by Pamela Davis
The whispering, rustling, murmuring trunks, branches and leaves in the grove swayed in unison as they communed.
"It was easier to reach her once she let go of her waking mind," said one to another. "She just needed to hear it from us. To be reminded of how many trees had been mutilated, poisoned, shredded, and devoured in one way or another by the humans. She is beginning to understand, now, why the balance must be restored. She has loved us for many years and she doesn't want to see us killed. She just never thought of communicating with us in a more direct way. Like all humans, she has never thought on a very big scale. Their lives are so short it is hard to get them to think in terms of centuries and millennia rather than months and years."
"But the rock helped there," said another. "His sense of time is more vast than ours. Even though she could only tolerate a moment of experiencing time on rock level, she was changed by it...I wonder if it will be enough, if she will be ready now to do what she must."
The first one responded, "We'll keep helping her, talking to her, but we all know that ultimately it will not matter whether she is changed enough."
Leaves grown dark in the blackness whispered in the night, "No, it will not matter to us, but it will matter profoundly to her."
Gas Station, Hattiesburg, Mississippi
Andy pulled the car into the service station outside Hattiesburg, bewildered by the rain gushing from the skies. Something was wrong. He had checked the radar at noon and there should not have been rain in this region. And the wind was picking up. As he headed toward the convenience store attached to the station, he searched the area for a phone. His eyes rested briefly on an old Mustang--they just don't make cars like that anymore, he thought. Then he noticed the young woman sitting inside the car, talking to herself. No, wait, he peered through the rain and realized she held a black cat in her arms and appeared to be conversing with the animal. The world is full of crazy people. Waldo barked at him from the Range Rover. He let the dog out of the car and walked over to a pay phone only to discover that no calls were going through to Biloxi. What the hell was going on, he wondered.
Lisanne carried Merlin in her arms and walked toward the convenience store, trying to think of foods to buy for her road trip. Merlin wasn't being too forthcoming with information about how long they would be traveling or where they were headed. After much argument, she had given in to his request that they drive west for a while and end up in Hattiesburg. As she reached the door, she saw a man lean down to say to a large black dog, "Listen, pal, we've got to head back to Biloxi so I can find out what's going on."
Lisanne stopped and turned to the man. Dark blond hair, button down collar on a white shirt, sleeves rolled up, he appeared to be in his late twenties. Not bad looking, she decided, if you go for that all-American guy kind of thing. Which she never did. She smiled tentatively at him and said, "Excuse me, but did I hear you say you are heading for Biloxi? Because if you are, you are in deep shit trouble."
Andy looked up, startled to see the woman from the Mustang, his gaze held by lavender eyes. "Excuse me?" he said, puzzled.
"I said you're headed for trouble if you go south to Biloxi. There's a mother of a hurricane down there right now," Lisanne said.
Andy smiled tolerantly and then said "Well, Miss, I don't know where you're getting your information, but I'm a meteorologist from Biloxi and I know for a fact that there were no storms brewing in the Gulf this morning. So a hurricane is impossible."
Lisanne frowned, irritated by his condescending tone. "No storms, huh?" she said, pointing her hand to the sky and then sweeping her arm out. "Just what the hell do you call this, Mr. Weatherman? Sunshine?" As Andy opened his mouth to speak, Lisanne continued, "Look, I got out of Fort Walton Beach this morning, a little before noon. It was just beginning then. There's probably something on TV about it by now." She gripped Merlin tighter as a gust of wind blew across the storefront.
Andy stared at her for a moment. She was pretty in a punk rocker kind of way--not his type at all. Short, messy black hair, heavy eye make-up, tight black jeans that showed off all her curves. Maybe her eyes were lavender because they were picking up the purple of her shirt. Nobody could naturally have eyes that color, he thought distractedly.
"Well?" Lisanne demanded. "Are you going to listen to me, or are you going to be a fool and drive right into a hurricane?"
Andy shook his head, a bit bemused, and said, "Listen--I don't even know you. I do know the weather and the radar and I know that a storm is impossible. Now if you'll excuse me...."
