Endlessly to the Sea
A brisk breeze brought a chill to the sunny day. Outside the sheltered cove, waves rolled and rumbled, but within, the water was clear and nearly still. Emmett and his mother, Wren, raked the smooth sand beneath the surface. They stopped often to pick up the clams overturned by their search.
“Only take a few,” instructed Wren. “One here, one there. Don’t wake their magic. We don’t want them to change like the mussels upstream there.”
Emmett grimaced, remembering the horrible taste of the mussels after they spontaneously evolved a bitter chemical defense.
“How do they talk to each other, Mom? How did they know to change?”
Wren sighed. “I don’t know. This is a different world from the one I grew up in. You have no idea how much has altered.”
Emmett bent to pick up another clam for his bucket, the rubber waders pressing on his legs. He couldn’t grasp why she still mourned a world he’d never known - one that vanished before he was born.
Fingers digging slightly in the sand, he felt a foreign texture and pulled out a nearly buried plastic bottle. He’d seen them before, but not often. His mother would cut them in half to start seedlings and use as funnels.
“It’s in nearly perfect shape!” Wren said, eyes bright. “Before the Change, we’d drink a couple of these a day. I wonder where they all ended up…”
Emmett put the bottle in his bucket with the clams and she started raking the sand again. She stopped. Her rake slipped from stiff fingers into the cold brine and she squeezed her eyes shut, hand pressing to her breast.
“Mom!” Emmett dropped his own rake and ran through the water to her. She leaned heavily on his shoulder that was slightly higher than her own.
“Slowly, Mom,” Emmett said as he led her to the shore and sat her on the sand. He grabbed a canteen of fresh water and pulled a cellophane-wrapped pill bottle from his pocket. The faded label was barely readable and said “aspirin”. He quickly gave one to Wren and watched as she took it with sips from the canteen.
“There are only a few of these left,” he said, his voice tight.
She nodded. “Don’t worry, Em. My time will come when it comes. And there’s a good chance my heart isn’t going to be what does it.” She glanced behind her, at the eastern sky.
Emmett followed her gaze. Dark clouds covered the horizon as they had for days. It felt strange, since most storms came in from the sea, like the one that took his father when Emmett was just a babe. As the breeze gusted again, picking up his thick, wild hair, something unfamiliar glimmered among the clouds.
From the looming storm heads to the ground, a distortion hung in the air. An invisible curtain cut a serpentine line across the land, catching the glow of lightning and moving like an aurora fallen to earth. It slowly advanced, wending side to side through the shrubby hills, across the ruins of houses, consuming the rusted shells of vehicles on crumbling asphalt roads.
Emmett felt his face go cold, and his stomach lurched in fear.
“Mom… is that a Rift?”
Wren closed her eyes and said nothing, telling him what he needed to know.
“How long have you known it was coming this way?”
“Ignore it,” she said. “It won’t reach us here.”
Emmett’s mouth set into a grim line. “You don’t know that. I know what that is and what it does to people. Even the few who survive are never the same. That’s the Change coming for us, Mom.”
Wren didn’t answer, but her hand grasped her chest. She began to rub her left arm.
“I need to rest now, son. Please get the rakes and help me inside.”
Emmett retrieved their supplies and helped her climb the sandy bank to their cottage. The garden glowed incongruously in the afternoon sun, bright blossoms lining the flagstone path.
The inside was cool and dim. Here and there, seashells and holed stones hung by fishing line from driftwood. The wind chimes clinked dully, evoking in Emmett a faint memory of a bearded man, whistling as he assembled them. They stilled as Wren took her seat in the much-patched recliner by the cold fireplace.
“How long have you known that Rift was moving this way, Mom?” Emmett took her hand to soften his questioning.
His mother sighed. “A few days. Old Reggie from that farming settlement came and told me. He and his family were preparing to move on. They’re probably already gone.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I’m fourteen years old, not a baby. There’s still time to leave. We should get out of its path while we can.”
Wren looked around the cottage - at the dangling sea-art, the stone and wood walls, the roof of recycled tin. The memories of the lost world of her youth.
Here and there around the main room were her treasures, remnants of bygone days - a radio, a television, and a bulbous old computer monitor. None of it had worked since the Change, the initial pulse having crippled most electronics.
“Your father built me this house with his own hands and his own strength, though we were married late in life. Stone, brick, and driftwood - that’s all that’s left of our five years together. This house, and you, Em. His faith protects us here.” She ran her fingers through his windblown hair. “I’m not leaving my home, son. I wouldn’t get far anyway, with my heart. This is a safe place, the only place that has kept us safe from the strangeness outside. A place apart. You need to stay.”
