Moving With The Sun

by Nicki Huntsman Smith

  “Hey, Amelia.”

  “Hello, Kenny. I have another pole in my condo if you’d like to join me.”

  “Nah. I’ll just watch you.”

  The teenager plopped down in the sand and gazed out at the water. It was glass-smooth this evening. When it looked like this, it was difficult to imagine how it would appear during a category-five hurricane.

  She shrugged the thought away and tried to focus on the boy. Kenny wasn’t easy to read, but tonight she could see he was bothered about something.

  “I heard Charlotte made tuna casserole tonight...”

  “Not really in the mood to be around people.”

  “Am I not people?” She smiled, then cast her lure. It plunked into the turquoise water thirty yards from shore.

  “Daaamn, Gina.”

  “Gina?”

  “Just a silly pop culture reference. Seriously, though, that was smooth as buttuh.”

  “Tyler taught me. Where is he, by the way? I didn’t see him at the Love Shack.”

  Kenny frowned.

  Seconds ticked by. She continued reeling in her lure with fluid motions.

  “He left. Took Zoey, the Malevolent Little Mermaid, and sailed away.”

  “What? When?”

  “Early this morning. I’m not supposed to say anything about it, but I figure Rosemary won’t mind me telling you. She thinks you’re the bee’s knees.”

  “I think she’s an impressive woman too. I guess I won’t press you for more if you’re sworn to secrecy. It’s a shame though. I will miss him very much.”

  “Me too. When will Fergus be back?”

  “I’m not sure. I hope not too much longer, though.”

  Kenny nodded, gazing out to sea.

  “So you’ve been faking the Tourette’s thing?”

  A slow grin spread across the youthful face. He didn’t respond.

  “I think you may be an evil genius.”

  “That’s what Tyler used to say.” The grin faded.

  Amelia sent another perfect cast into the ocean. The half-sun sinking on the horizon had turned the water to periwinkle and painted the cloud-washed sky in shades of peach and tangerine. Amelia breathed in the splendor.

  She would do anything to keep her paradise safe from anyone who would bring trouble here.

  “How do you feel about Jupiter Inlet Colony, Kenny?”

  “It ain’t no ghetto.”

  “No, it certainly isn’t, but how do you feel about it? Is it just a nice place or is it your home?”

  Kenny pondered the question. “I suppose it’s my home now.”

  “Even without Tyler?”

  “Yes. I’ll miss him, though. He was kind of like a big brother to me.”

  “I know. But there are many other good people in this world whom you will also grow to love.”

  “Yeah, but there are lots of whack jobs too. Blondie did the right thing, you know.” He added, lowering his voice, even though nobody else was nearby.

  “You mean with Zoey?”

  “Yes. She was trouble, for sure. Now she’s not, because of Tyler.”

  “Ah, I see. Rosemary sent him on a suicide mission, so to speak.”

  “Yeah. What a way to go.” Eyebrows waggled above the black-rimmed glasses.

  Amelia chuckled. Kenny’s smile returned. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “There’s an empty unit next to mine,” she said, “if you’re interested. It smells like cat pee, but we can get it cleaned up in no time.”

  “I think I’d like that. I hope Fergus comes back soon.”

  “Me too, but even if he doesn’t, you’re where you should be for now. We both are.”

  Suddenly, she jerked the pole, then sped up the reeling. The next moment she flung a twenty-inch fish onto the sand.

  “Blackened and grilled?” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am. Thanks, Amelia.” When he smiled this time, he turned to her. His face was wet with tears.

