Page 79 of The Final Storm
The woman in white lifts, the nightgown billowing around her body, flapping in the wind. The surrounding sky grows darker until she’s surrounded by night, her white dress illuminating her body. I can’t look away.
A hand touches my shoulder, and I push it away.
“… a vision.” I hear Lori say. “I’ll stay.”
“What’s happening?” I hear myself say out loud, but I’m talking to my sister. I push myself further into the vision, trying to make it clearer, like the ones I see from the past. I’m watching the people instead of only snippets of moments. I let myself feel it, to succumb to the sight.
The faces flash and the woman points out at the water. The storm is here and full of lighting and thick clouds. Debris circles around in the sky, and I spot people in the distance.
The boys.
BeLew in the water, swimming towards the destruction. I whip back and there’s something in her hand.
The note.
Cecilia’s face stares at mine. “Read the note,” she pleads.
The face flashes to Gemma. “Do you feel it? Here.” She touches her stomach.
My heart thuds in my chest, and I float up, my feet losing the earth and unable to find the ground beneath me.
My sister looks up at me. “Just like fish,” she says. “That’s what mama said. We win again, Row!”
I fall to the ground, the air knocked from my lungs. I cough and gasp into the grass. The sound of children fills my ears, and I stumble to stand. My clothes are soaking wet and my feet are muddy.
It’s night, and I’m back on the farm. The past and the future mixing together, making my head spin. I don’t call out this time. No one will hear me and answer. My feet drag on the dirt, water dripping from my clothes with every step.
“Almost there,” I hear a young girl’s voice.
“You can stop running. They’re not even halfway across,” another girl says to her. It’s me and my sister. We’re younger and smiling with bright eyes, looking at one another.
“If we’re gonna win, we’re gonna do it right,” I argue. I’m pumping my arms, water from the lake flying off me while I run. My sister hurries up behind me, her white nightgown drenched. Her clothes stick to her limbs as she sprints, showing the outline of her body. I slow down until she reaches my side and we stride together toward the playhouse.
Our bare feet pound up the wooden steps, making the leaves on the trees around them shake and fall to the ground. A clap of thunder sounds followed by a boy splashing out of the lake.
It’s Dean.
We’re not teenagers, but not children. It’s that awkward age in between where we lose the innocence but keep the playfulness.
“Safe!” my sister yells from the front door of the treehouse.
“Safe!” I call after her.
“We win again!” my sister calls out.
Dean puts his hands on his hips and leans over to catch his breath. “You both have lungs like fish.”
“Must run in the family,” Morgan yells down at him. I smile and wrap an arm around her shoulders. She’s taller than me, but not by much. Dean sits on the ground and grabs a lump of dirt in his hand, tossing it up. It doesn’t come near us, and we giggle.
Another clap of thunder sounds, and I lower my arms from Morgan’s shoulders. “Everyone make it to the other side?” Morgan yells. A few boys and girls surround Dean, soaked and exhausted.
“Time to go back,” one says. He points to the horizon. “Storm’s here.”
We bounce down the steps and follow the group the long way around the lake, Dean in step with me, my brother-in-law walking beside Morgan.
The races we had as children, sneaking out of our houses at night and swimming across the lake. The same lake where my sister drowned. All the memories and hurts flood my mind, and I’m a mix of emotions. I reach out to my sister as she passes, but the figures mist away, and my eyes open back up to see the encroaching storm. I’m back on the boat, the vision went as quickly as it came.
Lori holds my hand, repeating my name.
