“What the fuck?” Dylan gasped, only hesitating to share a look with Lori before leaping out of the truck and running forward. “Sarah, see if there’s a blanket or anything in the truck!”

Sarah was motionless with surprise, though, staring blankly ahead as Lori scrambled out after Dylan, inhaling sharply as small shards of glass dug into her palms and knees. “Sarah!”

At her name, Sarah came back to life, feeling around for anything in the dark.

Finding nothing, she yelled back, “There’s nothing here! I can’t see anything.” Dylan was already unbuttoning his shirt, though, before they had even reached the strangers who, for their part, remained motionless. So still were they, in fact, that had not their eyes shifted to survey Lori and Dylan as they approached, had not their mouths parted to breath through the heavy rain, Lori would have sworn they were misplaced statues.

Finally, movement. The girl inhaled sharply as Dylan threw his shirt around her shoulders, and the boy stepped closer protectively, grabbing her arm as though ready to pull her away.

“It’s okay,” Lori assured him, yelling through the roar of the storm. “We’re not going to hurt you!” The boy; no, the man, for he must have been right on the cusp, right at that age, right at Dylan’s age, where continuing to call him a boy would feel awkward but calling him a man would feel strange. He gave her a surprised look which took Lori by surprise; could he understand her? The fact that neither was speaking didn’t seem strange under the circumstances.

Dylan pulled the shirt closed in front of the girl; it fell just barely to her thighs but she failed to grasp the concept of holding it, and so it fell away as soon as he let go, which forced him to hold it for her.

“Dylan, what do we do with them?” Lori yelled, just as Sarah was hurrying over empty-handed.

His mouth opened and closed with a confused panic. What to do in such a situation? Clearly they had to take them somewhere, but where? What sort of people just showed up on mountain paths in the middle of storms without any clothes on? The shirt was slipping again, and so he picked one of the girl’s arms up and shoved it through the sleeve. She didn’t lift the other arm, but Lori stepped forward and did so, taking it upon herself to button the shirt up.

“I don’t—I don’t know—“ “

Here!” a new voice yelled. From up the path, Mr. Miller came stumbling down, waving a flashlight ahead of him, no less than six dogs tripping ahead and behind him. “Come, children! Why are you out in this storm?”

Sarah gave a great sigh, as if Mr. Miller could suddenly solve all the confusion, and rushed forward, explaining, “We found these two; we almost hit them and crashed the truck and we don’t know who they—“

“Child, I can’t hear a word you’re sayin’ to me! Come, all of you, or you’ll be washed to sea!” he bellowed, motioning for them to follow. He had already turned and begun limping up the slope, his flashlight a beacon through the rain. “

Go, Sarah!” Dylan yelled to her. Turning to Lori, he shrugged, “We’ve got no choice. I don’t even know if the truck will work—“

“I know, let’s—“ but she stopped as the boy suddenly stepped around her and scooped the girl up into his arms. Brother and sister shared a look, then Lori scurried after them as Dylan ducked back to the truck long enough to grab the girls’ purses and turn the headlights off. Just for grins, he tried to get the engine going, but it sputtered and died. More glass slipped from the window as he slammed the door and trudged after the rest, his feet sticking in the mud.

Fortunately, Mr. Miller’s cabin wasn’t much further. Of course, by the time all ducked through the door, they were soaked clear down to the bone. The dogs ran in after them, and Mr. Miller waited until even the smallest mutt was in before closing and locking the door behind them, pulling the shade down.

“Just leave your shoes by the door and we’ll—well, what happened to your clothing?” Mr. Miller demanded, his eyes widening. Carefully, the boy set the girl back on her own two feet, holding her arms as she wavered unsteadily. The shirt at least covered her but he remained oblivious to his own nakedness, or at least unconcerned by it. “And I’m afraid I don’t know these two . . .” he confessed, turning to the McPhersons, who had all stepped more fully into the kitchen.

Lori shook her head, “Neither do we. We just found them on the road just now, like that.” Sarah had her back to them, her face bright red as she focused a bit too intently on the interior of the kitchen.