  “You’ll be fine, Kenny. I’ll see to it.” She squeezed his shoulder while he removed the lure from the gaping mouth. In doing so, she learned more about the boy than she had during all the months they had both been living on the island.

  ~~~

  Amelia: Are you there?

  Fergus: Yes, love. I’m bunking at the headquarters of the Terminators with the aforementioned giant and miniature would-be sniper.

  Amelia: Are you safe?

  Fergus: I am. The giant and the sniper are my friends.

  Amelia: So you’ve successfully infiltrated?

  Fergus: Oh yes. We’re thick as thieves.

  Amelia: There’s no possibility of having your cover blown?

  Fergus: None whatsoever.

  Amelia: Good. Have you determined the nature of Zoey’s sister?

  Fergus: I have. She is a psychopath.

  Amelia: I believe that Zoey was as well.

  Fergus: Was?

  Amelia: Yes. Tyler has taken her out to sea where she will, with luck, never be heard from again. I think he was our turncoat, if I’m understanding the situation correctly.

  Fergus: Fascinating!

  Amelia: Kenny has decided to move into the condo next to ours. We’ll be taking him under our wing.

  Fergus: I like that boy. He reminds me of a younger, dark-skinned version of myself back in the Old Country.

  Amelia: He’s smarter than you.

  Fergus: That’s one of the reasons I like him. Any news of the killer?

  Amelia: No. I caught Lucas searching our condo. I think I’ve been eliminated from the suspect list.

  Fergus: Excellent. If you had wanted to murder someone, they would never know.

  Amelia: That’s what I said to Lucas. He took it as a challenge, I think. By the way, I’ve changed my opinion of him. Or rather I’ve upgraded my loathing to mere distaste. He does have the Colony’s interests at heart, and for that I will tolerate much. It is my home now.

  Fergus: I understand. Its beauty suits you.

  Amelia: When will you be leaving Tequesta?

  Fergus: In a few days. I’m getting the complete tour in the morning. I want to get the full measure of their resources and weaknesses, and I need to know if and when they intend to invade the Colony. Rosemary will have a lengthy report when I return.

  Amelia: You want to impress her.

  Fergus: Have you seen those breasts? Who wouldn’t want to impress those breasts?

  Amelia: You’re incorrigible. Be safe, my dear.

  Fergus: I shall. Good night, darling.

  ~~~

  Amelia lay in her bed, listening to the waves crashing outside her window. The wind had picked up after sunset. Hearing their roar made her think about the hurricane Ingrid saw in her vision dreams. She didn’t doubt the woman’s sincerity, nor her precognitive talents, so the matter of what was to be done about it was all that remained. Rosemary was smart to put together an evacuation plan, even though the Colonists refused to participate in drills. But despite how devastating the destruction, Amelia would return to this place afterward. It was her home in a way that Arizona had never been. It was her home in a way that even the Great Plains of the North American continent had never been all those thousands of years ago.

  The thought of a monster storm sent a frisson of near-panic through her small body. She could imagine the catastrophic ruination of her paradise, and the image filled her with dread.

  But perhaps it didn’t have to be so.

  She had been cast out of Cthor-Vangt, but she still had connections there. She might yet hold some sway with the Cthor, those ancient beings who possessed the technology to manipulate the very essence of humankind, as well as to orchestrate geological and meteorological events on a global scale. Recent examples included triggering the volcanic eruption of Pompeii, and further back, summoning an inundation of rainfall to bring about the Great Flood referenced in Christian-Judaea folklore.

  The Cthor could mitigate a tempest as easily as they could summon one
. The difficult part was to convince them to do so.

  Chapter 29 – Ingrid

  Ingrid watched Hector puttering about in the communal garden. She wore sunglasses and her favorite floppy sunhat so he wouldn’t see that she was scrutinizing him. She admired the corded muscles of his arms, still well-defined; his thick salt and pepper hair, the envy of men half his age; and the expert way in which he tucked the seedlings into the prepared holes, then covered them with just the right amount of compost and soil. The man knew his way around plants, as well he should – landscaping had been his livelihood before the plague. Illegal immigrants coming from Mexico were practically destined for that career when arriving in the United States. It was a hot, dirty, low-paying job that most Americans didn’t want.

