The wind finally eased up, and Mark and the bounce house workers grabbed for the flaps on the outside and began to pull children out as other parents tried to lift up the sides to let the children out before it collapsed on them.

I reached the bounce house as terrified, red-faced, and crying children were being lifted out of the collapsing structure. But I still didn’t see Jack.

“Mark! Jack! He’s still inside.”

Mark dove inside, his feet still sticking out. Everything went silent as I waited for him to rescue our son. His body began to back out, and I prayed that he had him.

When he was finally out, in his arms was a hysterical and bloody Jack.

Blood poured from Jack’s nose, and his hands were covered in red as he screamed, the color of his face matching his hands. Mark clutched Jack to his chest, blood smearing across his white shirt.

“We need a towel!” I shrieked as I reached them. A cacophony of chaotic parents began to frantically look for one. “Shhh. Shhhh,” I said as I put my arms around Jack.

He couldn’t speak, just screamed. Del ran up next to us and ripped off his blue T-shirt and handed it to me. I balled it up and gently put it on Jack’s face, causing him to scream more.

I looked to Mark, who put his hand over mine on Jack’s face.

“It’s okay. It’s just a bloody nose. You must have gotten hit with something when the house blew over. You’re going to be fine,” Mark mumbled, the words running together like a mantra.

Jack stopped screaming and started breathing quickly, nearly hyperventilating.

“You’re going to be all right, buddy,” I said, my voice breaking. “Just hold this on your face and the bleeding will stop.”

My hand on the shirt, I looked over my shoulder for Emily. She was still with Melissa and Tony. They were both crouched on the ground, hugging her and their kids, examining them for injuries.

The carnival looked like a war zone. Brightly colored prizes littered the black asphalt, while baked goods were splayed on the ground like organs pouring out of a disemboweled torso. The balloon arch sagged to the ground, half the balloons deflated or popped.

Families were crying and hugging each other, scooping up their children and carrying them off.

The signage was all over the ground, and my eyes fixed on the large banner we had hung across the balloon arch.

It was covered in leaves and dirt, and the only words still visible were: We All Scream.

CHAPTER
32

Everyone okay?