Kathy Reichs - Seizure

Shelton popped onto my screen first, head bobbing, making me slightly queasy. A motor hummed in the background.

A check of the GPS confirmed my guess. A red orb indicated that Shelton was just off the coast of Morris Island, inching north. He’d activated face-to-face from his iPhone.

“Did you hear?” Shelton asked, voice panicky.

“Yes. Where are you?”

“On the shuttle.” His pitch climbed the scale. “Everyone at LIRI’s getting fired! My dad just told me.”

“I know. Kit said the same thing.”

My spirits sank through my shoes. I’d held a vague hope that Kit had somehow gotten it wrong. Overreacted. But Shelton confirmed the awful truth.

“What will we do?” Shelton tugged his earlobe, a nervous habit. “We’ll all have to move away.”

Before I could answer, my screen divided into thirds. Hi appeared on the left, framed by his bedroom walls. Huffing and sweaty, he’d clearly run to his computer.

“Oh crap. You guys know, too.” Wheeze. “Can you believe it?”

I shook my head, at a loss. I hadn’t felt this powerless in a long time. Not since Mom died.

“Did you get all the details?” Hi asked.

“What details?” I felt a new surge of worry.

“According to my dad, the problems run deeper than just CU’s operating budget. Apparently the whole state is broke. The legislature is trying to liquidate assets they’ve deemed nonessential.”

“What does that mean?” Shelton asked.

“The state may seize and sell Loggerhead Island. Developers have been salivating over those beaches for decades.”

“No!” I snapped. “They can’t!”

“They can,” Hi said. “My dad called a friend in Columbia who said a deal is in the works right now.”

“Don’t they have to vote on something like that?” Shelton asked. “Loggerhead is technically public property, right?”

Hi shook his head. “CU has title, and the legislature already has authorization to sell university assets. They can move forward with a sale any time they want.”

“Given all the bad publicity, the state kills two birds with one stone.” My fingers curled into fists. “PR bullshit.”

“It gets worse,” Hi said. “Morris Island may also be on the block.”

“No way.” I couldn’t believe it.

“Think about it,” Hi said. “Morris is even hotter real estate than Loggerhead. It’s closer, has a road, and is three times bigger.”

“And since CU also holds title to Morris Island,” Shelton concluded, “it’s fair game too. That’s some slick dealing. Bastards.”

“They’ll build freaking condos over our bunker,” Hi grumbled. “So fat seniors from Hoboken can tan by the pool.”

“Goddamn it.”

Blasphemy, but right then, I didn’t care. My world—the new one I’d struggled so hard to create, to make work—was crumbling.

My computer screen restructured into four quadrants. Ben scowled from the sofa in his father’s rec room.

“You heard?” Shelton asked.

Ben nodded tightly.

“What about Whisper and her pack?” I said. “Or the sea turtles? Around five hundred rhesus monkeys live on Loggerhead. What about them?”

No one said a word.

The real-world answers were terrible.

Hi broke the silence. “Laws protect the turtles somewhat, but Whisper’s family isn’t really supposed to be there. The monkeys are worth big bucks. They could be sold to anyone, even medical research companies.”

Tears burned the back of my lids. I choked them off. Going to pieces would accomplish nothing.

“My parents say we’ll have to move,” Shelton said quietly. “They’re looking for new gigs right now.”

“Mine too,” Hi mumbled. “I hate change.”

I rolled my eyes. “Kit is looking at a job in Nova Scotia.”

“Canada?” Despite everything, Hi chuckled. “Have a good time, eh ? Don’t fight with any moose. Meese. Whatever.”

“Shut up.” Against all expectation, I giggled. At least I had my friends.

For a while.

“We can’t let them split us up.” Ben’s first words.

His finger pointed at me from the screen. “You say we’re a family. A pack.” His arms folded across his chest. “A pack never gives up its own. Ever.”

I was surprised. Quite a speech for Ben.

“He’s right,” Hi said. “I can’t handle making new friends. Not my forte. Plus, where would I find new superpower-wielding mutants to argue with?”

“And let’s not forget the dangerous part,” Shelton added. “We don’t know what’s wrong with us, or what’s gonna happen. I don’t know about you guys, but I can’t deal with this flaring thing solo.”

Bobbleheaded nod from Hi. “I’m not getting dissected like some lab rat. You guys are supposed to watch my back.”

Then, almost as one, the boys looked at their screens. Directly at me.

Huh? I was the youngest. The only girl. Why was I in charge?

No matter. I was in total agreement.

If I had to lead, then I would lead.

This seizure will not happen .

“We’re going to need a plan,” I said. “Fast.”

I’D FORGOTTEN MY French project.

The end-of-year presentation, worth a third of my grade. Due today, I’d done nothing. So I stood before the class, panicked, faking a speech I hadn’t prepared.

But I couldn’t think of a single word. It was as though I’d never heard the language. I fidgeted, miserable, searching for something, anything to say.

Je m’appelle Tory. Parlez-vous français?

How could I have been so careless? I’d never pass now. My entire transcript would be ruined. College. Grad school. Everything down the drain.

Giggles rippled through the audience. Smirks. Points. Muffled laughter. Confused, I glanced down.

I wore Mom’s old bathing suit, a ratty one-piece with a flimsy skirt stitched to the waist. It couldn’t have been more out of style. Or place.

Mortified, I tried to cover myself. With my hands, my book. My cheeks flamed.

Where are my clothes!?!

Classmates howled, pounded desks. Hiram. Shelton. Jason. Even Ben. In the back, Chance Claybourne stood beside Dr. Karsten, glaring with angry eyes.

Too much, I couldn’t take it. The door. The hall. Escape. I ran.

I rounded a corner into a dark, narrow corridor. A strange odor stopped me. It was musky, like wood chips and freshly turned earth. Confused, I scanned for the source.

Lockers lining the hall began to rattle. Doors bulged, gave way. Hundreds of chickens burst forth. Squawking and flapping, they milled at my feet. The noise was thunderous.

Where to run? What to do?

The mass of poultry pressed tightly. Beady eyes zeroed in on my throat.

Adrenaline arrived in buckets. And with it, something else.

A crimson streak split my vision. My brain expanded, then contracted to a point. I trembled uncontrollably.

Fur sprouted on my arms, my legs. My hands melted into paws.

Oh no! No no no no no!

Claws sprang from my fingers. A low growl spilled from deep in my throat.

The wolf was emerging.

This time, all the way .

A hand closed on my shoulder. Terrified, I spun, shoved blindly. The figure crashed to the floor.

Kit looked up at me with startled eyes. He wore a tuxedo, now a ruin of grease and feathers.

“Tory, I made breakfast!” he shouted.

I shook my head, uncomprehending, starting to hyperventilate.

He can see me! Kit sees what I really am!

I howled in dismay.

“Tory! Breakfast!”