Page 78 of The Final Storm
Both of us are women who made mistakes and will continue to make mistakes. She fell into the clutches of a cult. I’ve trusted the wrong people. I’ve killed people. The past is a dangerous thing, and I’m learning I know so little about the woman I was before.
“Read the note,” she says and rushes off. She bounds up the steps and disappears into the hallway, leaving me the last person standing on the walkway.
“Let’s go,” Lori calls. “I’ve had enough of this place.”
I rush up to the boat, flinging my bags through the opening, and board without looking back. The hull opens and the wave of water rocks us until the engine roars to life, taking control of our movements. Only a few operators see us off, and I breathe a sigh of relief this time when we exit.
Our boat edges through the slip until we’re out in the ocean, and a new fear grips me. “BeLew,” I turn in a circle, calling their name. “Boys,” I repeat. I don’t see them, and I rush along the side of the boat, searching for their blonde heads.
“They’re downstairs. Something about being safe there from you chucking them overboard.” Luke raises an eyebrow at me and laughs.
“I don’t find that funny,” I bite back. “You’re sure they’re okay down there?”
“As long as you stay up here, I think they’re fine.”
I roll my eyes at Luke, but he sweeps his head under the doorway and heads downstairs. I breathe a sigh of relief knowing he’s checking and noticing how he’s getting around better. He’s returning to the old Luke, full of quip and appeal.
The boat we’re on has an undercarriage with two rooms, and we can fit the kids on the top as well. I won’t, though, not knowing what I’ve seen. I’ll sleep in a buoy being dragged behind this damn thing if that means my kids don’t drown in the ocean.
Sam and Lori drive, the island shore growing in the distance. I step over to them and wrap my arms around Sam’s middle. The note Cecilia gave him burns in his pocket. I fight the urge to rip it out and read what she’s written, but Sam needs to focus. We all do for what lies ahead.
“We should drop the tracker,” I say.
Both Sam and Lori shake their head at me. “It’s too close to the island,” she explains. “It will come in with the tide, or Dean will figure out too soon that you’ve found it. We need to get further out.”
“But what if he goes to the island while we’re there?” I question.
“Chances are Lindell has already alerted him,” Sam argues. “They can’t find him, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been watching us.”
“They haven’t been looking,” I complain.
“There are other things the Galene needs to worry about. And we’ve told the captain. Part of this is his problem now.”
I let go of Sam and rest my hands on the ledge, looking out into the water.
“The tracker is what’s keeping Dean on our tails,” Sam continues. “He’ll follow it and give the captain an edge.”
I turn my head back, my hair whipping around my face. “That’s what I’m worried about.”
We’re silent the rest of the way, and all four boys stay tucked away underneath the hull. I look down only once to find BeLew’s big eyes staring back at me. They offer a thumbs up but scoot away.
I know how the visions feel, and they understand their reality, their danger. What I can’t tell them is how millions of little events can change anything, and we have to concentrate on the next step. I curse myself for not meditating more, but what if that thrusts me back into the past? It seems my mind only works in reverse since the blow to the head, and I’m worried I’ll never get it back into drive.
Milo stands on the shore when we arrive. They’ve built a makeshift boat dock and the other tender sits on one side. He strides up the wood walkway and catches a rope that Sam throws. I hear a scratch on one side as we thud to a stop, but I suppose it doesn’t matter. Who cares about damaged property anymore?
“We need to get supplies, and we don’t have a lot of time,” Sam yells to Milo. Both men move with purpose, strong arms yanking and tying the ropes. Luke jumps over the side, slower than he once was, but stands tall and helps secure the boat.
“No one has a lot of time,” Milo adds, pointing at the horizon. Lori and I whip around and I hear her gasp beside me. BeLew and Tank thud up from under the hull and greet Milo behind us, but I can’t look away.
There’s a black line at the edge of the water. It could be days away, or right at our tails. That’s the horror of these storms. The size of continents, they stretch out before you in warning, but there’s nowhere to go. They loom in the distance, promising death and destruction.
I feel myself float again as if my feet lift from the floor, but I know I stand on wooden planks. It’s a drifting in my stomach, and I sway back, staring at the storm, almost falling backward. A flash comes again of a woman on the shore wearing white, and a face that changes in front of my eyes, flashing from my sister to… me. The images turn, each woman staring at me, wanting something from me.
Why can’t these be as clear as the past?
I close my eyes and lean against the wall of the wheelhouse.
“I think they were off on their weather predictions,” Lori mutters at my side. But I’m ignoring her, trying to go into my mind to see what I should.
