TYSON CAINE: Book 1 in the Brothers in Arms Series (Brothers in Arms Book 1) (15 page)

It was a heart attack. Apparently, he was having pains and symptoms for months, and work had sent him home concerned.
The ambulance assures us there was no pain; his heart just stopped
.

His funeral was planned for a week later on a Saturday. Mom has been so strong through all of the arrangements. There have been so many flowers, cards, and well wishes turning up at our house.

The first song that Mom chose when we enter the chapel is Frank Sinatra’s “My Way.” If anyone did it their way, it was Dad.
Stubborn as an ox and then some
. I’m so glad we don’t have to carry the casket. Seriously, that is too much responsibility to place on family, and Mom agrees.

We sit in the front row and surround Mom to give her our support. “You okay?” I whisper as I lovingly squeeze her hand.

“I’m okay, Ty,” she replies. Her small smile assures me we can get through this.

Behind us are a few aunts and uncles that we haven’t seen in years, some of Dad’s work buddies, a few football friends, Brooklyn and her father, and honestly, a lot of other people I have never met.
Funerals have a strange way of bringing people together.

In Jimmy’s case, he had to pull our family apart, and by dying, he has put us back together, closer than ever.

The minister starts the service all about Jimmy’s childhood, when he met and fell in love with Mom, of course when he had us boys and his career. The short life story of our father, when he was born and when he died at only forty-five years young. Being the oldest son, I’m expected to give a eulogy.
I will honor the tradition and keep it classy.

The minister nods at me as he announces into the microphone, “Please welcome Tyson, the oldest son of Jimmy to give the eulogy.” He smiles at me as I stand and walk to the front. I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders right now. But when I look out into the sad eyes in the chapel, I then look at Jimmy’s photo and the casket and realize Dad is gone.

I’m no longer expected to be perfect, life is full of uncertainties, human error is not the end of the world, and this is my speech and eulogy to give, and I don’t care what others think.

“I’ll make this short and sweet. There is a special bond that a father has with his sons. Jimmy Caine was a hardworking, tough and rugged father, husband, and brother.

“I’ll always remember the good times with Dad. He was my hero, the way he taught Tyler, Thomas, and myself to play football, the way he scared away the monsters under our beds, the way he taught us to stick up for ourselves, and the endless afternoons at the local park. Dad passed on his strong-willed trait to all three of us. He taught us that blood is thicker than water and brothers are forever.

“I will never forget the sound of Dad’s laughter. As a child, you remember those happy times. The way he would dance with Mom and sweep her off her feet, he was a romantic with a good heart.

“Dad wasn’t perfect, but when it comes down to it at the end of the day, no one is perfect. The majority of the time, Dad was a strong, proud, and loving father and husband. I had Dad on a pedestal, and he earned my respect. When I look at old photos of him happy and smiling, and home videos where we were all a tight-knit family—that is how I will remember him and how I will describe him to those who didn’t know him.

“Dad, your guiding hand upon my shoulder will remain with me forever. Rest in Peace.”

****

I believe that it’s insulting to speak ill of the dead, so I refrained from saying anything inappropriate and take my seat.
Mom has tears streaming down her face, and a single tear escapes my eye.

The guests all stand and place a single flower on the casket. We have a photo of Dad in a frame next to the casket—it's such a great picture, he is smiling and looks genuinely happy. As the curtain closes around the casket “Stand by Me” by Ben E. King starts to play.

The lyrics about not crying or shedding tears is Dad personified. We all stood by him, and we watched him drink himself into an early grave.
We were supportive, loving, and did our best.

Even Tyler sheds a tear. He remembers the good times with Dad. He honestly was the best father in the world once upon a time.

Nothing we ever did was good enough for Dad, though, and it hurts like hell.

But I think the song also resembles the four of us now standing by each other. The land is dark, but we won’t be afraid as long as we stand by each other. I’ll stand by Mom, Tyler, and Thomas.

It’s like our world is crumbling, but in a way, it’s like a bulldozer in a knockdown and rebuild home. Jimmy Caine is gone. The Caine legacy will live on through his three sons.

It’s like the heavens above have opened up, or Jimmy is up there causing havoc, because we are in for one hell of a storm.

“Have you heard the weather reports, Tyson?” Mr. Monroe asks me the next week at work.

“No sir, are they forecasting rain?” I ask totally clueless.

“Much worse, boy. A tornado warning is in effect. We haven’t had one in these parts in over thirty years,” he replies, and now, he has my attention. I gaze out the window and can see the trees blowing crazily.
Shit, that came out of nowhere.

“You can finish early today, Tyson. Go home to your family and Brooklyn, and stay safe,” he tells me ushering me into the staff room.

“Yeah, that sounds like a plan. The wind is really picking up,” I agree grabbing my bag and keys. “You and Mrs. Monroe stay safe too,” I say as I hurry to my truck, the wind gusts forcing me backward.

Me:

Bad weather coming this way, baby, where are you?

