Charon's Crossing

Elvira was right. A storm was brewing. The signs were right out there, easy to read even if you were a city person who never noticed much beyond whether or not it was raining.

Kathryn had managed enough hot water for a shower, not a bath, and then she'd made herself a light early supper of fruit, cheese and coffee and taken it out to the terrace.

By the time she'd finished eating, the weather was beginning to change.

The sky had turned a metallic shade of blue that exaggerated the bright glare of a sun so orange it was harsh enough to hurt the eyes. When she walked around to the front of the house and looked down at the sea, she noticed that it had taken on a glassy sheen. Light swells moved with lazy ease towards the beach while grey clouds clustered like a dirty ruff on the distant horizon.

The melancholy cry of a sea gull pierced the silence. Kathryn lifted her head and followed the bird's flight. It was heading inland, and for an uneasy couple of seconds she thought about Elvira's suggestion that she do the same.

But why? She'd already survived a storm at Charon's Crossing, and this one would be easier to endure. Hiram had secured the shutters so she wouldn't have to jump at the sound of them banging, should the wind pick up. And she wasn't about to get hysterical if the lights went out this time, now that she knew that her "intruder" was a ghost who'd decided to make himself scarce.

Where was he? Not that she really cared. It was just natural curiosity, that was all. As far as she was concerned if she never saw Matthew McDowell again, it would be too soon!

A gust of hot, humid wind slapped at Kathryn's cheeks. It had an unpleasant, clammy feel to it. She made a face, went back to the house, and switched on the shortwave radio while she poured herself more coffee.

"...latest update. Moderate winds and seas are expected and a small crafts advisory has been issued. Persons living in low-lying shore areas might want to take precautions but there is no cause for alarm."

The wind chose that moment to rattle the house like a giant castanet.

Kathryn laughed. "Of course not," she said.

Well, it wouldn't hurt to be prepared. She dug out the candles and matches, checked to be sure the flashlight still worked and made a circuit of the house to be certain the shutters were all secured.

Just before dusk, she turned the radio on again. It seemed to her that the wind had grown a lot stronger but with the shutters closed, she couldn't see the sky or the sea.

"...upgraded to severe," the impersonal voice on the radio said. "Persons in low-lying locations are advised to move to higher ground and..."

Kathryn licked her lips. Was there anything to worry about? No. She was already on higher ground, up here on| the cliff. Besides, how bad could a storm be? Hurricane season was over.

She hesitated, and then she picked up the flashlight and went to the front door. She could hear the wind just beyond it and the door was hard to open, as if something were trying to shoulder it closed...

Dear God!

It was like walking into another world.

The sky was the color of charcoal, the clouds so thick and low Kathryn had the uneasy feeling she could almost reach up and touch them. The wind whistled through the trees and whipped at her hair.

She had never seen a storm like this, never imagined it was possible for nature to be so raw and powerful.

What would the sea look like, under this dark and primitive sky? How tall were the wind-driven waves that must be crashing wildly against the beach?

The logical thing to do was go back to the shelter of the house... But the sea would be a magnificent sight, something she'd never forget. Kathryn took a breath, ducked her head and fought her way to the edge of the cliff for one quick, quick look...

Nothing could have prepared her for what she saw.

The placid blue Caribbean she knew, the one that had sighed gently against a crescent of white, glistening sand, was gone. The sea was black as ink, tipped with sharp white claws that had already surged over the beach and were tearing at the cliff she stood on. The pound of the waves was like the beat of a heart and now she could hear something else, too, as if a freight train were fast approaching...

It was the wind, tearing across the water like a howling beast determined to drive everything out of its path.

Run, Kathryn. Turn for the house and run!

Sobbing, terrified, she obeyed the voice in her head but it was impossible to outrun the wind. It hit her like a fist, first driving the breath from her lungs, then curled around her like the unseen hand of some ancient behemoth determined to snatch her up and hurl her down into the raging torrent below.

A scream broke from her throat.

"Matthew," she cried, "Matthew, help me!"

Strong arms closed around her and lifted her off her feet.