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Seagull Book

Prologue

   Lightning splintered across the putty-colored sky, and the captain had a foreboding sense that he should have turned the sailboat around sooner. One of the local fishermen had warned him earlier that it would be a full moon. "And you know we're overdue for another one," he'd added with a sinister laugh.
   The "one" he referred to was a legend the locals passed around Coral Cove like holiday fruitcake. The recipient of the story usually embellished the tale before bestowing it on someone else, and as it moved from person to person, it would eventually become so unpalatable someone would toss it out and start over with a fresh one. So when the captain heard about the serpent tide, he treated it like the story of the fish that got away-with ample skepticism.
   "So this serpent tide supposedly happens every seven to thirteen years in the spring, right?" the captain asked his wife, a native of the southeastern coast.
   "That's what they say. Someone told me the ocean is so full of snakes the water looks like a boiling pot of linguine," she explained.
   "Sounds yummy. But you've never seen it?"
   "No, and I don't think I want to after hearing some of the strange stories."
   "Like what?"
   "Like people who come out for a fishing trip and then just disappear."
   "I think you're mixing it up with the Bermuda Triangle. You should know sea snakes aren't indigenous to the oceans here in South Carolina. Water's too cold."
   "But they aren't sea snakes-they're coral snakes.
   That's why this is called Coral Cove. Most people think it's because of the coral reef." She impressed her husband with her marine biology background. "See, the full moon brings on the high tide, which would pull the new hatchlings out of the crevices in the cliffs. Makes sense, doesn't it? Unless you believe the other theory that the snakes travel in some underwater current from a thousand miles away."
   "Personally, I think it's the creative imagination of people who, unlike myself, have too much time on their hands. Whatever the reason, a full moon isn't going to stop us from sailing today!"
   The captain's wife agreed, because she loved the ocean as much as he did, and this had been a day to revel in, even before they'd spotted the dolphins.
   They were glad they decided to bring their year-old toddler, who had convinced himself and his parents that the dolphins had come at his request and were performing at his command. The fact that he could talk only in unintelligible syllables was completely irrelevant to them; they believed, like most parents, that their child was the most gifted being in the human race. Stuffed into a bulky yellow life jacket and ready to topple over any minute, he was wearing out his mother by running around the deck on his unsteady toddler legs. He reached out over the side of the boat to try to pet his new friends, and to his dismay, his mother scooped him up by the strap on his life jacket and deposited him onto a safer spot near the center of the boat.
   "Too bad we can't take them home, but I don't think they'd be happy in Grandma's swimming pool," she told her son.
   "Ga ma," he repeated.
   His mother sighed as she noticed a few sparse raindrops. The dolphins had taken all their attention, and even though the air was warm, she hadn't noticed how quickly the sky had turned to olive drab. "As much as I hate to leave, I think we better hurry back. Looks like a storm's moving in."
   "Aye, aye, first mate," the captain answered. "And the water's getting a little choppy too. See any snakes in there?" He winked at his son. "It's a good thing your dad's an experienced sailor. I'm Popeye the sailor man . . ." he sang, while brandishing his biceps.
   The blond boy ignored his father. Pulling away from his mother's grip, he stretched out a chubby hand to the dolphins they were leaving behind. "No!" he protested.
   In less than half an hour, the hull was smacking the water like it was hitting concrete, and the sound of thunder rolled closer. The captain creased his brow, but didn't let on that he was worried. He started singing a vaguely familiar tune and made up the words as he went along, going to great lengths to make it rhyme even when it made no sense.
   "Well we can definitely take 'songwriter' off your list of professions," his wife teased.
   The captain turned and studied his wife's suntanned face, the curve of her cheekbones, her dark hair blowing, while she kissed the top of their son's downy head. He'd already forgotten about the argument they'd had earlier, and later he would tell her she was right; a desk job wasn't what he wanted, but it was better than nothing. He could see the shore now, and his impatient son was arching his back, trying to slide off his mother's lap so he could regain his freedom.
   It was a sound like the earth splitting in two. At the same instant a blinding light. The captain felt a powerful shudder run through his body and fill his chest with searing pain. He tried with futility to suck air into his lungs, then he dropped to the deck with a sickening thud, leaving the boat without a commander. The sail drooped and the boat listed to one side. He could sense the mast was crashing down and cold water was pouring into the boat. His mind willed his muscles to move, but his limbs refused to obey. He felt movement around him and heard the echo of his wife screaming for him from far away. He tried to call out, to tell her he would save them, but he was separated from his body. He became a spectator to the scene from above and realized it must be a dream, because he couldn't feel the pain anymore. It was all being played out on a giant movie screen. But someone pulled the plug before it was over, and the screen went black.