I message Brooklyn quickly as I start my engine and zoom off towards Cedar Lake.

Brooklyn:

Yeah, Dad, just saw the news. We are at home, thinking about going down to the basement. You still at work?

Me:

No, driving home now. I’ll check on Tyler and Thomas then I’ll come to you. xxx

Next, I pull over to quickly text Tyler.

Me:

Hey, Tyler, bad weather headed this way. Where are you? Is Tommy with you?

No time to mess around. I’m just driving home from work, and the weather is getting bad.

The extreme gusts of wind hit hard and forceful, each burst stronger than the last. I see the tree branches swaying and bending wildly; it has also started to rain, and it’s getting heavier by the minute.

I dial Mom’s cell phone—even though she is at work, she may answer.

“Tyson, I’m so worried about you boys. Are you safe?” she asks me sounding stressed as she answers.

“I’m just driving home from work. I’ll be home in ten minutes, and we will head to the cellar. What about you, Mom?” I question her feeling worried. “I know you have a duty of care toward your patients, but what about keeping you safe too?” I plead with her, hoping the hospital would have a plan of action in case of a tornado warning.

“Yes, we will be fine. Just please take care of your brothers,” Mom insists sounding shaky.

“Of course, I will.” It’s a job I take seriously.

“I love you. Stay safe and keep in contact with me,” she tells me as we end the conversation.

I increase my driving speed—I can’t risk getting stuck somewhere if the weather gets worse. I put my phone on speaker again and call Tyler’s cell.

“You have reached Tyler Caine. Leave me as message and maybe I’ll call you, maybe I won’t.”

God, I hate his message.
Shit, where the hell is he?

The rain starts to fall heavier, and my windshield wipers can only go so fast.
Goddamn it.
The truck shakes slightly as the wind blows it sideways from the force. I desperately dial our house phone next.

“Hello?” Thomas answers.
Thank God.

“Oh Tom, I’m so glad you are at home. Is Tyler with you? Did you hear there’s a huge storm with possible tornados coming,” I say before he can get a word in.

“No, Tyler isn’t here. I don’t know where he is,” he responds. “I heard about the weather, it’s getting crazy already. I’ve locked all the doors and windows. Is it safe here in the house, Tyson?” he questions me sounding a little worried.

“Honestly, if it gets really bad, you have to get into the cellar, Tom, but I should be there in less than ten minutes,” I state. “Can you do me a favor and get supplies ready for us to take into the cellar. It might get extreme, and we need to be ready, bro.” I urge to keep him as safe as possible.

“Grab whatever food you can in a backpack just in case a tornado actually hits and dress warm,” I order him, and as the words leave my mouth, I realize that this could end up quite serious.

“Okay, Tyson, I’ll do everything you said. Drive safe,” he tells me, and his voice sounds jittery.

“I will see you soon, bro. It will all be okay,” I reply assuring him I will be home soon.

I dial Brooklyn’s number. God, I’m so glad for my hands-free phone kit; it’s a godsend for situations like this where I have to drive and talk on my cell.
I also have my charger plugged in—I can’t risk not having a charge.

“Brooklyn, are you still safe?” I almost shout with worry into the phone.

“Yes, baby, I’m safe. We are in the basement now,” she replies as I exhale the breath I was holding.

“Thank God, I’ve been so worried,” I tell her honestly.

“I love you,” she tells me, and it makes me smile hearing those words.

“I love you too, Brooke,” I declare meaning it more than ever.

“Are Tom and Tyler safe?” she asks me sounding concerned.

“Thomas is at home, and I should be there in five minutes. God knows where Tyler is,” I reply wondering where the hell he might be. “Can you try calling Tyler for me and if he doesn’t answer text around and see if he is with Chelsea or the football guys?” I ask Brooklyn since I can’t do all that while driving.

“Yep, I’ll do it right now,” she responds.

“Talk soon,” I tell her as she hangs up.

Why the hell can’t anyone find Tyler?
I’m buying him a tracking device for his next birthday!

He’s infuriating! The fact that he’s not answering could mean a million different things. I won’t let my mind think the worst just yet, as this is Tyler after all.

I remember that I have Chelsea’s number. Mom insisted I add it to my contacts the last pep rally. But that goes straight to voicemail too.
Damn it…

Five minutes later, I drive like a bat out of hell into our driveway. The storm has become quite severe. The rain is pouring down so I make a run for it. I have my keys ready to unlock the door. An unexpected gust of wind stops me in my tracks; it thrusts me backward taking me by surprise. “Shit,” I say aloud struggling to move forward.

I’m blown hard into my truck, so I brace myself, and after the next gust, I push myself off and propel toward the front door. Three, two, one, the wind hits full throttle. I’m wedged against my truck unable to move, and I ride it out until it eases. Then I push forward running like I’m off to score a touchdown.

