“Fine,” Lucas said after a minute. “I suppose two more mouths to feed won’t make that much of a difference.”
Jessie smiled.
Three loud knocks came from the front door, then a grandmother-looking lady barged in without waiting for Rosemary to answer.
“Well, it didn’t work,” she said, then noticed Jessie. “Who the hell is that?”
Despite the rudeness, Jessie liked her right away. She was the one from her dream.
At that moment the older lady saw Harold, who was still standing in the kitchen. Jessie watched her sour expression transform into one of surprise.
“It’s you!”
Harold wore a similar expression: surprise mixed with a hint of awe.
“It is me. And it is also you.”
They stood looking at each other from across the room, unwilling or unable to break the spell that seemed to have been cast between them.
“Ingrid, you know this man?” Rosemary said.
That did the trick. They walked toward each other, as if an invisible lasso was being tightened around them.
They stood a foot away from each other now; both might have been seeing the prettiest sunrise or the most beautiful flower they had ever seen. It made Jessie feel wonderful just to see their happiness on such obvious display.
“No, I don’t know him. Not in real life, I mean.”
Ingrid was smiling now. She must have been lovely when she was younger. She still was, even with the wrinkles. Her silver hair looked magical. The Queen of the Fairies would have hair like that.
“I have been dreaming about you for so long,” Ingrid murmured. “I didn’t know if you were real or not.”
Harold was grinning the biggest grin she had ever seen. She realized suddenly that he was handsome in an old-man way.
“I always knew you were out there somewhere. I just didn’t think I would ever find you in this big world.”
“What the hell is going on?” Rosemary’s voice was annoyed and tired. Very tired. She must have a lot of responsibility on Amelia’s island.
“I’ve seen this man in my dreams for decades. Ever since I’ve been having them. The special ones, I mean,” Ingrid replied.
“And she has been in mine as well, but much more so now that I see the hurricane too.”
“You’re having the hurricane dream?”
“Yes. That’s also why we’re here. We were hoping we might warn everyone. I wasn’t lying about the gunfire, though.” He glanced quickly at Rosemary. “However, I didn’t think you would believe me if I led with that angle.” He flashed another charming grin. “So I suppose you could say our reason for being here is twofold.”
“It’s inevitable, then? The destruction?” Ingrid said.
Harold frowned, glancing at Jessie. She held her breath. Harold would be in serious trouble if he told anyone about the Cthor and Cthor-Vangt. They might not let him come back.
“I’m not sure.”
“Someone please explain what this is all about,” Rosemary said in her tired voice, sitting down on the sofa next to Jessie, who patted her leg and sent her some happy thoughts.
Ingrid ignored her. “What is your name?”
“Harold Clarke. I was an anthropologist in the UK. And you’re Ingrid? Do I detect a faint German accent? I always dreamed of you in Berlin or perhaps Munich. And also here in Florida.”
“Munich. And I dreamed of you in London and various places around the world, which now I know to be archaeological dig sites, yes?”
Harold smiled. “Yes, that’s right. Yours are much more specific than mine. I admit, until very recently, you were the only dream phenomenon I was having. After getting hit on the head and coming close to dying,” he winked at Jessie, “I began to see you with more clarity. And then the hurricane dreams began.”
Rosemary studied the two old people. Jessie could see uncertainty on her face. It would be a difficult decision moving everyone to a safer location. If they went to all that trouble and the storm wasn’t even that bad, it would have been a waste of time. People could get hurt or even killed on the way to higher ground. But if she didn’t move them and it did come, everyone might be washed into the sea.
Amelia believed in Ingrid’s dream and Jessie believed in Harold’s dream. Without intervention from the Cthor, the hurricane would arrive. There was no question.
Rosemary said, “Ingrid, don’t say anything else. I don’t want this man’s version tainted by yours. Mister Clarke...”
“That’s Doctor Clarke, but you may call me Harold.”
“Harold, tell us about your dream.”
For the next five minutes, Harold described his visions, during which Ingrid nodded every few seconds in agreement.
“They’re the same as mine, Rosemary. You can’t deny that.”
“This is fucking insane,” Lucas said from a corner of the room. He had gotten up from the sofa and had been pacing the floor for a while now. The effect of her happy thoughts was wearing off.
“Lucas, language.”
“Rose, you can’t make a huge decision to move people from the safety of their homes based on some stupid nightmares. That’s madness, and you know it.”
“Ingrid, when you first came in, you said it didn’t work,” Rosemary said, ignoring her boyfriend.
The older woman nodded. “Yes. I tried to direct my dreams last night, hoping to unveil the identity of the killer, as I said I would. But nothing came to me. I went to bed hungry and dreamt of gumbo much of the night. Anyway, we’ll just have to take the murderer with us, I guess.”
Rosemary smirked. “Nice try, Ingrid. I haven’t decided yet.”
“As I told you before, I’ll be leaving with or without you and everyone else. I know how it will end here. And while I’m distressed at the thought of abandoning my home, I don’t want to die. Not yet.”
With that, she entwined her arm with Harold’s and gave Jessie a stern look. “Come with us, child. You’ll be staying at my house until it’s time to leave.”