“Well . . . well,” Mr. Miller coughed, stepping closer. He put one hand on each of the strangers, “Never has a . . .”

It was curious of him to trail off mid-sentence like that, but he gave no explanation for it. Only suddenly he leaned in close to study the faces of the two newcomers.

“Mr. Miller?”

Quickly he pulled back and finished, “Never has a stray been turned from this house. Come, let’s get you children dry.” He pulled two blankets from the heap in the center of the kitchen floor; he had managed to pull them off his clotheslines just before the storm hit but never had been one to be bothered with folding. The first went around the man’s shoulders as he patted his back, “There, now, good fellow. Go have yourself a seat and I’ll see if I can’t find some britches for you. And for you, though I suppose we’ll have to tie them up you’re so small,” he laughed, wrapping the second towel around the girl’s shoulders. “Go, you three grab blankets, too, and let’s hang your things up to dry. Whatever clothes are in the den are yours to wear. I haven’t got much but I’ll put some soup on. Can’t have the lot of you catching a cold in this.”

“We should call Mom and let her know we’re okay,” Lori suggested, already digging in her pocket for her phone and dialing. Dylan pulled his jeans off; nothing worse than wet jeans; and draped them over a chair, nodding as Mr. Miller tossed him a blanket.

“Hi, Mom? No, we’re okay. Yes, we’re up at Mr. Miller’s. Well we had a little car trouble,” Lori suddenly began, stepping to the far side of the kitchen as she spoke rapidly.

With the boy covered, Sarah felt much more at ease, even enough to encourage, “Come on, the living room is this way.” She beckoned with her hand for them to follow, then, trusting that they would, grabbed a blanket for herself and led the way. It was the last one, so Lori would have to share with her, but what else were sisters for?

Dylan took a step to follow, then paused, curious to see what the strangers were going to do. He stood closest to the girl, only two steps away, and watched curiously as the boy took several strides forward. When the girl didn’t follow, the boy turned to her and smiled, beckoning the way Sarah had. The girl frowned and gave him a hard look. Again the boy beckoned but the girl remained frozen, which made the boy smile wider, as though he were teasing her. He took a step back and the girl’s mouth opened, her eyes widened in either horror or surprise; it was difficult to tell. She visibly set her jaw and scooted her left foot forward a little more than a normal step. Here she waved and would have toppled over had not Lori stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her.

“Are you all right?” she pressed, slipping the phone into her pocket. When the girl stared at her blankly, Lori gave her a comforting smile and insisted, “You’re probably terrified with us almost hitting you like that. I’m afraid my brother can be a shitty driver sometimes.”

“What?! They’re the ones that were walking around on an empty road in the middle of a—“ A loud clap of thunder made the girl jump and turn her wide eyes to her companion who only beckoned again for her to follow. Mr. Miller returned with “britches” for the brother and instinctively pantomimed slipping them on, which was odd . . . and yet wasn’t, all things considered. Could anything really be odd under the circumstances?

“Guys! Come look!” Sarah called from the living room.

“Go, go, I’ll get soup on,” Mr. Miller encouraged.

Lori took the girls’ arm, grabbing the blanket as it fell away, and urged her forward, “Come on, I’ll help you. It’s okay.” She felt bad for the girl and couldn’t help but glare at the boy. He sure was behaving like an impish brother! Refusing to help the girl like that, just standing ahead of her and beckoning her forward, as though daring her to walk by herself. “There you go. Put that foot forward. Yep. No, pick it up. Pick your foot up.”

Dylan couldn’t help but laugh, earning a scathing look from Lori, who hissed, “Honestly, Dylan, laughing at her!”

“I’m not laughing at her! I’m laughing at you. You sound like an impatient preschool teacher. Just because she isn’t talking doesn’t mean she’s stupid,” Dylan insisted. “Am I right?” he asked the girl. She simply stared at him with possibly the bluest blue eyes he had ever seen, wide with alarm and uncertainty. The dumb look certainly suited her; perhaps she was stupid.

