The Voice inside My Head

by S. J. Laidlaw

  I look up at him, shielding my eyes against the blistering sun, and try to make sense of what he’s saying — something about the police. It’s too late for the police. Doesn’t he see that? I turn back to my sister. Sweat drips off my face, mingling with the salt water on hers. Together they form rivulets sliding across her cheeks like tears. I take her hand again. It’s still the clammy, foreign object it was before, but I force myself not to let go.

  ME: Say something, Pat. Please, just say something.

  PAT:

  “Luke.” I start as Reesie touches my arm. I look back at the shore. Jamie’s no longer in sight. Nor is Zach. “Dr. Jake is back from seeing Pete off on the plane. He’s calling the police now.”

  “What about Tracy?”

  Reesie’s brow furrows. “You want to talk to Tracy? I didn’t see her. Maybe she went back to her room.”

  I stand up and stride off the dock, breaking into a run when I hit dry land. I race to the office, stop just inside the door and take in the scene. Zach, Jamie and Dr. Jake are there, talking in hushed tones, but there’s no sign of Tracy.

  “Where’s Tracy?” I demand, my voice tight.

  Dr. Jake looks at me in surprise. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since early this morning. We have a dive going out later. She said she was going to get some gear ready, but maybe she went back to bed.”

  “She wasn’t at the airport seeing Pete off?” Zach asks, but it comes out as a more of a statement as comprehension blooms on his face.

  I’m out the door before Dr. Jake can reply. As my feet pound the cement walkway to Tracy’s room, Zach is on my heels. I bang on the door. Zach leans past me, turns the knob and throws it open. We rush in and freeze as we take in the scene in front of us. The room is empty. Tracy’s clothes, her Hello Kitty toiletry bag, her backpack, all gone.

  “It was her,” I stare at the deserted room that chides me with the evidence that once again I’ve failed.

  “We’ll find her,” says Zach.

  “How? She’s gone; she could be anywhere. We’ll never find her.”

  “This is Utila,” says a voice behind Zach. Reesie pushes past him into the room. “We just need to get ourselves on the radio. There’s no place to hide.”

  Together we hurry back to the office. Dr. Jake meets us at the door. By the mixture of revulsion and concern on his face, I know he and Jamie have already figured out what’s going on.

  “Was she there?” Jamie asks grimly.

  “We need the radio,” says Reesie.

  Dr. Jake points at it and sinks down on the couch, his head in his hands. We brush past him, and Jamie joins us as we huddle around the radio. I fidget while Reesie flips it on and repeatedly punches a button, flicking through stations.

  “I’m tuning in to the emergency frequency,” she explains. “There’re some people always on standby on it. It’s the fastest way to get the word out. After that, we can try individual stations, track her down when we start getting some sightings.”

  Jamie takes the mike out of her hands and pushes down the button, speaking into it hoarsely. “Putting out an all-points for Tracy from the Whale Shark Research Center! Wanted for murder. Out.” He releases the button, and we all wait in silence as the radio crackles.

  Jamie holds down the button again. “Blond girl from the Whale Shark Research Center, probably carrying a pack. Wanted for murder. Out.” The seconds tick by as the radio continues to crackle. Jamie raises the mike to his mouth again just as a voice bursts out of it.

  “Ya lookin’ for the little blond girl from the Shark Center?

  Out.”

  “Roger that,” says Jamie anxiously, holding down the button. “She’s wanted for murder. Out.”

  “That you, Jamie Greenfield? Out.”

  “That’s right. Who’s this I’m speaking to? Out.”

  “It’s T.J. from Bungie’s Café. Ya serious ’bout that murder thing? Out.”

  At this point I’m ready to rip the mike out of Jamie’s hands, but he gives me a warning look.

  “It’s serious. You seen her? Out.”

  “Yep. I sure have. Out.”

  “You want to goddamn tell us where?” I shout, but Jamie doesn’t have the button down so my tirade goes unanswered.

  Jamie keeps an eye on me as he presses the button. “Where would that be, T.J.? Out.”

  “She be goin’ off in Mr. Christian’s boat. Looks like they be headin’ for the cays. Out.”

