by Arthur Slade
"Did you see that?" I asked quickly, trying not to panic. "There's something right under us! What is it?"
"I don't know," Fiona whispered, as if she was afraid of waking it up. "Just stop poking it. We've got to get back to the bay."
She didn't have to tell me twice. I turned my kayak around, bumping the creature again with my paddle. How big was this thing? Then I pushed off and paddled madly away. I looked back after a few minutes and the water was still.
"It must have been a whale," Fiona said, sounding excited. "Can you believe it? We were that close to a whale!"
I was still gasping uncontrollably. "I thought it might be game over for us if it came to the surface."
"A whale wouldn't sink us on purpose. I wonder what kind it was?" She dug her paddle in and expertly spun her kayak so she was facing back the other way. I stopped paddling and struggled to turn my kayak. "It should surface again. They have to surface to breathe."
We watched the area for a full five minutes, but didn't see any more signs of giant mammal life. "I don't think it's around anymore," I said.
We started back to the bay. By the time we arrived I was pretty tired. Fiona was huffing a bit, too. I wouldn't admit it to her, but I was happy to have the dock beneath my feet.
When I returned the paddle and my life jacket, Fiona told the man we'd seen a whale. He looked at us like we were lunatics. "Whales don't come to this island anymore," he said. He had a smoker's raspy voice. "Not since something started eating them."
"What would do that?" I asked.
"Don't know, exactly. But I bet it wasn't a whale you saw, it was something else. Probably Drang's very own sea monster. People round here have been spotting it for ages."
8.
"What a nut!" Fiona spun her finger in a circle next to her temple, the international sign for craziness. We were already a good hundred yards from the dock, well out of the old man's hearing. "There's gotta be something in the air out here that makes everyone zany."
"Yeah, he must be Harbard's cousin or something." I held my stomach. "I thought I was going to bust a gut right in front of him."
"We shouldn't laugh too hard," Fiona warned.
"Why?"
"Maybe he was right about the monster. Maybe it was the Son of Sisutl," she whispered, a wry smile on her face.
"What? Who?"
"Just a joke. The natives in this area tell a story about Sisutl, a mighty snake with two heads, one on each end of its body . It could bring either great power or sudden death to any who encountered it. There's an old story that the Son of Sisutl, a gigantic sea serpent, still patrols this area, gobbling up lost sailors. My mom illustrated a children's book about it. The author cut out the gory parts and made the snake into a nice guy. But every island out here says they have a sea monster. They get more tourists that way."
We walked back to my campsite. "Um ... we're still gonna bike tomorrow, right?" Fiona asked. She seemed kind of hesitant, like she expected I might say no.
"Sure," I said. "I'm all for it."
"I'll see you then." She headed off to her tent. I watched her go, her red head bobbing up and down. This was turning out to be a great day. I opened the flap to our tent and went inside.
Dad was snoozing, his journal lying open on his chest. He popped one eye open. "Okay, you caught me. I just needed a nap. The walking wore me out, I guess. How'd the kayaking go?"
"We had fun. Saw what the island looked like in the daylight. And we ... " I paused. I didn't want to tell him about the whale. Knowing him, he'd overreact and say I couldn't go out again.
"And you what?"
"And we came back. And here I am." I dropped down on my sleeping bag next to him.
"Well, I'm glad you had fun. I talked to a few locals and asked them whether they'd been bothered by vandals. They said it was the first time they'd ever heard of anyone writing on tents."
"Did they think it was kids?"
"Seemed the most likely culprits. I yacked at Harbard, too. He's busy today, but tomorrow he said he'd meet with me and tell me the whole history of the island. It took a lot of convincing, though. He's not really the social type." Dad sat up, gave me a serious look. "Did you sleep okay?"
I wondered if he'd seen me go outside during the night; if he was waiting for me to confess to it. "Yeah, I slept fine."
"I didn't. I had quite a few nightmares. I remember one where I was still on the ferry, trying to bring it to shore myself, but I never seemed to even get close." So he'd had bad dreams, too. I was about to tell him about my own when Dad dropped a bombshell. "Maybe they were caused by guilt."