But then he saw her eyes flicker to the side of his face, to his scar. When she looked back to his eyes a second later, her look had changed. What could only be called concern had replaced the fear, though the confusion remained, as though she were trying to piece together abstract information.

The reminder of his scar had the same effect it always had, however; he felt his shoulders and chin lift and the corners of his mouth fall. It had been there for several years now; surely he would have gotten used to the stares by now.

“Guys!” Sarah yelled again.

“Help us, Dylan,” Lori ordered. Dylan stepped forward and took the girl’s other arm, and between them they helped her put one foot then the other forward. At first it was clear she leaned her entire weight on them, basically being carried forward. After a few steps, however, she began to support more of her weight, so that by the time they reached the living room she was moving more slowly but more independently. When they let go her arms, however, she wavered again, then promptly plopped down on the couch they had conveniently conveyed her too. The boy had followed them closely and laughed when she fell, an awkward barking sound that made her frown and look at the ground. He settled down beside her and patted her hand, as though congratulating her, perhaps apologizing for being so mean, smiling at Lori and accepting the blanket, himself wrapping it around the girl’s shoulders as he had seen them do several times before. At least one of them grasped the concept!

Sarah stared out the large front window, unmoving, her jaw hanging open. Even once Lori and Dylan had come to her side, she couldn’t tear her eyes from the unreal storm itself.

“What the fuck is that?” Lori breathed, instinctively taking Sarah’s hand. Oddly enough, though, Sarah wasn’t scared by the giant water spout connecting the black sea with the deep purple sky. There was something surreal about watching the churning waves spin in a tightening circle before being sucked up into the twisting and bending funnel. It didn’t seem to be going anywhere, which was odd on its own.

“Good God, a maelstrom,” Mr. Miller gasped, his jaw falling in surprise.

“But maelstroms don’t go to the sky like that,” Sarah argued. Mr. Miller had told her stories of maelstroms before; according to his stories, he had survived a ship almost being wrecked in one as a small boy, though in some distant body of water. Maelstroms didn’t occur here in their waters. The clashing tides required, the fierce winds, the rapidly changing temperatures that were all conducive to maelstroms simply didn’t naturally occur here. And besides, she had a point; maelstroms and water spouts were two different things. This, however, looked like both.

Sarah glanced over her shoulder to see if maybe the two strangers cared for a glimpse of this unreal phenomenon, but the girl had let her head fall to the boy’s shoulders and, with her eyes closed, looked to be sleeping. The boy’s eyes were closed as well, but he sat upright, his fingers gently tapping her head in a strange gesture of comfort.

“Should we board up the windows?” she started to ask, turning back to the window, but already the funnel was being sucked back into the clouds. A white fog crept from the waters, as if the great hole was exhaling the fog. But then the churning, too, disappeared, and only the lightening occasionally darting across the sky was left to faintly illuminate the heavy rain and dense fog that floated quickly up over the water and beaches.

“Not really much point now, I don’t think,” Dylan shrugged. “The wind’s already dying down, so that may have been the worst of it.”

“Oh, poor thing. She must have been absolutely exhausted,” Lori cooed, turning and walking over to the pair still on the couch. She tenderly stroked the girl’s head.

Mr. Miller hobbled past to the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “The hammock in the corner by the window. She can sleep there more comfortably if she’s not wanting any soup.” The boy didn’t seem to understand the suggestion at all, however, and didn’t move until a moment later when Mr. Miller and Sarah returned, bringing bowls and spoons. The soup would be just a few more minutes but did anyone want anything to drink? There was water or tea. At the commotion, the boy gently shoved the girl awake and she sat up, sleepily rubbing her eyes and looking around groggily.

Tea would be best, it was decided, and the water boiled at about the same time as the soup. Lori brought the kettle in, pouring the steaming liquid into the odd assortment of mugs set around the coffee table. She didn’t even think about the necessity of warning that it was hot; surely that was obvious from the steam. But perhaps not, because almost as soon as the hot tea was in her mug, the girl picked it up and took a sip. Immediately she spit the liquid out all over her legs, gasping and swiping at her mouth as if this would cease the burning.