  “Thank you kindly, T.J. Out.”

  “Ya tell you’ mama to drop round for a coffee sometime, on the house. Out.”

  “I’ll do that. Out.”

  “We’ll take my boat,” says Jamie, replacing the mike and heading for the door.

  “I need to bring my sister in off the dock,” I say, feeling guilty I only just now thought of it. “Is there somewhere I can put her?”

  “Bring her in here,” says Dr. Jake. “The police should be here soon. They’ll need to take a look at her.”

  I cringe at the thought of strange men pawing over her. If I don’t go after Tracy now, it may be too late, but how can I desert my sister? My eyes well up as I think of her alone, not just now but forever. How many times am I going to fail her?

  Reesie looks at me worriedly, like she’s following the direction of my thoughts. “Do you want I should stay with her?” she asks.

  I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

  We all go out to the dock. A pelican is perched on the end, close to Pat’s body. It flies off when we get close, but following its path upward, I notice several frigate birds circling. They’re carrion eaters. I have no doubt why they’re hanging around. If I had a rock, I’d throw it at them.

  I want to remove the weight belt from Pat’s waist, but Dr. Jake says we should leave it for the police to inspect, which makes it a struggle to lift her. She’s slippery, and I almost drop her a couple of times, but I won’t let anyone help me as I lumber along the dock and back to the office. I lay her gently on the couch and wonder briefly if Dr. Jake would have preferred I put her on the floor, but he claps a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

  “I’ll take care of the police,” he promises. “You go do what you need to do.”

  Jamie, Zach and I hurry through town to the dock where Jamie keeps his boat. We’re a sorry group of heroes, all too aware that any justice we win for Pat now won’t achieve the only thing we all want — to have her back. I try to talk to her in my head, but she remains stubbornly silent. I wonder if her voice is lost to me forever. Perhaps she was only trying to lead me to her, or maybe she was never there at all. Maybe it was my imagination from the beginning, and it’s only deserted me now because even I’m not deluded enough to conjure a living soul from the stark evidence of her ravaged carcass.

  ME: I know you blame me. I admitted it’s my fault. What more can I do?

  PAT:

  We clamber into Jamie’s boat, a narrow, wooden dory like all the others I’ve seen here, and cast off from the dock, motoring slowly out of the harbor, picking up speed as we reach open water. The sea looked calm from the shore, but out here the swells are massive. We ride them up eight feet and crash down amid a cascade of water sloshing over the gunwales. Zach rocks with the waves like he’s riding a horse, at ease with the rhythm. I clutch the sides of the boat and stare into the dark blue water, wondering why I let him save me from drowning. If I’d stayed with Pat, it would all be over now. Maybe that’s all she wanted, company in her final resting place. I’m glad it’s too loud for the three of us to talk over the sound of the motor and splashing waves. We’re united yet alone, all suffering our own private grief.

  The sea smoothes out as we come into a channel between the main island of Utila and the smaller cays off its southwest bank. Though tiny, the island we’re approaching seems even more bustling than the town we just left. There are few trees and, apparently, not an inch of undeveloped land. The houses that line the coast are built out into the water on stilts, using the reef as
a foundation. Jamie is hailed from shore by several men hurrying along the dock from one of the adjacent buildings.

  “She’s not here!” one man shouts before we’ve even docked. “We heard on the radio ya be chasin’ down a girl who be goin’ with Mr. Christian’s boat. They didn’t come here.” He leans out and catches the rope that Zach throws to him.

  “Any idea where they might be?” Jamie asks, steadying the boat with one hand on the dock.

  “No. There’s been loads of chatter, but no one’s seen ’em. I expect Mr. Christian dropped her somewhere and went off to do some fishin’.”

  “Damn,” I mutter. She could be anywhere, and while the radio may be effective for hunting her down on the populated parts of the island, most of the island’s just empty forest.

  “It’s thirty minutes back to town,” Jamie says. “We won’t hear much until Mr. Christian puts in somewhere, but we could get on the radio so we know where we should be heading.”

  I exhale in frustration. “That makes sense. We should also radio Reesie and give her an update.”

