The Chronicles of Trellah, Book One: The Perpetual Rain Read online

  Half a mile of sidewalk and a large muddy field still lay between her and the harbor, and she couldn’t get there fast enough.

  * * *

  The entrance to the woods path was flanked by two boulders, each the size of a small moving truck. Sophina had learned from Mrs. Tanner that they were deposited there by glaciers during the last ice age, and that similar rocks were plentiful east of Hudson Bay in Canada’s Quebec province.

  That day she had rushed home and begged her parents to take her and Eliot to Quebec over the summer, so they could see the place where those imposing rocks came from. The family always took a week-long camping trip anyway, and, according to the atlas, Hudson Bay was at most a two-day drive from Maine.

  To Sophina’s delight, her parents had said yes. They started planning for the excursion in June. Campsites were reserved, and supplies were purchased and packed. Their departure date was supposed to have been August 25 at 4:00 a.m.—the morning after her father disappeared without a trace.

  Sophina stepped between the boulders and followed the path to the clearing that overlooked the harbor. She stared across to the far shore, where a seaweed-draped peninsula was exposed by a low tide. This unremarkable point of land was the reason she had resisted her mom’s offer of a quick trip to school, for it was the spot where, on the night of August 24, her dad’s lobster boat had run aground with no one at the helm.

  The painful headline from that week’s Coastal Gazette flashed in her mind: LOCAL MAN PRESUMED DEAD AFTER BOAT RUNS ASHORE.

  The days that followed were a blur to Sophina as a stream of police and rescue volunteers visited the house. First to arrive was Thomasville’s police chief, Paul Dresden, whose gruffness matched his burly appearance. Later, when the search became an official missing persons case, a straitlaced state investigator came knocking. Sophina disliked him from the start because his pointed questions made her mom cry.

  Did you and your husband fight?

  Did he hit you?

  Did he ever hurt the children?

  Where were you when he went missing?

  The investigator explained in a cold, professional tone that his inquiry was “standard procedure,” and every spouse whose partner went missing was asked the same battery of questions. If she had nothing to hide, then she had nothing to fear.

  In other words, it wasn’t personal. But it sure felt that way, and it pained Sophina to know that her mom was viewed as a suspect, even if it was standard procedure.

  At first, Chief Dresden stopped by every few hours to update her mom on their progress, or lack thereof. Sophina always listened from the hallway, her heart in her throat, hoping to hear something—anything—that she could take as a sign of hope. But when the second day passed with no sign of her dad, the chief’s enthusiasm waned.

  “We’re focusing on the uninhabited islands,” he said. “It’s the only place he could’ve lasted this long without his survival suit.”

  Sophina knew what that meant. If her dad had swum ashore on the mainland or an inhabited island, he would’ve contacted somebody. His survival suit was found on the boat, and no one could last an entire day in the frigid waters of the Gulf without one—even in the somewhat-warmer conditions of August.

  It was at that moment, slumped alone in the dark hallway, that Sophina knew she would never see her dad again. The uninhabited islands were miles offshore. If he went overboard there, the currents would have swept his boat out to sea rather than depositing it on the inner shore of the harbor. She knew this because she knew the currents. Her dad had taken her lobstering many times, and he’d made darn sure that she understood the dangers of the Gulf. He’d also taught her how to use all of his safety equipment so that she’d be able to survive any emergency that came along.

  He must’ve slipped and hit his head, Sophina agonized. He was unconscious when he went overboard. It’s the only thing that makes sense.

  This thought was oddly comforting, as it meant that her dad hadn’t suffered in his final moments. It also explained how a seasoned navigator, with a wealth of knowledge and safety tools at his disposal, could have disappeared with no sign of a struggle.

  Through a blur of rain and tears Sophina imagined her father’s beached vessel on the far shore, just as it had been that horrible sunny morning. Upon seeing it she’d stumbled through the mudflats, clambered aboard, and thrown open the cabin door. She had heard Chief Dresden say the boat was empty, but she was sure he must have been mistaken. She expected to find her dad curled up and sleeping below deck, on the bed built into the point of the bow.

