LIGHT IN DARKNESS
By Tessa Harvey
THE STORM
Pierce groaned and abruptly ended the call. Somehow he made it home, gulped a large glass of water and headed upstairs. He gathered a huge armload of soiled bedding, managing to pile in the washing machine and set the cycle to soak, then wash.
The numbers and the settings seemed to blur before him. He sat on the long dark green couch, and slumped back asleep in seconds. On the way into the house, he had noticed a small tree that had crashed onto the shed in the yard. There seemed to be myriads of plants and scattered branches, rubbish everywhere. He just needed a nap. The storm, the emergency, the fear and tension, desperation and panic had totally drained the young man.
Pierce knew he should have stayed at the hospital, waited for news of his wife and child. Like a wounded animal, he had instead crawled away to shelter. At the back of his mind, he had realised it must be worse for Lois than for him, but he could not take any more.
The phone shrilled and woke him. He picked it up, puzzled to see hours had passed. It was Lois. Her voice sounded strange, robotic. "You have to come, Pierce. You have to come back." Then as she left the call, the phone rang again. It was the hospital.
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