Island Refuge EMP Box Set | Books 1-3

by Hamilton, Grace

  “Sounds interesting,” Elna said. “I’m not much of an artist myself.”

  “You help your dad make Pasqualee Wine,” he said. “That’s a kind of art, don’t you think?”

  “It’s wine, dude,” Garret said with a laugh. “Not Picasso. The funny thing is, Claire hates the outdoors. Here my boy Malin is, renting kayaks and backpacks for a living, and his wife-to-be can’t stand hiking, bugs, bad weather, mountaintops, rivers. She just wants to hunker down in her studio.”

  “Yeah, that’s true,” Malin conceded, kicking a stray rock. “Every relationship requires compromise.”

  She seemed to be studying his face, though he couldn’t tell if she was judging him or merely curious. Elna was a little hard to read. She was lean and wiry, her eyes always piercing, as if she were attempting to peer into the heart of everything around her.

  “What brought you to the island?” Elna asked.

  “We had a couple crazy days of partying at a beach house owned by Garret’s brother,” Malin said. “I didn’t want to go from a wild party straight to the wedding, so I added a few quiet days to the end of the trip.”

  “I recommended the Moonlite Bunny Ranch,” Garret said, “but my buddy here is a prude.”

  “Well, it’s not exactly the most appropriate activity right before a wedding,” Malin replied, trying to hide the soul-withering embarrassment brought on by Garret’s comment. Did the dude always have to be such a d-bag?

  “Better than after the wedding.”

  Malin turned to Elna and rolled his eyes. “I never seriously considered the Bunny Ranch or anything like that. Trust me. My idea was some kind of bed-and-breakfast, and I came across this place on TripAdvisor. Pasqualee Vineyard. Seemed quaint.”

  “Yeah, websites like TripAdvisor help us cover our unbooked rooms,” Elna said. “At a cheaper rate, of course. Pop doesn’t like to use them for that reason, but it’s necessary.”

  “There was a nice picture of you and your dad standing in the vineyard.”

  “Oh gosh,” Elna said. “One of our guests offered to take it. He was a professional photographer, but I hate that picture. He got me with a dumb look on my face, and now it’s plastered all over the web.”

  “Nah, it was nice,” he said. “You’re both smiling. Made this seem like a quiet, restful place.”

  “A great place to experience the EMP,” she said sourly.

  “Yep. Anyway, the idea was to rest up before the wedding, because Claire had a long day planned. I didn’t want to conk out halfway through and miss out on anything since it’s our big day.”

  They passed the big metal sign that welcomed guests to the island and vineyard: PASQUALEE VINEYARD WELCOMES YOU. Beyond, they started across the narrow span that stretched out into the rough waters. Malin could taste the sea air, feel the mist against his face. As he looked at the narrow gray line stretching out before them, the drawbridge like a goalpost in the distance, he felt dwarfed by the ocean, dwarfed by the whole world.

  Vegas feels so damn far away, he thought. Another planet.

  The two-mile walk along the causeway to the first bridge felt interminable. Malin couldn’t help bringing up the subject of Claire, though Elna didn’t seem all that interested. Still, it took his mind off the crashing water on either side, or the sheer magnitude of the distance between him and his whole life.

  “They installed one of her driftwood sculptures in a library in Mendocino,” he said at one point. “I’m not really sure what it was supposed to be. Sort of an organic shape. I asked her, and she said it’s meant to represent spirit. So there you go. That’s an artist for you.”

  “I’m a little iffy on modern art, to be honest,” Elna said.

  “Yeah, I get that,” Malin said. “Anyway, city officials came out to dedicate her sculpture and everything. They put a picture of it in the Mendocino Beacon. There’s a picture of it on my phone. I guess I should’ve brought the newspaper clipping instead.”

  “Uh-huh,” Elna replied.

  Malin cringed. Clearly, Elna was preoccupied and didn’t want to discuss Claire anymore. He bit his lip and forced himself into silence.

