“Yeah,” I said. “Nick’s got first-aid training. And I can help. At least I won’t pass out.”
“Imogen, I’m going to wrap this around your arm…” Nick tied his now bloodstained shirt tightly. “Okay, put your hand here and squeeze. Can you walk?”
She nodded and stood up, pale and shaky.
“All right,” Rahim said, clapping his hands as if he’d really been in control all along. “Let’s get back to the mess hall and get everyone taken care of. Okay, troops?”
No one said anything. What was there to say?
There wasn’t anything remotely okay about any of this.
SEVENTEEN
Caleb
According to Alice, I was some kind of machete-wielding, homicidal maniac. She wouldn’t let me near Imogen when we got back to the mess hall and Rahim went to get the first-aid kit.
“Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage?” she said when I offered to get Imogen some juice and a cookie. “She’s not a toddler, you know. She needs medical attention, not cookies.”
“She might be in shock,” I said.
“She’s not in shock,” Alice said flatly. “If she was in shock, she’d be pale and clammy and breathing fast.”
I ignored her and spoke to Imogen directly. “You want some juice?”
Imogen nodded, and I went into the kitchen and poured some juice into a chipped beige mug (The meaning of life is to give life a meaning). When I got back, Rahim had joined Alice and Nick and was sitting beside Imogen, a big red first-aid kit open on the table beside him. I handed the juice to Imogen, but there wasn’t much else I could do.
Chad had taken Mandy back to the girls’ cabin to get a sweater or something. So much for Warren’s gender segregation rules. They were probably hooking up while the rest of us watched Nick patch up Imogen’s arm. Alice stroked Imogen’s hair off her face, and it occurred to me that we were getting into some serious Lord of the Flies territory here. Was Tara our Piggy? The timing was off—Piggy dies after they’ve been on the island a while—but no doubt Alice would say I was Jack, the ultimate savage. And she would be Simon, of course, always standing on the moral high ground, making everyone else look bad. But this wasn’t a novel. This was real. And one thing was for sure—the adults who were supposed to be helping us deal with our issues had some serious issues of their own. Warren and Claire had disappeared after lunch, and Rahim was clearly way out of his comfort zone.
“We all have our Wilderness First Aid certificates,” Rahim said as he watched Nick unwind the shirt from Imogen’s arm. “But I haven’t had much opportunity to practice, so…”
“It’s all right. I’ve got this,” Nick said.
We all stood around and watched Imogen until she said, “You guys are freaking me out. Stop staring at me.” The bleeding had stopped, but the cut looked like hell. Sticky with dried blood and probably already infected. Who knew what nasty microbes had been lurking on the rusty machete blade.
“The cut doesn’t look too deep,” Rahim said. “Some antiseptic and a few butterfly bandages should do the trick.” His hands shook as he fumbled through the first-aid kit, pulling out various packages to hand to Nick.
Nick swabbed the wound slowly and carefully, but Imogen flinched, and Alice said, “Let me do it. You’re hurting her.”
Imogen gave her a wan smile, but Nick continued to swab. “Almost done, Imogen,” he said. “Rahim, could you hand me the butterfly bandages?” He bandaged the injured arm neatly, patted Imogen’s shoulder and then went to wash his hands at the kitchen sink.
Rahim packed up the first-aid kit. “I’m going to check on Claire and Warren. You’ll stay here with the girls?” he said to Nick and me.
We nodded, although I wasn’t sure they wanted us there. Sure enough, as soon as Rahim left, Alice said, “You guys can go. We’re good.”
“You sure?” Nick said.
Imogen nodded. “I’m okay. Really. Alice will look after me.” She shot me a look that clearly said, Go away, you guys,
Alice handed Nick his bloody shirt and said, “You should rinse this out before the blood sets.”
“Thanks,” Nick said, taking the shirt from her.
As Nick and I walked back to the cabin, I asked, “Have you ever read Lord of the Flies?”
He nodded. “Who hasn’t? Isn’t it, like, required reading in every eighth-grade class in the world? Civilization versus savagery, order versus chaos, blah, blah, blah. Why?”
