The Resurrected Compendium (16 page)

Sheila closed her eyes and stretched out on the bench, wiggling her toes against the sun-heated deck. “Yeah. Some.”

“With Duane?”

“Sure. And Tyler and Jeremy too.”

“You’ve been with Duane for a long time, huh?”
 

Kelsey sounded wistful, and Sheila cracked an eye open to look over at her. “We’ve been dating for four years. I knew them in college before that.”

“All of them?”

“Yeah.” Sheila looked toward the back of the boat where Duane and Tyler appeared to be cracking open some beers from the cooler the boat’s owner had stocked while Jeremy did something with the sail.

“What was he like in school?”

“Tyler?” Sheila shrugged. “A lot like he is now, I guess. But younger.”

Obviously that wasn’t what Kelsey meant, but Sheila had no false sense of loyalty toward the other woman just because they both had vaginas. Chances were good the next trip she and Duane took with Tyler, there’d be a different cute blonde with big tits asking her questions about Tyler’s past, anyway. She shielded her eyes with her hand for a moment as she caught sight of something behind the boat, but the sun was too bright even with her sunglasses on.

“Was he always so generous?”

Now
that
was a question Sheila’d never had to answer. She turned toward Kelsey. “What do you mean?”

“I know he grew up with money. I’ve been to his parents’ house.”

Interesting, Sheila thought. Kelsey must be a little more special than the others. “Up in Maine?”

Kelsey nodded. She pointed her perfectly painted toes, one foot and the other. Like a ballerina, though she didn’t have the grace of a dancer, or the body. Too big in the hips and thighs. “Yes. For Christmas.”

“Wow.” It was an involuntary exclamation, and Sheila didn’t miss how Kelsey’s eyes narrowed. “I mean, that’s nice. His parents sound nice. I’ve never met them. But yeah, he grew up with money.”

“He’s never really…wanted…anything, has he? I mean that he didn’t get.”

Curiouser and curiouser, as Alice would’ve said. Sheila studied Kelsey, ignoring for the first time the hair, the boobs, the tan. “Not really, no. Not in all the time I’ve known him, anyway. Tyler usually gets what he wants.”

“And his brother?”

Sheila looked again to the back of the boat, where Jeremy had lifted his own beer. The three men laughed, joking about something she suspected she’d find annoying. Separately, they were all sweethearts. Put them together, they were a pack of hyenas.

“Jeremy’s a good guy.”

“Different than his brother, though.”

“Well…sure. I guess so.” Sheila shrugged. “Why would he be the same? Are you the same as your brother? Or sister?”

“No. Nothing. Never mind.” Kelsey shook her head so the blonde hair fell artfully over her shoulders, then bent to her bag and pulled out an elastic hair tie. She twisted her hair on top of her head in a messy bun with practiced fingers. She looked toward the men. “They’re close, though. Tyler and Jeremy.”

“I think so. Tyler hired Jeremy to work for him in his company, right?”

Kelsey looked briefly startled. “He did?”

Sheila had overheard Duane talking about it on the phone, that was the only reason she knew, but apparently it was still more than Kelsey did. “Yeah. He’s going to start when we get back from this trip.”

“He never said anything about it.”

Sheila could’ve pointed out that Tyler wasn’t under any obligation to share the intimate details of his business with Kelsey, but that would’ve been cunty considering she was sure he’d shared the intimate details of his cock with her. Even if Sheila had soothed it by admitting that the only times she ever learned anything about Duane’s part in the business was when she listened in doorways, which she was not about to admit to anyone, ever, it would still have been unnecessarily shitty, and if there was one thing Sheila was not, it was bitchy for no reason.

They’d have had no time to commiserate anyway, because before Sheila had time to say a word, the boat rocked hard enough to toss Kelsey onto the floor. Sheila kept herself on the bench only because she grabbed at the railing fast enough, but two of her nails bent back with an excruciating stab of pain so full-on and fierce she couldn’t even cry out. The boat rocked again, harder this time, and she ended up next to Kelsey.

“What’s going on?”

Sheila didn’t have the breath to scream, much less answer. She cradled her hand to her chest, checking the damage. If she’d had acrylic tips, she thought stupidly as a few beads of blood welled up on middle finger, the worst damaged, she’d have been okay. Kelsey hadn’t lost a nail, but her knees would probably bruise, but who the hell cared when she spent so much time on them already —

“Sheila!” Kelsey shook her. “Are you okay? You look like you’re going to pass out.”

