by Pamela Davis
And this Maria, she was as bad as any of them. Oh, she'd watched her on the news before and even been interviewed by her and she seemed okay then. But now, this descent into complete wackiness, following a psychic around, using her network to put out a message about psychic dreams and worse, to predict a massive flood, saying thousands would be killed. Did the words 'you don't yell fire in a crowded building' mean nothing to the woman? People around the country were frantic after the L.A. quake and now the hurricane that just wouldn't quit. Maria had been grossly irresponsible in that broadcast, and once this was all over, Dusty planned to file charges of some kind against her.
The cameraman Zack seemed like a nice guy, and Dusty always had an appreciation for that long-haired and handsome, big, brawny look. But he was clearly as nuts as the rest of them because he'd told her personally he was having these 'dreams' and earnestly asked her to believe him. Without proof of any kind! A pretty face wasn't going to make her lose all rational sense, not this politician.
Settling her silver-framed glasses more firmly on her nose, she turned her gaze to the oddest one of the bunch. But not odd due to being psychic or having dreams. No, Phoebe seemed genuinely disturbed, as in mentally disturbed, slightly unhinged. That thought didn't frighten Dusty, who'd had a crazy great-aunt who insisted on wearing elaborate hats she made herself with little fake birds and plastic flowers all over them, hats she called 'Easter Bonnets' and wore absolutely everywhere. The same aunt who once mooned the Governor of Texas at a family barbecue and chased away two cooks when she challenged them to duels with a distant relative's Civil War sword. Phoebe didn't seem that crazy, but Dusty was almost positive the girl had an obsessive-compulsive thing going on. She was currently alphabetizing the videos under the television, and she couldn't seem to keep from doing something, anything, every minute--except when she was holding that cat. Cleo, they called the cat. And didn't there used to be some psychic on TV named Miss Cleo?
So why did she pay for this 'private whale-watching tour' on a yacht among the San Juan Islands? Because Margaret was in control of the pilot. Dusty didn't know how she'd done it, but the pilot refused to go anywhere unless Margaret said it was the correct destination. And frankly, after watching the news reports this morning, Dusty wasn't any too sure just where she should go. Houston, for all intents and purposes, appeared to have been obliterated. Her mayoral mansion was gone. Her ancestral home outside Houston was gone. There was simply nothing left. She figured D.C. was where she needed to get to eventually, but first she'd like to get somewhere, anywhere, in Texas. But to fly away right now, she needed Margaret's pilot. And Margaret wasn't letting him take Dusty off into the sunset until Margaret had talked to the whales. Orca whales. Also known as killer whales. And once Dusty heard that, she slapped down a credit card and paid for the whole shebang. Because there was nothing she wanted more right now than to see Margaret in the belly of a whale.
The Library, Cape Fair
Alex wandered through the stacks of the Public Library, surprised that the collection of books was larger than expected, and was approving of the computer terminals set up on tables in the center of the building. Alex loved libraries. She loved the smell of the books. The sound of pages turning. The feel of the paper in old books. But today there were no pages turning.
She worked her way back up through the empty library to the desk at the front near the entrance and spotted a woman gathering up her things preparing to leave.
"Excuse me, but are you the librarian?" Alex asked.
"Yes. Yes, I am. Was." The woman laughed a bit hysterically.
"Are you closing?" Alex inquired.
"Yes. I have to leave," the jittery woman replied. "You should leave, too, if you know what's good for you." Then she clamped her lips together in a thin line.
"Why? Are you leaving town? I've heard that some folks have left town. I was just curious about why."
The librarian darted looks around the empty building, and then whispered, "It's not safe. They said on the news there's going to be a flood. But I knew that already." She paused, chewing on her bottom lip. "I had the dreams--the ones they talked about. And I saw all the dead people in the water. So I can't stay here. It's not safe. Not safe at all."
