Sanctuary

closer to the light, ordered herself to study it with an objective and trained eye.
    It took her only seconds of clear vision to realize that while the face was hers, the body wasn’t. The breasts were too full, the hips too round. She set the photo of Annabelle beside it. Was it more horrifying, she wondered dully, to realize her face had been imposed on her mother’s body? Making them one, she thought.
    That’s what he’d wanted all along.
     
     
    BRIAN steered the Jeep down the maintenance road of the campground. Several of the sites had been left in disarray. With the way the storm was rolling in, he figured that wasn’t going to matter much. The wind was already ripping like razors through the trees. A gust shook the Jeep around him, had him gripping the wheel tighter. He calculated they had perhaps an hour to finish preparations.
    He had to fight not to hurry this check run. He wanted to get to Kirby, lock her safely inside Sanctuary. He’d have preferred shipping her off to the mainland, but knew better than to waste his breath or his energy arguing with her. If one resident stayed put to ride it out, she would stay put to treat any injuries.
    Sanctuary had stood for more than a hundred years, Brian thought. It would stand through this.
    There were dozens of other worries. They would undoubtedly be cut off from the mainland. The radio would help, but there would be no phone, no power, and no transportation once they were hit. He’d fueled the generator to provide emergency power, and he knew Kate kept an ample supply of bottled water.
    They had food, they had shelter, they had several strong backs. And after Carla did her worst, strong backs were going to be a necessity.
    He continued to tick off tasks and options in his mind, growing calmer as he assured himself there were no stragglers in the camping areas. He only hoped there weren’t any idiots hiding out in the trees, or staking in near the beach, thinking a hurricane was a vacation adventure.
    He cursed and stomped on the brakes as a figure stepped out on the road in front of the Jeep.
    “Jesus Christ, you idiot.” Disgusted, Brian slammed out of the vehicle. “I damn near ran you over. Haven’t you got the sense to stay out of the middle of the road, much less the path of an oncoming hurricane?”
    “I heard about that.” His grin spread wide. “Amazing timing.”
    “Yeah, amazing.” Resenting every second wasted, Brian jerked a thumb at the Jeep. “Get in, I might be able to get you down for the last ferry, but there isn’t much time.”
    “Oh, I don’t know about that.” Still smiling, he lifted the hand he’d held behind his back and fired the gun.
    Brian jerked back as pain exploded in his chest. He staggered, fought to keep the world from revolving. And as he fell, he saw the eyes of a childhood friend laughing.
    “One down.” Using his boot, he nudged Brian’s limp body over. “I appreciate the opportunity to fix the odds a bit, old pal. And the loan of the Jeep.”
    As he hopped in, he gave Brian one last glance. “Don’t worry. I’ll see it gets back to Sanctuary. Eventually.”
     
     
    RAIN began to lash at the windows as Kirby gathered medical supplies. She was dead calm as she tried to anticipate every possible need. If she was forced into triage, it would work best at Sanctuary. She’d already faced the very real possibility that the cottage might not survive the night.
    She understood that most of the islanders would be too stubborn to leave their homes. By morning, there could be broken bones, concussions, gashes. The house trembled under a hard gust, and she set her jaw. She would be there to treat any and all injuries.
    She was hefting a box, heading out to load it in her car, when her front door swung open. It took her a moment to recognize the figure in the yellow slicker and hood as Giff.
    “Here.” She shoved the box into his arms. “Take this out, I’ll get the next one.”
    “Figured you’d be putting this kind of thing together. Make it fast. The bitch is coming in.”
    “I’ve nearly got everything packed.” She pulled on her own slicker. “Where’s Brian?”
    “He was checking the campground. Isn’t back yet.”
    “Well, he should have been,” she snapped. Worry dogged her heels as she ran in for the rest of her supplies. The wind shoved her backward when she tried to step out on her porch. It whistled past her ears as she bent low and fought her way forward.
    “You all secure