"Idiot!" Lisanne said huffily and then marched into the store, muttering to Merlin.
Andy laughed and looked down at his dog, saying "What a strange one she is, Waldo!" As he held open the door to follow Lisanne into the store, he told Waldo to stay--then stopped dead as he heard a news report coming from a small TV behind the counter.
"...unclear if this is a satellite glitch or if there is a hurricane in the Gulf. Several meteorologists have confirmed that a storm of this magnitude is impossible, but the various satellite images are all the same. In addition, all communication has ceased from the affected areas. We will keep you updated with further details as we receive them. Now back to your scheduled programming."
Andy realized the young woman was staring at him. "Go north, young man!" she said a bit wildly, then glanced sharply out the door at his dog. After staring into the dog's eyes, she said, "And listen to the dog. He has much more sense than you do!" With that, she turned down an aisle, randomly picking up items.
Cape Fair, the Samuels' House
"No, Mom, Samantha is getting better and the doctors say she will be fine. It's just that John and I feel she needs to see her grandparents. This whole thing really scared her, and it really scared me too. I need to spend some time with you and Dad. Look, we already checked with the airlines and you guys could get a flight out here by tomorrow...." Jessica paused, listening through the phone to her parents converse quietly in the background. And just what would they think if I told them the real reason, she thought. Oh, well, it was not really a lie. Now that she had them on the phone, Jessica realized how much she wanted and needed to see her parents. And just maybe it would save their lives.
"Hey, Mom," she said, "you guys still there? Listen, why don't you bring the old picture albums with you. Sam would get a kick out of seeing the old pictures of everyone."
John walked into the kitchen where Jessica was sitting on the bar stool gripping the wall phone tightly. Then she turned and gave him a thumbs-up sign with a big smile. Thank goodness, John thought, that must mean she convinced them to come. Already her face and posture looked more relaxed.
Poking his head into the fridge and searching for the bowl that contained the leftover pasta salad, he thought about the change in Jessica. Ever since she had come back from her walk, she had seemed convinced that the San Francisco earthquake was going to happen. John hadn't questioned the change in attitude, and Jessica had not explained. He decided each of them had to face this in their own way, and if Jessica had found a way to come to terms with it, then he could only be grateful.
Munching on bits of carrot, broccoli, and pasta, John thought about his mother's and sister's reaction to his phone call. Gracie, his mother, had been thrilled with the idea of a visit "out west" as she put it. She never traveled outside New York City until John and Jessica had moved to Missouri. Her only condition to the trip was that she had to travel by train--Gracie was terrified of flying, and no amount of argument from her son would ever change her mind. He figured she should be okay traveling on the train, but to be sure he had checked with the cat. Perceval stated there might be some problems but that she could make it to Missouri by train if she left within the next few days. The cat wasn't interested in revealing anything more than that, but John was satisfied his mother would arrive safely by the end of this week.
Suddenly, he threw back his head and laughed out loud at what he had just thought. What a world we are living in now,
he thought, that I would take the word--the word--of a cat as gospel truth when it comes to the safety of my mother! Still, it made sense. The cat seemed to be most informed of all of them so far. Although, he wondered if he had thought to ask Samantha, if she wouldn't have been able to reassure him as well. It was still hard to think of Sam as knowing about some of the terrible upcoming events. She seemed too young to have this kind of awareness. He and Jessica had always worked hard to protect their little girl, making sure she didn't watch violence on television, even to the point of prohibiting her watching the news. And now she had dreams, visions, an awareness--who really knew what it was--of terrifically violent and destructive events. I wonder how all this will affect her, he thought pensively.
"Well, it's set," Jessica said, interrupting his train of thought. "They want me to get them on a flight by tomorrow. John, I am so-o-o relieved!"
He smiled back at her broad grin and decided to put away the worries in his head for now. "What about your brother?" he asked.