  But the bed was empty—a sight that would haunt Sophina forever.

  Her waking nightmare was interrupted by a deep rumble in the woods behind her. At first, it sounded like thunder, but as its volume grew, it became clear that something far more ominous was taking place. A violent force was tearing the forest apart—and it was approaching with blazing speed.

  A fierce wind slapped Sophina’s face. It had blown hard at times recently, but this was different. This wind had more than teeth—it had venomous fangs that numbed her skin with their cold bite.

  Sophina ducked behind a tree as a wall of horizontal rain swept across the field. The surrounding trees groaned and leaned sideways, threatening to snap in half as earthen projectiles scoured from the forest floor zipped past her on both sides.

  Then, as fast as it had begun, it was over. The trees righted themselves as the rain tapered to a soft drizzle. When Sophina was sure the danger had passed, she peeked around the tree—and gasped at what she saw. A fallen maple—stripped clean of its vibrant autumn leaves—lay in pieces on the ground, its upper branches just feet from where she stood. Beyond it were dozens more uprooted trees. Some lay broken in the clearing, while others were propped up by larger trees that had somehow weathered the onslaught. The sight made her feel lucky to be alive.

  Sophina’s head throbbed as she skirted the edge of the path, unable to go down the middle because the storm runoff had transformed it into a burbling brook. The winds of the anomaly had always blown in off the Gulf from the south, but this squall had come from the opposite direction, from the vicinity of Jagged Mountain.

  Before long, the ground leveled enough for Sophina to break into a sprint. All thoughts of her dad had been replaced by a singular urge to get herself inside the solid brick walls of her school.

  * * *

  Sophina strode into the empty lobby of Thomasville Middle School just as the late bell rang. She was struck by how quiet it was. The hall was usually peppered with stragglers at this time, all slamming lockers and rushing to their homerooms in an effort to avoid the dreaded “tardy” citation that Principal Hupper loved to levy. Sophina knew the scenario well, since she’d been a chronic offender lately.

  But it wasn’t just the lobby that was void of life. Susan York, the school’s administrative assistant, wasn’t at her desk in the office; the usually bustling teachers’ lounge was empty, and the rhythmic thudding of basketballs that almost always emanated from the gym was missing. The only sound was the squeak of Sophina’s boots as they chafed on the shiny laminate floor. The atmosphere was unsettling—and it was the last thing she needed after her scare in the woods.

  Where was everyone? Had school been canceled, and her family was the only one who hadn’t heard? Perhaps she had distracted her mom just as Spike was divulging that important bit of information. She hadn’t noticed if cars were parked in the school’s lot; her eyes had been locked in a downward position as she’d rushed to the door.

  Sophina walked toward the nearest classroom and peeked through the window to find the room filled with students, their expressions and body language displaying various levels of anxiety. She noticed Mrs. Bremen, her eccentric second-period English teacher, trying to console Jay Hatch, the hated class bully, as he sobbed into his hands at the back of the room.

  Now she knew something was wrong. Last fall, when Jay had broken his leg playing soccer, he’d kept playing for five minu
tes after it happened. If that hadn’t made him cry, then she’d been sure nothing could. Whatever had happened here this morning was far more traumatic than a windstorm alone could’ve been.

  Sophina turned and squeaked her way to the science lab. She opened the door and was surprised to find Principal Hupper behind the teacher’s desk. Mrs. Emerson, the substitute who had taken over Mrs. Tanner’s position, was nowhere to be seen.

  “Sophina . . . can we talk in the hall for a minute?” asked Principal Hupper as he stood and walked over to her.

  Sophina was sure she saw tears through the fog on Principal Hupper’s glasses, which sent her nerves into overdrive. She felt her classmates staring as she stepped back into the hall, and a hushed chatter spread through the room as he closed the door.

  “Are you all right?” he asked. “I saw you run out of the woods.”

  “A tree almost fell on me, but I’m okay.”

  “Good. When you were late, I got worried.” Principal Hupper had a pained expression on his face; Sophina had never seen him show so much emotion.

