Page 1 of The Final Storm
Chapter 1
Slingshot
Silencefillsthekitchen.It makes my skin prickle with discomfort. Before they arrived, there was only silence when the food hit the table. Even then, the boys would continue conversations with their mouths full.
Four boys, all under the age of ten, and each one a bottomless pit. I’m the pregnant one, and they double what I eat at every meal. Typically, they laugh through bites and spit crumbs as they heckle each other. I miss their banter tonight.
The only sound tonight is pans and plates clinking as they hit the table. It’s been a difficult day. A difficult four days since the Galene anchored just off the island. Its vast shadow looms in the distance and occupies our minds tonight, like every night since it arrived. No one has come ashore yet, but I know it will be on a day when it rains. I check the clouds morning and night to prepare myself. The anxiety of knowing too much keeps me in a constant state of fear.
Sam and I have no secrets, but Lori is in the dark… at her request. She doubts her decision now, asking open-ended questions I have no way of answering. The concern written on my face is my only and perpetual reply. The burden of it weighs on my heart when I lie down at night, waiting to dream. I have no date on the calendar for when people will arrive, but something inside me knows it’s soon.
I meditate to see the visions of things to come, but at night, that’s when true magic happens. All the pictures in my sleeping mind come to life, and I awaken with a movie reel in my head of future events. I’m blessed with pictures of my daughter, Morgan, my angel that will be here in a few short months.
I have the gift of seeing her blonde hair and sweet face. In my sleep, I feel the pull on my breasts from her nursing, and more than once I awaken to sheets wet with milk. Beau and Lewis have the gift, and they see her too. They feel her in their arms and see her take her first steps. It worries them that the steps are on a ship, not on this island. It worries Sam as well, but these visions don’t have to come to pass.
We can change things, but should we?
Sam remains stoic and tight-lipped as we sit for dinner. He’s always been strong physically and mentally, but the past few days have taken a toll. The way he looks at our friends, knowing things are not well beneath the surface, troubles me. He could fake it before we saw the ship on our shores. Its presence thrusts us into reality, and day by day, its shadow chips away at his happiness.
The Galene looms over our every move. It has an ever-present seat at this kitchen table where we eat, thinking about nothing but its outline miles out to sea. I want a family dinner where we enjoy each other and pretend that the damned ship won’t ruin everything we’ve created these past few months.
I made the rule we would not discuss its presence at the dinner table. So now we sit in silence.
The Galene will bring what is necessary, and I know it, even if Lori doesn’t. Luke will be sick soon, and the Galene is the only way to help him. Then again, it could save him and kill us all at the same time, but I never see the latter.
Luke’s sunken cheeks and grey skin, misted with sweat, fill my nightmares. He has a relentless cough in my visions where blood leaves his lips and sprays the room, covering my body from head to toe. When I wake up, my hands run down my front to wipe it away. I shiver at the memory, and I shake my head to free it from my brain.
“BeLew, please eat some vegetables.” The boys lower their shoulders and grimace. My nickname for them comes out in a sharp tone, cutting through the silence. Beau and Lewis look up from their food with only their eyes. My ears ring with the metal sounds of forks hitting plates. Beau pierces a carrot and looks over at his brother.
They are seven now and have aged a lifetime in under a year. Each day I see more of my sister in my nephews, but as time passes, they feel more like mine. My children who become more capable of living in this harsh world every day. They can hunt, fish, start a fire, and cook outdoors. They would be littered with boy scout badges in our old life.
Lewis gazes at Beau and begrudgingly stabs the carrot on his plate. In a silent countdown, they both bring the vegetables to their lips and chew as if they are gnawing on acid.
Lori’s boys follow suit when she glares at them. Luke is coughing tonight, and every time the sound brings my shoulders up to my ears. Sam runs his hand up my back and gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze to release my fears. I’m hiding them from the others, but my mannerisms give me away. Luke continues his coughing spell, breaking our silence, and Lori pats him on the back a few times. “Did you swallow something wrong?” He shakes his head no, still coughing. I still myself, staring at him, knowing time is running out.
“You have to eat your vegetables too, Mama,” Lewis drawls. “Morgan needs to eat healthy. Carrots are a healthy choice.”
I crack a slight smile in their direction and pile carrots on my fork. Sam rubs my thigh with his free hand, and I pretend not to hear Luke struggle to catch a breath. There is nothing I can do for him, not until they arrive. “What did you boys do today? All four of you were out of the house from sunup to sundown.”
Lori’s boys, Tucker and Hank, give each other a devilish grin. They are eight and nine, and BeLew’s shadows. During our time on the island, long days in the sun have browned their skin and lightened their hair. When all four boys stand on the shoreline, I can’t tell them apart from afar. I started calling her two Tank, with Lori’s permission. My sister was never fond of nicknames, but things are easier with Lori, more relaxed.
Lori rolls her eyes and exhales. “They made a five-foot-tall slingshot. They finished their chores first. I’ll give them that, but still. I can’t decide if I’m annoyed or impressed.”
“Boys will be boys,” Luke wheezes. He gains control of the cough and reaches for a glass of water.
Lori pushes it towards him and continues. “They think they can make it big enough and shoot something far enough to, you know, er, hit the ship.”
My eyes grow wide, and I can’t hold back my grin. “Oh, wow. BeLew are you a part of this?”
“This is breaking the rule,” Lewis says. “We don’t talk about the ship at dinner.”
More silence falls upon the table. The clatter of silverware and Luke’s labored breathing fill my ears once again. My goal for stress-free dinners has failed. It would be better to discuss the ship than this, and I concede. “I want to hear about the slingshot. Forget about the rule.”
Sam gives my thigh another squeeze. “Beau and I are more the idea guys,” Lewis responds. “We draw up the plans, and Tank are on construction.”
“And how’s construction going?” I ask. “Are we ready to fire?”
“Oh, it’s ready to fire,” Hank pipes up. “But mom called us in for dinner before we could get it loaded.”