Jessie looked at Harold, who wore a dreamy smile, then at Rosemary, who was frowning, then at Lucas, who was scowling again.
“Okay,” she said. She planned to contact Tung as soon as possible after arriving at Ingrid’s house. The Cthor would receive Tung’s request to divert the storm, Amelia and Fergus would return to the island, and she could have a nice little vacation before going back to Cthor-Vangt.
It was an excellent plan.
Chapter 43 – Anonymous
Dear Diary,
There has been a delay in my exodus, but I think it will prove serendipitous. The rain has foiled my plan to poison the entire Colony, so I was prepared to settle for the killing of just the old female tyrant. But now I have been presented with a new opportunity for orchestrating the deaths of everyone on the island.
The rumor mill tells me the so-called leaders of this cloying little utopia believe the weather is a precursor to a catastrophic hurricane. It also tells me this belief is based on the prophetic dreams of the despised old female.
Surprisingly, it seems that our fearless leader has decided the prophesized event poses an actual threat, and is considering a mass evacuation of the Colony.
Do you know what is required for such an endeavor, Diary? That’s correct.
Boats.
One needs a boat to get from Point A to Point B. All the watercraft were transferred months ago from the marina, which faces the mainland, to the beach near the Love Shack. What would happen if a certain someone cut the nylon ropes of the Colony’s ragtag flotilla? What if that same someone also jettisoned four of the Colony’s five kayaks into the Atlantic? How convenient it will be to wander out to the beach, saw in hand, and hijack the Colonists only means of escape! It needs to be done quickly though, because I heard the old tyrant plans to leave soon.
Once I’ve done so and loaded up the fifth kayak with supplies, I’ll row row row my boat gently down the stream.
I’m excited about this new
idea. I won’t get to witness the demise of the Colonists in person, as I would have with poisoned gumbo, but I will imagine their terror, stranded on their tiny island while the storm surge washes them out to sea. I’m picturing them now, like so many corks bobbing in a sloshing bucket...their arms flailing, their mouths gaping, gasping for air as the relentless waves drag them under...once, twice, twenty times, until their tired wittle bodies can no long keep their pinheads above the water.
You might ask why I’m inclined to believe in paranormal nonsense such as prophetic dreams, and my answer is this: I’ve dreamt of the hurricane as well.
It. Is. Inevitable.
Chapter 44 –Amelia
“I’m sorry, Tung. This is all my fault,” Amelia said.
“Yes, it is one hundred percent your fault. Jessie is trying to make you happy by coercing the Cthor to preserve your home. She believes they will divert the hurricane if she is in harm’s way.”
He was angrier than she had ever seen him. They had been sending out their collective scythen to locate Jessie and Harold since the moment Tung had discovered them missing in the copse of trees behind the Costco building. They followed the ignored pings to the Intracoastal Waterway, white-capped and churning from the strengthening wind.
“If I lose her, I will be personally devastated. And it may well result in my expulsion from Cthor-Vangt.”
“I will be too, Tung. I don’t know if I could bear it. The Cthor will never expel you, though. You’re their favorite.”
“Let’s try to avoid that possibility. How do we get across?”
“The kayak I left here is gone,” Fergus yelled from below. He stood amongst a tangle of tree roots. The river surged and roiled like a living creature inches from his sneakers.
“What now? We have to get to her before it’s too late.”
“Why not just communicate with the Cthor now? It would save a lot of trouble,” Amelia replied.
“Because then they will know how supremely I have fucked up.”
She had never heard him use swear words in any of the languages they both spoke. She took two small steps back from the hostility she saw and felt. In the process of trying to get what she wanted for herself, she had likely squandered his friendship. It was regretful, of course, but she couldn’t change it. Fergus was alive and well and even now scrambling back up the grassy incline to stand beside her.
Kenny observed the scene from a few feet away. He had said little since mastering the battery of expedited tests back at the golf club. He probably thought they were suffering from a shared delusional disorder. He didn’t possess langthal, but his ability to ‘disappear’ was extraordinary. It was not actual invisibility, of course, but a clever magician’s misdirection. Even more relevant, his intellect was off the charts. She had enjoyed seeing Tung’s stoic expression shift to one of astonishment at the boy’s test results.
The nerdy black kid standing a few feet away was perhaps the smartest human being left on the planet. The Cthor would be thrilled to harvest his DNA for their next batch of genetically engineered humans.
Amelia hated herself for where her mind went at that moment, but introspection could wait until everyone, and her island, was safe.
“Tell them about Kenny too. Do it now. It’s not just about getting Jessie back and saving your own hide. The simplest solution is for that storm to be diverted or diminished.”
“My hide is in jeopardy because of your selfishness.”
“I know, my friend. And I’m sorry, but that doesn’t help us now. Please, Tung. Contact them.”
Three drenched, bedraggled people stood in the rain on the river bank watching a fourth drenched, bedraggled person as he closed his eyes and sent out a communication. Amelia’s heart was in her throat. Everything depended on this; everything came down to this endeavor, and she would pay a high price for its success. She knew she had used up all her friend’s good will with this favor, and the knowledge filled her with sadness.
She waited.