"Guilt?" I said. This had really come out of left field. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I know you've had a tough time this last year. Your marks kinda prove that. I've been wondering if maybe it has something to do with me being gone so much. April to September is, well, half the year; so I feel like I've missed half your life. I just haven't been there for you."
I was floored, unsure of what to say or of what I was feeling. "Uh ... it's okay, Dad. You made it to most of my basketball games ... before I quit the team, that is."
Dad looked dejected. "I just don't do enough and I'm sorry. That's part of the reason I wanted to have this holiday with you. I'd hoped we could re-connect. I'm glad you found this new friend, but save some time for your old man, too."
So that's why he'd brought me on the trip, to get back in touch. "I will," I promised.
"Good." It looked like Dad was about to hug me, but I wasn't quite ready for that. I stopped giving out hugs when I was a kid. A moment of slightly uncomfortable silence passed. I couldn't think of anything to say.
"Let's make some lunch," Dad suggested. We did. Hot dogs and beans. Later we went for a walk, following the trails east of the campground. We didn't talk much, but there was something nice about just spending time with Dad. Although, I have to admit, I did find myself thinking about Fiona too often.
That night I slept soundly. I didn't have any nightmares.
It was almost like a normal vacation.
9.
Fiona showed up just after we were done breakfast. Dad had already left to find Harbard, though not before he made me promise to not bike too far into the woods. He'd heard from one of the locals that it would probably rain today. As far as I understood it, that was just normal weather in B.C.
"Aren't you ready yet?" were the first words out of Fiona's mouth. "I don't like to be kept waiting. I'm a type A personality."
"What does the A stand for? Abnormal? Or abrasive?"
"Oh, aren't you the funny one. It stands for 'About to go biking by myself.'"
"Kinda touchy, aren't you?" I filled my bottle at the tap and fastened it in the holder on my bike. "Don't worry, maybe later I can teach you a few good come-backs." Fiona stood there with her arms crossed, looking steamed. I chuckled and ducked into the tent. I came out with my biking gloves, my fanny pack, and my pride and joy: a black Nutech helmet with flames down the sides. I zipped up the tent.
"You gonna wear a sissy brain bucket?" Fiona asked. It didn't sound like a joke.
I glanced down at my helmet. I felt like dropping it on the ground and saying naw, I was just kidding ha ha. But I remembered a rather gory film we were shown at school once about head injuries. I won't go into details, I'll just say that I never wanted my head to look like a squashed watermelon.
"I wanna keep the few wits I still have inside my skull," I told Fiona.
"Where's it you come from again?"
"Missouri."
"Do they make you wear those things down there?"
"Nope." I paused. "I just want to."
She raised both her hands, palms up, and shrugged. "Hey, whatever, it's a free country." She quickly lowered the seat on Dad's bike. Then she pulled her sunglasses from her back pocket, slipped them over her eyes, jumped on the bike and jammed down on the pedal. Dirt shot from under the wheel and she launched onto the road. "Catch me if you can!"
I
followed as fast as I could. A few hundred yards later Fiona cut up a path. She didn't slow down for at least twenty minutes, heading over jumps, up and down sharp trails, most of them riddled with stones and roots that rattled my brain as I went pounding over them. It took all my energy to keep up with her. Thankfully, I'd done quite a bit of biking back in Chillicothe.
And my bike, Sleipnir, was perfect, even better than the expensive one I had at home. It responded to every bump like it had a mind of its own and knew exactly where it wanted to go. At one point I took a jump and I thought I'd lost control, but when I landed the bike stayed balanced.
We were getting to be a long ways away from the campground. I thought about my promise to Dad to stay nearby, but there was no way I was going to ask Fiona to turn around. No way.
The path took us through a dense clump of gnarled trees that blocked out the sunlight. The further along we went, the thicker the trunks became. Many of them had been around for hundreds and hundreds of years. They were so high I couldn't see the top. Not that I really tried; I didn't dare take my eyes off the track.