“Ninth grade for me,” I said. “But I’ve been thinking. We’re on this island. And shit’s gettin’ real. Remind you of anything?”
“Well, I’m not signing up to be Piggy,” he said. “I’ve been bullied enough for two lifetimes. We gotta take control. Do something bold before anything else happens.”
“My thoughts exactly,” I said. “We’ve got a fire to build tonight. Maybe someone will see the smoke and come and check it out.”
“At the very least we can make some s’mores,” Nick said.
“Like there’re any marshmallows on this island…”
“At the very least,” Nick amended, “I can burn this shirt.”
* * *
Turned out that Nick knew what he was doing when it came to building a truly impressive bonfire. I belong to the pile up a few logs, douse them with gasoline, and throw a match at it school of fire building. Nick was more methodical.
“Textbook Boy Scout, with the badges to prove it,” he told me. “My parents thought Cubs and Scouts would develop my macho side. They had no idea that a) I don’t have a macho side and b) I only went because I had a huge crush on Toby Emerson, who lived next door and did all the things my dad wanted me to do. Baseball, long-distance loogie hocking, obsessing about cars. Toby dropped out of Scouts when he discovered alcohol and girls, but I stuck with it. I liked how organized everything was. So now I can tie a mean clove hitch, and I’ve got mad semaphore skills. Maybe if the fire doesn’t work, I can make some flags. Or I can tie you up. Whatever you prefer.”
“Not my thing,” I said. “But it might come in handy if Chad needs some disciplining.”
Nick laughed and picked up the lighter he’d swiped from the kitchen. He flicked it open and held it to some crumpled paper, and the flames licked the tepee of dry sticks he had placed on top of the paper. As the sticks burst into flame, Nick gently added small branches, one at a time. When he was satisfied that the fire was well and truly established, he let me add some driftwood. Not too much, and not all at once.
“Nice job,” I said as I watched the flames shoot up into the night sky. “No one’s going to think that’s a camper’s fire. You could burn someone at the stake on that thing.”
“How very medieval of you,” Nick said. “Did you have anyone in mind?”
I laughed. “If my stepdad was here I might be tempted, but contrary to what Alice would have you believe, I’m actually a pretty chill guy. Takes a lot to piss me off. A lot. Nobody here has even come close.”
“Good to know,” Nick said.
There was a brief, awkward silence. “That thing today…” I shook my head. “Imogen stepped right in front of me. It was totally an accident, but it shouldn’t have happened. I mean, I should have been more careful. Not been so close to her. But…” I tried to push back the wave of guilt. “I was distracted, you know? Thinking about everything that’s happened.”
“Yeah. There’s something off about this place, don’t you think?”
I tried to make light of it. “Apart from, you know, one missing girl, three scarily inept adults and an incident involving a machete?”
“I’m serious,” Nick said, meeting my eyes.
“Maybe.” I nodded reluctantly. “To be honest, I’ve felt like that since we arrived. The sooner we get out of here, the better. I’ll get some more wood.”
Nick and I stayed up half the night, stoking the fire and dozing. The moon rose, a clear white semicircle. It hung low in the sky for a while and then disappeared behind thick cloud. The
temperature dropped. No boats came to our rescue. No helicopters circled overhead, their spotlights sweeping the island. We gave up on our vigil around three in the morning and went back to the cabin after raiding the mess hall for granola bars. Nothing was locked up. The camp was utterly silent. No lights anywhere. No one had come looking for us. It was eerie. At the very least I’d thought Jason would miss us.
“Semaphore tomorrow,” Nick whispered as we crawled into our beds.
“Roger that,” I said.
WEDNESDAY
EIGHTEEN
Caleb
The gong woke me up. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. I’d been dreaming about my mom. Barry was hitting her, and she was wailing. No, no, no, no, no. What did five gongs mean again? I sat up and rubbed my eyes. No one else was awake. My Darth Vader clock said 5:00 AM.
Emergency meeting. That’s what five gongs meant.
After a minute Nick moaned, hoisted himself out of bed and pulled his jeans on. “This can’t be good,” he said as he walked over to Jason’s bunk and prodded him with his foot. “Rise and shine,” he said. “Emergency meeting.” Jason groaned and rolled away from him, muttering something about five more minutes. We didn’t bother with Chad. The less we saw of him, the better.