Minutes passed. She was picking up some of the transmission with her own scythen, but Tung operated on a level superior to everyone in Cthor-Vangt except for the Ancient Ones themselves.
A sense of unease crept in.
She studied his exotic, perfectly symmetrical face; watched his eyelids flutter; watched his mouth turn down in a frown; watched his head nod once, a subconscious response to a direct order from the Cthor; watched his eyes open again, unfocused at first, then tinged with sorrow when they rested on her.
“I’m sorry. They won’t do it.”
Amelia felt the words like a physical blow. Her knees almost collapsed beneath the sudden weight she felt.
“Why not?” she said when she could finally speak. “What about Jessie?”
“They will not be negotiated with nor manipulated in this way. Their decision is final. There will be no diverting of the storm, and it is beyond your station to have presumed you could make such a request. You have overreached.”
“What will happen now? To Jessie? I can’t believe they would risk such a priceless commodity.”
“They regret it, but they have downloaded her genome, of course. While they prefer to have both the host and its DNA, they don’t need Jessie herself, just her blueprint.” There was a bitter note to his words.
“We have screwed the pooch, haven’t we, darling?” Fergus said. Leave it to her beloved to make himself complicit in her manipulative schemes.
“No, we haven’t. I have, and I’m terribly sorry. For everything. Now we need to figure out how to get Jessie and Harold off that island. And anyone else who will listen.”
“That is your problem now. My job is to get Kenny to Cthor-Vangt.”
“Whoa there, Jet Li,” the teenager said, mimicking Tung’s deadpan inflection. “I haven’t agreed to that. I’m not even sure you people are sane.”
“Kenny, you know in your heart we’re sane,” Tung said. “I’ve sensed it. You know in your heart that what we’ve told you is true. You saw Jessie heal Lester from your own poison dart. You know what you put in that cartridge, and you know the man should be dead.”
“True ‘dat. Still, it doesn’t mean I believe this Twilight Zone episode.” Kenny switched to his own voice now.
“Yes, you do,” Tung insisted. Amelia saw him glance down toward his pocket, retrieve the weapon from Cthor-Vangt, and adjust the setting. Her heart sank. She gazed out at the turbulent water, her mind racing now on a plan for rescuing Jessie and Harold. Fergus followed her gaze, no doubt pondering the same thing.
When she turned back to watch Tung sedate the teenager, Kenny had vanished.
She barked an involuntary laugh. “I so wish he would show me how he does that.”
“Perfect, just perfect,” Tung said. “I can’t leave without him.”
Amelia felt bad for her friend. He seemed so resigned now, as if his fate were beyond his control. She supposed it was. That was the price one paid for virtual immortality.
“Give him some time. He’ll come back. He just needs to think about such a big decision. In the meantime, you could help us with Jessie and Harold. They’re still your charges.”
“Technically, they are not. My responsibility is Kenny now.”
“How can you be so callous, Tung? That’s not like you,” Amelia said.
Fergus spoke up, “He’s having a bad day, Amelia. Perhaps we should cut him some slack.”
“You’re right. Good grief, I’ve become someone I don’t much like at the moment. Very well, Tung. Do what you need to do.”
“I intend to.”
At that moment, all three received a communication from Harold and Jessie.
~~~
Harold: I guess you’ve discovered where we are by now.
Jessie: Don’t be mad at Harold. I made him come with me.
Amelia: Jessie, I appreciate what you’ve done for me, but it is for nothing. The Cthor have refused to divert the storm.
Jessie: Uh oh.
Tung: That’s right. Uh oh. Child, you are in serious trouble. And you’ve put Harold in danger along with yourself.
Jessie: I’m sorry! I was just trying to help.
Amelia: We know, dear. We need to get you both off that island now. By what method did you cross?
Harold: A kayak. The policeman took it to the beach on the Atlantic side, though. That’s where they keep all the sea-faring vessels.
Tung: Can you get to it?
Harold: I believe so. There will be three of us, although I think Jessie can squeeze in between the two adults.
Amelia: Ingrid? Yes, that makes sense. You’re both having the same dream.
Harold: Jessie and I are with Ingrid now, at her house. She has been planning to evacuate whether the Colonists decide to or not.
Amelia: After all she’s done for them, they can’t refuse her the use of one of their kayaks.
Harold: That’s what she said. She’s a firecracker, that one. And we have a connection that goes beyond sharing the prophetic dreams. I will explain all that later. I have to say, I’m having the time of my life. A white-knuckle crossing of a tempestuous river, talking my way out of being shot, meeting the aforementioned firecracker, and now orchestrating our escape from a catastrophic hurricane. Tung, I’m so happy to have accompanied you and Jessie.
Tung: Glad to be of service. Now, please get to the vessel immediately. We’ll be here waiting for you.
Harold: Will do, sir. And please, don’t be angry with Jessie. I could have tried to stop her.
Jessie: No, you couldn’t. I’m much faster than you.
Amelia: Jessie, promise you’ll do exactly what Harold tells you to do.
Jessie: I promise, Amelia. I’m sorry your home is going to be destroyed.
Amelia: There are other islands, child. Be safe and hurry!
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