  By now, Garret was completely out of breath and wheezing. He bent over, pressing his hands to his thighs, sweat falling from his overly red face in big drops. Elna pulled out the spyglass again and put it to her eye.

  “I see something,” she said, after moment. And then, she whispered, “Oh no. Can it be?”

  “What?” Malin said. “What is it?”

  Instead of explaining, she handed him the spyglass. He put it to his eye. It took a moment to focus, and when he did, he saw a faint glimmer of red in the far distance that he realized were fires burning along the coastline.

  “Let me guess,” Garret said, wiping the sweat from his face with the hem of his polo shirt. “Mushroom clouds? They finally nuked Redding? It’s about time.”

  “You’re a funny guy,” Malin said, studying the faint glow. What was burning? Cities, wilderness, beaches? He couldn’t tell. Actually, it kind of looked like everything was on fire. “No mushroom clouds. It looks like there’s a big fire on the mainland.”

  “Figures,” Garret said. “The madness has already descended. It’ll be like Mad Max before you know it. Mark my words. People are nuts.”

  “I have to get over there.” Malin handed the spyglass back to Elna. He could feel the worry edging toward desperation. “I have to find a way to get to Claire.”

  Elna took a final look, trying to get a clearer view.

  “Well, so much for getting a pizza,” she muttered.

  “No sense in going over there now,” Garret said. “We’re way underprepared for whatever’s happening on the mainland. We’ll walk right into the flames. What do you say?” He turned his unfriendly gaze on Elna. “Gonna turn back now?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” she said, clearly trying to avoid eye contact. “We should at least attempt to lower the first drawbridge so we know if it’s even possible to cross.”

  “Waste of time,” Garret said. “All that walking and work for nothing. The world’s on fire.”

  “Then go back,” Malin said. “Seriously, dude. Go back! If you’re tired of walking, there’s a comfy bed waiting for you at the guesthouse. Elna and I are continuing on.”

  He looked at Elna. She nodded, and he returned the nod.

  “Fine.” Garret held his hands up. His palms were shiny with the sweat from his face. “I’m going back. Have a wonderful time. Claire will never know.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Malin said.

  “Nothing. Good luck. If you see fire, you go into it, okay?”

  And with that, he turned and started back up the road toward the guesthouse. Malin watched him for a moment then turned and resumed his march across the causeway.

  “Sorry he’s like that,” Malin said as Elna moved up beside him. “When he’s frustrated, he kind of takes it out on everyone around him.”

  “We get rude guests from time to time,” Elna said, “and if I don’t coddle them they leave bad reviews online. But who gives a crap about reviews now? Next time you plan to get stranded on an island, leave that guy at home.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  “I hate to pry,” Elna said. “How exactly did he get to be your best man? You guys don’t seem to like each other much.”

  Malin waved off this comment. “Nah, I’ve known Garret since college. We were in the same business program. We’ve always had the sort of friendship where we’re free to mouth off at each other.”

  “Are you sure it’s just mouthing off?”

  Her comment struck a little too deep. No, he wasn’t sure. He’d never been sure, but he didn’t want to say it out loud. “Trust me. We’ve been through thick and thin together. He’s been irritated lately. Mostly, I think he doesn’t care for the whole wedding. In fact, when I’d planned to propose to Claire, he tried to talk me out of it. Maybe it’s a reminder that he’s still single, or maybe it’s n
ot his scene. Some guys don’t like weddings.”

  “Yeah, I get it,” she said.

  5

  As her father had said, the drawbridge had a small service building on the island side. It looked a little like a tollbooth and had murky windows and an ancient door in the back. Elna had seen the building before but had never been inside. Officially, the bridges and causeway were overseen by the California Department of Transportation, at least on paper, but the island was by no means a priority for the agency. She half expected the door to be rusted shut, but when she tried it, it swung open.

  Inside, she found a raised metal floor with a large control panel and some levers in the corner. Gaps along the edge of the floor gave a view of the mechanism underneath.

