Holding my breath, I listen for the slightest sound from my mother’s room, but don’t hear anything. Relieved, I tiptoe outside, letting the door snick shut behind me.
You can do this, Austen. You’re almost there. After glancing at my mother’s bedroom window one last time, I put the old car into neutral and coast down the driveway. Once I’m out in the road, I start the car, but I wait until I turn onto the highway before flicking on the lights. Be careful. This sneaking around thing is starting to feel easy to you.
Once I’m safely away from home, I breathe a sigh of relief. So far, so good. Now I just have to find the hole in the fence, find Ezra, and then sneak back home without getting caught. A strangled chuckle breaks the silence. There’s no way I’ll be that lucky.
I skirt the long driveway leading to camp, slowing just enough to turn down the narrow dirt track where Ezra had disappeared. Before long, my headlights illuminate his obnoxiously bright-yellow car partially hidden among the trees.
After I park, I finger the flashlight in my pocket but leave it off for now. The bright light could draw attention if there’s anyone else out here, and if there is, they probably aren’t on my side.
Treading carefully, I creep through the forest until I come to the towering electric chain-link fence. My hands start shaking as I stare at the humming metal behemoth. What am I doing here? I’m an idiot if I thought I’d be able to find the exact same spot Ezra went through. I flick on the flashlight and point it at the bottom part of the fence. Nothing but uncut wire. Maybe I’m in the wrong spot. Or Ian fixed it. God, I hope not.
“Come on, Ezra. Where did you go through?” I mutter, walking alongside the fence.
Just as I’m about to turn back, I come across a section that’s eerily silent. I still, midstep. I must be close. My eyes scan the base of the fence. Nothing but bare ground and a small bush. That’s weird. There isn’t any undergrowth anywhere else this close to the fence.
I crouch down, to get a closer look. It’s not really a bush, just a bunch of branches and sticks clumped close together. Adrenaline rushes through me. That’s it! I brush some of the twigs aside and there it is: the hole.
Adrenaline floods through my system. Ezra must have come back and disguised the opening after I left to cover his tracks.
Once I kick the rest of the brush aside, I expose a ragged rectangle of open air, like a window to Ian’s realm.
I take off my sweatshirt because the added bulk might make me slip up or brush against the electrified edge. It might be off now, but I know what happens to people who touches an electric fence he or she thinks has been turned off: they get zapped. After carefully tossing my sweatshirt, flashlight, and shoes through the gap, I take a deep breath. I can do this. I have to do this. I’ve come too far to turn back now.
Something crackles in the brush behind me, but it sounds too small to be the monster that killed the truck driver. This is one of the stupidest ideas you’ve had in a long time. But then I remember the desperation and the anguish on Ezra’s face, both in my dream and in the moments before he abandoned me in the woods, and shimmy through the opening.
Ian’s side of the barrier is anticlimactic. No monsters rush out at me, no masked figure with a machete. Nothing. A sharp laugh escapes my throat before I can stop it. Ezra’s paranoia must be getting to me.
I look for a path but can’t find one in the darkness. I flick on the flashlight and scan the nearest bushes until something catches my eye. It’s a piece of red yarn. Ezra must have left it as a sign.
A few yards away, I find another red marker and then another and another until I reach a break in the trees. It takes me a few seconds to realize it’s a clearing. Maybe Ezra thinks Ian has something to do with his brother’s disappearance. That’s impossible; Ian was only a little kid when that happened. Ian’s parents then, perhaps, or some other family member.
I turn off my flashlight and stuff it in my pocket. There’s enough moonlight that I don’t need it, and the risk of Ian catching me is too great if I leave it on. Something tells me he’d be pretty upset if he caught me snooping around again.
Uneasy, I pause in the shadows as I try to figure out what to do. I have only two options: go home or keep searching for Ezra. When a few wispy clouds cast the clearing into darkness, I flick my flashlight on. I’ve come this far, I might as well keep going, at least for a little longer.
