The Firefly Effect (24 page)

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Gallop. Gallop. Gallop.

I have a foreboding sense of déjà-vu. This has all happened before.

“Where are Mom and Dad?” They should be here. We are all supposed to be going to the movie theater together.

“They’re coming,” Madelyn assures me. “They just went to get you a caramel macchiato. It’s your favorite, you know.”

“Are we ever gonna go?” Penny halts her cantering to complain. “I’ve been waiting to see this movie for-EV-er.”

I can feel my forehead break out in a cold sweat. Something is wrong. We can’t leave. I don’t know why, but we can’t. There is a reason we shouldn’t go outside but I can’t seem to remember what it is.

There’s something out there. Something terrible. I don’t know what it is, but I know that it is bad. And I’m afraid. I’m afraid for all of us.

We will all die if we go out there.

“No,” I tell Penny hoarsely. “We can’t go outside. We need to stay right here.”

“Let me just get my purse,” Madelyn says, ignoring me.

A sudden violent banging startles me. The front door shakes as the Something-Bad pounds on it from the other side. My heart lurches sickeningly against my chest. The bad thing is trying to get in. I am trembling and sweating in terror. My legs are weak, threatening to buckle beneath me.

“I’ll get it,” Penny sings, and she skips through the foyer towards the door. Her curly blonde ponytail bounces behind her. It is tied with a blue ribbon. She is so small. So innocent. So trusting.

“No!” I try to reach her but I can no longer move my feet. They are impossibly heavy, like they’ve been encased in blocks of concrete. I have to stop this, but all I can do is plead desperately, “No! You aren’t supposed to open the door! Please, you can’t let it in…”

Madelyn shakes her head in annoyance. “It’s time to GO, Melanie. Aren’t you ready yet?”

“Don’t – you can’t, you don’t understand…” I fall to my knees, sobbing in despair. Because I already know that it’s too late. We have all been condemned to death. Why wouldn’t anyone listen to me? “Please…don’t…”

Penny slides the deadbolt back and twists the doorknob with both hands as I close my eyes and scream.

“DON’T OPEN THE DOOR!”

~ Chapter Twenty ~

“Uh-uh.
No
…”

The soft mumbling drags me out of hibernation, and I force my groggy eyes open just enough to peer through my lashes at Melanie.

She’s facing me, still curled up by my side with her eyes shut – at least I think they are. It’s hard to tell in the darkness. The digital clock on the weatherband radio reads
7:17 A.M.
, but the shutters covering the French doors prevent the early morning daylight from coming through. Not that there’s likely to be much light in this shitty weather.

Blinking a few times, I adjust to the room’s dimness and confirm that yes, her eyes are closed. She must be talking in her sleep. I hope she managed to get more shuteye than I did. I must’ve been jerked awake half a dozen times during the night by Elliott, who is by now pitching an all-out conniption fit. Every time his angry winds pick up a stray object and send it flying into the aluminum storm shutters, the clang reverberates in my ears.

How in the world is she sleeping through all this?

Stretching carefully to avoid waking her, I roll on my side so I can study her at my leisure. Fully naked, her hair splayed out over the pillow, she’s breathtakingly beautiful. There’s something about seeing her in this vulnerable state that brings out my protective nature. She looks so fragile and innocent. Even though I know she's always been a tiger in a kitten’s body, I have the craziest urge to wrap her in my arms and shield her from the world and all its perils.

Funny, considering I used to
be
one of those perils. I once put a mousetrap in her desk, for God’s sake. Nearly broke her finger.

Boys do stupid things when they’re in love.

Her eyebrows twitch into a frown, and she mumbles something that sounds like, “Nuh. Don’t…”

Don’t what? I sure would love to know what she’s dreaming about. Maybe I should try asking her a question, just to see if she’ll answer.

I'm contemplating the entertainment value of this when her eyes fly open, and suddenly she’s staring at me in disoriented alarm.

“S’okay, baby.” I put a reassuring arm around her, figuring the wailing tempest outside must have spooked her. “Sounds worse than it is.”

Jerking out of my grasp, she pushes herself upright and looks around, her wide eyes darting from one corner of the room to another. That’s when I notice the way she’s breathing. Faster and heavier than normal.

Concerned, I sit up and rub her back lightly. “Melanie? You all right?”

“I have to get out of here.” Her voice sounds robotic, and I wonder if she's still half asleep.

I reach for her hand and she pulls it away, but not before I notice that her cold fingers are trembling. “You just had a bad dream, baby. It’s okay.”

For a minute she doesn't respond. I'm just about to suggest that we try and get some more sleep when she throws back the covers and hops out of bed, muttering, “I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Here. You'll need this.” Reaching beside me to grope for the lantern, I switch it on and pass it to her. Distracted, she takes it and hurries away.

She's back in less than two minutes, wrapped in a terrycloth bathrobe and making for the hallway without so much as a backward glance.

“Mel?” I tumble out of bed while making a grab for my jockeys, nearly tripping over them in my attempt to yank them up and catch up to her at the same time. “Wait a second! Hang on. I can't see.”

She does wait for me in the hallway but when she turns her head to look back, her agitation is obvious. The rapid heaving of her chest indicates that she is also on the verge of hyperventilating.

