Some think the Voynich manuscript was not made in this world at all, or at least not written by someone from this world.
Archer abruptly shut the green notebook. He held the cover up to his face, scanning every corner. He turned it over in front of him, examining the spine and the back. He held it perpendicular to his eyes, looking for any impressions or indentions in the surface of the cover. He inspected the inside.
There, in tiny gold letters in the bottom right corner of the inside back cover, he found this: pickwick.
The bookstore in town. Pickwick’s Paperbacks. They had a rack of stationery, including a variety of notebooks, on a shelf near the front of the store.
So the notebooks themselves had come from right inside Echo Island itself. He fanned through the pages, letting his eyes fall across the steady stream of text inside.
These words, though. They’re not from here.
It made him angry. Archer was not bothered by not knowing things, so long as they could be known. What set him off, however, was the prospect of unknowability.
She didn’t seem scared at all, the girl. She stepped just inside the wall of fog and looked at Jason with peace. Like she’d been looking for him, not running from him.
Jason froze. He’d almost given up hope that they were not alone on the island, even wondered if his hope had conjured up the image of her. But here she stood, looking real enough. The first thing he noticed, in fact, was her tangibility. Wayward individual hairs departing from the combed flow of the rest, stretching out in electric defiance against the backdrop of the fog. Her dress, white as that fog but wrinkled and textured. Dimensional. The light freckles on her face and arms, the bend of her hands at the wrist against her legs. She was real. The realest thing he’d seen thus far, it seemed. At least, the most alive.
He said it slowly, as if speaking might spook her into disappearing again: “Hi.”
She tilted her head slightly, as if it was strange to hear him speak. Or, he thought, as if she didn’t understand him. But then, just as slowly and tentatively, she said, “Hi.”
She is real.
The rush of all the entailments of this moment almost overwhelmed him. Jason felt his face get red. His head swam. Stars swirled in his vision. He said, “I . . .”
The girl frowned, blinked her eyes in confusion. “Are you okay?” she said.
“I . . .” Jason said. He was trying to steady himself. “I guess I don’t know.” He swallowed. “I think so. I just . . . I really did hope we weren’t alone.”
“You and the other boy?”
“Yeah,” Jason said. “Boys, actually.”
“I saw two of you in the store.”
Jason thought for a moment. “In the grocery store? You saw Bradley and Tim, I think.”
“How many of you are there?” she asked. Her eyes were blue, and at the question, a glassy shine overtook them. For the first time, she was showing something resembling fear.
“There’s four of us.”
She shifted her weight to the back of her heels ever so slightly.
“They scared me. I thought I was alone. When I heard their voices, I freaked out. But then I saw you later and watched you.”
“You watched me?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“I wasn’t sure about you yet. I was scared then. But after I watched you, I realized I didn’t need to be.”
“Why?”
Any hint of fear was gone now. Instead she looked sympathetic, almost motherly. “Because you looked sad.”
Jason was embarrassed. He certainly didn’t like the idea of being spied on; he realized just how vulnerable this indeed would have made him, had she had evil intentions. And yet the fact that she was his watcher made him feel oddly cared for—not just seen but overseen. This, despite the fact that he had no idea at all who she was.
“How come we don’t know each other?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“What grade are you in?” She could not have been a year or two older or younger than he was, and while he did not know everyone at his high school, it was small enough that it was strange he’d never seen her before.
Then the alien thought occurred to him that maybe she was not from Echo Island at all, probably she wasn’t even human. Given the strangeness of everything happening, why wasn’t he making the obvious assumption here? This beautiful girl in the flowing white dress drifting in and out of the fog. She was a fairy of some kind, a spirit, a sprite. An angel!
“Twelfth grade,” she said. “Or, I was.”
“I guess you are real.” He didn’t mean to say it out loud.
She frowned. “What? Of course, I’m real.”
“Sorry. With everything going on, I’ve started rethinking a lot of what I see.”
“Everyone’s gone,” she said as if he didn’t know.
“I know. Were you here?”
“Here?”
“On the island. When it happened.”
“When what happened?”
“When everybody disappeared.”
“Yes. I mean. Yes. But I don’t know what happened.”
This did not compute. How could she have been on the island and not see everything happen?
“You didn’t see anything? How could you not see anything?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Everything was just normal. And then it wasn’t.”
“Are you by yourself?”
He saw the flash of hesitation in her face. She said, “Yes.”
“Are you sure?” he pressed.
“I . . .” She looked into Jason’s eyes, searching for something there. His sadness she could see quite plainly, and now the intense curiosity, the eagerness for her secret. She knew he wouldn’t harm her. But she wanted to make sure that she could trust him. These two things were different in her mind. “I’m alone now.”
Jason could sense a world of meaning behind that statement. She had a family, just like he did. She was wrestling with their being gone, just like he was. He sensed he’d pushed too much.