  She had scarcely noticed people like Hector before – the men who kept her yard mowed and trimmed; the women who kept her house immaculate; the workers who cooked her food in all those restaurants where she dined on Saturday nights. Rarely did she give a thought to their intellect. They were manual laborers there to provide services for people like her.

  She sighed in disgust. In hindsight, she realized how narrow and self-absorbed her thinking had been. All people were equal, no matter the color of their skin, the job at which they toiled, or the language they spoke.

  In Hector’s case, he spoke more than a dozen. He was exceptional in all ways. She loved his companionship, and not just for the sex; their conversations were interesting and enlightening. You’re never too old to learn something new. She couldn’t remember the last time she had enjoyed being in someone’s company so much, so the recent nightmare was particularly upsetting. The identity of the phantom chasing her had not been revealed. When she had reached up to move aside the hood, there was only a black hole surrounded by a glowing circular band, like the peak of a solar eclipse in the totality zone. What had disturbed her was Hector’s absence amongst the fleeing throng. Dream logic told her that no one in the crowd was the Colony’s murderer; Hector had not been among them. Rosemary, Amelia, Tyler, Fergus, and even Lucas had been running next to her. Her dreams had always been accurate in their messages – she owed her privileged lifestyle to them – but they were subject to interpretation. She didn’t grasp the significance of the cobblestone path and why safety lay at the beach rather than her house, so perhaps there was something else she was missing as well.

  Either way, the problem remained of what was to be done about Hector. She knew he had been picking up on her recent aloofness, but he would wait for her come to him when she was ready to talk. He never pushed her; it was another trait she appreciated about him.

  “I know you are watching me.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “Have you decided to trade in this seventy-year-old man for two thirty-five-year-olds?”

  She laughed, despite her unease. “I can barely keep up with one seventy-year-old.”

  “Excellent. I would prefer to stick around a while longer. I think there is still a room or two in your palace that we have yet to christen.”

  The comment triggered a thought, bringing it forward into focus and out of that murky place reserved for less pressing issues. It was suddenly relevant.

  “Why don’t you move in with me, Hector? Or I could move in with you. Everyone knows we’re sleeping together. Why must we keep our own houses? And why do you leave in the morning before the sun is up?”

  “Are you afraid that I am a vampire? If that were so, my skin would be sizzling at the moment.”

  She didn’t smile. He didn’t look up, continuing down the furrows. Seconds ticked by.

  Finally he responded. “I guess you are expecting an answer.”

  “Yes.”

  He straightened his bent back with a sigh. He wore polarized wraparound sunglasses so she couldn’t see the dark eyes sparkling from within the web of crow’s feet, acquired from a lifetime of laughter and working in the sun.

  “I like having personal space and privacy. I did not want to say as much because I knew it would hurt your feelings.”

  He was right. She felt a petty stab to her ego. Why would he want privacy from her? Was he not also smitten?

  “Let me finish,” he said, holding up a hand when he saw she meant to speak. “I came from a very large family. Eight children. We lived in a two-bedroom house in Torreón. Can you imagine how cramped that was? I slept in a twin bed with two younger brothers. All night long I smelled their farts and listened to their snores. I shared one dresser drawer with them, not that I needed much room for my few possessions, but that wasn’t the point. There was not an inch of space in our house that I could claim for myself. Not a corner, a crawlspace under the bed, or even a windowsill that was not already being used for something. I made a vow that if there were ever an opportunity to own a home in this great country, I would share it with no one. It sounds selfish, I know, but that is the way I felt and still feel. As much as I enjoy spending time with you in your house, I love – almost as much – walking in the front door of my own home. It is all mine. There is no one else in any of the rooms. There is no one else hogging my king-sized bed. My home is not grand, like yours, but it belongs to me alone. All twenty-two hundred people-free square feet of it.”

  Ingrid allowed herself a few moments to consider his words. She decided she not only believed him, she understood and would not allow her feminine pride to find fault with his rationale.

  “So there are no bodies buried in your basement?”