I grabbed a hoodie and slipped my feet into my runners. Nick and I walked in silence to the mess hall. Just as we arrived, Jason ran up behind us, and we went in together. The girls were already there, sitting together at one of the tables. They looked puffy-eyed and exhausted. Rahim looked even worse. His clothes were rumpled, his face gray and lined, his hair uncombed. He’d aged ten years overnight.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “Where are Claire and Warren? Did someone find Tara?”
Rahim shook his head very slowly. “Sit down, boys. I’m afraid I have some very upsetting news.”
Mandy shrieked and leaped to her feet. “I knew it. She was murdered, wasn’t she? By someone on this island. By one of us.” She looked around the room, her eyes wild. “Or by someone else who is here, hiding in the woods. A killer. We need to get OFF! NOW! Before he kills again.”
Chad stumbled in through the door, looking half asleep. “I’m starving.” He looked around the room. “What’s going on?”
Everyone ignored him. “That’s enough, Mandy,” Rahim said, with more force than I would have expected of him. “We haven’t found Tara. But something has happened to Warren.” He blew out a long shaky breath before he spoke again.
This was going to be bad. Very, very bad. I could feel it in my gut.
“Warren…uh…” Rahim cleared his throat. “Warren is dead.”
“Dead!” Mandy cried. “What do you mean? He can’t be dead.”
“What do you think he means?” Chad said. “Dude is dead.”
“Not helping, dude,” I said.
Rahim continued. “We don’t know what killed him. At first we thought it was food poisoning, as you know, but it got worse and worse as the day went on. We did everything we could, but Warren passed away a few hours ago. As you can imagine, Claire is in shock. She’s handed the reins over to me. I know this is frightening—first Tara and now Warren—but we have to work together to get through this. I’m here to help you—”
“If you say process, I am going to lose my shit,” Alice broke in. “Seriously. No offense, Rahim, but I’m not talking to you about my feelings. Not now. Not ever. You can’t help us.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and glowered at Rahim. I felt a bit sorry for him, but she was right—he wasn’t going to help us. If we wanted to get off this island, we’d have to figure it out ourselves.
“I’m going to take the kayak and get help,” Jason said. “No way I’m waiting until Saturday to get out of here.” He took off, heading out the door and letting it slam shut behind him.
“So what are the rest of us supposed to do?” Mandy moaned. “Sit around and wait to be killed? There’s no way this is a coincidence. There’s a dead body on the island, maybe two. I need to get out of here.” She stood up and started to pace, her hands fluttering at her sides. “I need my meds,” she said. “I can’t breathe.” She collapsed into a chair and hunched over, her shoulders rising and falling as she gasped for air. “Omigod, I’m gonna puke,” she whimpered.
“She’s having a panic attack. I used to get them sometimes,” Imogen said. “Someone get a bowl.” Alice ran to the kitchen and came back with a stainless-steel mixing bowl just in time for Mandy to retch into it. “It’s okay, Mandy,” Imogen said, rubbing Mandy’s back. “It’ll pass. Alice and I will sit with you. Jason’s going to go for help. Caleb and Nick will make you some tea and toast.” Her voice was calm and soothing. “You’ll feel better soon, I promise.” She looked up at Rahim. “Did she bring meds with her?”
Rahim nodded. “They’re locked up. For emergencies.”
“So get them,” Imogen said. “This is an emergency. Do your job, for Christ’s sake.”
Rahim nodded again and shuffled out of the room.
“She’s not wrong, you know,” I said to Nick as we made tea and toast in the kitchen. I was glad to have something to do, something comforting and familiar, however insignificant. Bread in toaster, kettle on, tea in the pot, milk and sugar, butter and jam. Mandy may have been the only one having a panic attack, but we were all freaked out. We just showed it differently. “It’s too much of a coincidence. First Tara, now Warren. It has to be connected. But how?”
“And why?” Nick said. “Tara was just a sad kid, and Warren was a buffoon. Who here would want to kill them?”