  “What do you think?” Malin asked, clearly impatient. “Can we lower it or not?”

  Elna approached the control panel and opened it. Then she traced the black wires down to a larger box near the floor. When she opened a panel on the large box, she found a row of enormous, military-style batteries. She followed the lines further to a row of levers, which she pointed out to Malin.

  “Look at that,” she said. “I think the system has a battery backup, but it seems like the batteries are decades old. Probably installed by the military when they built the bridges and never replaced.”

  “Bummer,” Malin said.

  “Yeah, but I think these levers here are the manual controls,” she added, pointing through the gap in the floor. Some kind of large metal spool was just visible. “Here’s my guess. There’s a winch for manually raising and lowering the bridge. This lever here might release the lock, if we can get it moving. One way to find out for sure.”

  She knelt in front of the lever, which had a troubling amount of rust around the base. She grabbed it with both hands. Malin joined her, rolling up his sleeves and grabbing the lever near the top, tightening his grip until his forearm muscles bulged.

  “Push or pull?” he asked.

  “Toward me,” she said. “That’s a pull for me, a push for you.”

  She began pulling at the lever, putting all her strength into it. Malin leaned into the lever, throwing his weight against it. The rusty metal gave a single soft sound, a gentle creak—as if acknowledging their presence—but didn’t budge in the slightest. Elna kept pulling until her hands began to go numb from the pressure. Finally, with an explosive sigh, she let go and fell on her rump.

  “No use,” Malin said. “That thing’s not going anywhere.”

  Their combined strength couldn’t get the levers to move even a millimeter. Everything was rusted in place. By the time they left the service building, Malin looked utterly defeated, his shoulders slumped, a hopeless frown on his face. He kept shaking his hands, as if he’d hurt them.

  He turned to face the raised bridge, staring up at the top, as if considering whether to climb it. “Well, that sucks,” he said. “If Garret had stuck around, his strength would have helped. Is there no other option?”

  Elna slumped against the wall beside the door. Within minutes of getting to the drawbridge they’d reached a dead end. She wracked her brain trying to think of some other solution.

  “Damn it,” she said, kicking her heel against the concrete wall. It was a rare show of emotion, and when Malin turned to look at her, she tried to contain it.

  “What’s Plan B?” Malin asked.

  “Plan B is trudge back to the guesthouse and try again another day,” she said, pushing away from the wall. “Sometimes, if I just spend a few days thinking about a problem, a solution presents itself.”

  The walk back was almost completely silent. Malin walked hunched over, staring at his own feet. No more stories about Claire and her driftwood art. When they came in sight of the guesthouse, Elna saw some of the guests still sitting on the veranda. Her father rose at her approach and moved toward the railing to meet them.

  “Well?” he called, as they crossed the parking lot.

  Elna shook her head. “No luck. There are levers, but they wouldn’t budge. Everything is rusted.”

  Malin moved to the nearest table, dumped his backpack on the ground, and sat down. Without really thinking about it, Elna sat next to him. If anything good had come out of their futile walk, she at least felt a little more comfortable around him.

  “Claire is probably freaking out,” Malin said, putting his head in his hands. “I can’t imagine what she’s going through now. If only there were a way I could send her a message. Where’s the damn Pony Express when you need it?”

  Elna’s father grunted and shook his head. “I guess it’s what I expected. Without power, those old bridges aren’t going to budge.”

  “You pulled a few levers and gave up?” Garret said. Malin’s red-faced best man had been sitting quietly, but he leaned back in his chair now, tucking his hands behind his head. “That’s it? Doesn’t seem like you tried all that hard. You should’ve listened to me and come back. Wasted effort. You were so desperate to keep going, you should have spent a little time coming up with a plan.”

  “You have no idea what we did, okay?” Malin said, waving him off. “Just drop it. I had to try for Claire’s sake. When we finally get back together, I want to be able to look her in the eye and say I tried and kept trying. Can’t you understand that?”

