The 'Geisters by David Nickle Read Free Book Online Page B

break apart!
    “Give yourself up!”
    “No please no!”
    Ann squealed, as she felt something squirm under her arm. She reached in and pulled out Barbie, still soaking wet in her tennis outfit. She looked the doll in the face—and then turned her away, to face the dark—and (hating herself), she shouted to the dark hold: “Here she is!”
    The boat pitched again, and Ann slipped in the water puddling in the bottom of the boat, and when she righted herself, she was empty-handed.
    Something whistled—maybe the kettle they had for making tea. . . .
    Maybe Barbie, in the clutches of the bad men . . .
    Screaming.
    Whichever it was, whistle or scream—the noise cut short with a great
crack!
sound, and a sudden listing, as the
Bounty II
struck rock, and the spinning stopped for good.
    Philip had scraped his hand raw on a rope. The
Bounty II
would need a new mast, a new propeller, and all or part of a rudder, and someone would have to come by to look at the hull just to be sure. But with those exceptions, no one was hurt, and dad’s precious boat had survived.
    Later, that night, their mom would call it that:
your precious boat
, as a way to contrast the preciousness of his daughter, his son, his wife . . . himself.
    When Ann opened up the hatch and climbed onto the deck, there were no harsh words. The boat had tangled in some water-rounded rocks that peeked out of the lake near a stand of pine trees on the shore. It was listing heavily to port, so the whole family was as much leaning against the deck as they were sitting on it. The whole deck was in shadow. The sky was brilliant blue directly overhead; to the east, towering thunder-headed clouds sped away. Her mom was there by the hatch, prying it up.
    “My God, baby, you’re cold as ice!” she said as she drew Ann into her arms. “It’s like a freezer in there!”
    Ann held on to her mom tightly as she pulled her into the sunlight. Their dad scrambled around them, and reached into the hatch. He unstrapped the first aid kit and hauled it to the wheel, where Philip hunched over his injured hand.
    Her mom chided her for shutting the hatch, but gently. “It might seem safe to lock yourself in there, but it just traps you, honey. If the boat had turned over . . .”
    “I didn’t shut myself in there.”
    “It’s okay if you did this time. It was pretty scary up here.”
    “But I didn’t.”
    “Just remember not to do it again.”
    “It wasn’t me,” she said.
iii
    There was pizza back at the boathouse. Dad bought enough for the family and the contractors too, and some beer besides—“to drink to our good fortune,” he said, which sounded like a funny thing to say, at first. But Ann didn’t have to think long to realize that it had been a lucky day all around, and as the sun set on it, they all sat around a fire pit on the beach, going over just how lucky.
    Cal, one of the drywallers, had been taking a smoke break on the lawn when the storm came in and he’d seen the twister come.
    “Never seen anything like it,” he said as he reached for another bottle. “I go out, and it’s clear and hot. Couple clouds in the west, but nothing to write home about. Not even a breeze when I’m lighting up. You were out pretty far by then, but I could still see you fine. I remember thinking you were going pretty good for how calm it was on shore.”
    “Calm, and fuckin’—sorry—and hot,” said Luc, a carpenter in from Montreal.
    “Yeah, until then. I’m not even half finished my smoke, and suddenly it gets dark, and cold. The wind’s picked up, and there’s a cloud—a black cloud—right overhead. Blacking out everything. Thing snuck right up.”
    “Forecast didn’t say anything about it,” said Dad, nodding.
    “Forecasters don’t know their ass,” said Luc.
    “Not today,” said Cal, and clinked the bottom of his beer bottle with Dad’s.
    “Did you spot the funnel cloud?” asked Dad, and Cal nodded.
    “Didn’t know what it was at first. Never seen