Page 14 of The Final Storm
She waves them goodbye, and the two men step out the door. I chuckle to myself, imagining my likable Sam attempting a conversation with this no-nonsense Milo.
“His sister.” Gemma stops short. She runs another finger down Morgan’s cheek, her eyes glazing with tears ready to drop, and tries again. “She’s the one we lost. She’s always had troubles in her mind, so I can’t say I’m surprised.” One tear falls down onto Morgan’s blanket, and Gemma wipes her eyes. “Milo never was soft before, and now… Well, now I’m afraid any gentle nature is gone forever. He means well.”
“I completely understand, and I’m so sorry to hear that,” I tell her, my voice cracking with the words. Milo may look surly, but he has every right, and I’m glad Sam is with him. “Like Sam said, we need your help so if we can do anything in return-”
“She’s really something,” Gemma cuts me off. She’s stroking Morgan’s hair, her eyes moving back and forth over her sleeping form.
“I’ve heard you had some babies since the storms or… before?” I know little about the people that live here. We’ve kept our distance unless it’s necessary. There’s enough space for everyone, and resources are plentiful. It’s mostly fish which is only slightly better than radishes, but no one goes hungry.
It’s the lack of trust between the communities that keeps us away, and the giant ship perched in the ocean only makes matters worse. We don’t know each other, and considering we’ve all been through traumatic events, no one seems interested in making new friends. Our focus is survival, and this community doesn’t need us, but I need Gemma.
“Oh, yes, and we have someone pregnant now, in fact. It’s an exciting time,” Gemma answers. She can’t take her eyes off Morgan, and I fidget in my seat, leaning forward to see if Gemma will look over at me.
“I would love to tell you this visit is just a hello, but I need to talk with you about something important.” I shove the last piece of bread into my mouth, hoping it calms my nervous stomach.
Gemma finally looks up. “Do you need help with the baby?” She looks at my swollen breasts, clearly larger than ever. “With feeding.”
“Probably. Well, actually, yes, but that’s not the reason we’re here,” I admit.
I prepared a speech to ask her to take the boys, and I recite it perfectly, every word in place.
We want to get Luke and the baby to the ship out there, the Galene, so they can see a doctor. Sam and Lori are military, so they have to go with us to get the help, but we plan on coming back soon. The boys are scared to go back to a ship, so if you could care for them for just a little bit…
It’s true what I tell her, but I’m leaving out so much. I can’t find a sane way to explain that the boys saw a vision of us on the ship and Luke getting worse. They told me last night they see Morgan in a plastic bed, which I surmise is a neonatal crib. I’m fiddling with my fingers, pushing back my cuticles, hoping she doesn’t see right through me.
“I’d love to have the boys,” Gemma smiles. “We all would. Especially after meeting this little one. And after… after losing Daria.”
“Again, I’m so very sorry to hear that. I hate to impose at a time like this.”
Gemma clucks her tongue. “Not another word. We need more wonderful children in this world, not less. Your boys are welcome here as long as they would like. I keep the children here under a schedule, and the boys will fit right in.”
“I’ve heard,” I confess.
“Really?” Gemma gushes. “Well, all children need a routine.”
I bite my tongue, deciding this isn’t the best moment for slingshot and night worm talk.
“When do you leave?” she asks. “I’ll need a few days to prepare the rooms, and will you be taking your boat?”
“We’ll let someone from the island drive us, and they can bring it back. Just in case.” The boat won’t fit everyone on the island, but it’s comforting to know there’s a way out if a storm comes. There’s been nothing on the radar this far north since we arrived, and I’m hopeful we’re in the clear. “Someone from the Galene can bring us back to the island. They have tender boats.”
“The Galene?” Gemma asks.
“That’s the ship that’s out there,” I explain.
“I see.” Gemma peers out the window. On this part of the island, elevated from the rest, you can make out the outline of its hull. “Do you know anyone onboard?”
My heart thuds, and an image of Dean sitting at a desk flashes in my mind. I close my eyes shut and rub my chest, pushing the picture away.
Fuck, was that a vision?
“I d-don’t. I don’t know,” I stutter. “We’ve never been onboard, and communication wasn’t great on the Thalassa.”
“Thalassa?” Gemma draws out the name in question, her eyes turning back to mine.
“The other ship we came from.”
“You fled from,” she corrects.
