Page 36 of The Final Storm
“And her time in isolation will calm her down or make her angrier?” I ask, my heart thudding in my chest.
“Plan for the worst. Hope for the best. You know how to use a gun.” My stomach flips, knowing that I’ve shot and killed someone before. I’ve always known how to shoot. Living on a farm makes that a necessity, but Sam spent countless hours training me on the island, insistent that I needed to sharpen my skills. I argued, knowing we had a growing list of chores, but the lessons continued.
He either brought a gun from the island or collected one here. Either way, I feel better knowing I have it. My skin grows cold when I think about what I would do if necessary. The last time I pointed a gun at someone, my entire life changed.
I nod to him, and he grabs his bag off the floor and scoops me into his arms. He should have told me about Cecilia’s outburst before, but I don’t know when he would have had the opportunity. It feels like a week passed in the last twenty-four hours.
“Come here,” he whispers, and walks to the other cabin, shutting the door behind us. When the door clicks, his intense kiss bruises my lips and makes me desperate for more, desperate for him. My hands make their way under his shirt and over the bulge in his pants. He maneuvers them away, avoiding taking things further. Minutes pass while he kisses me, but holds himself back, aware Lori sleeps a few steps away.
“I would love to stay here with you and do unspeakable things, make you scream out my name,” he breathes into my mouth. “But you know what’s coming. We don’t have a lot of time.”
“The storm,” I whisper.
“Yes. It’ll be here in a week. It could miss us completely, but the Galene can’t take that chance. And there’s a risk of not having the boys in time if I don’t leave right now.”
“Go get our babies and warn Gemma,” I urge, nudging him toward the door. “Bring them all back if they’re willing to come.” He plants a chaste kiss on my lips, turns, and leaves.
I step back to the other cabin and look under the bed. Dropping to my knees and lowering my head to the floor, I see it. A small black box lies flush against the wall. I reach out, dragging it closer to me, and enter the passcode Sam uses for everything. It clicks open, revealing a small grey handgun inside. Lori snores softly above me, curled into herself.
Running my fingertips over the smooth metal, I meditate, praying for a sign of what’s coming. I let my mind drift, trying to focus on leaving myself open to everything. It’s darkness until I’m spinning, images flashing before my eyes. I see more of the same, and I’m shaken by the sharpness this time. It’s flashes of the medical unit, machines, and chaos. Blood covers the floor at my feet, and panic rises in my throat.
When I open my eyes, Lori is still lying in the bed, my hand clutching the metal of the gun. I don’t know how much time has passed. My breath quickens until I feel the surge of assuredness cast over my limbs. It feels like a blanket, wrapping me tightly in warning, clenching my mind and my heart. ThefeelingGemma mentioned, and I notice it more often now that I’m aware of its presence.
It’s too late to change this vision.
There’s nothing I can do.
Chapter 14
The Second Day
Luketakesaturnfor the worse two days after Sam leaves. I’m there with him, feeling helpless and lost that Sam’s half-day trip drags on for days. Luke’s in the final stage of sepsis, and the nurses don’t know if their treatments will pull him out.
I didn’t tell Lori what I saw, pictures of chaos and blood. Beeping machines and the agony of feeling that it’s inevitable. I’m not sure how our situation could get much worse, but I’ve seen the image. I’m easily startled, walking on pins and needles, waiting for something, anything, to happen. The nurses agree to let Lori be with him behind the plastic curtains, and she never leaves his side. She only reaches out a hand to get the radio when it’s time to talk to the boys.
His temperature is dangerously high, and I’m scared. The harrowing end we never thought possible punches me in the stomach as I watch Luke’s body struggle to survive, tormenting me with every twitch and jerk.
He’s a fighter. He’ll make it.
Lori lies in bed with him, wrapping her small limbs over his middle. Her body must have cried every tear, because she rests her head on his chest and stares blankly at nothing. She strokes his face, and we mill about around her, invisible to her eyes.
There’s nothing I can say.
There’s nothing I can do for them.
I’m broken, ripped in two at the thought of losing him and lost with Sam gone for so long. I can’t imagine explaining Luke’s death to the boys, and with every breath I take, I feel the surrounding void of sadness grow darker. This boat is hell.
No, worse.
This boat is purgatory.
Morgan gains weight and coos at the nurses when they check her. I find small moments of relief before I’m plunged back into fear. The reality of our situation slaps me across the face every time she’s put back in that plastic box, every time Luke’s machines beep and whoosh.
She stirs not far from Luke, and I want nothing more than to rip her away from this room, this place. But that won’t help them, and I must come to terms with the fact that I can’t do anything but wait.
Wait for Sam to come back.
Wait for both of them to get better,ifthey get better.
