The Legend of Safehaven (23 page)

Nancy noticed the even-larger letters forming the foundation: GES.

“And what are these?” she asked, having guessed the answer.

“It stands for Galen, Edison, and Seligman-Edison. Everything we’ve done we’ve accomplished because of what you three did for us. So we want you and Tio Eddie and Tio Galen to be board members and advisers to our family corporation. How’s that sound?”

Nancy was stunned at the casual manner in which Carmelita had just laid out an amazing combination of scientific and business concepts.

Maybe something of me has rubbed off on you after all, Carm. Now, how can I introduce an element of planning and common sense without becoming one of Galen’s soul stealers?

Carmelita’s forehead creased, as she thought about broaching the subject of the object in Nancy’s chest. She had become familiar with implanted devices, including pacemakers, from her hospital job, and that’s what it felt like. She took a deep breath and blurted out, “Tia Nancy, has something happened?”

Nancy likewise took a breath and related the incident with the owls and the hawks on the mountain.

“What can I say? Even now, when he doesn’t think I’m awake, my Bob lays his head on my chest, listening to my heartbeat with his good ear.”

She explained how she would pretend to be asleep, knowing how devastated he was when she was hospitalized, and would let him listen—and fall asleep to the machine-steady rhythm of her pacemaker heart.

“Now I’ve told you, girl. I need you to promise you won’t tell your brothers or the others.”

“Of course, Tia.”

“Not even Mike?”

She hesitated.

“No, Tia, I will keep your confidence.”

The two women, one at life’s beginning, the other approaching completion, sat and held hands.

The entire pack sensed it, their ears on full point. An indefinable Something was approaching. It was not right. They did not understand, but they knew.

The three old ones rose and exited the den. They paused outside, while the young alpha male and his two cohorts led the pack to follow and encircle their elders. The graying muzzles pointed upward toward the cloud-filled sky. Their triple-toned howl rose above the trees, soon followed by an orchestra of ten.

Edison and Nancy gazed out the window at the mountain vista and valley below, their clasped hands now roughened by time. Their skin had grown mottled, their cheeks not as firm, but the love between then had only deepened in the nearly sixty years since an awkward young engineer stuttered a marriage proposal on the shores of Lake Michigan, and a young banker accepted. Tomorrow would be that anniversary.

Edison turned to his wife and saw the beautiful young girl with auburn-red tresses in that moment when he had instantly fallen in love.

Nancy turned to her myopic husband, he of the sagging jowls, and she beheld the defurred, rabbity young man, who had audaciously boarded her canoe. She rose on arthritic toes and kissed him.

“Hard to believe, isn’t it?” she whispered. “And then we rescued the three kids on the same day thirty-eight years later. Maybe Galen’s right. Maybe we’re all just pawns of the Fates.”

“Maybe, but you’re still one beautiful pawn!”

He kissed her again then looked up suddenly. Even with diminished hearing he detected it.

“What the dickens is that?”

She joined his stare out the window.

“It’s the wolves. They never sing in the daytime.”

“Watch your step, sir.”

Galen nodded as he descended the stairway ramp now protruding from the small charter aircraft. It had been ages since he attended a national medical conference. He didn’t recognize anyone there in California—all of his cohorts were dead, senile, or happily retired and playing shuffleboard in Florida. But it thrilled the old man to see and hear the young medical leaders describing the latest discoveries in the field. The surprise inclusion of another passenger had made the return flight even more enjoyable.

As they walked across the tarmac, a raindrop struck the tip of Galen’s nose.

Lem hung up the phone and turned to his housemate.

“That was Lachlan. Said there’s a spell of real bad weather heading in. I’m gonna check the yard and windows. Might even be a good idea to head up to the big house.”

Ben nodded. Miri sat on the rug next to her canine guardian and stared at the wall, her normally busy hands unusually calm. Her autistic universe did not recognize changes in the weather.

Lem headed outside and looked around for loose yard items to store. As he bent over to pick up a flowerpot, a raindrop landed on the back of his neck.

The ICOM 7100 emergency-weather receiver that Edison kept permanently switched on suddenly blared, the announcer’s voice interrupted several times by the soft crackle of distant lightning interfering with the signal.

“This is a severe-weather alert for Scranton and surrounding vicinities. Expect thunderstorms with strong sustained winds and gusts, heavy downpours, and hail. Beware flash-flooding in low-lying areas. Stay tuned for further bulletins.”

“I’d better go outside and move all the loose stuff into the garage,” he said.

Nancy watched him walk away.

He looks drawn
.