  Zach and Jamie nod in agreement so we all pile off the boat and head into the nearest building, which turns out to be a very basic guesthouse for divers. There are a few sticks of furniture and a TV blaring in one corner, with a kid half-asleep in front of it. Other than that, the only modern convenience is a radio. I’m beginning to see how central this apparatus is to remote island living. This one’s already crackling away, picking up a conversation between several boats about the location of a school of dolphins. Jamie switches the frequency to the one the Shark Center stands by on and puts in the call.

  “This is Jamie, from the cays. Out.”

  “Hello, Jamie. Dr. Jake at the Shark Center. What are you doing in the cays? Out.”

  Jamie looks at Zach and me in confusion. We shake our heads.

  “We came here looking for Tracy. Out.”

  “But Reesie got your message you’d gone to Jack Neil. Out.”

  “What is he talking about?” Jamie asks anxiously.

  I take the radio out of his hand. “What message? Out.”

  “It came in over the radio not more than ten minutes ago. Gudrun from Poppies Hotel sent it. Out.”

  I raise an eyebrow at Jamie.

  “This is Poppies,” he explains. “Gudrun is one of the dive masters who works out of here, but their boat was gone when we docked. They must be out diving already.”

  “Gudrun said Tracy’d been dropped at Jack Neil Beach, so Reesie left in the dinghy twenty minutes ago and went to meet you there. Out,” says Dr. Jake.

  “Where’s Jack Neil Beach?” I ask with a flash of hope. But Jamie doesn’t answer as he turns to the kid lounging in front of the TV.

  “Has Gudrun been on the radio this morning?”

  The kid looks over at us in surprise. “Not from here. She took a group out early. She could have called from the boat, though.”

  “We’ve got to go,” Jamie says over his shoulder, already racing for the door with Zach behind him. I see them through the window, sprinting hell-bent along the dock, so I tear after them. Something is clearly wrong. My stomach churns when I realize it somehow involves Reesie.

  Jamie and Zach have the boat untied and the motor going by the time I’m clambering into it.

  “If Gudrun had sent the message, she would have said she was calling from the Ol’ Tom; that’s the name of their boat. She wouldn’t have said she was calling from Poppies,” Zach explains, as Jamie focuses on hot-rodding out of the harbor without crashing into anyone.

  I’m still confused. “Maybe Dr. Jake was talking about where she worked, not where she was calling from.”

  “People here don’t make that kind of mistake,” Zach replies. “A lot of places on and around this island have no telephone reception. The radio is the only way to communicate. If there’s a crisis — an earthquake, an accident, a swamped ship — the radio is the only thing standing between them and death. They get on it; they identify their location. It’s the first thing they do. Always.”

  “So you’re saying Gudrun didn’t send that message?”

  “Exactamundo,” Zach says.

  CHAPTER 21

  It’s an excruciating fifteen minutes to Jack Neil Beach, halfway back in the direction of town. Jamie takes the waves as quickly as we can. Several times I think we’re going to capsize, but finally we round the last headland. Zach leaps to his feet and excitedly points out Jack Neil dock. I am so relieved to see Reesie lying on the end, but my heart thumps when she struggles to sit up, only to flop back down, raising her arm in a feeble wave. As we get closer, we can see the blood oozing from the side of her head.

  I’m up and off the boat before Jamie’s even cut the motor.

  I run to Reesie and kneel down, pull off my T-shirt in a fluid motion and press it to the wound.

  “I’m sorry,” she gasps. “Tracy —”

  “Not now, Reesie,” I cut her off. “You need to lie still.”

  She struggles to sit up, pushing away my restraining hand.

  Jamie’s right behind me and drops to his knees, picking up the T-shirt Reesie has cast off and struggling to hold her down while I press it against the wound again.

  “Calm yourself, girl,” he commands.

  “Tracy’s getting away!” she gasps urgently. “She stole the dinghy. She was hiding. We’ve got to —”

  “For once in your life, you are not the one giving orders here,” snaps Jamie. “Zach, go down the beach to Mr. Wolfe. It’s the round gray house. Get on to Dr. Jake and tell him we need a fast boat to town.”