Alex felt a twinge of fear. She'd heard about Harmony and Mr. Johnson. She hoped she wasn't about to meet the axe-wielding side of this librarian. Putting a calm look on her face, Alex said, "I've had those dreams too. But in my dreams, Cape Fair was the safest place to be in the flood. You should stay here, really. Traveling right now could be dangerous."
"How can you say that?" the woman exclaimed. "My fiancé, Bernie, and I had the same dream. It's dangerous around here! It is! All those dead people. Bernie, he works over at the dam, and he says the dream probably means that the dam is going to break! So we're getting out. Today. We're going to my Mama's in St. Louis. Even when the Mississippi flooded back in '93, our house was safe."
"St. Louis!" Alex said, alarmed. "Oh no, you can't go there. St. Louis is going to be destroyed!"
"Don't say that to me! I know what I know!" the woman yelled. Coming around from behind the desk, she rushed for the door. "I'm getting out of here while I still can!"
"Wait! Wait--" Alex called, but then stopped as she saw Black come through the door.
The librarian stopped short.
Black looked at Alex. "Any trouble here?"
Alex gave him a wry look. "Not really, just that this woman seems to think she'll be safer in St. Louis."
"Ahhh," Black said, nodding slowly. He turned to the librarian. "You're sure about this, ma'am?"
"Yes! I'm sure. Now let me by!" she said, her voice trembling.
Alex held up a hand. "Wait. Are there keys to this building?"
"What do you want them for?" the woman asked suspiciously.
Alex smiled as she said, "Why, I want to save the books!"
"Save the books?" The hysterical laugh burst forth from the woman again. "Save yourselves!"
"Yes, ma'am," Black said. "But if you could just give us the keys" He waited until she handed them over. "Are there any other employees who'll be stopping by?"
"No, they already left town. I wish to hell I'd left when they did. Now let me out of here!"
Black moved away from the door and walked over to Alex. The woman ran out of the library and down the steps. Black shook his head.
"Running right into trouble, that one is," he said regretfully.
"Shouldn't we have tried to stop her? Done something to stop her?" Alex asked.
"No. Nothin' we could have done. I've been running into this all day. Seems like a mess of folks in this town have got it in their heads that the dam is going to break and flood Cape Fair. And the ones who didn't have the dream have friends and relatives who did. People started talking about it after the news report yesterday, and now the whole town is packing up. Rumors. They'll get you every time. And the ones I tried talking to, well, they just get frantic about leaving. The dreams can be pretty powerful stuff, but these folks have misinterpreted them and now they're going to pay for that mistake." He shook his head sadly again.
Alex patted him on the arm and said, "When Jessica was telling me this morning about Sam and how she predicted a while ago that a bunch of houses would be empty, that people would leave--well I didn't know what to think. It seemed impossible. Especially when so many of us had the strong feeling to come here – that it was the only safe place to be! And now--the people really are leaving. Sam was right on the money."
Black smiled widely. "That little girl is something else. You know," he hesitated for a moment and looked into Alex's eyes. They weren't any one color, he realized. A kind of hazel maybe, with flecks of brown, green and even gold deep within them. He decided they were eyes he could trust.
"Nobody but Sam knows this, but I dreamed like the rest, dreamed of the flood, but I dreamed of something besides that. I dreamed of Sam."
Alex looked astonished. "Samantha? Our Sam? You dreame
d about her?"
He bowed his head and looked up again. The look, Alex decided, was one of wonderment.
"She talked to me in the dream. I couldn't see her, but I could hear her. Or feel her--I don't have the right words to describe it. But when she opened the door last night, I knew her. And she knew that I knew."
"Wow! Do John and Jessica know?"
"I don't know," Black replied; his brow furrowed. "I'm not sure what all she tells them. But she knows a lot, Alex. She knows a lot about what's going to happen, but she also knows about us, each of us. Things we know how to do, things we don't even know yet that we'll be able to do." He chuckled.