A concerned look wiped away Jessica's smile as she said, "Mom says he's out of touch. You know, with his job how he can be out of reach for weeks at a time. I guess when Mom and Dad get here, and we tell them what is really going on, then maybe we can figure out how to reach him."
"Yeah," John replied, "although, if your brother is anything like my sister, it will be hard to convince him to drop everything just to visit his niece. If Rachel hadn't been feeling so burned out on her job at the ad agency and been due some time off, I doubt we would see her anytime soon."
Jessica walked across the blue-tiled kitchen floor and gave John a hug. "We've done what we can for now," she said. "Are you through with spoiling your appetite for dinner? If you are, put away that bowl and let's get back to those lists. Mrs. Philpott--and her cat--will read us the riot act if we aren't more organized by the time they arrive."
John muttered to himself, "Yep, the world is definitely changing if I'm feeling intimidated by a cat and an old lady." Then he quickly put away his snack and headed for the den and his clipboard full of lists. It wouldn't do to be unprepared for the next strategy meeting.
Sonoran Desert, Arizona
Margaret sat on the hard, dusty ground, arms around knees pulled up to her chest, and tilted her head back to look up at the stars. She had walked outside after watching the TV reports inside Irene's small house. The announcers kept interviewing so-called weather specialists, trying to understand what was happening on the Gulf Coast, but no one understood it. The storm wasn't over and already the government was making noises about declaring the coast a disaster area. They talked about mobilizing forces to go in and perform search and rescue and then rebuild the area. A short laugh that quickly turned into a sob emanated from Margaret. She talked to the stars. "They just don't get it yet...of course, why would they? They think it's just a regular storm, only larger than one they've seen before. It fills the space on the map where the Gulf of Mexico is and they don't know yet that it is just going to sit there, moving in occasionally, slowly, but basically...basically it will just sit there spinning, beating the hell out of the Gulf Coast, until...until there's nothing left to rescue, no one left, nothing to rebuild."
She sat there, tears streaming down her face while remembering pictures she'd seen once of the aftermath of a hurricane. Houses swept out to sea left only the foundations, concrete slabs all in a row along beach front property. A pier stretching out into the water, its concrete pylons sheared off simply by the force of wind and water. Sitting up straighter as a thought occurred to her, she said aloud, "I wonder how Houston is doing...all those tall buildings, the oil refineries, manufacturing, all of it perched right there on the coast of Texas...." Margaret hated Houston, having spent one horrid summer there with stifling heat and humidity that drained any bit of energy from the body. Still, she thought, I don't think I'd wish this event on anyone, even the city of Houston. We should never have built a city there, never. Who did we think we were...?
Air Force Base housing, Fort Walton Beach, Florida
Odetta Parker blinked in surprise as a greenish light flashed out from the top of the utility pole across the street from her house. Electrical surges? She wondered, wishing she knew more about science, more about hurricanes, more about where her children were and if they were safe. The eerie glow outside illuminated sheets of rain pouring sideways, instead of down, due to the high winds. Tree limbs and debris flew past her living room window, and Odetta threw a heavy blanket over the curtain rod to cover the glass, hoping nothing soared through. As she lifted a corner of the blanket to peer out, she saw a pine tree next door snap off halfway down the trunk and go sailing down the street, an airborne wooden missile. Darkness descended once again as the light from the transformer surge faded. Odetta held the flashlight close to her chest, breathing hard and trying not scream, as she moved away from the window to the hall, which branched off the living room. The sound was deafening. She was shocked to discover how loud wind could be. It seemed alive, moaning low and then high-pitched wailing. The sound never stopped, never eased up; the only change was in tone, not in volume. Odetta finally did scream as a tree smashed through her front window. Then she shrieked again, startled because she couldn't hear her screams. The cacophony of the wind created a vacuum into which her voice vanished. The house shook as wind buffeted concrete block walls. Odetta heard a new sound, on top of the banshee wind, a ripping sound. She looked up as fingers of the raging wind gripped the roof and threw it into the aerial cauldron of debris churning over Odetta's head. She ran, stumbling into a back bedroom, and hid under the bed.