The shade was cool and the only thing that kept me warm was pedaling. Fiona showed no sign of slowing down. She dipped in and out of holes, weaving off the path and back on again. Once she came so close to a tree that her handlebars grazed it, chipping the bark. Then she zipped away, laughing. Wasn't she afraid of anything?
She was still wearing her sunglasses, even in this darkened area. It was a wonder she hadn't planted herself face-first in the ground yet.
A short time later we broke through the bush onto an abandoned, mostly overgrown road. "They must have logged here," Fiona yelled, then she followed it. I was a few yards behind. The trail had two separate tracks and was wide enough that it felt safe to look around. The trees were getting so large I imagined their roots digging down into underground lakes. Their branches formed a tunnel above us.
Suddenly, I sensed something moving to my left. Keeping pace with me. I blinked; wondered if it was a trick of the shadows. Or a deer? Or coyote?
I slowed, stared. There it was again. A dark shape, bounding through the underbrush, rustling the leaves and branches. I stopped and squinted, trying to spot it once more. A pine cone rolled out into the open. I padded up to where it had come out.
Fiona had pulled up about fifty yards away. "What are you doing?"
"I thought I saw something."
She spun quickly around and wheeled back to where I stood. "What?"
"There's an animal in the trees." I pointed. The leaves were shaking.
"I don't see anything."
I leaned down and peered into the bush. I remembered the thing that had crossed my path the night of the storm. "I could swear I caught a glimpse of eyes. Are there any animals on this island about the size of a cat?" I asked.
"Not that I know of. Are you sure it's not your imagination?"
"I saw something!" I crept forward until I had a clear view of the area where I had last seen signs of movement. There was nothing but a patch of empty ground. "At least I think I did." I shivered. Now that we had stopped moving, I was cooling down. Fast.
"It was probably a rabbit," Fiona offered. "Let's get going. Maybe there's some open space ahead where the sun'll warm us up. I'm freezing."
Fiona sped down the trail again and I struggled to keep pace. She turned a minute later and headed up another thin path lined with trees. I stopped and glanced back the way we'd come.
Sunlight barely penetrated the branches, making the leaves glow yellow and green. A black shape, about the size of a small dog, shot across the road and disappeared. It moved so fast I couldn't tell what it was.
I shook my head. It was probably twice as scared of us as we were of it. At least that's what I hoped. I waited for another couple of moments, but I didn't see a thing.
10.
Fiona chose a path that was uphill, steep and winding, so I really had to get up off the seat to push the pedals down. My legs started to burn, and still we climbed higher and higher. When we finally reached the top she stopped.
I pulled up behind her. We were in a clearing, high on a hill. Below us was the wide open ocean. No other islands could be seen; only the shimmering blue water, endless and looking like it would be impossible to cross. The sun was behind us, so I knew I must be looking west onto the Pacific.
One section of the island jutted out into the water, giving us a clear view of its edges. There were sheer cliff walls that dropped from forty or fifty feet down to the water. Drang really a natural fortress, like Alcatraz on steroids.
Large birds circled around the rocks, occasionally diving down into the ocean to catch unsuspecting fish. Waves smashed up against Drang's side.
I undid my water bottle and took a sip. Fiona did the same.
Peering down the hill, I spotted a small log cabin. It had a sod roof and was surrounded by about twelve obelisks placed in a semi-circle, each about half as high as the cabin. They were like a partially completed wall, meant to protect the home. How on earth had they been carried there?
A vegetable garden was growing near the edge of the cliffs. It looked to be healthy and full of green plants, but we weren't close enough to see what kind. Three thin scarecrows stood guard, shirts flapping in the wind.
"Who do you suppose lives there?" I asked, pointing out the cabin to Fiona.
"You want to sneak down and take a look?"
"Not on your life."
Fiona laughed. "They don't make 'em too brave in Missouri, do they?"
"They don't make us stupid either," I retorted.