He said, “We’ve been trying to figure it out, you know? What happened. Looking everywhere. My friend Archer—he’s crazy smart. If he can’t figure it out, it probably can’t be figured out.”
She nodded like she knew what he was talking about.
“Were you a senior last year? Or are you gonna be one this year?” he said.
“Why? Do you know everybody?”
“Kind of.”
“Well, you don’t know me because I didn’t go to school.”
“How come?”
“I . . .” She hesitated for some reason. “I was taught at home.”
“Ohhh. Yeah, that’s cool. But, like—I’ve never seen you around town.”
“I was home a lot.”
“Where do you live?”
“On the back end of Minuai Fields.”
“I didn’t know there was anything on the other side of Minuai Fields.”
“Well. There is.”
For some reason, she seemed embarrassed, and maybe a little irked.
Then Jason remembered there was a small mobile home park further down the road on the eastern side of the vast field. He didn’t know anyone who lived there and always assumed it was an elderly community.
He wasn’t sure if he should ask, but he did: “Do you want to come with me to my house? All of us are there. You know, strength in numbers and all that.”
She looked across at him, the trust still uncertain. But she knew the fog could not protect either of them anyway, so she replied, “Okay.”
“Um,” he said. “It’s back that way.” He pointed over her shoulder. As if anywhere they wanted to go would require swimming across the pond behind him. “I’m Ja
son, by the way.”
He meekly held out his hand, and after contemplating it for a second, she put her own in it, and they shook.
“I’m Beatrice,” she said.
Tim was back at the Bee Market again, shopping. He wheeled a squeaking grocery cart brimming with bags of chips and boxes of cereal up and down the Bee Market aisles, wistfully eyeing each row. The comforting sights of colorful logos and perfectly photographed meals on package after package drew him steadily along. Food made him absentminded.
Tim had just reached the end of the baking goods aisle when he heard it. A clanging sound from outside. It broke his stupor, and he froze. He listened intently for a moment. There was silence, then what struck him as a scraping, like something heavy dragged across concrete.
Letting his shaky hands slip from the cart’s handle, he crossed slowly to the checkout stands, stopping and wincing when his sneaker screeched on the cheap tile of the floor. He listened and could hear nothing. Bending low to avoid visibility from the windows, he made his way toward the cover of a few candy machines below the window on the far-left side of the storefront, furthest from the entrance. Carefully, he raised his head and peeked out over the red metal lids of the dispensers to spy the street outside. The fog had cleared.
The sidewalks looked empty. Tim wondered if he’d heard one of the guys, but now he was scared again and did not want to assume. He remembered the loud clang of someone in the grocery store when he and Bradley were exploring before, and he realized how stupid he’d been to go back out exploring all alone. Even Bradley out of his mind might be safer than whatever was scraping around the Echo Island sidewalks.
The thoroughfare looked as empty as it had when he came. His gaze dropping to the candy machines, he immediately became distracted contemplating the difficulty of dismantling the dispenser of the Hot Tamales. But a new sound startled him. A grunt.
He started and banged the candy machine with his knee, grimaced in pain, then froze.
There was a man on the corner of the street. A very big man. He was tall and stout with gigantic arms and huge fists clenched at his sides. A large black duffel bag sat at his feet. It was full of something.
The man was staring at the store windows, and Tim couldn’t move. He couldn’t tell if the man could see him peering over the candy machines, but he was afraid any movement might signal his presence. He held his pose. It was agonizing. His legs were aching, his hands shaking. His heart was racing, and he couldn’t breathe.
Tim had never seen this man before. He had a thick mop of black hair and a thick, bushy beard to match. And though he was a fair distance away, his eyes looked big and black too. The man seemed to be staring right at Tim.
The moment felt interminable.
Eventually, the man glanced over his right shoulder and back up the street. Apparently satisfied that he was alone, he stooped to grab the duffel bag, which now looked very heavy, though this behemoth of a man had little trouble lifting it. He walked purposefully up the street and out of Tim’s view.
The pain in his knee was especially sharp now, so Tim rocked backward to sit on his rear on the floor and stretch out his legs. But he didn’t sit long. Sufficiently frightened, he carefully rose to a crouching position and hurried back to his cart. Realizing he could not be caught pushing a loaded shopping cart through the streets with that intimidating stranger lurking about, Tim stranded the cart at the head of the aisle. He receded into the rear of the store, toward the darkness of the stockrooms and kitchen. The rear exit opened into the back lot, where the loading dock was, and the woods. That way seemed much safer.
Jason did not knock at his own house. As he stepped through the door, however, Beatrice remained on the stoop, suddenly cautious about following him.
“It’s okay,” he said. “You’ll be safe here.”
She studied his face, then looked over his shoulder into the dimness of the living room behind him.
“It’s okay,” he repeated.
She followed, and he gently closed the door behind her.
“Do you want something to drink?” he said as they both walked to the kitchen.