“Oh, shit, poor thing,” Lori cried, quickly setting the pot down and rushing to her aid. She pulled a corner of the blanket forward to wipe the liquid off the girl’s legs, then half-frowned, half-smiled, “It’s hot, sweetie. Are you okay? Just burned the hell out of your mouth.” The girl let her mouth hang open, her tongue pushed to the front of her mouth, which made Lori laugh; she looked quite a bit like a little stupid puppy. “You’ll be okay. It wasn’t that hot. But do be careful.”

“Bless her heart,” Dylan snickered, rubbing his own mouth with his hand to keep from laughing outright. “You sound like Mom, Lor.”

“God, don’t tell me that.”

“Haha, you’re turning into Mom!” Sarah teased back, picking up her own tea and blowing on it for some time before taking even the smallest sip. She glanced at the boy and girl to make sure the girl wasn’t going to be taking any more swigs of boiling water, but found the girl’s eyes trained on her, copying her action of blowing on the tea. When she took a sip, the girl took a sip and, finding the liquid manageable, continued to blow, sip, blow, sip. The boy seemed uninterested in the tea and never touched it until it was too cold to be considered hot tea any longer.

Mr. Miller brought the huge pot of soup a moment later and ladled it out into chipped and faded bowls of various sizes; these and spoons were passed around. The girl picked her bowl up without any hesitation and began blowing on it much the same way she had with the tea. It was more difficult to sip it than from a mug, though, and she sloshed a small amount onto her lap again as the boy elbowed her in the arm, motioning with his chin to the way in which the others stirred with spoons. A deep breath of air was let from the girl’s chest, one which Sarah could only identify as frustration. But really, why was she frustrated?

“So do you two have names?” Sarah piped, as though expecting them to suddenly pour forth all the words they had been saving up. Both looked at her, then the girl averted her eyes to the boy, as though encouraging him to answer for her. But he didn’t answer, simply went back to his soup as though the question had never been posed

“Who do you think they are? I mean, what’s the deal?”

Dylan shrugged, shaking his head, “Who knows. Amnesiacs? Crazies?”

“The entire situation is rather absurd,” Lori agreed. “I mean, they came out of nowhere. Where are they from? The forest? The valley?”

“The ocean,” Mr. Miller grumbled, reaching over to take the bowl from the girl. She watched the object as he set it on the table, then gave his pruned old face a steady stare – not as though she knew him or cared to know him, but only as though she found him an interesting person.

“I don’t thi—“

“Well, and then what is your better answer?” Mr. Miller interrupted. “From the ocean, I say. The storm washed them in like pieces of driftwood and now here they are.”

“And how did they climb up from the shore onto the mountain path if the girl couldn’t even walk from the kitchen to here?” Dylan continued to argue, giving Mr. Miller a pointed look. Mr. Miller had no response.

“Maybe they were shipwrecked. You know, they’ve been drifting in a rescue boat for days. Their clothes got ripped off in the storm and they’ve . . . I mean, they’re not talking because, you know, trauma,” Lori offered.

“I think it’s more like they escaped from St. Francis’ up north. It would be walkable.” “Or maybe they were kidnapped and their captor crashed in the rain just like us and they managed to escape!”

“Or—“

“Oh, stop it, will you two?” Sarah finally sighed, glaring at her elder siblings. “It’s not nice to make fun.”

“We’re not making fun. We’re just trying to make sense of them.”

Rolling her eyes at their immaturity, Sarah leaned forward to tell the boy and girl, both of whom watched her curiously, “My name is Sarah. That’s my brother Dylan and my sister Lori, and th—“

“The name is Miller,” Mr. Miller introduced himself, suddenly rising and reaching his hand out to shake their hands. The boy stared at it hard before holding his hand out in a similar fashion, and Mr. Miller shook it. When he held it out to the girl she just stared, even after the boy had elbowed her. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, child. And now what should we call you?”

As could be expected, the question was ignored, and the clink of spoons against chipped bowls was muffled only by the winds and torrential rain outside.

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