After scanning the brush for a few seconds, I spot another string to the right. It looks like Ezra was skirting the lighthouse, not moving toward it. That’s strange. I wonder what he was looking for.
I follow Ezra’s markers around the side of the clearing to the rocky outcropping I’d noticed when I’d washed ashore. That’s where they stop.
I scan the boulders until my eyes pause on what looks like a deep shadow between two boulders. I tiptoe closer. My brain screams at me to go back, but I don’t listen. If Ezra went in that cave, I should at least check it out.
I run my fingers across the jagged rock edges along the entrance. The boulders stretch over my head at least seven or eight feet. The cave’s craggy mouth grabs at my arms and clothes as I squeeze through. I point my light into the darkness, but it swallows the pale beam. You’re nuts, Austen. Certifiable.
Ignoring what is probably the voice of reason, I wedge the flashlight in my armpit and cup my hands around my mouth. “Hello? Is there anyone in there?” It’s not quite a shout, more of a loud murmur, but my eyes dart toward the lighthouse anyway, even though Ian couldn’t possibly hear me.
I call inside the cave again, but there’s no answer. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I missed a marker. I back away from the cave when a light drizzle starts.
“Wonderful,” I mutter.
Lightning cracks across the heavens, only a few seconds later to be followed by a deep, thundering roar. The skies release a deluge of rain, soaking the grass and everything around it, including me. Perfect.
“Here goes nothing,” I mutter. I flatten myself against the wall and slink into the darkness.
Well, at least if you die in the cave, you won’t get struck by lightning.Oh yeah, that’s a relief. I scan the damp walls and the sandy ground with my flashlight. The rain begins to angle inside, so I move farther away from the opening. My flashlight flickers. Panic tries to dig its claws in my spine, but I don’t let it in. I can’t afford to be afraid. I have to try to find Ezra, and then figure out what he knows about Dad.
I smack the flashlight against my leg a bunch of times, but that doesn’t help and it slowly dies, fading into darkness.
Crap. I’ll never get out of here if I don’t have any light. Fear gnaws at me. There are things in these woods, things that kill truck drivers and make people disappear. I know my stupid little flashlight wouldn’t be much protection, but I felt better with it in my hand. At least then I could see what was going to eat me before I died. You could always knock on Ian’s door. Yeah, right. I’d be better off in the dark.
As my eyes adjust to the gloom, I notice something glowing at the far end of the cave. That’s strange. Maybe it’s the moonlight filtering through a crack in the cave wall and reflecting off something shiny. What is that?
The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stand up. You shouldn’t be here. Leave now. But what if it’s another sign from Ezra? If there’s even the remotest possibility it can lead me to him, I have to check it out.
As I creep closer, an eerie buzzing sensation fills my ears. It sounds like a thousand bees all attracted to the same flower, only it’s not a flower. It’s a black hole about five feet tall that glows around the edges with a pale light. What is this thing?
I lean closer, heart thudding loud enough to compete with the buzzing sound. Sparkling bits, like little stars in a planetarium, swirl around the darkness. From this angle it looks bottomless, almost as if it’s inset directly into the wall. Sneakered shoe prints lead up to the hole, but not away. If these are Ezra’s footprints, where did he go?
Get out, the voice ins
ide my head commands. It’s not safe here. You have to leave. Now. But what if Ezra disappeared here? He could be hurt or trapped. I’ve come too far to turn back now.
I reach out and touch the darkness. Warmth flows over my fingers, caressing my chilled flesh, as they disappear into the hole. I reach out farther, my wrist vanishing into the blackness.
I jerk my hand back. What in the hell is that thing?
My mind flits through a myriad of possibilities: some sort of weird special effects, a strange weather-related phenomenon, or just a deep crack in the wall filled with warm air from outside. Heck, there are sinkholes in northern Michigan, so it could even be related to that. I don’t know, maybe vertical sink holes are a thing, and I’ve just never heard of them.
As I try to figure out what to do, something scrapes against the rocks behind me. I spin around, heart racing.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” My voice, trembling and unsure, sounds way too young and scared to belong to me. “Ian?” No answer. I hug my arms around my chest, but it doesn’t have anything do with the cold. Something else is out there.
