The Calling

by Ashley Lynn Willis

  In his dream, he was ten again, lying in his childhood bedroom, staring through the blinds at the moon hanging just above a neighbor’s roof. A ray of light cast a silver finger across his comforter. He stared at it, feeling a pulse of energy course down his spine to his toes. Though the tremor didn’t hurt, his bed shook from the surge. The little sliver of light bounced up and down before stilling as the vibration dissipated.

  Justin groaned. He’d stayed home from school because of a stomach flu. The strange vibrations were just a symptom of his sickness, he told himself. Though in the corner of his mind, he was beginning to have doubts that the flu would make him quake so hard.

  His stomach twisted with fear. What if something was really wrong with him? No, he’d be fine. He just needed some sleep. When he awoke in the morning, everything would be normal again, the tremors a distant memory.

  His little pep talk did nothing to calm him. He clutched his comforter and did the only thing he could think of to ease him through his sickness. He recited the prayer his mom had taught him when he was a preschooler and spoke the same words he’d said each night before his mom tucked him beneath his covers.

  “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. May God guard me through the night and wake me with the morning light. Amen.”

  Before he’d finished the prayer, another pulse shook his body. During the vibration, something gnawed at his consciousness, a perpetual clawing beast trying to break free.

  An image of his dad filled his mind, the words his father had spoken only weeks before echoing in his ears, “You’ll know when the ocean is calling you and your sister. Obey or die.”

  A realization hung on the verge of discovery. He whispered, “Obey or die,” as if there were a connection between his father’s words and the fits of energy that had tormented him all day and into the night.

  Another pulse racked his body, more demanding than any before, and the epiphany hit him like a bag of sand. “Obey or die!” Hadn’t his dad gone over the symptoms time and time again? He groaned with disgust. How could he be so stupid not to recognize the Calling?

  Cecelia. His baby sister. He had to get them both to the ocean—now!

  Justin jumped out of bed, the covers falling onto the floor in a puddle, and tore down the hall. “Mom! “Mom!”

  When had the Calling begun? His dad had said he had twenty-four hours once the vibrations started. Since the pulses had begun last night, time was running out. He couldn’t let his father down, when he’d been entrusted with this task. It was the only reason his dad had agreed to go out to sea while Cecelia was so young.

  “Mom!” He grabbed his coat and shoved his hands through the sleeves. After sliding on his sneakers, he raced to the linen closet and grabbed a thick blanket. He darted into his parents’ room and laid the blanket on the bed.

  His mom slept hard, snoring with each breath. He reached into the bassinet, slid his hands beneath his tiny sister’s body, careful to cradle her head as his mom had taught him, and placed her on the blanket. “We have a roll call to attend,” he whispered to Cecelia. She didn’t stir.

  As he wrapped her in the thick wool, another surge hit him so hard his gut clenched. Obey or die. The words echoed in his head. He and Cecelia would be dead in an hour, maybe sooner, if he didn’t hurry. As if proving his point, Cecelia’s body shook with the same energy as his. She whimpered through the worst of it, her eyes fluttering open. When it passed, her eyes shut, and she fell back into a peaceful slumber.

  Justin looked at his mom. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically, and drool pooled at the corner of her pillow. She was sleeping so soundly, he might have Cecelia home before she was missed.

  He nestled her sleeping cap tight on her head, and headed for the entryway. When he opened the door, a cool gust of wind blew through the hall. He curled Cecelia into his body, trying to protect her face from the chilled air, but he reacted too late. Her little mouth formed an “o” shape, and she pushed her face into the blanket. As soon as he walked outside, she began to wail.

  “Shhh,” he whispered into her ear.

  A surge shook their bodies at the same time. The energy ripped at his insides, tearing and searing his organs. The vibration, merely annoying ten minutes ago, now made him gasp in pain. Cecelia’s cries reached a hysterical pitch.

  The Calling was almost over, and he and Cecelia hadn’t been counted. If he failed, he could never face his father again. His gut wrenched from the realization that he wouldn’t have to face his father if he failed. Dead. The word rang in his ears like an impossible consequence.