Fiona's laugh grew louder and I could feel myself getting really angry. Who did this girl think she was? I thought of how my ancestors, like Grettir the Strong, would never let anyone make fun of them. I got off Sleipnir, kicked the kickstand open, let the bike go and started stomping down toward the cabin.
Fiona stopped laughing. "Where are you going?" she shouted after me.
"Where do you think?" I undid my helmet and latched it to my belt.
"Hey ... I was just kidding ..." Suddenly her tone became urgent. "Get down! Hide!"
"What?" I stopped.
She was pointing frantically at the cabin. "Someone's there!" She had taken off her sunglasses to get a better look.
I knelt. A man was limping out into the open, next to the garden. His hair was gray and wild.
I snuck back up the hill to Fiona. "It's Harbard," I said.
"I can see that. I didn't know this was where he lived. He's one of the few who actually stay on Drang year round. He's half Viking and half native, you know."
"Half what?"
"Indian. His tribe used to live here. A long time ago, before the rest of us came. His dad was some Scandinavian or Icelander, but his mom was from the Kwakiutl tribe."
"Where's his tribe now?"
"Dunno. Guess they got smart and left."
Harbard began hoeing his garden. He seemed pretty harmless. "Is this his land? Is he going to be mad that we're here?"
"What he doesn't know, won't hurt him," Fiona said, bravely. "Though we should probably be careful. There's a rumor he catches stray kids and boils them up for stew."
"What? Get real!"
Fiona laughed. "Just kidding. I actually haven't heard anyone say anything bad about ol' Harbard."
"You almost had me going for a second there. You're not bad at pulling someone's leg. Not as good as me, of course."
This made her eyes glitter with mischief. "I bet you a dollar I can get you again. Right now."
I didn't like the sounds of this, but I wasn't gonna back down. I pulled out the coin my father had given me. "You're on."
Fiona grabbed the loonie and shoved it in her pocket, saying, "I might as well have it, because I'm gonna show you who's the better trickster." She put a hand to her mouth and howled like a wolf. Loud.
"Hey!" I tried to stop her. Her cry echoed around us.
Harbard jerked his head our way. He shielded his eyes from t
he sun, squinted.
"What are you doing?" I barked. This was one guy I didn't want to annoy.
"He's not the fastest runner in the world. We can be gone before he gets anywhere near us."
"You're crazy!"
"Oh, don't be such a ... uh oh."
Harbard had made his way to the woodpile. He was now holding a large axe. "Draugr!" he yelled. "Fardur burt!" He grabbed the chain around his neck with his free hand. Was he trying to ward us away? Did he think we were evil spirits? Fetches? "Galdrakarl! Flya!"
Then he whistled, sharply. A long, black hound slipped out of the cabin, ears pricked up. It was the biggest dog I'd ever seen. It could probably bring down a deer on its own. Harbard snarled a command.
"We better get outta here," Fiona whispered. She didn't sound as brave as she had just a minute ago. "Fast."
The dog stared in our direction. Then began loping toward us.
In a heartbeat I was on my bike and pedaling like a maniac. I glanced back to see Fiona right behind me. We went up a few feet then down into a gully, trees blurring past. I didn't care which direction we traveled. I just wanted to put as much space as possible between Harbard's dog and us.
We took a long loop on a thin winding path, then twisted back and forth. By this time I was wondering if I'd ever find my way home to the campground.
I glanced back. There didn't seem to be anything following us.
We headed up another hill. The way was getting even rougher and some of the stones looked sharp enough to puncture my tires. We climbed higher and then sped down into a valley that was crammed with long, green grass that hid a lot of over-sized, jagged rocks. The sun beat down, sweat dripped into my eyes blurring my vision.
The path dipped steeply. My stomach lurched and I grabbed tight onto the bike, praying it would bounce across the stones beneath us, hoping I could somehow manage to stay on. I wasn't even wearing my helmet, it was still strapped to my belt. If I fell here I'd be torn to shreds, all the bones in my body broken.