I hear the sound again, near the cave’s entrance, like claws scraping across a rocky chalkboard.
“This isn’t funny, you know.”
Envisioning Godzilla or the swamp monster from the old black-and-white movies Mom and Dad used to make us watch, I scramble away from the sound and suddenly I’m falling through the black hole of doom, screaming as it swallows me whole.
Before my mind has the chance to comprehend what has happened, I tumble through the other side of the hole and crash to the damp, sandy ground.
I jump up and back away from the hole, waiting for the creature to follow me through, but it doesn’t. The tension drains from my shoulders. That was close.
Feeling slightly safer, I study my surroundings. It’s not as if you can go back right now, anyway. At least wait a little while for whatever it was to leave, first.
This cave is very different from the one I had come from. The walls stretch about five feet above my head and are solid rock, not cobbled together by boulders. High tide lines run along the inside a couple of inches from the ceiling of the cave; the sides weathered smooth by water and time.
I must be dreaming. That’s the only possible explanation for what’s going on. Or maybe I slipped and hit my head on a rock. I pinch myself and flinch at the pain. Nope. I definitely felt that. But if I’m not dreaming, then how is it the sun’s shining outside, when it was dark just a moment ago?
Come on, Austen. You can’t just sit in the cave all day. What if that creature comes after you?
That’s all the motivation I need. I tiptoe toward the entrance. Warm, salty water laps at my ankles. I peer outside, and squint until my eyes adjust to the harsh sunlight. A narrow ledge follows the side of the cliff, just wide enough to walk on, before abruptly dropping off into deep-blue water. I don’t see anything moving around in the depths, so I flatten myself against the hot stone cliff and creep alongside, careful not to slip into the water. Sweat beads across my forehead and I swipe it away. It’s definitely summer here, too, wherever here is. About twenty feet away, the beach stretches out before me, expanding into a breathtaking deserted tropical cove. I’m not in Michigan anymore.
Tall trees wrap around the rocky shore, their leaves swaying in the breeze. Brightly colored birds sing and flit from branch to branch. One lands near my feet and pecks at a small crab skittering across the ground. When the bird notices me, it looks up, tilts its head, and assesses me with it’s black, beady eyes before returning to its assault. The poor crab, now flipped over and flailing its legs and claws, doesn’t stand a chance.
I keep a wary eye on the trees as I circle the clearing. Everything looks so untouched; it’s like something out of a resort commercial. What is this place?
Taking a note from Ezra’s book, I grab a couple handfuls of seaweed along the shore and step under the green, leafy canopy.
The soothing darkness cools the heat on my skin and an involuntary sigh escapes my lips. Note to self: put sunscreen on my shopping list if I ever do anything like this again.
I scan the trees, and, upon finding a low-hanging branch, I tie a piece of seaweed to mark my passage. The rocky terrain quickly becomes an uphill battle, and I’m sweating when I reach the top, where the trees stop abruptly at the edge of a sharp cliff.
Tentatively, I peer over the edge. Waves crash against the rocks below, and an enormous wooden ship rests about a hundred feet offshore. Complete with a spindly mast and a little perch for someone to stand in, the ship reminds me more of something I’d see in Pirates of the Caribbean than anything on the Great Lakes. Men dart across the deck, all wearing various shades of brown or tan. Perhaps I’ve stumbled on some sort of historical reenactment.
Some of the men climb aboard a small boat and row toward the shore. As they approach, I duck farther under the forest canopy. These men aren’t like any sort I’ve ever seen before. They’re about as tall as I am and have longish dark, curly hair. Some have scruffy beards, while others, especially the younger ones, have smooth faces. They all have a stocky, muscular build, but something tells me these guys aren’t the type to frequent gyms.
One of them yells something to another, and several of the men laugh in response. Their victim, a young man about my age, ducks his head.
Once the men reach the shore, they set up tents, open crates of food, and unpack other supplies. From the way they’re setting up their camp, it looks like they’re here to stay.