  “Principal Hupper, what’s wrong?”

  “There was an incident involving your homeroom teacher, Mrs. Emerson.”

  A tingling sensation erupted in Sophina’s fingertips. She had felt something similar the moment she’d realized her dad was gone, although it was more intense then.

  “She was on bus duty, in the courtyard,” Principal Hupper recounted. “The storm snapped a branch off the old elm tree. She pushed a student out of the way, but she was struck.”

  “How bad is she hurt?” Sophina asked, her voice wavering.

  “Luckily, it was just a small branch,” he replied. “She should heal just fine.”

  Sophina knew the elm he was talking about—and none of its branches were small. Her gut said that he wasn’t being truthful, but right now, she wanted to believe him.

  “Given the circumstances, school is canceled,” Principal Hupper continued. “Everyone is to stay in their homeroom while we contact your parents.”

  Sophina nodded, but her thoughts were with Mrs. Emerson. She was far from Mrs. Tanner’s equal when it came to scientific knowledge or teaching style, but her kindness and enthusiasm had eventually won Sophina over.

  As Sophina returned to her desk she saw that Erickson Harris had moved into the seat next to hers. She ignored him, but could tell right away that staring at the floor wasn’t going to put him off this time. His gaze was too patient.

  She hadn’t been avoiding Erickson out of dislike; in fact, he’d been well on his way to becoming her first-ever boyfriend before her dad’s death had brought everything to a screeching halt. They had even held hands at last year’s Valentine’s dance.

  These days, she snubbed him out of fear that he would ask about her dad—or worse, try to console her. She knew she wasn’t ready for that, and the thought of losing her cool in front of him was more painful than the guilt she felt for leading him to believe she didn’t like him anymore.

  “I saw it happen,” croaked Erickson. “I saw the branch fall on Mrs. Emerson.”

  Sophina faced him as he struggled for words.

  “I’m the one she pushed out of the way . . . She saved my life.”

  Sophina was afraid to ask the obvious question, but somehow forced it out. “Is she okay?”

  “I don’t know,” Erickson replied. “She wasn’t moving when the ambulance drove away.”

  Sophina’s heart sank. It didn’t sound good, but it didn’t mean that Mrs. Emerson couldn’t recover. She’d learned that few things in the world were worse than being in the dark when it came to the safety of friends and family, and the feeling made her weak in the knees.

  “Did I do something wrong?” asked Erickson. “If I did, tell me so I can say I’m sorry.”

  Words failed Sophina as she looked into Erickson’s sad eyes. She knew that her actions had an effect, but she hadn’t realized how deeply she had cut him.

  “I’ve been hanging out with Andy Dresden,” he continued bleakly, “but only because his parents make him.”

  Sophina looked over at Andy, the obnoxious son of Chief Dresden, who was sitting beside his equally loathsome buddy, Mark Rumford. Andy couldn’t have been more different from Erickson. His free time was spent playing whatever sport was in season, which at the moment was soccer. The thought of Erickson trying to kick a ball around the pitch gave Sophina’s mood an instant lift. She was sure the sight would be quite comical.

  “You didn’t do anything,” she whispered. “I just needed some time to myself.”

  Erickson’s look conveyed an odd blend of sympathy and confusion. “I know you’re having a hard time,” he said. “I would be, too . . . But why does ignoring me make you feel better?”

  Erickson had a gift for reducing an equation to its simplest terms. Sophina admired him for that, especially given her propensity to heap layers of convoluted emotions onto even the most basic of situations.

  “It doesn’t make me feel better.”

  “Then don’t do it.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Good.”

  With this simple exchange, a tremendous weight was lifted from Sophina’s conscience. She was pondering how foolish it had been for her to push away her one real friend when something outside the row of windows stole her attention. The trees beyond the ball fields were bent sideways, their branches almost touching the ground under the force of another ferocious gale.

  Sophina jumped up as one conifer split in half and slammed down upon the bleachers that lined the track, flattening them like a toy accordion.

  “Look!” she shouted.

