If I’m gone when the sun climbs,
Remember—don’t stop listening.
Her words drifted through the crowd, half lullaby, half goodbye. Torie stood near the edge of the stage, arms folded.Her expression flickered—anger, jealousy, something like regret. When Candy’s gaze met hers mid-song, the contact felt electric.
The crowd swayed. Harmony watched them, heartbeat picking up. The song felt like a farewell, every lyric another door quietly closing.
When the last note faded, the crowd erupted in cheers, the sound echoing off the hills. Candy smiled, breathless. She bowed.
Torie clapped—slow, deliberate. Her mouth twisted into something that wasn’t quite a smile. The sharp slap of hands sounded wrong. Forced. Harmony watched both women, felt the current between them humming like low voltage.
Cass rolled up beside her. “Do you feel it?”
Harmony nodded. “The storm’s coming.”
“I didn’t think another was close.”
“It’s closer than we think.”
“Encore!” someone shouted.
Candy nodded. “One more.”
Her fingers trembled as she started the next song, softer than the last. The wind picked up, lifting her hair as if the island leaned in to listen.
Then there was a crack. Thunder, dry and close.
The music faltered. A string snapped with a sharp twang. Candy laughed nervously. “Maybe that’s a sign that the show’s over.”
From the crowd, Torie’s voice cut through the murmur, too low for most to hear. Harmony heard everything.
“You shouldn’t sing about things you don’t understand,” Torie said.
Candy didn’t catch it; the wind stole the words. When she glanced Torie’s way, Torie smiled, and hope flickered in Candy’s eyes. She didn’t want to keep fighting. Torie didn’t feel the same.Rage sat coiled under her skin, a dark, twisted thing that had been growing for a long time.
It started as a hum in the air—barely there, like a thought forming. Then the wind curled up from the ocean, bringing mist and the sharp tang of ozone.
“Whoa, look at the sky!” someone shouted.
Harmony tilted her head back. The horizon was bruising, clouds rolling fast, electric veins threading their undersides. Within minutes, the first drops of rain splattered the runway.
Cass laughed, lifting her arms. “It’s warm rain.” She spun in a slow circle.
“Too warm,” Mary said from the diner doorway. “This is going to get ugly fast.”
Lightning split the sky, close this time. The speakers popped, the music warped into static. People screamed and scattered for cover as thunder cracked like a gunshot over the airfield.
Harmony pushed Cass toward the hangar. “Go. Get under cover.”
“You too,” Cass said, looking back.
“I’m right behind you.”
Strings of lights flickered violently, bulbs winking out until only the diner’s emergency lamp glowed like a dying ember. The drum kit toppled near Candy. She turned, eyes wide. Torie stood a few yards away, hair whipping, shouting something that sounded like a warning.
Another bolt of lightning hit the ridge above the runway. The power blew out, plunging everything into blackness. Someone yelled for flashlights. Others began to cry. Rain soaked Harmony’s hair, the world reduced to breath and pulse. The only light came in stuttering flashes, lightning, and phones.
A new flash hit close. The old wooden airport sign took the blow. It cracked with a groan and crashed to the pavement in splinters.