  With terror eating at his heels, Justin took off running down the street, the only sounds his breathing and Cecelia’s tortured cries. Just as he rounded the corner at the first intersection, he heard his mother’s voice pierce the gusty night. “Justin!”

  He ran faster, determined not to stop. As his mother screamed for him to come back, lights flicked on, illuminating the windows of the darkened houses lining the road. If his mother didn’t catch him, a neighbor would. He picked up his pace until his thighs screamed.

  The next intersection loomed ahead. Across the road, the beach stretched out on all sides. They were so close. He scanned for traffic without slowing. The streets were clear. His sneakers pounded the hard concrete to the other side. “We’re gonna make it, Cecelia.”

  He raced along the sidewalk, looking for stairs leading down the seawall to the beach. A deep rumbling noise, like the sound of an engine, cut through Cecelia’s screams, and he peered over his shoulder. His mother’s beat-up Buick screeched to a stop next to the sidewalk. She jumped out of the car wearing nothing but a billowy long-sleeved nightgown. “Justin! Get back here!”

  Justin shook his head and ran to the nearest set of stairs. He leapt down the steps and onto the beach, his shoes digging into the sand as he sprinted toward the crashing waves. Only ten feet from the safety of the ocean, a surge of energy clenched his muscles. As Cecelia’s screams raised another octave, Justin’s legs collapsed beneath him. He landed on his knees, Cecelia still clutched in his arms. His stomach lurched. The pain from the rush of energy ripped at his gut.

  ‘Get to the water,’ his mind screamed. On trembling legs, he rose and took a step forward. The weight of his task bore down on him, the word death filling his ears. So unfair, he thought, as he willed his feet onward. The rest of the world slept, while he and his sister fought for their lives.

  “Justin!” his mother screamed. “Stop!”

  “I can’t, Mom,” he whispered in a shaky voice. “We haven’t been counted.” Taking a deep breath, he staggered toward the ocean.

  His mother barreled down the steps and, with outstretched arms, raced toward him. She grabbed Cecelia roughly, jostling her from Justin’s hold. Cecelia screamed in protest, the sound an earsplitting cry over the din of the surf.

  “No!” Justin yelled. “You don’t understand!” He reached for his sister but, as if he’d been lassoed by the sea, an invisible rope flung him into the water. He plunged into a cold, shallow wave as it washed onto shore.

  Relief! Sweet, glorious relief!

  The waves of energy that had racked his body all day, the uneasy feeling, the desperation as the day wore on, all disappeared. He was going to live!

  Exhilarated and free, Justin dove under the next wave. When his feet touched the sandy bottom, he pushed off and popped to the surface. The moon shone bright, illuminating the swath of beach between two great piers. Toward the pier farthest away, he saw an old woman in a robe clutching a cane and limping to the water’s edge. Her back was crooked, and her legs bent so that each step seemed a fight to stay steady.

  The waves crashed higher and higher on the ancient woman’s body while she made her way into the ocean, until the water covered her chest. She turned back and smiled at him, then she disappeared beneath a wave. Was she one of them?

  The spell the woman had cast came crashing down as Cecelia’s screams and his mother’s irate voice j
erked him to reality.

  “This is your father’s fault!” his mother yelled. “He’s put delusional ideas in your head! I knew I should’ve divorced that man when he started talking about gods. The church would’ve understood.” She raised a clenched fist. “Tonight, I’ll pray for your soul, son. But you will not drag Cecelia into your pagan rituals.”

  Justin trudged from the surf, the water spraying his legs with immense force as he waded to the beach. “Give her to me, Mom!” With a burst of desperation, he lunged for his sister.

  His mom sidestepped his advance and curled Cecelia tight into her chest. He grabbed the blanket swaddling his sister and, with all his strength, he tried to yank it out of his mother’s arms.

  She jerked back and broke his hold. “Stop that! And get in the car right now!”

  Cecelia whimpered, her face contorting in agony. Justin ran to the ocean and dipped his cupped hands into the surf. He raced back to his sister, the water dripping from between his fingers with each step. Cecelia curled her arms into her chest and twisted inside the blanket, her cries a tortured sound above the pounding of the waves.

