Gina Ranalli - House of Fallen Trees

“In the Captain’s office. They were on the desk.”

“I’ve never even seen those before,” Rory said, still clearly infuriated.

Saul rapidly began turning pages, his face darkening as he did. “Maybe you should, Rory.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Rory rushed over to his side and snatched the top notebook away from him. He couldn’t have read more than a few lines when he threw the notebook across the room. “This is bullshit! Those aren’t Sean’s.”

“It’s his writing,” Karen insisted.

Rory’s jaw worked up and down. He wanted to argue but she suspected he was out of words. Finally, when he spoke, it was barely above a whisper. “Sean did not kill himself.”

That said, he stormed through the living room and out of sight.

Saul carried the notebooks over to the sofa and sat with them on his lap, reading. Karen watched his face very carefully, looking for signs of…she wasn’t sure what. When she couldn’t stand his lack of expression for another second, she said, “He was crazy, wasn’t he?”

He looked up at her sadly. “I don’t think you should bring this up to Rory again. At least, not for a while. Let him read these when he’s ready, once he’s calmed down.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Sitting back on the sofa, Saul released a long sigh. He thought about his answer for a long time before replying. “My grandmother used to say that we’re all surrounded by spirits, all the time. She believed that they can affect our moods because we breathe them in and out, absorb them through our skin. That sometimes they can overcome us.”

She frowned at him, confused. “I don’t get it.”

“Well,” he said, and set the notebooks on the cushion beside him. “It basically boils down to this. Either Sean was crazy. Or…”

“Or what?”

“Remember I said don’t mention this to Rory.”

“ Or what?”

“Or he was…I guess, for lack of a better term…he was possessed.”

Karen stared at him. “Possessed.”

He shrugged. “I’m just saying what my grandmother believed and it seems like those are our only two choices. Which do you prefer?”

But she didn’t know which she preferred. And, she supposed, she never would.

Saul smiled. “What do you say we go make a pot of coffee while the electricity is still on?”

Reluctantly, she said, “Okay. Just let me get dressed first.”

Saul waited in the hallway while she pulled on jeans, a white cable-knit sweater and her sneakers. She felt silly, asking him to wait in the hall when she’d seen him completely naked, but she was modest and couldn’t help feeling awkward about the tables being turned.

He knows you peed your pants, for crying out loud. Seeing your tits is probably not going to faze him.

Nevertheless, she felt better with him out of the room, though she wasn’t so brave that she closed the door. When she was finished, they went downstairs together and found Rory already in the kitchen making breakfast.

“Hope you like eggs and sausage,” he said, sounding almost friendly. “After all, it might be your last meal.”

“Very funny,” Saul said and somewhere out in the forest, not very far away at all, another tree fell.

The power stayed on just long enough for Rory to finish cooking, which they all agreed was a minor blessing, and they had to eat their meal by candlelight, listening to what sounded like a war going on all around them. Near and far, explosions shook the house and occasionally they could hear glass breaking somewhere above them.

“This is a bad one,” Saul said, looking worriedly up at the ceiling.

“Bad for my wallet, especially,” Rory said around a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “Replacing all the broken windows is gonna cost me an arm and a leg.”

Karen couldn’t tell if he was trying to make light of the situation or if he really was worried about money. She just kept her thoughts to herself, concentrated on shoveling the food down as fast as possible and worried about the stray, Dusty, out in this ugly storm. The poor thing. She must be terrified.

Another bomb went off, so close she cried out and dropped her fork, spilling food into her lap. “Damn!”

“I think that was the garage,” Saul said. Rory looked like he might burst into tears at any moment.

“You have insurance, don’t you?” Karen asked.

“Yeah, but…” He trailed off and she knew he was thinking about Sean.

“What if a tree hits the house?” she asked.

“This house has stood through a hundred years of wind storms,” Rory answered. “It will stand through this one too.”

Saul didn’t seem as convinced, which didn’t make Karen feel any better.

The sun had risen now, though it was hard to tell that it had. The sky remained a dark angry gray and the daylight barely penetrated the windows. Karen was beginning to lose her enthusiasm for trying to get to the truck in this storm, but she still didn’t like the idea of staying in the house any longer either. She knew she couldn’t take another night here and when it came right down to it, thought she would prefer risking her life outside over suffering more of the nightmare visions she’d had only a few hours ago.

“How long do these things usually last?” she asked.

“Not usually more than a day, thank God,” Saul said. “I’d be willing to bet this will be over soon.”

“It better be,” Rory said, his eyes finding the porthole over the sink. “I just can’t believe this shit.”

“It’s crappy luck for sure,” Saul agreed.

Luck. The word almost made Karen laugh aloud, but she sipped her coffee instead. A dead brother. Sanity that was shaky at best. Not exactly what she would call luck but in a way, these things were no different than they had been before she’d ever arrived. Before Rory had called her. Or…if what he said was true — before she had called him.

Could that be possible? Did she have Sean’s hand-written will somewhere?

Maybe the answer was in Rory’s office. Maybe that was why he’d been so weird about her being in there earlier. Was he afraid she had been looking for the paper? Or, more importantly, afraid she’d found it?

Outside the wind howled like something alive and ravenous, something with sharp teeth and a very bad temper. At this point she had to wonder if that’s exactly what it was.

Another crashing tree and she spilled her coffee down the front of her sweater, yelping with fright.

“Fuck this,” she spat, standing up abruptly. “I’m getting out of here even if I have to walk every step of the way.”

Saul rose and protested, as she knew he would, but she pushed him aside and kept walking, heading for the front door.

“You can’t just leave,” he said, keeping pace with her.

“No? Watch me.”

He grabbed her arm, but she shook herself free, snapping, “Don’t touch me! I have to get out of here! Don’t you get it?”

“No, I don’t fucking get it!” He was shouting now, she realized. They both were.

She stopped and faced him. “I think this fucking house wants to kill me. I think it killed Sean and that’s what this has been about. I’m leaving.”

“That makes no sense, Karen. A house can’t hold a grudge. You’re talking crazy!”

She raised her hands. “Because I am crazy, remember? My own brother even thought I was.”

Reaching the front door, she yanked it open before he could stop her and a blast of wind hit her like a truck, knocking her backwards, and if Saul hadn’t been there to grab her, she would probably have landed square on her ass.