There was Bradley, still at the table, his ill-gotten gains sloshed out before him.
Jason stopped cold. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like, dum-dum? I’m—” Bradley stopped, seeing Beatrice standing slightly behind Jason. “What? Who? Oh, man.” He sat up straight in his chair, feeling instantly self-conscious.
Jason said, “Dude, clean this stuff up. You can’t be doing this here.”
In any other circumstance, Bradley would have vehemently defended himself, but he was dumbfounded. Finally, he said to Beatrice, “Are you real?”
She softened. “Yes. I’m real.”
Bradley smiled broadly, all teeth and bright eyes. “Schnikes, man, you found a girl!”
Jason said, “Yeah. We kind of found each other.”
“Ohhh, man,” Bradley said, now rubbing his eyes, like he couldn’t believe it. “Who are you?”
“I’m Beatrice.”
“Beatrice,” he said. “Oh wow.” He turned to Jason, “Was anybody with her?”
“No. Just her. Where are Tim and Archer?”
“Where’d you guys find each other?”
“Cutter Pond. It doesn’t matter. Tim and Archer?”
Bradley chuckled to himself. “A girl, man. Holy cow.”
Jason said, “Bradley!”
Bradley jumped. “Jeez. I don’t know. Tim is probably stuffing his face somewhere. Archer? Who knows? Good Will Hunting on some whiteboard probably.”
Jason stared at the floor, thinking. Maybe Beatrice wasn’t the only other person out there. Maybe somebody else had some clue as to what happened to everybody.
Beatrice looked at the table. “Is this what you guys have been doing?”
Bradley hung his head.
“What?” Jason said. “No. This is my friend being an idiot. Where’d you even get all this?”
Before he could answer, Beatrice said, “I think we should be figuring out a way to get off the island.”
Bradley perked up. “There’s nothing out there. The world. Gone.”
Beatrice frowned, confused.
“Yeah,” Bradley continued. “I tried to paddle out there. To the mainland. Just like everything else, it just—” and he held his hands out to show the emptiness “—poof. It’s not there.” He laughed.
Jason said, “How much have you had?”
Bradley’s head lolled back, as he looked at the ceiling in contemplation.
“What do you mean it’s gone?” Beatrice asked. “The mainland’s gone?”
“Well,” Jason said. “We need to double-check.”
Bradley straightened again. “I already checked it out, dingus. It’s gone.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Beatrice said.
Bradley looked at Jason and gestured at Beatrice. “That’s what I’m saying.”
“We have to get off the island,” Beatrice repeated herself.
“Yeah, maybe,” said Jason. “But we need to figure out where everybody is. Or at least, what happened to everyone.”
“It’s an unsolved mystery,” Bradley said. He was being more inappropriate than usual. “Oh, but wait.” It had just occurred to him. “You were here,” he said to Beatrice. “How did you not see what happened?”
“I didn’t see what happened,” she said. “Like I told Jason.”
“You didn’t see anything? How is that possible?”
“You didn’t see anything either.”
“But we weren’t here,” Bradley said. “We were there. Then we came here.” He seemed to have confused himself. “Then, there wasn’t there either.”
Jason broke in. “We need to find Tim and Archer.” Jason picked up Bradley’s glass an
d dumped its contents in the sink. “And get rid of all this stuff.”
Bradley looked incredulous. “Jason, bro, who’s going to care?”
“I care. Get rid of it. At least get it out of my house. This is stupid. We aren’t any closer to figuring out what’s going on out there, and you’re acting like nothing matters.”
“Maybe it doesn’t,” Bradley said, but softly, like even he didn’t believe it. Then he sat upright again. Something important had floated to the surface of his brain. “Oh, but wait, man. I gotta tell you something that Tim and I found. Or, didn’t find, I guess.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The guns are gone.”
“What guns?”
“The guns, man. All the guns. Not at the liquor store. But we went to the police station. I thought, you know, it might be good to have some protection in case . . . well, I don’t know, in case whatever. But there were no guns.”
“The police don’t just leave guns laying around the police station, you dope.”
“No, man, I’m telling you. I went into the armory. There’s nothing there. Not so much as a TASER. They’re all gone.”
Jason looked dumbly at him. He was thinking.
Bradley said, “I mean, that’s weird, right?”
“It’s something,” Jason said.
There was a long pause. Bradley smirked with a kind of victory.
Eventually, Beatrice said, “My dad has them.”
The rear door of the Bee Market was heavy and rusty, and the metallic squeal of its opening was made worse by the slowness.
Tim cautiously poked one foot out onto the concrete step. Next, he stuck his head out through the narrow gap between door and jamb. The woods were just twenty yards away. This was the same flight taken by whomever he and Bradley had frightened before. He was suddenly having second thoughts. Maybe he should hide out in the store for a while until he could be more certain that the big man had cleared the area.
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