by Perrin Briar
“Down here, Pa,” Francis said. “Can I go first?”
Bill kept his face on the doorway, on the creatures. He let his eyes drift down to Francis, who was crouched over the opening in the floor, what they had been using to fish.
“Swim with the fishes,” Francis said with a grin.
Francis’s meaning hit Bill full in the face, harder than a professional fighter’s right hook. It had taken the mind of a child to see through the obvious usage of the hole, what it had always been used for, and the potential of what it could be used for.
Escape.
“Yes,” Bill said. “Jump in. Now!”
Francis was still poised on the edge of the hole, prepared to jump into its icy clutches, but lacking the resolve to toss himself inside.
“Go on!” Bill said, hustling toward the gash in the floor.
“I can’t!” Francis said.
“Sorry about this,” Bill said, flashing out with his foot, and pushed Francis over the side and into the frigid cold waters below.
Bill grabbed Jim around the shoulders and tossed the both of them into the hole too.
The water was colder than he’d expected, a thousand knives stabbing him all over. He gasped as he breached the water’s surface and gulped a mouthful of sweet oxygen. Francis was splashing in the water just ahead, getting carried away by the water’s strong current.
Looking up, Bill could make out the undead above, peering at him through the hole. They couldn’t feel fear, he knew. But they didn’t look too excited about entering the water either.
Bill and Francis had escaped, and it had all been thanks to Francis thinking outside the box, or rather, the cave. Bill shifted his position and gripped Jim gently around the shoulders. He didn’t need to swim—the current was taking care of their movement, but he wanted to work his way toward Francis if he could.
“Paaaa!” Francis screamed as he was led down the river and out into the open.
His voice echoed and bounced off the cool damp surface of the cave that led to a gash in the wall at the end, where they would emerge into the light.
Perhaps they were going to make it to safety after all.
Chapter Twenty
LIZ GRUNTED. Jack screamed.
“It’s you!” Liz said.
“Of course it’s me!” Jack said. “Who else did you think it was?”
Liz decided to let the question go unanswered.
“I couldn’t see anyone on the ground from the tree,” Jack said. “So I came down here. I hate having my feet on the ground like this.”
“Ditto,” Liz said. “Come on, we have to get out of here before the undead catch up to us.”
“This way,” Jack said. “When I was up in the trees I saw there weren’t any undead this way. Should we go back and look for Ernest and Fritz?”
Yes, Liz thought. They had to go back. She wanted to find them and keep them safe, and yet something kept her back, held her in check.
“No,” Liz said. “They can take care of themselves.”
Jack blinked, surprised by her answer.
“Okay,” he said.
They continued at a jog through the undergrowth, taking random turns in an effort to shake the undead off their trail. Nips sat on the top of Jack’s head, crouched and bouncing up and down like it was the most comfortable mode of transport in the world.
Liz wondered how Bill was getting on. She hoped he and Francis were safe and well. The tension increased in Liz’s body with every step she took, ramping up until every rustle of the foliage could have had an army of marauders behind it.
The sweat was running down her face in rivulets, turning brown with the dirt caked to her face. But they were almost there.
“It should be on the other side of this clearing,” Liz said.
The sea brushed the sand like it was an amorous lover, seagulls cawing above them. Liz checked the hastily-drawn map. How desperate were they that they had put their lives in the hands of a scribbled picture by a boy on the fringes of a coma? For all they knew, it could have been a picture from his dreams.
The sea waved at them from the other side of the beach.
“Where is it?” Jack said.
“It should be right about here,” Liz said, scratching her head and peering at the surrounding terrain.
“I don’t see anything,” Jack said.
“Let’s take a seat and have something to eat,” Liz said.
She took a seat on a rock, looking at the map and the surrounding area.
“Come sit down,” Liz said. “Maybe the answer will come to us when we’re not thinking about it.”
As Liz got the food out, she could see Jack was still thinking it through. He couldn’t let an idea go just like that. He ate his sandwich morosely. He didn’t even really taste it. They had eaten earlier, swilling from their water bottles as they trudged through the jungle, not wanting to slow down for fear someone—or—something—might be on their trail. Liz had refilled their bottles from a fast-flowing stream while Jack and Nips kept an eye out.
“What do you think about Fritz leaving?” Jack said.
It was as if he had read her mind. It was all she could think about, when she wasn’t being chased by the undead.
“What do you think?” Liz said, hoping to deflect the question.
“I think it’s stupid,” Jack said.
Liz smiled, relieved she might hold onto at least one of her children.
“And why’s that?” Liz said.
“Because we have everything here,” Jack said. “We have food, water, and each other. We have a nice house, books, everything. And Nips is here.”
Liz knew the little money had to play a large part in Jack’s reasoning. She looked at the little capuchin differently now. It was the friend Jack had always wanted. A fellow climbing partner who could keep up with him. And he came with an extra benefit: he didn’t need conversation. He just needed to turn his head in curiosity, and Jack would be pleased.