I finally reach the porch and hold on tight to the rail, bracing myself for the next wind burst. Almost like clockwork, the next gust hits so I wait it out ready to get inside the house. Thank God that one wasn’t quite as huge. I’m at the door like lightning and unlock and enter, slamming it shut and locking it again.

“Tyson, thank God it’s you,” Tom shouts out running from our room.

“Oh Tom, shit, dude, it’s freaking crazy out there, like worst I’ve ever seen,” I state to him still in shock at just how strong the wind actually was.

I give Tom a huge bear hug, holding him tight. I’m so grateful that he is safe. “What do we do if Tyler doesn’t come home, Ty? Do you know where he is?” he asks me sounding worried for Tyler’s safety.

For once in my life, I don’t know what to tell him. I mean what more can I do? Should I brace the wild weather again, but where do I start to look for him?

“I’m calling him again now. We’ll find him, Tom, don’t worry, bud,” I state to him, realizing that I will do my best to find him, and if it means going back out in the rain and wind, I will do it for my brother.

“Hello.” I hear Tyler’s voice answer his cell.
Halleluiah.

“Tyler, where the hell are you?” I scream into my phone, it’s a cross between an angry scream and a thank God you are okay, but you are in trouble scream. “Did you get my missed calls and messages?” I question him feeling annoyed.

“I’m safe. Messages have come through sketchy due to the storm. Chelsea and I were at Spinnaker’s café, and now, we are in their basement,” he declares to me, and it makes sense, the cell service wouldn’t be great down there.

“Thank God, we have all been worried, bro,” I tell him relieved.

“Sorry Ty, it really is crap reception, but we are good. We have food and blankets,” he states. “Shit, how is Tommy? Is he with you?” he asks now sounding frantic. Finally, he has thought about someone other than himself and Chelsea.

“Tom is home with me. We are safe for now, but we gotta get into the cellar,” I declare, knowing that will be an effort with the weather.
It’s now or never.

“Okay, well go now. It’s getting worse, Ty, and stay safe, bro,” Tyler tells me sounding concerned for once.

“Yep, you too,” I say and end the call trying to psych myself up for outside.

“Thank God, he is okay,” Tom says smiling. I really hate that we aren’t all here together with Mom.
Man, I hope she is okay.

“Tom, we gotta get down to the cellar. If the weather gets worse, it’s possible our house will be demolished,” I proclaim realizing the severity it could be.

“Okay, I’ll grab the bags. I have flashlights too,” he announces running off to grab everything.

I scamper off into our hall closet and grab mine and Thomas’s winter coat and gloves. We need layers; we will get soaked out there and can’t risk staying wet down in the cellar where it could be cold.

Think Tyson, think! What else?
Water, we definitely need water.

I sprint to the fridge and grab four bottles of water, throwing them into a plastic bag. I decide to take Mom’s old radio she uses while she’s cooking in the kitchen. We need to listen to the weather updates and possible shelter locations.
I’m also sure it will get boring and morbid down there with not much to do.

“Do you have your iPad, Tom?” I ask him.

“Yep, I also threw in a deck of cards,” he tells me, and I’m glad he has been using his brain. I’m sure there are most things down there, in the case of emergency anyway.

“Put your hood on, bro, and let’s do this,” I state as I put my phone, charger, and the rest of the items into my backpack. I unlock the back door and prepare to face one hell of an angry storm.

“We are going to have to open the large cellar doors together, Tom—they are too heavy for just one person to lift,” I declare remembering the drill that we have had in the past that Dad taught us in the case of an emergency.

“Take a few deep breaths, Tom. Ready, set, go,” I tell him as I open the back door.

The wind is howling like a train as the force of the wind tries to slam the door. Thomas pushes it open further struggling as the wind increases. When we are both out, I shut both doors and lock them, doing my best to keep the house safe.

I slowly inch closer to the cellar doors with Tom close behind. The wind is pushing us backward. It takes me a few turns to unlatch the metal hinge, the blasts of wind making it difficult.

“Ready?” I shout over the wind to Tom.

“Ready!” he yells back.

We both hold onto the side of one door. Using our combined strength, we pull it hard together. The wind is against us, and we struggle to open it. I look over at Tom, and he nods to try again. We both tug on the door with all of our might and the door flies open.

“Go inside!” I shout as Thomas climbs in and slowly makes his way down the stairs. I reach in and turn on the light, having been shown where the light was hanging.

The rain is pelting down, and it’s getting harder to see. I put one foot inside and start to climb the stairs.
Shit, the door.

I climb back up a few steps, and I hear it like a freight train coming before I actually see it. There is the goddamn tornado only yards away.
Holy shit!

I scramble to find the internal rope before giving it a hard pull slamming the door shut. I frantically latch both sides from the inside and place the wood post across it for extra stability.

Thank fuck we are inside.

“Jesus Christ, Tom, I could see it heading straight for the shed,” I tell him as the image replays in my mind.

I carefully climb the rest of the way down the stairs—the last thing I need is an injury. God, I haven’t been in this place in years.
There is an old musty smell lingering from being locked up.