“I would have chosen Chad as my first victim,” I said, and Nick flinched. “Too soon?” I asked.
He nodded and picked up the teapot, but before we could pour the tea, Jason came charging into the kitchen, looking grim.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I told the girls I’d come back for some supplies—didn’t want to add to the panic—but I’m not going anywhere. Someone sabotaged the kayak. Huge hole in the hull. Looks like it was made by a knife. I dunno, man. This is getting desperate.”
“No shit,” Nick said. “I don’t think tea and toast are gonna cut it when Mandy hears this.”
“Rahim’s getting her meds,” I reminded them. “Probably Valium or Xanax or something. Maybe we should wait until she’s calmer to tell her.”
Jason nodded.
And then we heard Mandy screaming—a shrill, desperate scream. I dashed out of the kitchen, Jason and Nick on my heels.
Mandy was clinging to Rahim like he was the only thing that could save her from drowning. “Where are they?” she wailed. “Where are they? Did you take them?”
“What’s she talking about?” I demanded.
“Mandy. Mandy, stop it!” Rahim tried unsuccessfully to pull away. “The drug cabinet has been broken into,” he said over her shoulder. “All the meds are missing.”
“What kind of meds?” I asked. “Anything Chad might like?”
“Don’t be such a dick, Caleb,” Imogen said.
“What? Like we weren’t all thinking it,” I said. “Am I right?”
“Harsh,” Chad said. “I don’t even do pharmaceuticals. Anyway, Imogen’s the junkie. She’s the one who’ll try anything.”
Rahim shook his head. “I think we need to focus on supporting each other right now. Accusing each other gets us nowhere.”
Alice ignored him and turned on Chad. “You’re the only one who’s enough of a dick to steal people’s medication from a locked cabinet.”
“Locked cabinet?” He gave a nonchalant shrug. “Don’t forget Jason, our resident safecracker.”
Jason whirled to face him. “And when exactly would I have had the chance?” he demanded. “The only time I’ve been alone was just now, when I went to check out the kayak. And I agree with Rahim—this isn’t getting us anywhere.”
He was right. I put my hand on Mandy’s shoulder, Rahim managed to extricate himself from her grip, and she collapsed against me. I patted he
r back awkwardly, and she went limp in my arms and started sobbing uncontrollably. “Can you get Mandy back to the cabin?” I asked Alice and Imogen. “Take the tea and toast with you. Maybe you can calm her down.”
Alice looked mutinous, and for a moment I thought she was going to challenge me, but when Imogen took Mandy by the arm and said, “Come on, sweetie,” Alice followed them out of the building. Chad wandered out behind them, whistling softly. Probably going to smoke some weed.
“Jason needs some help with the kayak,” I told Nick. “We’ll be back soon.”
Nick nodded. “I’ll be fine.”
Rahim cleared his throat again. “My insulin was taken too.” He sounded almost apologetic.
I’d forgotten that he was diabetic.
Nick looked worried. “Are you hyperglycemic?” he asked. “I mean, right now? Was your kit taken as well? When was your last shot?”
“My test kit’s on my bedside table,” Rahim said. “I haven’t had a shot since last night. Normally, I’d have one in the morning, before breakfast.”
“We should check your levels,” Nick said. “My cousin Kelsey—my aunt’s kid—has diabetes. She was diagnosed last year. I stay at their place when my parents get too unbearable, which means I practically live there. Kelsey’s only eight…I’ve watched my aunt check her blood-sugar levels a million times.”
Rahim nodded. “I’ll check my levels. But I already know that I’ll need insulin soon.”
I had no idea how long a diabetic could go without insulin, but Rahim looked terrified. “We’re on it,” I said. “Be right back.”
As Jason and I headed toward the staff cabin, I realized that Claire was probably inside with Warren’s dead body. The only dead person I’d ever seen was my grandma. Open-casket funerals suck, especially when you’re six years old and everyone wants you to say one last goodbye to a corpse. I’d taken one look at her and thrown up all over my new suit.
Now I knocked on the door and waited for Claire to open it. When she did, she looked like hell—chalk-white face, smudgy dark shadows under her eyes.
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