“Mom!” I yelled.

She opened an eye halfway.

“You’re okay,” I said, more to myself than to her. I pressed her hand to her shoulder, telling her to hold it. I jumped up to grab a towel from the kitchen but couldn’t find anything in that mess. I pulled down one of the short drapes dangling in front of the shattered back window.

Maggie emerged from the basement door with blood running down her face and onto her shirt. Her mouth was moving, but I wasn’t hearing anything, and I motioned to my ears. She pointed upstairs, and I saw she was mouthing, “Charlie.”

I nodded, and she ran for the stairs.

Wadding up the drape, I headed back to the living room, where Mom was trying to sit up. I wrapped the cotton curtain tightly around her shoulder wound. She was saying something to me, but I didn’t understand. I took her hand again and put it on the cloth, yelling at her to apply pressure.

Instead, she grabbed my hand and kept trying to say something. She was hysterical. Of course: Charlie.

She moved to get up, and I didn’t stop her. She took a step, then bent over and coughed, hard. I got down on one knee and tried to sit her down.

A loud rushing sound, like river rapids, overwhelmed my senses. I put my hands to my ears, covering and uncovering them, trying to tell whether the noise was all in my head. It wasn’t. It sounded like a fire hose.

“Can you hear me?” I shouted at Mom. She looked up at me, nodded, and said something back. I could almost pick out syllables this time.

Mom’s eyes widened at the sight of something behind me, and I turned to see Maggie coming down the stairs holding Charlie’s hand as he walked beside her. He looked petrified but unhurt, with a little blood on his spaceship pajamas. I grabbed him, hugged him, then ran my fingers quickly over his head and chest. The blood appeared to be Maggie’s. He was shaking; dirty tears streaked down his face as he gripped Maggie’s hand.

She mouthed something to me, but I wasn’t getting it. She placed her mouth against my ear and shouted: “Fire!”

She pointed upstairs, and I realized a low cracking sound, which had been there all the time, was getting louder. Mom grabbed Charlie’s hand, and the four of us ran toward the front door. It was old and oak, original to the house, and a thick shard of metal was protruding through its center.

I grabbed the hot knob and flung open the door to reveal a picture:

Hell on earth.

CHAPTER 17

Jordan

EVERYTHING WAS ON fire … or worse.

As I stood in front of our porch steps, I realized that the Carters’ house across the street was gone, nothing left to burn. The only thing remaining was the concrete slab on which it had been built.

I’d seen this house every day of my life and now struggled to remember how it looked. The world had gone upside down. A huge tree lay in the street, roots and all, in flames. Other trees, such familiar parts of the scenery, were missing altogether.