But that could all change, Liz reflected. It wasn’t like capuchins couldn’t travel, like they couldn’t move to another location. Liz frowned. And what would happen when the monkey died? She assumed they didn’t live as long as humans. It would destroy Jack, and poison his life on the island. That would force him to leave, wouldn’t it?
Suddenly Liz felt just as upset as she had with thoughts of Fritz leaving.
“We all have to make a decision and go our own way I suppose,” Liz said.
It felt strange to be talking like that about her own kids, but it was the truth.
“Come on,” she said. “We have to get back to finding these weapons, or we’re never going to help your father.”
“I’ll go climb a tree,” Jack said.
“What help will that be?” Liz said.
“It helps me to think,” Jack said.
“So think with your feet on the ground,” Liz said.
But Jack was already heading away.
“Sometimes it helps to look at things from a different vantage point,” he said.
“That advice is meant to be figurative, not literal,” Liz said.
Jack scaled the tree. Liz turned to face the sea. What were they going to do if they couldn’t locate the buried weapons?
“They’re right underneath us!” Jack called out.
“Where?” Liz said.
“There!” Jack said, pointing.
He was gesturing to the rocks they had just a moment ago been sitting on. Liz climbed onto the top of the biggest one and turned to look around at the size and shape of them. They were arranged in straight lines, she realized, each pointing in a different direction. She was located on the distant arm of one of these lines. They were the same length and spaced apart at roughly equal intervals, forming an X.
In the center was no stone. It was a bull’s eye, and all they had to do was dig in the middle to unearth the treasure.
“Climb down,” Liz said. “We’ve got some digging to do.”
C
hapter Twenty-One
ERNEST WAS lost. He didn’t know where he was or where he was heading. He had lost his way the instant the monsters had come bursting out of the foliage, in his direction. He couldn’t find his way now, not from his current location. He needed a good vantage point to identify how he might get somewhere safer, like the meeting place where the guns were supposed to be hidden.
Liz had made them each a copy of the map, but Ernest didn’t need it. He could recall every line and curve. That wasn’t his problem, only his total lack of any internal compass.
A twig snapped. Somewhere in the depths of the foliage. He backed away. Perhaps it was one of the others, equally lost as he himself was. They could work together and find their way to the meeting place. But he was terrified it wasn’t them at all, but something else. He needed to find out without getting seen.
He crept forward and approached a tree. The sound came from directly behind it. If he looked out from the wrong direction he could end up in the mouth of an undead. He crouched down, slowly, and gradually leaned back and peered around the tree trunk, but he never got to see more than the torn fragments of its pants leg.
This was not one of the Flowers.
A hand grabbed him and pulled him back down to his crouching position. A hand wrapped around his mouth. It wasn’t necessary—all the Flower family were used to remaining silent even under times of great duress. It never served to be noisy.
It was Fritz who had pulled him back, to safety, his hand placed over his mouth. Fritz didn’t remove his hand until the sounds of the figure on the other side of the tree began to move away. Ernest pulled Fritz’s hand away from his mouth.
“You don’t need to silence me like that,” Ernest said.
“You never know,” Fritz said with a shrug. “It was a Lurcher, in case you were wondering.”
Ernest rolled his eyes.
“You don’t say,” he said.
“I do say, actually,” Fritz said. “If it wasn’t for me, he would have seen you, and who knows what would have happened after that.”
“Probably nothing,” Ernest said.
“You don’t need to thank me,” Fritz said.
“I won’t,” Ernest said. “So, which way are we heading?”
“This way,” Fritz said, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. “Only, I can’t remember exactly where we’re supposed to be heading. I lost my map.”
Ernest pointed to his head.
“Lucky for us, I can never lose mine,” he said.
“You would have if you’d put your head around that tree,” Fritz said.
He froze, casting around, looking over his shoulders.
“What?” Ernest said. “What is it?”
Fritz was quiet for a moment, still looking out for something that he had apparently seen in the foliage.
“Nothing,” he said. “I just thought I saw… Never mind.”
“If you saw something, I think we should make a move,” Ernest said, growing antsy.
“If anything found us, it’s unlikely it wouldn’t attack us if it could, don’t you think?” Fritz said.
“I suppose,” Ernest said.
They continued through the jungle.
“Why do you suppose there aren’t many of the Lurchers on this side of the island?” Ernest said.
“I know that if I was in control of these things, I’d put everything I had into finding them,” Fritz said.
“Yes,” Ernest said. “That follows. Lucky for us, huh?”
“Yes,” Fritz said. “Just so long as we don’t get caught. But it also means Pa and Francis are in more danger than we first supposed. If they know the rough area of where they are, there’s more chance of him finding them.”
Ernest nodded. That made sense.
“This way,” he said.
There was something he wanted to ask Fritz but hadn’t had the time, or more truthfully, the inclination, to ask him.
“Are you really going to leave?” Ernest said to Fritz.
“I can’t right now, can I?” Fritz said.
“But I mean, in the future?” Ernest said.
“We’ll all likely leave one day,” Fritz said.