  “We are at sea level. It is my understanding that basements would fill with salt water here, thus there are none within the Colony.”

  “Right. It was a joke and a bad one at that. I was trying to lighten the mood.”

  “The mood is heavy because you have something on your mind. A dream, I think, that you say you cannot remember.”

  She felt a twinge of guilt. She had lied to him after the dream and was lying to him by omission now. He wasn’t a believer, though. He put no credence in her hurricane visions, so why mention the sickle-wielding specter?

  “I barely remember it, Hector. Let’s change the subject.”

  “It was not about a hurricane? Did it foretell another dire event? I do not believe so. I have a different theory: I think your Mexican dream lover appeared in a way that frightened you, which would explain why you look at me sideways when you think I cannot see you.”

  “You’re very observant, old man.”

  “Indeed, beautiful lady. So if you do not want to share it with me so that I may defend myself, you at least owe me the courtesy of not judging me by it. Dreams are sometimes just dreams, you know. Our subconscious mind processing information. Nothing more.”

  She nodded. Perhaps Hector was right.

  Chapter 30 – Rosemary

  “You still haven’t found anything?” Rosemary said to Lucas.

  They were perched in the watchtower on the western side of the island. It was Lucas’s turn for sentry duty. He felt he should set the example that no one was above doing the grunt work of watching the mainland. Falling asleep on the job was a serious offense; the penalty for committing it was necessarily unpleasant. The hapless guard on duty when Zoey swam across the Intracoastal had spent the next twenty-four hours in a sweat box on the beach.

  A pair of high-quality Swarovski binoculars remained in the watchtower at all times, chained to the window ledge so they couldn’t be carried off. From the mainland, anyone looking their direction would see a copse of royal palms and nothing more. Their ‘deer blind’ was hidden from view at that angle, and was austere for a reason: sentries weren’t supposed to be comfortable while on duty.

  Lucas peered through the lenses. “No, nothing so far. Amelia caught me in her condo, by the way. I expected her to be at the Love Shack for dinner.”

  “Amelia? Why the hell were you searching her house?”

  “Who’s the cop here? I have my reasons which I don’t have to share with you. Don’t micromanage me, Rose. I won’t tolerate it.”

  She bit
her lip. He was right.

  She studied his handsome profile as he scanned the coastal terrain, back and forth, back and forth, hunting for signs of any activity that might suggest an impending invasion. The thought was always at the back of her mind, along with a million other problems to worry about. At least the Zoey dilemma had been handled, but the loss of Tyler and his expertise was a blow to the Colony. Everyone liked him and valued him for his extensive knowledge of all things relating to the ocean. There were others who would now do the deep-sea fishing and manage the aquaponics facility, and there was no shortage of boats to take the place of the Celestial Seas. But Tyler would be missed by everyone, and by Kenny most of all. The teenager was the only person on the island besides her who knew the real reason the couple had sailed away, and she believed he would keep the secret. Not for her sake, but out of respect for his friend. Kenny would not want people to know Tyler had been the Tequesta spy, and so her shameful past would remain private as well. The decision to send him away in the company of a sedated psychopath would benefit herself and everyone else too.

  It had been the right call, but it made her feel nauseated when she thought about it.

  “Whose house is next?”

  “None of your business.” He paused the back and forth motion. Something had caught his attention.

  “You’re right. I’m only the Colony leader, voted into that position of authority by a wide majority. You enjoy your job as head of security because of me.”

  “I enjoy it because I’m good at it and you would have been stupid to let anyone else do it.”

  She appreciated his bluntness but could understand why others were put off by it. He didn’t bother to sugar coat anything; never bothered to dress up whatever he said in tactful phrasing. He spoke his mind, always, even when doing so was not the best course of action. In that way, he reminded her of an autistic boy she had befriended in high school because nobody else would. The boy blurted out everything that popped into his head, no matter how hurtful or rude. Lucas was like that, but his talents compensated for the lack of tact.