I search the crowd for Ezra, but I don’t see him. He’s got to be around here somewhere. The footprints disappeared into the portal but never returned. Did he join these men? They could be pirates. Maybe they found Ezra and . . . Stop thinking like that. They’re not pirates. This isn’t a movie or a book or any other fantasy world. Just get back to the cave and go home. Then you can forget this ever happened.
A twig snaps behind me. I spin around to come face-to-face with a middle-aged man with stringy dark hair and stained brown clothing. He leers at me, exposing gaps between his yellowed teeth, and jabbers in a language I can’t understand. I stumble backward, but apparently he wasn’t the only pirate searching the island because I fall against another, who grabs my arms.
“Let me go! I don’t want any trouble.” I wrench my arms against their grasp, but I can’t break free.
The first man reaches out to stroke a stray tendril of my hair. “Ómorfos.”
My heart hammers in my chest, and I jerk my head away. “Please don’t hurt me. I didn’t mean to spy on you. Let me go, and I’ll leave, I promise.” My chest seizes, my breath coming out in short, frantic gasps.
The man holding me laughs at my desperation and tightens his grip. I panic, kicking and screaming until one of them shoves a disgusting piece of fabric in my mouth and binds my hands with thick, abrasive rope. The larger of my captors hoists me over his shoulder as if I weigh nothing. With a muttered comment to his shipmate, the men make their way back to the rest of their crew. Pirates. Only I could fall through some sort of portal and land on an island full of pirates.
Ignoring my continued wriggling and thrashing, the men carry me through about a dozen canvas tents. They stop at one near the middle of the camp. A young boy, maybe five or six years old at the most, scurries between the structures. One of the men snags him by the tunic and drags him inside with us.
The bare walls of the tent close in around me, sucking the air out of my lungs. A big post in the center holds up the sagging ceiling. Wooden crates are stacked up against the wall. My captor drops me in the center of the tent and snarls something in that strange language. Then he pushes the boy toward me and barks some more words I don’t understand.
I squint my eyes shut tightly, and Ian’s face swims into view. He knows about this place. He has to. What’s going on?
All the weirdness, the secrecy, and the security start falling into place like jagged pieces of a puzzle I’m not sure I want to solve. The creatu
res, the pirates, the portal, it’s all connected, and Ian’s at the center of it, somehow. Why else would he live in a lighthouse next to the strange rocky outcropping and surround it with an enormous electric fence?
I watch through the narrow space between the tent’s flaps for several hours. The men bring more supplies to the shore and start a fire. More pirates emerge from the forest, several with brightly colored birds, lifeless and tied to strings thrown over their shoulders. My stomach twists; those poor animals. Briefly, I wonder if one is the little bird that came so close to me by the cave, but I can’t think about that. I have to get out of here. I twist my hands from side to side, but the rope refuses to give.
The little boy crouches at the far side of the tent, watching me struggle. His solemn gaze follows me as I try to maneuver my arms over my head, my feet, anything to break free, but I can’t.
A frustrated shriek bursts from my lips. This can’t be happening. There has to be a way to get out of here. The young boy shrinks against the tent wall and trembles.
Good one, Austen. You scared a little boy. You should be proud of yourself. That little voice inside my head is right. I shouldn’t take my frustrations out on him. These pirates have probably put him through hell. I force a smile to my lips. “I’m sorry. Could you help me? I just want to go home.”
He tilts his head quizzically at me, much like the bird on the beach, and says something to me in the same guttural tongue as the older men.
I shake my head. “I don’t understand. Do you speak English?”
He settles on his heels and pulls a leather pouch from his pocket. He fiddles with the cord, holding it closed, and stares at me without answering. Of course he doesn’t speak English, that’d be too easy.
I stare out the tent flaps again. There’s a commotion on shore, and I lean forward, trying to figure out what’s going on. The boy creeps over and peeks outside. After he sees what’s going on, he ducks into the shadows and disappears behind some crates.
When Darkness Falls Page 10