“My fingers.” Sheila groaned when Kelsey took her hand.

Kelsey looked sympathetic. “Ouch. I’ve had that done to me a few times, it’s agonizing. Let’s get some ice.”

Kelsey stood. Sheila didn’t bother. She didn’t want to move, not even to shift herself into a more comfortable position. Her fingers throbbed, the sharp and instant pain being rapidly replaced by a stronger, grinding ache.
 

Kelsey patted her shoulder and moved past her toward the back of the boat. Sheila closed her eyes and pressed her head to the bench cushion. Blood dripped more steadily from her middle and ring fingers, staining the deck.

And then Kelsey screamed.

21

Jeremy was finishing his beer when the ocean swelled around the boat, rocking it sharply. The water slapped the sides. About a hundred yards away, in the middle of an otherwise clear sky and sea, a whirling spout of water formed within seconds. Gray-white against the backdrop of brilliant blue, it twisted and writhed, still far enough away that the spray hadn’t yet hit them…but it was coming closer.

Kelsey screamed, pointing. She looked embarrassed in a second, her cry cutting off abruptly though her hand stayed raised. She caught his eye, hers wide, but her mouth clamped tight shut.

“What the hell?” Ty turned, hands on his hips. “Seriously?”

So much like his big brother to think even nature had made him so important the world would create a storm just to fuck with his pleasure. Beside Ty, Duane had frozen with his beer at his lips. Jeremy looked back at the funnel as Kelsey made her way around the cabin to stand between him and Ty.

“What is that? No. No way, I didn’t order that,” Ty said belligerently, like it was an overdone steak he could send back to the chef.
 

“It’s a funnel cloud? A water tornado?” Kelsey spoke quietly, her words a question though obviously she already knew the answer.
 

She was talking to Ty, which pissed off Jeremy because his brother was kind of a foron, and also because she never pulled that dumb blonde routine when she talked to Jeremy. Ty put out an arm without looking at her, and she went right to him. Bitch.

“Holy shit.” Duane tossed the bottle into the cooler. “We need to get out of here.”

“Easier said than done.” Jeremy pointed at the funnel, which was shifting slightly to the left, the tiniest bit to the right, but always, always moving forward. “It’s coming pretty much right for us.”

Duane turned. “Where’s Sheila?”

“Oh, she hurt her hand —” Duane moved toward the front of the boat before Kelsey could finish. She followed him with her gaze, then looked up at Ty, still focused on the funnel. Finally, she looked at Jeremy. “We should at least try to get out of the way. Can’t we?”

“Yeah. Ty, c’mon, let’s get this bucket moving.”

Ty didn’t move at first, and when he did, he was distracted. “Sure. Right.”

There was a big problem though. No wind. While the funnel roared and hissed, getting closer, the wind that had brought them all the way out here seemed to have died. The sail hung limp.
 

“The motor,” Kelsey said. “If you start the motor…”

God, she was so much smarter than anyone would’ve ever thought, Jeremy thought. “Yeah, the motor. Shit. C’mon, Ty, move.”

His brother was still staring out at the funnel cloud, closer now, moving no faster but definitely heading right for them. Jeremy pushed past him to get at the motor, which didn’t want to start no matter what he did to it.

“The motor’s fucked,” Jeremy said.

“So, what do we do?” Kelsey asked.
 

Ty had been with a lot of whiny women, real pains in the ass. Even knowing her in a way his brother didn’t, Jeremy had expected her to get hysterical. At the very least, to look scared. But other than that initial scream, she’d maintained her calm better than Sheila, who was up front freaking out while Duane helped her with the first-aid kit.
 

“We secure everything as best we can so if that funnel hits us — when it hits us, we can make it through without capsizing. Without the motor, the worst thing that can happen is the mast breaking,” Jeremy said.

Ty shook his head. “The worst thing that could happen would be for the boat to sink, bro.”

“If the mast breaks, we’ll have no way of getting anywhere!”

Kelsey stepped between them, a hand on each of their chests. “Stop fighting and get everything taken care of. We don’t have time. What do you need to do? What can I do to help?”