  Her classmates gasped as the wind hit the school with a resounding whap! A wall of rain then smacked against the windows, blurring the world outside. Several students screamed. Even more leapt from their chairs and backed away from the windows.

  “Stay in your seats!” instructed Principal Hupper. “The last storm ended quickly; I’m sure this one will too.”

  The hairs on the back of Sophina’s neck stood up all at once. A cold draft had infiltrated the room, but that wasn’t the only thing troubling her. Something else was happening—something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

  Snap!

  Sophina’s eyes locked onto a window. A small crack had formed in the glass against a backdrop of streaking water.

  Snap! Snap!

  The crack spread in random directions, with fractures too numerous to count. New fissures crackled to life in the adjacent windows as Principal Hupper rose from his chair.

  “Everyone . . . calmly leave the room.” But Principal Hupper’s voice was far from calm, which only heightened the students’ tension. Sophina took Erickson by the hand and pulled him toward the door, trying to put some distance between them and the rapidly failing glass. Just as they reached the exit, Erickson was yanked from her grasp.

  “Move it!”

  Sophina turned as Andy Dresden followed through with a hard shove to Erickson’s shoulder, sending her friend sideways onto the floor. She rushed to his side as Andy and Mark escaped into the hall ahead of their classmates, who arrived at the door all at once in a mob of flailing arms and legs.

  “Get up!” she encouraged.

  But Erickson didn’t budge. His eyes were pinned to the windows, which bowed inward as the ominous fissures spread with a rapid-fire crackle.

  Principal Hupper pushed the last student through the doorway and turned to them with an outstretched hand. “Hurry!” he shouted.

  But Sophina knew their time was up. She grabbed Erickson by the arm and dragged him behind a lab table just as a window exploded with a report like a shotgun blast, forcing Principal Hupper to slam the door shut, leaving them behind.

  Wind and rain tore through the lab as Sophina draped her body over Erickson like a mother bird protecting her chick. Glassware flew off shelves and smashed to bits all around them. An iron Bunsen burner toppled off the table and clanked to the floor, inches shy of the
ir heads, and powdered chemicals swirled in the air as, one by one, the remaining windows gave in to the freakish force of nature.

  Then, as swiftly as before, the calamity ended. An eerie silence fell over the room as Erickson remained coiled in a fetal position.

  “Are you okay?” Sophina asked.

  Erickson peeked over his arm and then sat up as the drone of bewildered voices grew behind the door. “My arm hurts . . . but . . . you’re bleeding.”

  Sophina felt something warm trickle down her forehead, but she didn’t care. Besides Erickson, the only thing on her mind was the well-being of Eliot and her mom. She could inspect her wounds after she knew her family was okay.

  “I’m fine. Let’s get out of here.”

  Sophina stood, but Erickson didn’t. “You stayed with me,” he said gratefully. He looked like he wanted to say more, but Principal Hupper had swooped back into the room and taken him gently by the injured arm.

  “Where does it hurt?” he asked.

  As Erickson pointed, Principal Hupper looked over and saw the cut on Sophina’s forehead. “You’re bleeding,” he grumbled. “You both need to see the nurse.”

  Principal Hupper helped Erickson to his feet as the ceiling lights blew out with a sharp pop! Moments later, a hopelessly dim emergency light flickered on in the corner.

  “Thank you,” Erickson said.

  “You’re welcome,” answered Principal Hupper.

  But Sophina knew who the simple statement of gratitude was intended for.

  2 THE INTRUDER

  One question dominated Sophina’s mind as she trailed Principal Hupper and Erickson down the crowded hallway: How fast can I run home?

  When Principal Hupper stopped to help a group of girls brush broken glass out of their hair, she ducked into the crowd and made her way toward the exit at the back of the school. None of the students she passed seemed to be hurt any worse than she was. Cuts and bruises were plentiful, but all appeared to be minor. Their state of mind was another thing. Many sat in silence against the lockers; others paced the hall with neurotic energy, while the rest cried into their hands or on the shoulder of another. She seemed to be the only one whose mind was clear and focused.