Her stoic facade was ruined as she swiped roughly at her eye.
Emmett hugged his mother, his voice rough with resignation. “I’m not going without you, Mom.”
A knock at the door interrupted the moment. Emmett opened it a little, peeking out. Though a few fishing and farming families lived nearby, the rustic cottage rarely saw visitors, and no one was expected.
A man stood on the stone doorstep - a stranger of indeterminate age with a long coat billowing around his ankles as the wind stirred up. His dark hair hung in damp strands around his face. The steely eyes appraising Emmett were storm gray.
“Hello. Are you willing to give refuge to a weary traveler?” the man asked, his face inscrutable.
Emmett stared at the man, taking in his broad build, his rough hands, and especially his frank gaze. Finally, Emmett nodded. “We don’t have an extra bed, but you can rest a while and eat with us.”
The man slipped inside, moving with an unnatural grace. He sat at the table and Emmett monitored him inconspicuously while making a cooking fire and preparing clam chowder.
“My name is Phelan. Can I help in any way?”
Emmett shook his head.
“I’ve got it. But thanks. I’m Emmett. That’s my mom.”
Wren didn’t bother telling her name.
Emmett put the extra clams in a burlap bag, descending to the icy cellar under the floor to store them. The wayfarer shifted as he reappeared, eyes moving between the boy and the mother.
“You’ve got a nice home here.”
Wren watched him warily from the recliner. “My husband built it to last for generations. It’s safe and sturdy.” She turned her eyes to the window, where the sun was dropping toward the sea.
“That Secare is going to come close,” the man said softly. “It might reach all the way out to sea.”
Emmett stopped him. “Secare… Do you mean the Rift?”
“Yes, that’s what they call them where I’m from,” Phelan said. “I and others study them, hoping to minimize their damage. Why are you still here? Most of those who lived nearby have fled. You’re the last ones left.”
“They’re wandering the wilderness now!” Wren snapped. “We’re safer in our home, where it’s familiar. My husband’s spirit watches over us. Always has.”
“And if the worst happens?” He leaned forward, forearms on his thighs, gaze intense.
She glared at Phelan, staying calm with an effort. “Then perhaps I’ll join my James in the afterlife. And my son, being a pure and obedient soul, will transform into a bird and fly free about the earth. I’m not afraid! Not of the Rift and not of you.”
But the quaver in her voice belied her words.
“My apologies,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to speak ill of the dead.”
Emmett watched the visitor closely, surprised by his gruff but humble reply. Even he could tell that his mother wasn’t exactly being reasonable. If only her health weren’t so frail, he’d beg her more strongly to flee.
He served the food, and the three of them settled around the table with a single candle. Emmett could feel the wanderer’s eyes on him. He glanced up as Phelan moved his hand toward the spoon - and the spoon seemed to leap into his grasp.
Their gaze met, and something silvery glowed for a moment in the depths of the man’s stare. Something like an animal’s eyes catching light in the darkness.
Emmett gasped, shaken. Wren looked up, having seen nothing. Emmett slowed his ragged breathing.
“What are you? Why are you here?” he asked.
“I’m a mere wanderer. I’ve been studying the Secare for many years, gathering data, tracing where they originate, charting how they move and recording the effects they have on the landscape and wildlife. And humans.”
Emmett noticed how he said ‘humans’, not ‘us’. As if he studied mankind, too.
Wren scoffed, as if the very idea of willingly seeking out the rips in reality was madness.
“I used to live in the Mojave Desert, before the Change. The men who swore their experiments were perfectly safe - everyone believed them. My parents were killed in the initial blast.”
Emmett stared at her. She’d never mentioned her parents before. She continued.
“I wandered west with other survivors. Disoriented. Frightened. The land transformed. Beasts mutated. People… Some died, some become animals or fairy tale beings. Others became creatures of nightmare. We survivors made our way over mountains and through leveled cities and towns. Then I met James.”
Her face softened. “He killed a night-gaunt to protect me, as we trekked across the LA wasteland. I felt safe for the first time, as if I had a weapon of my own against the claws and teeth and magic in the darkness. But I was overconfident.
“We reached our destination, here. The soft mists and bountiful food supply made it seem like a dreamland. But it was the sea that took him, soon after Emmett was born. The sea and the raging sky. Then I was more defenseless than ever before, and with a child to raise.”
She looked up at Phelan, her eyes haunted by years of anxiety.
“Do you understand now? The forces you’re chasing, I know them as well as anyone. But they’ll always be unpredictable. The world out there and everything in it is unstable. We might as well sail into a hurricane and expect to survive. But James lives on here. What he believed in lives on. And so do we.”