He was getting too old for the heavy work, she thought, especially in the torpid heat and humidity of summer. And she knew he was worried about Galen, who was due back from his conference on the West Coast today. Would the weather affect his flight? She worried about herself as well. Could she handle the work if Lea Ann, the local Red Cross chapter coordinator, put her on call? The kids had taken a road trip to Scranton. Would they get hung up by the storm and not be back in time to celebrate the anniversary of their rescue?

She prayed everyone would arrive safely, before the storm hit.

Outside, a drop of rain spattered Edison’s glasses, as he moved the last loose item from the yard into the garage. Wiping it with his handkerchief, he reentered the house and turned on the classical music station to relax his nerves.

“Freddie, slow down!”

Carmelita and the other three human passengers in the car were nervously gripping their seats. And the canine was whimpering.

Mountain roads were not conducive to Freddie’s idea of speed limits: ignoring them. Besides, it was starting to rain, creating a dangerous mix of water and detritic oil on the pavement that could make driving treacherous.

“Oh, all right. I just thought you’d all want to get home,” Freddie grumped.

“Sure, but all in one…”

“Don’t say it, Sis.”

He slowed to a reasonable speed, as raindrops dotted the thin film of road dust on the windshield.

It had started gradually, with intermittent but unusually large wads of water striking the gravel drive and kissing the glass of the picture window—splut, splut, splut. Soon it became a steady splatter, still benign, and accompanied by the growing noise of the ancient red Jeep ascending the long driveway and pulling up in front of the mountaintop home.

“Galen’s back,” Edison announced.

The front door burst open, and in poured the old doctor, accompanied by a lightning flash along the horizon and a delayed rumble of thunder. The rain was picking up now, becoming wind-blown. It slewed across the front yard in sheets, as more cloud-concealed lightning flashes lit up the valley vista.

A second person, taller and younger, followed him in.

“Mike!”

Nancy hugged Carmelita’s sweetheart and let out a sigh of relief. She even threw Galen a welcoming smile.

Edison grinned.

“I think a certain young lady is going to be surprised. She’s been in a funk ever since you told her you couldn’t make it.”

The big, handsome aerospace engineer returned the smile.

“Yeah, thank God I came to my senses.”

Edison winked.

“Now you’re learning, kid.”

“Speaking of which, where are the kids?” Galen asked.

“Tonio should be here soon,” Edison answered. “He called and said he was going to stop by the nursing home.”

“The rest of them are heading back from Scranton,” Nancy added, “but they haven’t checked in yet.”

The rain beat a sustained drum-roll on the roof.

Jesse Orth quickly read through the document on his desk. St. Ignatius Home, like all healthcare facilities, had drawn up contingency plans in the event of emergencies, including severe weather, and he wanted to refresh his understanding of the procedures before meeting with the staff.

He heard footsteps approaching his open office door, and he smiled as he saw Tonio standing in the doorway.

Jesse had aged visibly in the four years since Betty’s death from leukemia. The mildly salt-and-pepper hair he had sported when Tonio and Betty were courting in high school now fully reflected the white of the fluorescent ceiling lights.

“Hello, Mr. Orth.”

Tonio felt glad to see the older man, but he retained that pit-of-the-stomach heaviness he knew all too well. Even now, everything here reminded him of Betty. But he had wanted to stop by and let her father know that next week he would be leaving for freshman orientation at medical school. He had kept in touch with Hisayo and Jesse since Betty’s passing, even while at university. They, in turn, had treated him like the son they never had.

Jesse rose to greet him.

“It’s good to see you, Tony,” he said, as he took the young man’s hand.

“I wanted to stop by for a moment before I headed home.”

Jesse could see it in Tonio’s eyes—ever the sadness.

“I’m glad you did—only I have some preparations to make and a staff meeting in a few minutes. There’s a storm coming. But walk with me.”

The two headed down the corridor, Jesse’s trained eyes spotting areas needing attention.

“You know, Tony, it might not be a bad idea if you get back up to your folks before it hits us.”

“Yes, sir, I’ve already called home. They’re expecting me. Anything I can do to help here?”

“No, we’ll be fine. Send my regards to Dr. Galen and the Edisons.”

A few minutes later Tonio ran through the rain shower across the parking lot and climbed into the used, yellow Toyota Corolla his guardians had given him as a graduation present. They decided Galen’s Jeep was not up to being a hand-me-down.

As he headed down the road, a torrent of raindrops sheeted across the windshield.

They were old now, the progenitors of the pack, so they preferred huddling together in the den even in the summer, the warm bodies of the younger wolves giving some relief from the twinges of arthritis afflicting their hip joints. They licked each other’s muzzles, as their ears flicked in response to the nearby flashes and thunder claps.

Water gushed across the stone outcropping above and poured down in front of the den opening.