Cape Fair, The Samuels' House
"We have to find out who else in town is having the same kinds of dreams. If we can recruit more people, we will be better prepared," Mrs. Philpott was saying.
Samantha sat on the braided rug, using Harry as a chair back. She loved the feeling of leaning against her warm, furry friend. He seemed so strong, but just to test that, she pushed gently back with her body and heard Harry growl softly as he didn't budge an inch. Sam giggled.
Jessica turned an exasperated eye toward her daughter. "Sam, if you aren't interested in this, you can go watch a video. Otherwise, you and Harry need to be quiet and listen," she said. Samantha returned the look with wide-open, innocent brown eyes, while Harry's face looked so injured that Jessica burst out laughing. "Okay, okay! But you guys need to settle down."
"Anyway," Mrs. Philpott continued, "I was thinking we could put an ad in the paper asking for anyone with strange dreams to contact us. I know it sounds bizarre, but the people who are having the dreams would know what it meant."
"Yeah," said John doubtfully, "the trouble is that we would also hear from every kook in a thirty mile radius. Plus, the people having the dreams might not know what the dreams mean."
"Well, what are we going to do then, John?" asked Mrs. Philpott, frustrated. "You just got finished saying we really need to get our hands on a cattle farm, a doctor, and other people who know about farming. We don't have a lot of time and we need to find those who will be sympathetic to our story."
Sam watched the adults' worried faces around her while twirling a strand of blond hair with her left hand. Grown-ups, she decided, were just too dumb sometimes. She glanced over at Perceval, who was sitting on the rug next to his computer. He stared at her and nodded slowly.
"Um, Mom, you guys, there is another way," she said tentatively, sitting up straight.
"Another way for what, honey?" said Jessica in a distracted manner. "Did you want to go watch a video?"
"No, Mom," said Sam in a stronger voice. "I've been listening like you told me to. There is a way to find out who the dreaming people are. And Perce thinks it's a good idea, too, don't you, Perce?"
The three adults watched, astonished, as Perceval nodded his head, and then three sets of adult eyes fastened intently on the little girl. "Sam," John began softly, "what exactly is going on here?"
Sam interrupted, stating matter-of-fact
ly, "Oh, you guys know we talk to each other. What I'm trying to tell you is that Percy and Harry...hey, and even me, we can find the people. So stop worrying so much."
Mrs. Philpott said intently, "How Sam? How can you find them?"
"Wel-l-l," Sam drawled, "we can just look at them and then we'll know. And Harry and Perceval can talk to people's animals and know too. You know, just look at them."
"Look at them? Samantha, what are you talking about?" demanded Jessica.
Sam appeared startled for a moment, and then said, "You just look at them like I'm looking at you right now. If I really, really look hard at you, like this..." and she stared directly at her mother for a moment, peering into Jessica's blue eyes, which were beginning to look frightened. "There, see," continued the little girl, "that was it. And now I can tell that you don't have the dreams. It's really easy, Mom."
Silence reigned as the adults glanced from Sam to each other, opening their mouths to speak a few times, but not saying anything. Sam waited, and then said, "Well, aren't you happy? Now you know how to find the dream people."
Nobody said anything. Sam sighed loudly and stood up. "Grown-ups!" she said to Harry, "Come on, boy, let's go watch a movie," and began to walk out of the room.
John called out, "Samantha--wait--" and she turned to face him. "Can you look at me and tell if I have the dreams?"
Sam paused, puzzled by the reactions to her idea. It's simple, she thought, and they all look at me like I'm weird or something. She looked at Perceval and knew suddenly that this was something they were scared of because they couldn't do it. Yet. But she didn't have to be scared. Perce said so. He said she was smart to think of it.
"Okay, Daddy," she said, and then stared into his eyes. She liked the flecks of gold in the brown part of his eyes. After a moment, she broke her gaze and said in a surprised tone, "Wow, Daddy, you are having the dreams, but you just don't remember them. It's like that thing you talk about when you write your stories. A block thing."