storm killed you for me. Motherfucker I'm one lucky prick!"

Laughing out in his car, Wade isn't thrilled seeing the driver's side windows blown out with leaves and twigs covering the interior. Quickly brushing what he can out of the floorboard, Wade drives to West Pine Street. He's stopped at a checkpoint.

"Sir, where are you..." the officer stops when he notices it's Wade, "Hey, Mr. Snyder. Are you heading for City Hall, sir?"

"I am. The storm held me up."

The officer reaches for a fist bump. When Wade's battered hand is seen, the officer notices, "Mr. Snyder. What happened to your knuckles, sir? Are you going to need medical assistance? There's an ambulance around the corner."

"Oh, this, it's nothing, young man," Wade begins light-heartedly, "You know how it is some days. I beat the living shit out of my old lady when she refused to gimme some. I beat her like a government mule or like a whore on the steps of a Sunday morning mercy beating."

Sharing a laugh, Wade is waved through after he lies about his injury.

"Nah. I hit my hand against the wall during the storm. Superficial scrapes, I don't need anything, just a little Neosporin. Take 'er easy, Chaddy-boy. I'll see ya around the City Hall."

"Bye, Mr. Snyder."

Scooting the barrier, Wade drives back to the motel, where he begins drinking, waiting for his special nightly friend.

A few blocks away from the motel, Clarke picks up his sisters. Once Casey is crammed in the backseat, they drive past the barricades. Along the way, damage from the tornado varies. Some houses are heavily damaged, while others barely have traces other than broken limbs.

Parked outside their home, Clarke, Amber, and Casey don't see that much destruction out front and notice Daisy's SUV still in the driveway. It's not until they walk through the front door that something doesn't feel right.

"Mom?" Amber shouts.

A sensation churns her gut. Amber walks through the living room and is shocked at the sight of the doors blown out, "MOM?" She calls out again, beginning to feel worried.

Casey isn't far behind her sister. Clarke checks out the rest of the house and sees no other damage. It's not until Amber and Casey scream that he darts back down the hallway into the kitchen, where he sees his mother lying on the floor, covered in blood.

"You need to call for help! Better yet, go get the cop at the end of the block!" Clarke shouts, kneeling at his mother's side, "GO, DAMMIT!"

Running from the house, the girls seek medical assistance for their mother. Clarke checks to see if Daisy is alive. He presses his index and middle fingers to her neck, feeling a weakened pulse, "Thank you, God, she's alive."

Slowly Daisy groans, indicating to her son that she's hanging on. Able to mouth, "Wade," Clarke makes it out moments before paramedics rush through the house, tending to Daisy.

Daisy is taken to the county hospital and placed on a gurney once she's stable. The house is marked as damaged and waiting for an adjuster and contractor to check the damage. For the time being, their neighbor, Martin Locke, a tall, skinny gray-haired doctor with a private practice, takes them into their home.

"Is there anything you or your sisters need?" Martin asks.

"Right now, no," Clarke hesitates, "Something I don't understand. Mom had plenty of time to get to the storm cellar. Why was she still in the kitchen?"

Martin doesn't have a chance to drop the bombshell before his wife, Tina, speaks up out of breath, "She and your stepdad were fighting again. He came over after Casey got on the bus. Maybe he could explain why she didn't make it there, but he did. I saw him walk out of there when the storm ended."

Stuck in the downstairs bedroom, Tina has suffered from breast cancer for several years and is treated at home with chemotherapy.

"Wait, he's out of jail?" Clarke questions.

"Um, son, he's been out for a few days. He stops by in the morning. That's when they fight. He leaves when she doesn't agree to take him back or give him the house in the divorce," Dr. Locke informs Clarke.

Internally, Clarke struggles not to punch the wall. His face turns red with fury, "That's why she tried to say his name. If I ever see that sum bitch again, I'll beat the living hell out of him."

Clarke, Amber, and Casey are taken to a motel two days later. Unaware they're in the exact location as Wade. Neither are none the wiser since their rooms are not located close to the other. Clarke keeps a lock blade knife in his pocket as a precaution, except when he's in class. Every day, the anger silently builds in his soul when he takes his sisters to visit their mother in the hospital.

Seeing his mother's face bandaged from corrective surgery on her nose with her jaw wired allows the mico fractures to heal from the assault. The monitors reveal Daisy is stable, but watching her lie in a hospital bed, unable to talk or enjoy their company, Clarke battles the urge to keep himself from going off. All that matters is how to track down Wade to release the aggression burning as hot as the sun shining through the window.