Page 11 of The Final Storm
“And Aunt Lori,” Beau says.
“We’re all just going to leave you here like Lord of the Flies,” I snort.
“We use worms,” they say in unison.
I shake my head. “What?”
“We catch fish with worms,” Beau explains. “And it’s easier to get the big ones at night. But Gemma wants us to get up with-”
“Okay, fuck,” I stop him. “Ah, don’t say fuck.”
I cover my face with my hands and groan. The boys stand in front of me, snickering to themselves.
I sigh and try again. “BeLew, I’m going to ask very direct questions, and I want you to answer me with as much detail as possible. Remember, I don’t share your visions. You two don’t have to explain them to each other because you see the same damn thing. Fuck,” I spit out. “Don’t say damn or fuck. Ugh.”
Beau sputters a laugh, and I decide to give up trying to be a good mother. I’m mediocre, but they’re alive, and that’s a lot to ask for these days.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and try for a take three. “Boys,” I say.
“Yes,” they reply in unison.
“Did you have a vision in which Luke, Lori, Sam, and I all leave you?”
“Yes,” once again, they chorus in unison. It would be creepy if they weren’t adorable.
“Are we… alive?” I mutter.
Lewis’s jaw drops. “Uh, yes,” Beau insists. “Damn, Mama.”
“Okay, that’s just… fine.” I point a finger at Beau, but I don’t want to redirect the conversation just when we’re getting somewhere. “We’re all going to the boat? The one floating in the ocean out there?”
They nod.
“Do you know when?”
“No.”
These boys don’t grasp that I need as much detail as possible about their visions. They’re speaking with half riddles and one-word answers.
“Do we all look the same? Is Morgan any bigger?”
Lewis looks down at her. He pulls at her arm that rests outside the blanket, stretching it upward. She doesn’t stir, and when he lets it go, she curls it back up to her mouth. “No, she’s the same. Luke looks like he’ll puke, though. He looks sick when you go.”
“Like that time Lori didn’t boil the water enough,” Beau adds. “She didn’t get the fish table for that.”
I purse my lips but don’t respond to his comment. Their vision doesn’t tell me much about timing. This could happen later today at the rate he’s deteriorating.
“Could you tell me anything else? As much as you can.”
They talk over one another and constantly bring up the damn fish table so much I’m forced to promise I won’t task them with the chore. I prompt Lewis to speak first while Beau and I listen. Then Beau can fill in anything he forgot when Lewis is done.
Lewis gives me the vision out of order with random spots of, “Oh, I forgot, and-” every other minute. It’s hard to follow with no sleep, but once Beau tells their vision again, I piece it together.
“Okay, boys. Listen, get Sam, and then go play with Tank and the slingshot. I’ll talk to Gemma and see what I can do.”
After another enthusiastic description of the difference between night worms and day worms, I assure them I’ll convince her to let them sleep in. Another promise I might not keep, but I’ve already labeled myself as a shit mother, so I live with the possible lie.
Lori slides into the room moments later, a grim look on her face. “I eavesdropped,” she admits.
