Watching Ditzy go under, I don't think. I just act.
I've got a stick in my hand before I know what I'm doing, charging down the hill. Patrick reaches for another rock with terror on his face. As the Redding lunges for him next, I fling my stick with all my might and either drive the monster back or stop time; somehow, it pauses long enough for me to skid in beside Patrick like a home run baseball player, shield him, and slam my eyes shut. The wave crashes over us. For a moment, I'm underwater. I'm back in the rapids of the Yellow Rock River, helpless to do anything but hold my breath and pray to a god I don't know if I believe in that we make it out alive.
The wave keeps coming. My back takes the brunt of it, but my knees are braced enough that I stay upright and keep Patrick there with me. For a moment, our heads come free. We both gasp before the Redding swamps us again. My ears ring from the pressure and the deafening torrent. I want to scream at this thing to leave us alone, but my voice won't work. Even as the Redding falls back and I feel it rising for another go, all that's on my mind is how it would feel if it got down my throat. I can feel it over my skin, like fingers, like it's trying to get under it. I feel my red patch spreading.
I can't die here.
I can't let my friends die here.
But nobody is making decisions for me, which means I'm on my own.
That realization switches something. I'm on my own, but I thrive in crisis situations. In a flash, I've ruled out things that don't work: running, Ditzy's weapon, Patrick's shouts, both our sticks and stones. I run through several others as the Redding falls to chest level and spins around us like a bathtub drain. My ideas feel like something Ditzy would produce, but if we're out of straightforward options and about to drown, maybe crazy is worth a shot.
And Ditzy's track record isn't all terrible. She's nearly gotten killed on multiple occasions, but she's also made her own flail and discovered we could talk in Morse Code without—
Morse Code.
The Redding charges. I snatch another breath before it drives us under, and tap a word on Patrick's shoulder.
STOP
The Redding freezes mid-attack. My hands shake with the effort of doing anything but clawing our way out of here.
Down, I tap, and our heads come free.
Patrick is close to hyperventilating. I drop my hand below the surface and tap down again. The wave falls to our waists. This is crazy, but it's working, and there's no reason why it shouldn't. This stuff has talked to me in this code. Everyone else has heard it. Ditzy's theory holds: if the Redding is an entity from the sea, it almost certainly learned how to "speak" from sailors. If it can understand them, it can understand me.
Leave us alone, I drum.
Redding gushes back around us. A nasty slithering sensation plagues my skin, and Patrick writhes the same way I do. When my vision clears, I find us on a patch of clear ground with Redding dripping off us faster than gravity can coax it. All around us is the Redding-wave. It rises a meter and a half at least, and there's no sign of my other friends. I slam my palm against the ground. It takes a moment to beat out the word leave, but the moment it finishes, the wave begins to back away. I let go of Patrick. Then I rise to my feet and advance on the Redding. Don't touch him, I beat against my chest. Let the others go.
The Redding retreats before me. There on the ground is Ditzy, curled up with her arms over her head. She gasps for air as the Redding leaves her. She managed to hold her breath. She knows how to swim. Calico J, victim of a riptide once as a child, does not. I spin around with a drummed don't touch her, and scan the outer wave for where I last saw Calico J. Patrick's watching me with wide eyes. In my peripheral vision, I see him raise a shaky hand to his chest. Leave, he taps, too, and nothing prepares me for the impact it has.
The Redding all around us flies back like Patrick hit it with a shockwave. Most of it flees downhill, and the rest slithers into the soil with alarming alacrity. There in the forest is Calico J. I'm at his side in seconds. He's not moving. My CPR training kicks in, but my newest revelation crosses wires with it and presents me with a new possibility. Out, I drum against Calico J's back. His body convulses in a coughing fit. What comes up isn't blood, but it passes for it. I repeat the command, then rub his back while he coughs it out. By the time it subsides, Ditzy has joined Patrick and hugged her knees beside him. I think she's crying again.
Patrick has his arms over his head. I didn't check him properly, but if he had the presence of mind to use Morse code, he's probably uninjured. In no other way is he fine.
"Meg?"
My attention snaps back to Calico J. He's with me now, and I help him sit up. He's no more okay than the other two.
At least he's coherent. "What did you do?" he says.
"Talked to it."
He just looks at me, uncomprehending.
I don't know how to explain without a demonstration, so I find a plate-sized pool of Redding that's snuck towards us again and drum leave on the ground towards it. It zooms backwards and vanishes into the soil.
Calico J's expression doesn't change. Given that he's both in shock and terrified, I'm not surprised. He eyes me fearfully. "Are you..."
His nerve fails, so I finish, "Still okay?"
He nods.
"As far as I'm aware, yes. And given that I'm aware at all, I'll take that as a good sign."
He taps the back of his neck and nods to mine. "It's bigger."
My hand flies to the red patch. I can trace it by its edges, which feel tender, borderline sore. It's nearly doubled in size. That means it really was spreading like I felt underwater, and I think it's stopped. I check again compulsively. Then I run an inventory of my mental functions to determine if I'm losing any. Being tired, bruised, and recently near-drowned does not help.
Calico J's voice brings me back. "It listens to you."
"And Patrick. Him way more than me, though."
"Why?"
"I'm trying not to ask that until we're safe. Do you need a hand?"
He does, so I reunite us with the others. I wish I had something warm to cover any of them. I wish we had our bags. The air feels like October, and even the retreat of the Redding has left my bra cold and my pants damp enough to cling. My exposed stomach and shoulders prickle with goosebumps. But we're far enough south that I'm not at risk of hypothermia, so I've got more important things to attend to. Patrick is curled up even tighter than before, rocking back and forth. Ditzy is watching him. She glances up when I crouch in front of her.
"Are you hurt?" I say.
She shakes her head, then points towards Patrick.
"Is he?" I say, as alarm refreshes my adrenaline.
"I don't know." Her voice comes out in a whisper. She hugs her knees and looks at me with tear-damp, pleading eyes. "Can you help him?"
A memory jolts me. I've seen Ditzy like this one more time than I've always remembered.
It was when we first found Patrick. When we watched him get pushed off a bridge in Chesnet by whatever asshole he'd been sheltering with at the time. I looked back to find Calico J panicked and Ditzy standing frozen with the same expression she wore when we first found Vix. Scared—terrified—and helpless.
Ditzy cracks like this when she doesn't know what to do. It dawns on me so clearly, I'm stunned I've never thought of it before. She maintains a mask of confidence when we're up against enemies she knows how to neutralize, but pit her against something we've never faced before, and this is her response. It's everyone's response.
Everyone except me.
I'm not useless. I'm not incompetent. I've built our systems of both foraging and house-finding, directed our first evacuations, and treated any injuries on our team. I've saved Patrick from drowning. Kept my head while scouting a dead body in a creepy motel. Argued with the leaders of the Anport Rescues to secure us what we need. I just figured out how to fight the Redding directly. Patrick might have driven off the wave, but he was copying me.
This group doesn't call me their leader because I'm the smartest in the room. They call me their leader because when we're in crisis situations, I lead.
The world seems to clarify around me. We're in the middle of an apocalypse. In a month's time, if I stay healthy and Ember's prophecy holds true, we might be the only group on Cape Morgan left awake and alive. And now that I'm done waiting for someone else to take the lead, I suddenly want to know why.
Like this chapter if you think it's about time Meg realized she's so competent!
Comment your hypotheses on why you think this group is still alive ✨