  Zach hurtles down the dock before Jamie finishes his instructions.

  “She’s heading for Ceiba,” Reesie moans. “She’s trying to leave the country. You have to listen to me.”

  “Luke,” Jamie says. “It’s up to you. I’ve got to stay with Reesie. Take my boat; it’s a damn sight faster than the dinghy. You might be able to catch her.”

  I look at him in horror and glance over at his boat. I’ve never driven a boat before. But I can’t let my sister’s murderer just get away. I search the shoreline, wondering how long it will be before Zach returns. I can’t even see him. He disappeared into the trees the second he left the dock. He may not have gotten that far, but am I really prepared to wait? Every second could mean the difference between catching up with Tracy and letting her escape. I realize I don’t have a choice.

  “The key’s still in the motor,” says Jamie. “Just keep your sights on Pico Bonito and head straight for it.” He nods at the distant shore, where the silhouette of a steep, conical mountain disappears into the clouds.

  I nod briskly but don’t speak. I know my voice will betray my fear. My entire body quivering, I force myself to stride steadily over to the boat. I climb in and turn the key. The motor jumps to life. Just like driving a car. I turn the throttle and the boat starts to move. Unfortunately, the dock starts to move with it.

  “The ropes,” Jamie yells, scuttling over to untie the one closest to him. I turn off the motor and scramble across the bow to untie the other one.

  “Just practicing,” I say sheepishly.

  “He’s going to get himself killed,” says Reesie, moaning as she tries to sit up. “This is a bad plan, Jamie.”

  Jamie returns to her side and I repeat the steps of turning on the engine. This time when I give it juice, it rockets away from the dock like it might go airborne.

  “Don’t be giving it too much throttle,” Jamie calls after me, but I can barely hear him over the roar of the engine as I hurtle toward the wide-open sea.

  In a twelve-foot boat.

  With no radio.

  And a useless cell phone that can’t get reception.

  In at least one hundred feet of water.

  Now five hundred.

  One thousand.

  Sharks can attack in less than two feet of water.

  Is that supposed to be reassuring?

  This was a mistake.

&nb
sp; But I have to catch Tracy.

  Focus on the mountain.

  How big is that wave?

  Holy crap.

  ——

  Water sluices over me, drenching my clothes and filling the boat. I scrabble at my feet with one hand, keeping the other on the throttle. There’s some kind of plastic jug beneath my seat. I yank it out and am relieved to see it’s an empty milk jug with the top sliced off, perfect for bailing. I fling water out of the boat as fast as I can, but it’s a losing battle as an onslaught of waves, three in a row, crash over the bow, sending torrents of water back in my face. My eyes sting from the salt; I can hardly keep them open. I squint at Pico Bonito for brief seconds in between squeezing my eyes shut, hoping my own tears will clear the salt. I continue hurtling forward, but the mountain never gets any closer. Only the land behind me recedes. I can no longer make out the dock or distinguish trees from the hazy green outline of the little island I’ve left. Still I keep going until Utila disappears completely. The mainland remains an indistinct smudge on the horizon.

  In one of my peeks through burning eyes, I think I see something moving just ahead.

  Another quick look confirms it.

  A fin? I saw a dorsal.

  My heart pounds so hard, I think it’s going to burst through my rib cage.

  I force my eyes wide open, though they’re streaming so badly I’m nearly blind. I look around and there they are, three dorsals off the starboard bow.

  And then I see more.

  At least a dozen.

  Double that.

  Triple.

  There are hundreds of them. I’m surrounded. One of the creatures leaps out of the water, spins twice and crashes back into the sea. This starts a craze and they all start doing it, leaping and spinning, in unison and alone. The sea churns with their riotous dance.

  Not sharks.

  Dolphins.

  They know I’m here, I’m certain of it. It’s not only that some pop up and look at me, leap so close I fear they’ll tumble into the boat; it’s more than that. They’re doing this for my benefit, showing off like rowdy street urchins, proving how completely they own this expanse of ocean. As I watch them, I forget my stinging eyes, my cold goose-pimpled body, and wish more than anything that I could join them.