Ty barked out a series of orders Jeremy could see she didn’t understand. “Just…follow what I do. We’ll start securing everything.”

Kelsey nodded, her expression strained, but again without panic. She started working along side him and Ty while Duane got Sheila under control. They didn’t have time, the funnel was almost upon them. Now there was wind, but too much of it. Spray slashed at them, making everything slippery and swollen and hard to work with. The storm had no distinct shape now. It was all wind and water.
 

It engulfed them.

22

The wind’s strong enough to rattle the windows, even the ones with the bars on them. Kathy should be comforted by the bars, since it means nothing can get through the glass, no reaching tree fingers like in the movie she wasn’t supposed to watch and wishes she hadn’t. But of course they mean she can’t get out, either.

It’s for safety, Grandma says. So nobody can come in the night and steal from them. The TV, the rings that Grandpa bought her, the diamond earrings. The money she stashes under her mattress for emergencies — Kathy’s not supposed to know about that money, but she does. Somehow knowing it’s there, protected only be a cardboard box, comforts her. She could steal it someday, if she ever was brave enough to run away.

Now Kathy is in her bed, the blankets pulled up to her chin, her toes still cold. She should be sleeping. She has school in the morning. A science test. She studied hard for it, because her teacher, Mrs. Feinstein, told Kathy she has a real talent for science. She should consider being a doctor or something like that. Mrs. Feinstein says Kathy’s smart enough to do anything she wants to. Be anything she wants to. She hopes Kathy will “settle down” and “pay attention” and “make an effort.”

Mrs. Feinstein has no clue.
 

Still, Kathy studied hard for the test not because she doesn’t want to disappoint her teacher, but because she believes what Mrs. Feinstein said. Kathy can be and do whatever she wants…if she can get away from this house. At twelve, she can’t get a job, and she doesn’t want to live on the streets. Whatever’s out there could be worse than what happens in here. At least here in Grandma’s house, Kathy knows how to play the game.

She listens to the sound of the wind outside. The trees creak. If she closes her eyes, she can pretend she’s on a boat in a stormy sea. It even feels like it’s rocking. Her bed a boat, a cradle, tipped by a loving hand to ease her into sleep. Like long ago her mother must’ve done, or would’ve done if she’d hung around for longer than a few days after Kathy’s birth. Her mother would’ve loved her, Kathy thinks, if only she’d stayed.

Your mother was a no-account whore,
Grandma said.
She got knocked up and ran off and left you behind, but I took you in because I love you, Kathy. I took care of you because it’s my duty to make sure you’re raised up right.

Kathy pointed out once, and only once, that Grandma had been the one to raise her mother, the no-account whore.

That was two years ago, before Grandpa got so sick, and he took Kathy to the hospital when Grandma hit her so hard everything went black and wouldn’t come into focus. Grandpa said she’d fallen down the stairs, and the doctors seemed to believe him. Two days after Kathy came home, Grandpa was in the hospital. Stroke, they said. He’d never help Kathy again.

The wind screams soft and low outside the window. It sobs. The sound is so sad, it makes Kathy want to sob too. She curls onto her side, hugging her pillow, trying hard to fall asleep because tomorrow she has school and a test and if she’s too tired she won’t be able to do her best. But it’s so hard to fall asleep when she’s listening to the wind outside the window, and for the sound of footsteps in the hall outside the door, because tonight at dinner Grandma had been silent and frowning, barely speaking. That was never good. It was bad when she laughed, but when she said nothing, that was much worse.

Kathy sleeps.

Kathy dreams.

In her dreams, Kathy is taller, with blonde hair, and her teeth are not gray and broken. In her dreams, Kathy wears pretty dresses and high heels and makeup, and people look at her without making their eyes shift away, their mouths scrunching up in pity. They look at her like they like what they see. In her dreams, Kathy laughs.

Her laughter wakes her, and she stretches in her bed, feeling her joints snap and pop. For a moment, with her eyes still closed, she listens to the still moaning wind and feels residually happy. Then she hears the soft shush of slippers on the hard wood floor, and though she wants to cling to that dream, she knows it’s too late. It’s already over.

It will be worse if she doesn’t open her eyes, but once she does, Grandma will know she’s awake. She opens her eyes. Grandma stands over her with that look on her face that says she’s going to make Kathy do some things.