2004-11-01T17:33:00.000-08:00

Raindrops splattered against the bloodsoaked golf shirt of Dr. Samuel McGinnis. His torso, a dull crimson, quivered, then became still.

“There,” she said, pulling back a lock of hair. “That’ll teach you to keep your mouth shut.” She wiped over the gun with a red bandanna, then tossed it on top of the corpse’s chest. She stood over him a minute. “You left me no choice, Sam.”

She turned to gaze at the water, a stone's throw away from where Sam lay. Whitecaps dotted Grand Lake of the Cherokees. The trees around her began to wave. Their leaves danced furiously. “You never gave me a choice, not about anything,” she said, glancing back at his lifeless form. “I had to steal every last one of them.”

She walked around the side of the house, to the boat dock. The automatic light profiled her briefly, just before the motor on the ski boat turned over. Seconds later, she felt the force of the water beneath her, its spray on her arms, in her eyes. She blinked hard to clear her contact lenses, then pushed the throttle down as far as it would go. She flinched as God screamed at her in the thunder that followed. She removed one hand from the boat’s steering wheel, flexed it, then gripped the wheel again. The boat ran aground in three feet of water. She hopped out, waded to shore.

Her shoulder length hair dripped water. She squeezed it out, then tucked a lock of it behind her ear. Suddenly, she heard the muffled rumbling of a train that did not exist. She smiled. How could she be so lucky? The last tornado to hit Grand Lake had obliterated dozens of lake houses.

Dozens.

GuiltofInnocence