"Yes?"
"She's set me a mission, based on this knowing that she has. She says she knows, positively knows, that Rachel is going to become my right hand man, uh, person. That she'll be better at my training than anyone else. That she'll be a phenomenal shot with just about any weapon I try her on. Can you believe it?"
Alex stared at him in disbelief as he talked, but finally started to snicker, saying, "Rachel? John's grouchy sister? The one who isn't even sure she believes all of us yet? With the short, curly hair--that Rachel?"
Black nodded solemnly, a twinkle in his eye.
Peals of laughter burst forth from Alex, echoing in the empty building.
The Mall in Branson, Missouri
"Okay, I think I got all the colors in your size t-shirt. Except for pink. You hate pink. See? I remembered this time," Rachel said, arms full of t-shirts.
"Rachel, I don't need all these clothes. You are spending way too much--"
"Janine, I'm not going to have this argument again. You came here from hundreds of miles away with only the clothes on your back. That's reason enough to shop for you. Reason number two is everyone we know and trust says the world as we know it is ending. Ergo, no more clothing manufacturers. Ergo, no more malls. No more Limited and Saks and Banana Republic. Done. Finito. We wear our clothes until they wear out and then what do we do? Solution--have a lot of clothes to begin with...and hope that somebody knows how to sew and how to make fabric."
Janine started to giggle. "Ergo? Ergo, Rachel?"
Rachel laughed and dumped the clothes into Janine's arms. "Here. Take these to the check-out counter. And besides, remember our rule for good clothes shopping? You find something you like and it fits you well, you buy one in every color. Except pink."
A voice from behind Rachel made her whirl around.
"I believe I taught you that rule when you were about Janine's age," Gracie said, chuckling.
"Oh, my word! Don't sneak up on me, Mother! And where did you come from?"
Gracie smiled, but looked a little flustered. "Oh, you know, shopping. I've been here a while."
Rachel eyes widened dramatically. "In Sears? You?"
"Well, yes, dear. Sears is a perfectly respectable store."
Rachel's mouth quirked in a half-frown, half-smile of bemusement. "Yes, I know that. I just didn't know you knew that. When is the last time I ever saw you in clothes off the rack? You always wear designer togs and you know it."
"John thought, and I agreed, of course, that with all the coming changes, it might be a good idea to have some tough, sturdy clothes. After all, we'll probably all have to do a certain amount of gardening."
Rachel's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, I sort of figured that out for myself. But you, Mother? In the dirt?"
Gracie sighed. "I can see I'm in for a long afternoon with you."
Rachel glanced at her watch. "Well, not so long. We only have two hours left until supper. John commanded we be there on time--our fearless leader."
Mother and daughter grinned at each other.
Janine strolled up and said hesitantly, "Um, Mrs. Samuels? You like to dress up, right?"
"Call me Gracie, dear, everyone does. Except for my daughter!"
"Oh I don't know if I could--"
Gracie frowned at her.
"Okay, okay," Janine said, smiling. "Gracie. So do you? Like to dress up?"
"Well, I certainly have in the past."
Rachel snorted.
"So would you like a pair of really pretty and expensive high heels?"
Gracie looked in puzzlement from Janine's big, deep brown eyes and nervous face to Rachel, who'd gone quite still and also looked nervous.
"Well, dear, I already have all the high heels I might need," she replied slowly, watching Janine's face fall and Rachel's face get tense. "Let me guess. You spent too much on a great looking pair of shoes, but don't think you'll ever wear them on a horse, right?"
Janine nodded eagerly. "Yes! That's it. So wouldn't you like to take them?"
Gracie looked to Rachel for guidance, but saw only a mixture of frustration and uncertainty there.
"How about I take them and keep them in my closet on a top shelf. I won't wear them, but someday, maybe someone will want to wear them. How's that?"
