Amanda woke to the sound of crying outside her window. At first it sounded like a baby, then like her name, rolling on the tongue of an old woman. Calling out to her. She fought to find it, dragging out of exhausted sleep. She clung to whispers of alertness, crawling out of her slumber.
Danger neared, she felt it in the moaning.
Lifting her heavy head from the pillow, she tried to make out what had scared her. Her eyes adjusted, the grains of black and white taking shape. The clock blinked 3:25 A.M.
She’d finally gotten Marianne to sleep around ten, then made her way to her own bed, thankful for the quiet. Her own space. A room without the odor of bodily functions.
Now it had an odd scent. An earthy smell. The air thickened.
Fully alert, she lay still, heart pounding. Hair on her arms prickled, yet she sensed no physical presence. The chair, the desk, all appeared normal, as far as she could see. Something outside?
Pushing the comforter aside, she went to the window, the marble floor cool on her bare feet. The curtains, soft in her hand, squeaked on the rod as she drew them wide.
Silver light poured in, carrying with it the high-pitched keen. Not imagined, but real. She tugged the heavy patio door open. The screaming escalated. The wind slashed her nightshirt up around her thighs.
The ocean, no longer calm and tranquil, churned in its depths like a single, unified creature. The unfriendly moon cast green. And like the underbelly of a reptile, the clouds slid across the sky.
Rain stabbed the water, dotting its skin in spikes as it crawled, advancing toward the shore. The roiling surface bubbled in anger while the wind whipped it taller.
Amanda stood, transfixed, and watched the beast approach.
A knock sounded from far away, a frantic rapping nearly drowned by the tempest outside. Even before opening the door, Amanda knew who it would be.
Marianne, in the hallway, her white face lit with fear. “We’re to go downstairs. The storm turned. It’s headed straight for us.”
RAIN SLID IN sheets down the Toyota’s windshield, blurring the opaque view. Wind slapped against the car, sometimes rocking it violently to either side.
Mr. Chesters, free from his carrier, clung with sharp talons to the top of Mark’s head. He mauled a painful dance and made a whimpering sound.
“It’s okay, buddy. Mandy’s just fine. Don’t worry.” Ignoring the claws needling his scalp, Mark peeled one hand from the steering wheel and reached back to tickle the cat’s ears.
This time, Mr. Chesters didn’t bite him.
Howling wind had a strange effect on the animal. The cat’s eyes widened in the rearview mirror. His fur shot bolt upright, and he sat frozen. His mouth, pale tongue just visible, hung open as he panted.
The radio, at full volume, competed with the tempest outside. The weatherman broke in with a drawl.
“Doppler Dan here to update you on the disturbance down south. For those of you just in from outer space, Hurricane Megan has wreaked havoc on our Mexican neighbors for the past several hours. With winds up to 115 miles an hour before losing strength, this storm’s tearing through the coastline, leaving mass destruction in its wake.”
Fear tensed Mark’s arms. They ached from holding the car to the road. Ached from emptiness.
“We’ve received reports of roofs ripped off buildings, trees shorn away at the roots and homes reduced to rubble. There’s no estimate at this time on the level of damage, or of fatalities, which are expected to be great.”
No fatalities. No fatalities, Mark repeated in a soundless whisper.
“Needless to say, roads are dangerous, blocked off in places. Safe travel remains impossible.”
Impossible. Blocked off in places. He would not turn back. Everything that meant anything lay ahead. Not what’s gone on before, but what lies ahead.
He would keep going. He had to get to her.
“Stay put and stay tuned to KNZT. I’m Doppler Dan.”
Mark snapped off the radio and pressed harder on the gas. Willing the Toyota to make it, praying the tires would stick to the slippery concrete, he sped forward into complete blackness.