Phelan slowly took his last bite of food, pensive but listening to her. He sets down his spoon.
“I understand that your family was your only safety, and you don’t want to leave that. But it’s not as bad as you think out there. There are places where good people thrive. You could at least try to leave for your son’s sake.”
Wren stood, leaving her barely touched food. “I’m going to bed now. You’ll need to be on your way soon, stranger,” she said, leaving the main room. The bedroom door closed a little louder than necessary.
“Sorry about her,” Emmett sighed. “She’s always been this way.”
Phelan nodded. “I understand. But I think you know this decision is about more than just hiding from the unpredictable world. It’s about escaping a trap that is closing around you. Complacency isn’t a viable option.”
Emmett swallowed hard. It wasn’t easy to hear another person say what he knew deep down.
Phelan went on. “I’ll ask you just once - is there any chance you’ll come with me to safety tonight?”
Emmett gazed into the flame of the candle. “I can’t. I can’t leave her.”
Phelan nodded, not seeming at all surprised. “Then I’ll go now, before the sun touches the horizon. If you end up changing your mind, come find me. You need to know that there are ways of surviving in this world - and there are wonders you haven’t yet dreamed of.”
The wayfarer finished his food, then smoothly moved to where his jacket lay, putting it on. His nearly dry hair shifted, lighter now, showing the pointed tips of his ears. He nodded to Emmett with a smile - the smile of one man to another.
As he opened the front door, Emmett felt a chill, and a strange certainty that he had chosen wrongly. The mysterious man stepped out into the golden hour, walked around the side of the house and headed north, toward the mountains.
Emmett followed him outside, watching as the visitor moved into the distance. He edged around the house to gaze again upon the Secare. It was closer, a few miles away, its silvery edge inching toward the cottage. It was moving faster. By the time the red rim of the sun dropped below the sea, it would envelop the house.
Emmett went back inside and stood before the bedroom door, heart pounding. He knocked. When there was no answer, he pounded harder.
“Mom! We need to talk!”
Wren opened the door. Besides her hair being a bit mussed, she didn’t look like she’d been sleeping.
“He’s gone?”
“He’s gone. And we’re right in the path of that Rift. It’s coming.”
She looked at the ceiling as she wrapped her arms around her middle, fighting for composure. “Why didn’t you go with him?”
“Because you’re my responsibility. But staying is stupid.”
She wiped her eyes, instantly defensive. “If we wander off into the night, what chance will we have? We’ll be just as dead. People are evil - some aren’t even people. There are monsters and who-knows-what out there. And your dad… we’d be leaving behind everything he stood for.”
Emmett felt the fury build in his head. He did something he’d never done before. He shouted at her. “He’s gone, Mom! He’s gone and I’m here and I want to live!”
She gaped at him wordlessly. He turned and started throwing his clothes into a bag. He didn’t know if he would really leave or not, but he couldn’t just sit and wait on her stubborn delusion.
“I don’t know if we have enough time to escape this place, but we’ve got to try. Anything is better than dying in this cottage without even making an effort to act.”
Emmett left the room, gathering food and supplies from elsewhere in the house. His mother, still weak, came and stood in the doorway, the light of the setting sun shining in the window casting a bloody glow across her form.
He felt the proximity of the Secare before he saw anything. A sort of electricity in the air, and fuzziness filling his mind.
He looked at his mother and saw her bend and warp. Her mouth opened in a soundless cry, arms reaching for her son. In the rippling air, she turned to points of blue-white light and drifted through the wall toward the ocean.
Emmett realized he was screaming. Time slowed as he ran out the front door with his bag. The sparks - all that remained of his family - sank beneath the waves.
He paused at the water’s edge. The sea hissed and thundered. Familiar. Compelling. Beautiful. He could follow her into that eternal sleep. As the Secare continued its crawl out to sea, Emmett knew he had to decide, and the child in him railed against the unfairness of it.
But a swift bird flew past, drawing his eye up and away from where the jagged Rift intersected the cottage. He turned north toward the mountains, the sea at his back pulling with its endless murmur. Salt burned his cheeks—his tears, or sea spray carried on the wind, he couldn't tell. High in the mountains was a glimmer of golden flame. A settlement.
He made his choice, turning onto the path, and ran desperately toward the mountains. On the ridge, he looked back one last time.The rim of the sun on the horizon slipped below the distant swells, shooting a brilliant green flash into the sky.
“There are ways to survive,” Emmett whispered to the empty air, “and wonders I’ve not yet dreamed of.” And for the first time, he wasn’t afraid of what lay ahead.
The End
