Becoming Calypso-1.0 (Prologue)

Kelly Fenwick’s hands shook on the wheel of her car, fury and despair running through her, her skin crawling with disgust at herself. She was going fast, the trees around her a mere blur in the dark. The single lane road led to one place, with no more turn-offs between here and there, her destination. She could still turn around, she reminded herself. But there was nowhere to go, not anymore. She’d say nothing left for her back there, but there was. There were four beautiful people laying asleep in their beds, completely unaware of how life was about to change for them. So there would be no sudden U-turn, no running from this decision.1

Kelly didn’t realize she was baring her teeth in a sneer at what would come. If she thought about it, she’d be afraid, but everything else was pushing fear away. And the bridge was rising up ahead, so there wasn’t time to be afraid. Later, after it was done, she would let the terror catch up with her, but by then it would be over, and nothing could change it.2

She accelerated, her foot pushing the pedal down, racing even faster, feeling the automatic change in gears. That shift in velocity that pushed her back against her seat, as the wind whipped her dark blonde hair around. She reached over to the controls, rolled up all four windows of her car at the same time, as the first set of wheels touched the first boards of the wooden bridge.3

The car jolted in one direction, and she hurried to correct it, her heart suddenly in her throat, a long gasp hanging in the air. It was complete terror that caught her now, as she righted the wheel, avoided plowing through the guardrail, and she felt a moment’s relief wash over her as the guardrail moved out of view, as the road on the other side of the mighty Mississippi was once more framed by the windshield of her beat-up Ford. Then the wheel jerked again, and she pulled it forcefully in the opposite direction.4

This time, instead of the metallic guardrail, there was a ten minute patch job her own father had put in earlier that day, after a truck had knocked out the regular rail. He’d seen it happen, had gotten the wood and built the little fence, reinforced it, but they all knew that it wouldn’t stand up to an actual accident. The town had promised to fix it the very next day.5

But it would be too late for her, Kelly thought grimly as the car plowed through the makeshift railing and pulled out over the raging water of the country’s longest river. She’d hit the brakes, had heard the squeal, could smell the burnt rubber, but it was too late. The car angled downward. It was the blue-green-black water that was now framed in her windshield, the lights from her headlights illuminating the rapid flowing water. It was no Colorado, she thought coolly, her rational mind blocking out the fear as the car lost contact with the bridge, but it wasn’t still as a lake either.6

The fear clawed its way to the surface now, and she let out a piercing scream, her eyes, the same blue green of the water below her, wide. She tasted the metallic taste of blood from where she’d bitten her tongue. She knew, in that instant as the water rushed up to meet her windshield, that Kelly Fenwick was dead, forever. But maybe, for half a second, something else burst through Kelly Fenwick, co-existed with her, kept her company in her final moments.7

Inside the car, the crash as water met metal and glass was a roar in her ears. To the silent eyes of the surrounding trees, the water silently closed over the hand-me-down Ford of Kelly Fenwick.8

*****9

Katie Fenwick’s hands were shaking badly, as she sat on the soft brown couch in her living room, her head in her hands, her blonde hair blocking her face from the rest of the world. Next to her, her brother Rob was leaning back casually, his hands behind his head, resting on the back of the couch. His eyes were closed, his face completely calm.10

Officer Smith had to wonder about this family. In the corner, twin girls, eleven, he knew, because they were in his son’s class, merely sat and discussed a book of logic puzzles in a low murmur. And though the father paced, his face was blank. And the mother was standing in the kitchen, mixing up pancake batter. He would have guessed that cooking was some type of nervous habit, except that her face was as blank as her husband’s, and the twins had looked surprised when she said she was going to make breakfast.11

The Fenwicks had always been considered strange by the locals, but this incident seemed to take the cake, he thought as he closed his cell phone and turned to the family. They seemed too uncaring, all but the older girl, and strangely, the boy who lay back against the couch with the calmest of expressions on his face.12

“Just give it to us straight,” Mr. Fenwick said tersely. “Have they found her?”13

Officer Smith thought he heard worry in the man’s voice, and that put him more at ease, even though he wasn’t giving this man the answer he wanted. “No, no sign of her, but the detectives said that her method of exiting the car was passive, and when they pulled the car out of the water, there was an indication that her head hit the windshield. It would have knocked her out, sir. She wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, the windows were down.” He took a deep breath. “Reconstruction suggests that she’s dead.”14

The sound that escaped the older girl, oldest now, he corrected himself, could only be described as a keening wail of grief, but it was cut short, held in on a gasp. His belly gripped, watching the shoulders of Katie Fenwick shake silently with the force of that grief. He could remember the feeling he’d had in his grandmother’s hospital room when he was fifteen, same as this girl. He’d been distraught, learning his grandmother had passed, but that was his grandmother. This was their sister, their daughter.15