  He dumped what little was left on her exposed face just as a tremor shook her body. Justin’s mom shrieked. Cecelia still writhed in pain. There was only one way to save her—immersion—but his mother made that impossible.

  With a jerky pivot, his mom turned her back on him and stormed toward the cement stairs. “You’re going straight to the doctor tomorrow. Your stomach flu’s made you lose your mind.”

  Justin dropped his drenched coat on the sand, the garment landing with a wet thud. Chilled air surrounded him, and he wore nothing but soaked pajamas. He should have been trembling. Instead, warmth spread through his center to his extremities as if his blood pulled heat from an unknown source. The hotness pulsed and throbbed until it licked every inch of his body, filling him with a sensation of raw power.

  He lifted his arms high to his sides, testing the breeze. The same pulses that had tormented him and his sister stirred the air. He couldn’t see the vibrations but, somewhere in his soul, he could sense them.

  Couldn’t some of their kind control the water? Though his dad was unable, he’d said that for those with the gift, manipulating waves was as easy as molding wet clay. Did he have an ability his dad lacked? Could he make the ocean touch Cecelia, even as his mother crossed the sand toward the seawall? He was desperate enough to try.

  Harnessing the electricity that charged the air, Justin wrapped his essence around a wave flowing toward the beach. The sensation of standing on the sand, yet being a part of the water, as if immersed, overwhelmed him.

  He dug his mind into the wave like fingers clawing at mud. The water felt solid and tangible. He rolled the liquid into a tight ball, breathed in deep, and commanded the water to rise. A swirling cylinder ascended from the ocean, dancing just above the waves. Hope for his sister welled in his chest. With all his power, he flung it toward Cecelia.

  His mother’s tormented scream made his heart stop dead. The spiraling vortex crashed to the sand a foot from touching the wool swaddling his sister. In the same moment, the energy of the Calling swept back to sea like a tsunami whose destruction had abruptly ended. With it went the warmth enveloping him, and he shook violently, his shoulders trembling.

  It was over.

  His mother whirled to face him. She held out an empty blanket, water dripping from the seams. “Where is she?” Her eyes wide with horror, she threw the blanket onto the sand and tugged back the wet folds, desperately searching with trembling hands. When she pulled back the last piece of fabric, her face contorted into an expression of panic, then understanding. The scream that tore from her chest echoed off the seawall, never ceasing.

  Under the glowing moon, in the chill of January, Justin lost his sister and mother forever.

  Chapter 11

  Justin sat up, panting for breath. Where was he? A streetlight outside the room bathed the furnishings in a pale yellow glow. Mandy’s apartment. He could feel her soft bed beneath him and hear her whispered breaths as she slept, but the calm of the room did nothing to ease his pounding heart. He twisted the sheets between strained fingers, unable to purge the sound of his mom’s wailing or her expression of terror and pain.

  Christ, the task had been simple—get to water when the Calling started. Any ten year old was capable of that—except him.

  Mandy stirred next to him, her legs stretching beneath the sheets. She yawned and brushed her hand across his back. “Are you okay?”

  He nodded, though he wasn’t. But he’d be fine in a few minutes, and he didn’t want her to worry. As he slowly drew in a lungful of air, he lay back down and settled next to her, relieved that after having a bad dream, for the first time, he hadn’t woken up alone.

  Just when Mandy nestled her head on his chest, a rapping sound pierced the quiet.

  “Is someone at the door?” she asked.

  He glanced at the alarm clock on her nightstand. Two in the morning. Who would knock this late? A loud thud came from outside, as if someone had slammed their body against the door. What the hell?

  Mandy lifted up, her eyes wide. “Are they trying to break in?”

  “I’ll check it out.” As sick as it sounded, he was glad for the action. Chasing off a burglar might prevent the dream from haunting him again as soon as he closed his eyes. He hopped from the bed and tugged on mesh shorts. “Stay here.”

  Mandy slid off the bed, pulled a silk robe over her naked body, and cinched the ties around her waist. Christ, she looked beautiful. Though the time was inopportune, his body stirred.