Ernest cocked his head to the side. He had never thought about it like that before. Sure, the island wasn’t somewhere he would have chosen for himself to live, but they didn’t have it so bad. They had food, clean water, and their home was comfortable. They didn’t have any major family issues or disputes. Life was good.
In truth, the idea of Fritz leaving wasn’t something Ernest liked to think about. He’d never really been apart from Fritz before, save a handful of summer camps. He’d been too busy and distracted to miss much during those weeks.
“Where will you go?” Ernest said.
“I don’t know,” Fritz said. “Probably in the same direction as the natives we saw earlier.”
“Sure,” Ernest said. “They sure looked friendly.”
“I won’t approach them,” Fritz said. “But if they’re there, they must have had some kind of meeting with the modern world.”
“What are you hoping to find out there?” Ernest said.
“Life,” Fritz said. “People starting up somewhere, somewhere I can set down my own roots and grow, get to know people, help to rebuild. I know a lot, you know. I know you don’t think I do, but I do.”
“No, I know you know a lot,” Ernest said. “I think we all do, thanks to Ma and Pa.”
“I’m not good with books like you, but I can use my hands and I’m strong,” Fritz said. “I can build things, help make a community better. We can’t stay here forever, under Mom and Pop’s wings. Eventually we have to stretch our own wings.”
“Sure,” Ernest said, though he didn’t feel very confident or resolute on that conclusion. “Sounds good to me.”
He felt awkward, and put out his hand for Fritz to shake. His elder brother looked at the hand like he had never seen one before.
“Don’t leave me hanging,” Ernest said.
“Oh, I won’t,” Fritz said.
He leapt forward and wrapped his arm around Ernest’s head, but Ernest was used to the move, and twisted, slipping from Fritz’s grip.
“Leave off!” Ernest said.
“Come here!” Fritz said.
“Don’t!” Ernest said.
He turned and ran, Fritz hot on his heels. Ernest couldn’t stop the smile that rose to his lips, nor the hot tears that ran from his eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Two
LIZ AND JACK dug and dug, forming equal-sized sand dunes on either side of the X. They found attractive shells, some bones picked clean, and even a few sleeping hermit crabs. But they found nothing in the way of weapons or treasure.
Liz was beginning to lose hope when there was a sudden Thud! from beneath Jack’s makeshift shovel.
They paused, shared a look, and then got back to digging, their movements fast and feverish. The sound had been hard and solid. As they kept digging, the object Jack had discovered began to present itself.
A chest. Something that you’d find in an old Robert Louis Stevenson story. Iron straps held it shut.
“Nice to see you working hard for a change,” a voice said.
Liz automatically grabbed for her cudgel, but paused when her mind latched onto who had spoken. Liz’s face lit up when she saw her two eldest boys emerge from the jungle canopy.
“Just like you two to turn up when we’ve done all the hard work,” Jack said, wiping away his sweat.
Liz wrapped an arm around each of her sons. They were taken aback by how emotional she was. She thought she had lost them.
“How are you?” Liz said. “Are you both all right?”
“We’re fine,” Fritz said.
“Our trip was surprisingly uneventful,” Ernest said.
“Uneventful?” Liz said.
“Fritz thought he saw a couple of them in the canopy sometimes, but whenever we checked, there was always nothing there,” Ernest said. “He’ll be jump
ing at his own shadow next.”
“Looks like there’s precious little for us to do now,” Fritz said. “They’ve done all the heavy lifting.”
“Pity,” Ernest said.
They looked at one another with big grins.
“Did anything follow you?” Jack said.
“Ha!” Fritz said. “Good luck to anything that tries to follow us! We must have double backed on ourselves a dozen times on our way here. There’s nobody who could follow our trail. Especially not any dumb undead.”
“Oh God,” Ernest said.
He’d turned ashen, his expression a mask of pain.
“What?” Liz said.
“We’re so used to fighting stupid versions of these things that we never stopped for a minute to think how they might not be stupid,” Ernest said.
“What are you talking about?” Jack said. “They’re all on the other side of the island. That’s why there’s none on this side.”
“Unless he only wants us to think that,” Ernest said.
“Why would he think that?” Jack said.
Ernest turned to look back at the jungle. Wind stirred the foliage and made it dance, flutter like feathers on a bird’s wing.
“Because what if you knew your target was going somewhere, only you didn’t know where?” Ernest said. “And presumably it would be something that would be to your detriment if they did succeed?”
“Even more reason to attack hard and fast and as quickly as you could,” Jack said. “Stop them from getting there in the first place.”
“You might fail,” Ernest said. “Or succeed in only killing one of them. You want to leave them with hope, so they will do exactly, precisely, whatever their plan was in the first place. You want to learn how they think. What better way than to follow them, to see what they’re up to?”
A low grumble, sounding like that of someone chuckling under his breath, came from the darkness, only it didn’t come from just one throat, but dozens.
“We thought we were setting our own trap when really it was being laid for us all along,” Liz said, puzzling out what Ernest was saying. “He followed us here.”