  “We’ll make another attempt another day,” Elna added. “It might require more people. I’ll think about it.”

  “At least you two had a nice walk and became pals, though, right?” Garret said, with a mirthless smile. “Look at you sitting together there like old buddies. Quality time is so important, especially when the rest of the world is burning.”

  As his voice rose, Elna shifted in her seat to keep him in view. She didn’t really know the guy, so she didn’t know what he was capable of.

  He seems way more hostile than the situation warrants, she thought. What’s really going on between these two? Maybe I don’t want to know.

  “Just shut up, dude,” Malin said. “I don’t want to hear another word from you. What do you care if Elna and I got to know each other a little bit during our walk? Seriously, what is your problem?”

  Garret came out from behind his table to loom over them. He stood there a moment, still smiling that weird smile. Elna couldn’t quite read his expression, but she felt uncomfortable being near him. She eased her chair a little farther away.

  “You think you got it all figured out, don’t you?” Garret said.

  “What does that even mean?” Malin said with a groan, resting his cheek on the tabletop. “Go away, dude. Sleep off whatever’s wrong with you. I’m sorry I brought you here. I should have followed my mom’s advice and made my brother my best man.”

  Garret rose up tall, the smirk becoming a big toothy grin. He’s about to say something awful, Elna thought in the seconds before he said it. Yes, that was what the smile was all about. Garret was about to pull out a secret weapon.

  And then he did.

  “Well, it’s good you’re making a new lady friend,” he said, “because I know something you don’t know. Oh yeah, I’ve been holding on tight to this one for weeks. Want to hear it? Sure, you do. I happen to know that your sweet little Claire was going to call off the wedding. What do you think about that?”

  “You’re lying,” Malin shouted, standing up so fast he knocked his chair over. “How dare you say that!”

  “You guys had a big fight over the wedding venue,” Garret said. “Didn’t you? You wanted to rent a conference room at the Fremont, and she wanted to use the Little Neon Chapel down the street. She said it was more of a Vegas experience; you said it was tacky. You dug your heels in until she cried, and then you wilted like week-old lettuce.”

  “How do you know about that? I never said a word about it.”

  “Because she told me,” Garret said. “We had a big text conversation about it. Dude, she texted me about all the big fights you had in the last few months. She was sick of it. You didn’t even come to her exhibit at the librar
y last month. She was done with you. If my phone wasn’t fried, I would show you the texts right now.”

  Elna’s father stepped in between them then, but Garret was taller. He peered down at Malin from over George’s shoulder.

  “You thought you got so lucky with her,” he said. “Well, you didn’t.”

  Malin rushed at him, hitting the edge of Elna’s chair hard enough to knock it sideways. She slid off, landed on her hands and knees, and quickly crawled away. She looked over her shoulder in time to see Malin push her father aside and shove Garret backward. His best man landed on a table. Before he had a chance to recover, Malin turned and ran away, heading down the steps then turning toward the vineyard.

  “That was uncalled for,” George said. “All of it.”

  Garret’s smile was gone now. He rose, stepped away from the table, and rubbed the spot just above his sternum where Malin had pushed him.

  “Well, he pissed me off,” he muttered. “He’s been pissing me off for a while now, so he had it coming.”

  And with that, he headed into the guesthouse. In the silence that followed, Elna rose and stumbled over to the handrail.

  Oh God, what are we going to do? she thought. We have limited supplies, we can’t cross the bridge, and some of our guests want to hurt each other.

  As if adding to her thought, she heard a distant rumble of thunder. Moving to the south end of the veranda, she turned her gaze westward and saw dark storm clouds rising above the horizon.

  “Even better,” she muttered.

  Her father stepped up beside her then, stroking his mustache and furiously chewing his lip.

  “Was the mainland really on fire?” he asked. “That’s what Garret said.”

  “We saw flames,” she replied. “Not sure what was burning. Maybe that big storm will put it out.” She pointed at the clouds.