A. Colucci - Seeders

“He’ll be okay. I shot Beecher pretty good with that arrow. He might be dead.”

Isabelle felt an equal mix of horror and relief.

“Either way, Sean won’t stay out in the rain for long.”

She nodded.

“There’s something else too. We saw a boat at the dock. The Acadia .”

Her face brightened. “Did you see Captain Flannigan?”

Luke looked at his feet and shook his head.

“We’ll take the boat, first thing in the morning. After the storm passes,” she said with resolve. “Tell Monica to be ready at dawn and only bring what you absolutely need.”

“You can drive a boat?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” She picked up the rifle by the chair. “At the very least we can use the radio. Now go to bed.”

Luke stood up to leave, but hesitated. “I said some things before.”

“It’s okay.”

“I didn’t mean them.”

“I know.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Now go to bed.”

“Are you coming up?”

“No. I’m sleeping down here.” She sat down in the chair with the gun in her lap.

“Mom, you haven’t slept in two days. Let me stand guard.”

“No, Luke.”

“We can sleep in shifts. Dad took me shooting too. I can do it.”

“All right. I’ll take the first four hours and then come get you.”

He nodded, on his way to the stairs.

Then all at once, the lamp in the library made a small click and died, the hallway went black, and there was a phantom sound of power draining from the house. They were left with only a dim flicker of the fireplace.

“Mom?” Luke was near the steps and couldn’t see her.

“It’s okay, Luke.” In an instant there was a spark and flame. Isabelle’s face lit up from the silver cigarette lighter. “There are candles in the drawer.” She held the lighter in front of her and walked to a mahogany table. She rummaged through the drawer, finding a box of six tapered candles and a couple of short pillars. “We can put one in each room.”

She gave Luke four candles that fit in his sweatshirt pocket.

They both walked to the foyer closet, Isabelle carrying the rifle. She felt along the bottom shelf and took out a flashlight for her son.

He looked at her, worried. “Why do you suppose the lights went out?”

“The storm, I guess.”

He shook his head. “It’s not like a power line could be down. The wires to the shed are underground. I think someone turned off the generator.”

“Maybe it ran out of fuel.”

“Doubt it.”

“I could turn it back on.”

“No way. You can’t go out there now.”

“No. Of course not. Go put a candle in each room upstairs.”

“Luke!” a voice shrieked from the upstairs landing, where Monica peered out from the railing. “The lights went out.”

“It’s all right,” he told her. “I’ll be right up.”

“Take these.” Isabelle gave him matches for the candles. “Remember we’re leaving at dawn.”

He turned on the flashlight. “You’re waking me up in four hours, right?”

She nodded.

“What if the storm doesn’t pass? It might rain for days.”

“Let’s think positive.”

Luke reached down and hugged his mother. “Be careful, okay?”

She watched him climb the stairs looking like the man he was becoming, brave and confident. He had a sturdy gait, lithe and graceful. No doubt he would be tall and muscular like his father, but kind. In the shadows Isabelle saw the girl wrap her arms around his neck, and Luke reached down to hold her. For once, she was glad for Monica.

All the candles had been lit so that the downstairs of the house glowed orange, barely visible from the outside. Isabelle carried leftover sandwiches into the kitchen.

The flashlight made a blinding burst on the steel refrigerator, just as the back door handle jiggled loudly.

Isabelle dropped the plate with a crash.

A hand banged on the door.

She swung the flashlight beam to the glass panes. There was only a circle of reflected light so she moved closer, angling the beam.

It lit up a face, pressed against the glass.

Sean .

Isabelle opened the door and pulled her son out of the storm. He shivered from the cold, his blue lips trembling. His hair was plastered like black paint to his head and he seemed bloated with rain. It was a challenge taking off his wet jacket and shirt, which had merged with his body like glue. She checked him for injuries, pausing at his forehead. The black bumps had spread down his temple. It wasn’t something she was ready to face at the moment.

“You have to get into a hot shower,” she told him. “Okay?”

He glared at her.

“Luke told me you spoke today. I’m glad, Sean.” She hugged him, but he was as cuddly as a plastic doll. In the candlelight, his stare was angry and accusing.

Sean pushed past her, and she noticed the cutting shears in his back pocket.

“What’s this?” she asked, lifting them out.

He snatched them back.

“Give them to me.”

“No,” he said firmly.

She backed away in surprise. It should have been a moment of bliss, tears of joy and prayers of thanks, but there was something so cold in his voice, something hateful in his eyes that terrified Isabelle.

“Give them to me, Sean,” she said.

He grabbed his wet jacket off the counter and turned for the door, but Isabelle was quick. She took hold of the jacket and wouldn’t release it, until Sean backhanded her in the face.

With a cry, she held her cheek. Before the room finished spinning, Sean was gone. Half dressed, he ran into the rain. Isabelle didn’t move for a long time. She felt her stomach lurch.

She was thinking, This boy is not my son .

THUNDER AND LIGHTNING STRUCK together in a brilliant burst. Ginny cowered under the brush that barely protected her from the freezing rain. She hadn’t found the pond, or the way home, and now evening had arrived and she was under cover again, quickly sinking into cold mud. First her boots and then her legs, which were folded to her chest, and finally her rear. It had grown dark and indeed the weather was worsening.

She tried to extract her knees but that made her sink deeper, and when she braced her arms using the shovel for leverage, the mud devoured them up to her elbows and she couldn’t free the shovel. Water flowed over her body like a river and she let out a yelp of fright. It felt like the island was sinking into the ocean and she would be buried under the muddy bottom.

Then she was hit with a crash of water, a flowing channel that loosened the earth’s grip on her body. Soon she was swimming in the dark, floating down a torrential river. For the first time in her life, she was terrified. The flashlight shoved down her bra banged painfully against her breastbone. Twigs and branches scraped her hands and tore her knees as she cascaded down an incline along the rocky ground.

The current dumped her into a body of water that was ice cold and thrust her deep into its depths. She screamed out bubbles, panicked at one horrid thought.

I’ve been swept into the sea.

Her foot touched the bottom and she pushed to the surface. She felt herself going under again and grasped a vine floating on the water. She pulled it with all her might, but the water was freezing and her body was turning numb. She could barely kick or keep her grip any longer. Her heart beat painfully against her chest.

I’m having a heart attack . I’m going to die in the dark, lonely sea .

“Damn you, George,” she barely managed to sputter, but she wanted those to be her last words. This was all his fault, after all. She clutched the vine and gradually pulled herself to shore. Rain poured down, but not so hard anymore and her body pressed firmly against the ground. The ocean must have receded, replaced by wet grass and leaves. Her strength was returning, while anger and adrenaline warmed her blood. She pulled herself to higher ground and felt the hard roll of a flashlight under her hip. With a smirk, she reached inside her raincoat, took it in hand, and flipped it on quick, almost daring it not to work.