Page 29 of Finding Noah

No. It was fear.

He's scared.

Soldier isn’t supposed to be scared.

“Noah.” He dropped the controller onto the coffee table and grabbed the remote, turning the TV off. “Get to your room.”

I jumped to my feet, listening, even as I shook my head. “Wait. I—”

“Now,” he said, his voice stern. “Go. Get your shoes on.”

I ran down the hall as my brow furrowed with confusion. “What? Why?”

Soldier was behind me as I dropped to the floor, stuffing my feet into my sneakers. I watched as he moved quietly through the darkness, peering through the window overlooking the front of the house. I stood, sidling beside him and following his gaze to Dad's truck, parked in front of the house next door, where Mom and I used to live before he broke down the door. Together, we watched as he climbed out and rounded the front, something black and shiny in his hand.

Tommy’s house.

The boy.

The breath shuddered in Soldier's lungs, and so did mine.

“I-is that a gun?” I stammered, already knowing the answer to that question as I stared, unblinking, watching as Dad moved between the falling raindrops.

“Look at me,” Soldier said, taking my shoulders in his hands.

I couldn't stop trembling, couldn't stop shaking my head. “Soldier, w-why does he have a gun?”

Dad climbed the porch steps.

He was looking for us.

He’s going to kill us.

“Noah. Listen to me right now.” Soldier's voice was hard, stern, but the love was there.

He loves us, I reminded myself. He did. Dad didn't love us. No, he never did. He wanted to kill us.

I turned to face Soldier, tearing my eyes from Dad on the rainy porch. My bottom lip trembled violently. I didn't want to die. I didn't want Mom or Soldier to die either.

Soldier won't let us die.

We'll be okay.

“You're going to climb through the window,” he instructed me quietly, speaking carefully and slowly. “You're going to stay hidden and get away from the house, and when you turn the corner, you're going to run. Do you know the way to the police station from here?”

I nodded frantically.

“Good. You're going to take my phone, and when you get to the next street, you're going to call 911. Okay? Keep running. Run as fast as you possibly can and get to the cops. Do you understand?”

He walked away from me then, quickly moving to the other window on the side of the house. He pushed on it, trying to open it, and pushed some more, then cursed loudly. I flinched, terrified Dad had heard, and I glanced through the window, relieved he hadn't. Soldier grabbed my baseball bat from beside the bed and swung when a crack of thunder shattered overhead, and the glass broke into a thousand pieces.

“Thank you,” he said beneath his breath, and I had no idea who he might be talking to.

God maybe.

He ripped the blanket from my bed and used it to protect his hands as he pushed the jagged shards of glass from the window frame.

“Noah, tell me you understand.”