“But there was no body,” Rob said, his voice as clear as a bell, his eyes bursting open as he sat straight up, on his feet in one fluid motion. His sudden pacing and the fiercely intent look in his green eyes put Officer Smith in mind of a caged mountain lion, which they occasionally saw in these parts. Power and fury, contained in a child, a boy. “There can’t be a formal declaration of death without a body. She could be alive.”16

Officer Smith privately agreed, but the woman on the other end of the phone was the top authority, according to his superior. She said the girl was dead, then the girl was dead.17

“She’s gone, son,” was what he said, knowing his own voice shook. Kelly Fenwick was known throughout town as a brilliant, athletic girl. She spoke English, Spanish, French, Latin, Portuguese and Chinese fluently. She took senior level classes as a sophomore and was well on her way to being a professional triathlete. Her gymnastics coach had once mentioned she thought the girl could go the Olympics, and that was while she simultaneously did other sports, played a couple musical instruments, sang, and acted in a few school plays. She was class president and would be valedictorian, in the top levels of several different martial arts classes. She had mastered driving any vehicle available to a sixteen year old, and though he didn’t know this, a few that weren’t. She had a way with animals, and was a more than competent on the back of horse. 18

And she had dreamed of being a professional triathlete, an Olympic gymnast, a jockey, a racecar driver, a pilot. A future rock star or rocket scientist. Every child dreamed of it, but this one could have been any or all, with no problem. 19

She was the perfect person, anyone in town would agree, a woman of many talents, and a certifiable genius.20

And she was certifiably dead.21

“It can’t be true,” Katie Fenwick sobbed. She turned to her dad, who wrapped his arms around his daughter stiffly. There was a strange look on his face, one Officer Smith would almost describe as relief. One that Rob noticed as well, and he leapt to his sister’s side to comfort her, pushing their father out of the way gently. At fourteen, this wasn’t his job, but Officer Smith privately agreed. These two, they were the ones who were grieving, the ones who deserved the sort of comfort that only the other could provide.22

He snapped at himself when he saw Mrs. Fenwick take her daughter’s place in her husband’s arms, sadness written across her face. “They didn’t find her,” she murmured. “They didn’t find her.”23

He was sure he was the only one who heard that besides Mr. Fenwick, but he was suddenly absolutely sure that it was the only reason why neither of them had broken down completely. Hope springs eternal. It was why Mr. Fenwick held his wife so tenderly, because he still had hope, because he couldn’t deal with the emotional storm that was his daughter’s grief. His wife’s hope though, that was another story.24

It made sense, Officer Smith decided, as he backed away, murmuring condolences, sparing one last glance at the twins, who were once more murmuring to each other, holding a whispered debate in a language all their own. A single tear had streaked down one cheek of each, on opposite cheeks, so that their faces, when turned to him, were outlined by the trail of those two tears. But no more. No more tears had been spared for the sister that had been. No, these people grieved differently, Officer Smith decided as he left the house, got into his car, but no one grieved alone.25

Katie Fenwick put her head on her brother’s shoulder, exhausted, the picture of her bright and lively sister burned into her vision. Kelly, who had been her best friend, her support. How would she survive without that burning star to light her way?26

Rob Fenwick held onto his sister, even as he felt her body lose some of its tension with her exhaustion. He held her because he needed to hold her, because the emotions raging through him at her sister’s loss had been compounded by the sight of his parents. His parents, who weren’t grieving. His parents, who were relieved, he knew they were, though they kept it carefully masked. Rage tumbled around him, made his back go stiff. He felt like his anger should be visible, like the wind around him should twirl with it, like it did in all the comics. He’d blow away his parents, who were liars, and he’d send the twins, who were even now discussing something that had nothing to do with Kelly, off to some other state. He’d stay here in the middle of the tornado he’d created and hold his older sister until she came up out of the darkness of her heartache. And then he’d figure out what had happened, then he’d figure out why his parents were acting the way they were, why they’d always treated Kelly differently than they’d treated him and his sister.27

He’d figure out what the secrets and lies of this family were.28

As he reached up to stroke his sister’s hair, he wondered. Kelly’s body hadn’t been found. Would it be found? Could it be found? The Mississippi was wide and powerful, yes, but surely there was something, some way they could find his sister’s body, give her family that last piece of closure.29

Unless, he thought, very deep inside, unless…30

*****31

Natalie O’Neill got back into the car as the tank slowly filled with gas. She flicked down the sun visor, checked her appearance in the mirror for no good reason. “Only ten more hours,” she said to the girl beside her, wrapped in a thick red blanket and still shivering, her dark blonde hair still damp.32

The girl turned hard blue green eyes on the woman, a sneer on her face, and didn’t deign to speak. But Natalie O’Neill didn’t mind, and nearly laughed. “Ten more hours to D.C.,” she continued, “and the start of your new life, Calypso.”33