“Honey, look at me.” I cup her chin in my hand gently. “Tell me what’s wrong. Did you have a bad dream?”

She lifts her gaze and I give her a reassuring smile, but it doesn’t matter. Her blank eyes don’t even seem to see me.

Spinning around, she takes off in the direction of the living room. “I have to get out of here.”

“
What?
Melanie, wait!” Following at her heels, I have to jump in front of her to keep her from snatching the front door open. Her knuckles are white from clutching the lantern’s handle in a death grip. “Where do you think you’re going? Stop for one second and think!”

Wetting her lips, she shifts her weight nervously from one foot to the other. Back and forth, like a jittery little girl who can’t be still.

“Listen. What do you hear?” I point to the small panes that flank the front door, the ones that were too small to worry about covering. “Take a look outside. Tell me what you see.”

She doesn’t bother looking. When she replies her mouth literally quivers, as if she’s about to cry. “I know. I know. I just have to go outside for a minute. Just for a minute, okay? I can’t breathe.”

“Melanie, look at me.
Look
at me.” I grasp her by the shoulders and force her to face me. “You can breathe just fine. There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s just a panic attack, baby, that’s all. I know it’s scary but it’ll pass, I promise. Now I want you to take a deep breath for me and let it out slowly while counting to five, all right? Slowly. Can you do that for me?”

Hugging the lantern against her belly, she inhales and then gives me a strange look. “Oh, God. I think I’m gonna pass out.”

“No, you won’t. Trust me. You aren’t going to pass out. Let’s try again, okay? I’ll count with you. Are you ready?”

“No. I can’t. I have to…have to…go outside...” Her breathing is becoming more erratic, and I figure at this point there’s nothing to do but give in. She isn’t going to listen to reason. “I can’t breathe…”

“All right.” Holding out a hand, I gently remove the lantern from her grasp. “All right. We’ll go outside. Let’s walk out to the garage, okay? You can get some fresh air out there.”

Clearly relieved, she nods and comes along with me, through the kitchen and into the laundry room leading out to the garage. When I open the door, the noise from the storm doubles in intensity. It sounds like a freight train is roaring past the house, while the garage door rattles and makes weird metallic pings as the rain pelts it from the other side. At the bottom of the brick step-down, the concrete foundation is covered with about three inches of water.

Undeterred, Melanie steps down and sloshes past the cars so I have no choice but to follow. I don’t know why I expected the water to be cold, but it isn’t – it’s strangely warm. I’m hoping she won’t get the bright idea to suggest that I raise the garage door. Guess I could always tell her it’s not possible with the power being out and all. She probably wouldn’t know about the manual override.

She stops in front of the window, the only full-sized one in the entire house that isn’t protected with shutters, before taking a few steps back and peering out from a sideways angle. At least she’s smart enough not to stand directly in front of it. Still, it makes me uneasy. I’m afraid she will insist on opening it.

But she doesn’t. She just stands there.

I wait quietly behind her, watching over her shoulder as the howling rain-soaked wind bends the palm trees bordering the property, forcing them to bow down in a row of swaying arcs. She seems fascinated by the sight, which I have to admit is pretty cool. I can’t even begin to imagine what a category five must be like. Kind of a sobering thought. We’re lucky we got off so easy with Elliott. He’s an amateur compared to Opal and Ivan.

I’m beginning to realize how silly I must look, standing in the garage in nothing but my underwear. At least Melanie seems to have calmed down. Still, I allow her a little more time before reaching up to rest a hand on her shoulder.

“Probably not a good day to go fishing, wouldn’t you say?”

“It’s unreal.” There is reverent awe in her voice.

“I know. I keep expecting the wicked witch of the west to go flying past.”

“Look. There’s a tree snapped right in two back there. See it?”

“I see it.” Someone else’s property – not mine. I had all the pine trees around this house removed. Their towering, spindly trunks don’t hold up well in high winds. Besides, they’re messy as hell. Pine straw, pine cones, pollen, sap that would rival Super Glue – I’ll admit they make beautiful trees for a forest setting but I don’t want them in my yard. Give me a good sturdy date palm any day.

She leans closer to the glass and I instinctively pull her back, not trusting that the wind won’t send someone’s mailbox hurtling through it.

“Feeling better?” I ask.

Tearing her gaze away from the window, she takes a deep breath and releases it with a sigh. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh.” She looks down at her submerged toes with a wry smile. “The water helps. Don’t ask me why.”

“The sensation probably helps to distract you. Like watching the weather outside. Takes your mind off your fear.”

“Maybe.” She doesn’t seem convinced.

“Ready to go back in?” When she hesitates, I try to reassure her with, “We can come back out here anytime you want to. Okay?”

Looking a little sheepish, she nods. “Okay.”

“I can leave the door to the garage open if it makes you feel better.”

“No. No, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine now.”

I snag a couple of clean towels from the laundry room as we head back through the house, and hand her one before setting the lantern down on an end table. Without a word, she sits down on the couch and starts rubbing her feet dry. I notice she’s shivering, but this time it appears to be from a chill rather than nerves.

“Cold?” I drape the throw blanket from the back of the couch around her shoulders. It doesn’t feel cold in here to me. Maybe she has issues with low blood sugar.

“A little.”

“Can I get you something to eat?”

“Not right now. Thank you.”