  Another thud broke him from his Mandy-induced trance. He needed to take care of the crazy person outside, then he could take care of her. Damn, he might need to stay here every night. The nightmare recovery factor was much more efficient than at home.

  “I know Justin’s in there!” Ty’s voice carried through the apartment.

  For a split second, he and Mandy stared at each other in mutual shock.

  “This isn’t good,” she whispered.

  Justin cracked his neck and shook his limbs one by one. No, it wasn’t good, but if Ty had come for a fight, he’d happily give it to him. It was time to teach the fucker a lesson.

  * * *

  Mandy’s stomach sank as she followed Justin into the living room. From Justin’s balled hands and raging eyes, he was obviously ready to pound Ty. Though she couldn’t blame him, she also didn’t want him getting hurt.

  She darted in front of him and spread her body over the door with her arms wide. “Why don’t you let me handle this?”

  “He’s been drinking. You’re not going near him.”

  “How do you know?”

  He took her by the wrist and maneuvered her behind him. “Gravelly voice.”

  “I should call the police.”

  Justin reached for the doorknob. “I can handle it.” He flung open the door.

  Ty stood on her welcome mat with his shirt half-tucked into his cargo pants and his sandy blond hair disheveled. He stared at Justin, his nostrils flaring like a bull about to charge. “What the hell are you doing here?” Sweat gleamed on his forehead, and the smell of alcohol oozed from his pores.

  Justin balled his hands even tighter and, with a powerful pace that promised a brawl, he marched his broad frame onto the porch. “You need to sober up before we talk.”

  Ty peered over Justin’s shoulder, and his eyes zeroed in on Mandy. She tightened her robe, the thin silk making her feel exposed, but there was no point in hiding. Even to a drunk man, it had to be obvious she and Justin had slept together.

  She held her head high, looking down her nose at him. “Go home, Ty, before you cause a scene.”

  Ty’s face fell as his gaze washed over her, then his eyebrows lowered into a scowl. “If I’d known what a slut you were, I’d have broken up with you sooner.”

  Mandy inhaled sharply, his words stinging like angry fire ants. Oh, what she would have given to b
e a man in that moment so she could pound Ty into the floor. From Justin’s expression, he was going to do it for her, and she wasn’t sure she’d stop him.

  “You need to take your foul mouth out of here, now,” Justin growled.

  “Or you’ll what? Kick the crap out of me and fuck the slut after you’re done?”

  In that second, her whole world slowed when Justin lunged for Ty. His fist slammed into Ty’s cheek, the cracking sound echoing off the cement. She shrieked as Ty’s back crashed into the porch’s iron railing. With a loud whoosh, his chest collapsed, the breath evacuating like a popped balloon.

  Justin strode toward his ex-best friend, his eyes blood-crazed. Looming over Ty, he grabbed his collar, then slammed him, face first, onto the concrete landing. As Ty gasped for breath, Justin rammed one knee into his back. The other knee ground Ty’s face into the landing. “Apologize!”

  Blood oozed from Ty’s nose, draining onto his tightly clamped lips.

  “Get off him!” Mandy demanded.

  “Not until he apologizes!”

  “He’s drunk, Justin! He’s not going to give in no matter how painful you make it.”

  Justin stared at her incredulously, and she realized her words must have sounded as if she were taking Ty’s side. But, God bless him, despite the wrath in his eyes and his quivering muscles, he slowly rose.

  Ty pushed up on his palms and squatted. He wiped his bloody nose on his sleeve, leaving a streak of red on the white shirt. His nostrils leaned too far to the right or maybe the blood just created an optical illusion. She fought the urge to check if it was broken.

  Ty’s eyes narrowed at her. “You like making out with a different guy every night?”

  Her attention shot to Justin.

  He leaned against the balcony railing, his incredulous glare moving from Ty to her. “What’s he talking about?”

  Ty smirked. “Wednesday night. That’s what I’m talking about.”

  “Mandy?” Justin’s face took on the same beaten expression as Ty’s after he’d taken the first punch.