"Someone," Janine wondered aloud. Then her face brightened and she gave Gracie a lovely smile. "Yeah! Like maybe someday when there aren't any more shoe stores, Sam might be all grown up and want to have some high heels to be dressed up in. Okay! I'll give them to you when we get home, Gracie, and you can keep them safe."
Gracie nodded, completely confused at this point by Janine's radiant face and Rachel's look of profound relief.
"Thank you," her daughter mouthed the words at her mother silently over Janine's head.
Gracie shrugged. "Now--how about we go to the underwear department? Because I'm almost positive that Rachel bought skimpy, silky underthings, but forgot completely about the need for sturdy cotton drawers!"
"Mother!" Rachel screeched as Janine got a fit of giggles.
Table Rock Lake Dam, Power Station
Sergeant Milt Wachowski and Corporal Tommy Sinclair were both staring at Merlin the cat as he typed messages on his laptop computer. Tommy's face sported a wide grin, bright blue eyes lit up in excitement. The Sergeant rubbed his hand over his silver-gray crew-cut hair, half an unlit cigar in his fingers, mumbling, "If that's not the damndest thing I ever did see!"
Tommy's lean and lanky form looked ready to explode as he practically danced around John and Lisanne. "So he just started talking to you one day? Seriously? That is so way cool!"
Lisanne looked at Merlin fondly. "Yeah, he's some special cat. I never knew owning a cat would be like this."
Merlin turned and hissed at her.
"Oops," Lisanne said hurriedly. "Not that I own him or anything. Everyone knows you can never really own a cat. And certainly nobody could own Merlin, no, sir! If anything, he owns me."
Merlin turned back to the computer and purred loudly.
Tommy continued his questioning. "So then you just like started having these dreams? That is so amazing! I never had anything like that happen to me. You are so lucky!"
Lisanne's smile faded. "No, I don't think I'm lucky. Those dreams are awful! I wish I didn't get them."
John was nodding. "I get more details now, and I'd have to agree the dreams are pretty bad."
Sergeant Wachowski shook his head and said, "Wimps! I've been having these dreams for weeks now, didn't bother me. You live long enough, then you see everything, that's what I say. Bunch of scary dreams, now that's not gonna slow me down. Lots more scarier things out there, if you know what I mean." He chomped down on his unlit cigar, stuck in the corner of his mouth.
John looked at him in surprise. "Well, that's a relief to hear! We came out here afraid the place would be deserted. The rumors are all over town, started by people having the dreams, saying that the dam is going to break and flood Cape Fair. People are leaving in droves."
"Horse-hockey! Y'all don't plan on leavin', do you?"
"Well, no," John said with a smile. "We're in it for the duration. All our indications, from dreams and from the animals, tell us that Cape Fair will be a safe zone. But Branson will have problems. And we're concerned about the dam, not because of the dreams but because of the earthquake."
&
nbsp; "Earthquake?" Tommy squawked.
"I didn't dream of no gosh-durned earthquake, John," Sergeant Wachowski pronounced.
"Believe me there's going to be one. On the New Madrid fault. Tomorrow night," John replied.
"Well, horse feathers!" Sergeant Wachowski said explosively. "And here we are with not enough help. Do you think the dam will have problems?"
John shook his head. "No, we think the dam will be fine. But we're not sure all the electrical lines will stay up and functioning. We're really hoping to keep the electricity running. Or if we can't do that during the earthquake, to at least get it up and functioning again quickly."
Wachowski rubbed his face with one hand, even as he reached for a large black notebook with the other. "What we'd better do is a planned shutdown. Now y'all know I can't help you with the part of town that uses coal-fired power. Here, show me on the map where you are."
As John pointed out his house and the rest of the community's property on the large map attached to the wall, Lisanne wandered to a window and looked out at the lake.
"It's gorgeous here," she murmured quietly.
Tommy said from behind her, "Yeah, it's a pretty site. And you wouldn't believe the fishing 'round here. Totally unreal."