“Oh, dang, I forgot to batten down the sheds,” Edison said. “Come on, it won’t hurt you to get wet.”

He grabbed an old Bell Labs rain slicker and tossed an umbrella at Galen.

Solid sheets of rain pelted the ground.

Ahmed al-Yusuf sat hypnotized by the illuminated display unfolding before him on the Doppler radar. The repetitive forecasts of hot and humid days earlier in the week had been lulling him into a kind of torpor. Not today.

“Want a Coke, Ahmed?”

Seymour Cohen held up a frosty can for his co-worker. They got along well, often sharing lunch breaks and double dates.

“What’s on the screen? I hear those heavy storms’re still movin’ across Ohio and Pennsylvania. Lotsa people gonna get a real soaking and…”

“Holy shit, Sy, look at this!”

In the lower-left-hand quadrant of the screen, the Doppler was now producing red and yellow and white zones of data the two men had rarely seen, particularly over Wyoming County, Pennsylvania. They knew the technicalities: Rising hot winds from the southwest and west were converging with cold jets from the northwest. Like water beginning to corkscrew down a drain—only in reverse—those winds spiraled upward in ever-increasing velocities, moving counterclockwise and approaching a hundred miles an hour at the storm’s center. Massive downpours of rain and large-size hail fell out of the gigantic cloud, which accompanied the whirling dervish along its path of imminent destruction. Meteorologists called it a supercell, the rarest and most powerful kind of thunderstorm. Inside it were the makings of a monster tornado.

Each man uttered a silent prayer to the God of Ibrahim and Abraham.

Ahmed hit the alert button on his console to relay the data to police, emergency-response teams, and the radio and TV stations in the area, while Seymour picked up the microphone connected to the emergency channel.

“National Weather Service radio WXM95 broadcasting on a frequency of 162.525 megahertz from Towanda, Pennsylvania. Doppler radar has picked up cyclonic wind shears forming over Wyoming County. This is a tornado warning. All persons in the involved area are advised to seek shelter immediately. Repeat, this is a tornado warning!”

Two phones rang at Safehaven, as the weather-alert alarm sounded once more, and the voice blared out the warning message. Nancy picked up the wall receiver in the kitchen, and a water-soaked Edison pulled out his cordless unit under cover of the storage shed.

“Tio Eddie, Tia Nancy, it’s me, Tonio…”

He had been driving the Toyota along the country road, when the rain that had been steadily beating down suddenly was replaced by bursts of golf-ball-sized hail hammering the roof and windshield. Visibility dropped to near zero, as dense, cumulonimbus clouds formed above. Tonio slowed the car to a crawl just in time to see the swirling waters of Sugar Hollow Creek spilling over and washing out the road.

In a few moments the pavement was breached.

“Tio, the road’s gone! I can try coming the back way, but…”

The silence on the line scared Edison. Galen put his ear next to the phone. Both could hear Nancy on the line.

“Tonio, what’s wrong, are you all right?”

“I just felt the weirdest sensation. My ears suddenly started to pop, and … geez … the sky looks green!”

“Tonio, get out of the car, now!” Edison yelled.

“What’s wrong, Tio … oh, my God, the sky, it’s now pitch black!”

Galen joined Edison in a frantic chorus.

“Get out! Get out! Take cover in a ditch!”

The excitement had attracted Mike to the kitchen phone. He and Nancy stood breathless, as they heard the car door open and close. In the background, the locomotive noise rose in intensity, even as Tonio’s running footsteps punctuated the chugging wind. His “unhh,” as he threw himself to the ground, elicited gasps from the two pairs inside and outside the house. The howling wind became a banshee shriek for what seemed like an eternity … and then it Dopplered away.

“Tonio, can you hear me?”

Galen kept repeating the words, straining his ears for the slightest sound. He relaxed slightly as heavy, tremulous breathing on the other end became a weak voice calling out “yes.”

“Tio, the trees, my car … they’re all gone!” The young man’s voice dissolved in tears.

In the background the rain played a drum roll on the forest floor.

“Ben, looka this.”

Lem held a wad of drawings in his hand. Miri was rocking back and forth on the living room rug near the little brick fireplace, hands moving like a sewing machine bobbin, charcoal drawing sticks casting image after image on loose stacks of drawing paper.

Ben’s eyes widened at the depictions on the paper.

“Lem, we’ve all got to get out of here!”

Miri’s she-wolf stood up, its head and ears pointed toward the front door, and emitted a bone-chilling, ululating howl.

The farmer and the retired state trooper each took an arm and guided Miri out the door and up the lane toward Safehaven. The downpour had subsided but wind gusts blew against their faces. Then suddenly the female wolf began to bark, and Miri emitted a guttural reply. Both performed a howling duet.