by Jen Blood
“I’m not lying,” Allie whispers.
We can see them through the trees now. It’s nighttime, but the moon is so full that it shines almost like sunlight. Allie and Isaac look white in the glow. They’re in a clearing with trees all around them. Isaac has his hand on Allie’s arm. She looks up at him. Her glasses sparkle in the moonlight.
“Allie,” Isaac says. He kneels down in front of her, so they’re face to face. He still has hold of her arm. He whispers something that I can’t hear. She shakes her head. Whimpers. Isaac touches her chin. Allie flinches.
I start to say something, but Will puts his hand over my mouth. He shakes his head at me. Puts a finger to his lips. We have to stay quiet.
“Please,” Isaac says, like he’s asking a favor. Like he wants more dessert, or to stay up past his bedtime. “Alison… Aren’t we friends? Good friends?”
She shakes her head again, and I can see her start to cry. I look at Will. He’s shaking, his fingers digging into my hand.
“Don’t cry,” Isaac soothes. He pulls Allie closer, and wraps her in his arms. She tries to get away, but he just pulls her tighter.
I start to say something, but Will puts his hand over my mouth again. Allie squirms, then she fights. She kicks Isaac in the shin and tries to run.
Isaac roars. I fight Will, trying to make him let me go so I can do something, but he won’t let go. Isaac is a lion come to life—I know he’ll eat all of us, every one, if we try to stop him. Still, I fight.
“Ssh,” Will says in my ear. “Please, Erin. Stop. He’ll kill us.” He’s crying. I nod. We keep hiding.
Isaac grabs Allie by her braid and pulls her back to him. She falls, hard, and I can tell that she sees us when she hits the ground. She screams. Her leg is hurt. I can feel Will shivering beside me, his arms wrapped around me tight.
Isaac puts his hand over Allie’s mouth.
Will stays beside me. We don’t move. We just lay in the bushes, quiet, and we see everything.
We stay there until Isaac goes away.
Isaac leaves, but Allie doesn’t move again.
◊◊◊◊◊
I spread the Polaroids across the bedspread for Diggs to see: me at eight years old, blurry and out of focus, tongue out. Smiling.
Will, making funny faces on the rock.
Allie, giggling, her eyes crossed behind her glasses and her tongue out.
Church services. Isaac with a whip in his hand. A woman on her knees in front of him.
Allie, on the ground.
Will had pictures of everything.
I got up and left the room. I could hear Diggs behind me, but he didn’t say anything. Einstein followed me down the stairs and out the front door. The vice tightened at my temples, until it felt like my head would pop. My blood had frozen in my veins.
“Isaac loves us, Erin,” my father says. “He loves you. We’ve never been so safe, so loved, as we are out here.”
I found a nearby shrub, got on my knees, and threw up. I kept going until my stomach was empty. When I stood, Diggs was waiting for me. He wrapped me in his arms and held me for a long time, swaying, his hand cradling the back of my head.
“You ready to go inside?” he asked, finally. “I think if you don’t lose your toes to frostbite tonight, you must be made of stainless steel.”
I nodded.
We walked in with his arm draped over my shoulder, Einstein beside us. Cameron was waiting when we got inside. A look passed between him and Diggs.
“We’re going to bed for a couple hours,” Diggs said to him. “But in the morning, we need to talk.”
Cameron barred the way. “I’m sorry. It can’t wait any longer—I’ve been as patient as I can be, but there’s more to consider than whatever’s going on between the two of you.”
“Forget it,” Diggs said. “We’ve got our plan. Everything else waits till morning.”
He kept his arm around me and pushed past Cameron.
When we got back to the bedroom, I rinsed out my mouth while Diggs packed everything up and cleared it off the bed. It took some serious effort before I was able to pull myself back, for any number of reasons—not the least of which was that it felt like my skull was caving in. Diggs was doing his best not to look completely freaked out, but it was a hard sell. I smiled. Sort of.
“You still say this doesn’t change anything?” I said.
He didn’t say anything. Instead, he pulled back the covers and nodded for me to get in. I did. He turned off the light and got in after me. It was 5:30 a.m. on the last day of the year. Diggs pulled me into his arms once we were under the blankets.
“Are you sorry I told you?” I asked.
He pulled back so he could look at me. “I’m sorry it happened. I’m sorry you had to see it. I’ll never be sorry when you talk to me.”
“I don’t know what to do with it now,” I said. “All the images. The story. It just keeps replaying in my head. Why didn’t we do something?”
“Because he would have killed you, too,” Diggs said. He brushed the hair back from my forehead. I was so tired. Tired to the ninetieth power. Cubed. “You were a little kid, Sol. You couldn’t have saved her. You couldn’t have saved Will. You couldn’t have saved any of them.”
My eyes watered. “I could have tried, though. Or Will could have. Why didn’t he ever tell his uncle? When I talked to Jed a couple of years ago, he said Will was always angry, never quite right after his dad died. Jed saw both Will and his mom—”
Diggs put his finger to my lips. “Solomon,” he whispered. “Stop.”
“If you were smart, you’d run. Far,” I whispered back.
He moved his finger, and kissed me gently on my bruised lips. “Then I’m an idiot, because I’m not running. I love you.” He wrapped me up in his arms.
I thought of Will Colby—the boy I remembered perfectly now. A fiery, cocky kid who kept me safe—who kept our secrets, all that time. A kid who died waiting for me to remember him.
“What are we going to do about tomorrow?” I asked. The words came out muffled by Diggs’ chest. “Or today, I guess.”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Do you still think Cameron’s lying to us?”
“I don’t know,” he said again. I started to speak one more time. He leaned in and kissed the tip of my nose. Then, he kissed my right eyelid. My left.
“Solomon,” he said. “Close your eyes. You’ve done enough, for now.”
I closed my eyes.
Make it through the Crack and we’ll live forever, Allie and Will whispered to me.
Chapter Eighteen
Jack woke from more dreams that morning, these more vivid than any he’d had before. He lay in bed in the dark afterward, his heart beating hard, and tried to sort through everything he’d seen. Everything he remembered.
Guyana was clear now—too clear. He remembered the heat, the smells, the feel of his mother lying on top of him among a mass of bodies. Despite how young he’d been, the memories came rushing back.
It was the rest of his childhood that eluded him. The family in Guyana who took him in. Dexter Mandrake, raising him. That was all just blank space, with the occasional nonsensical image or soundbyte to interrupt a timeline that otherwise remained a mystery.
Why couldn’t he remember anything about Mandrake? Those were the years that should be the most vivid, especially as he got older.
You have a home here, Jackie. You’ll always have a home here.
He remembered a woman’s voice. A kind voice. Whoever she was, he had liked her. Mandrake’s wife? Had he thought of that woman as his mother?
It was five-thirty, still dark outside. New Year’s Eve. He thought he’d heard voices and slamming doors in the night, but he had been too tired to rouse himself. Now, the house was quiet, his room cold. His bladder full to bursting. That was enough to motivate him to get up, but if it hadn’t been, he knew he also had a six a.m. shift to watch the monitors for Cameron.
Despite the th
ermal long underwear he’d borrowed from Bear, it was cold outside the covers. Shivering, he pulled on a second layer and headed for the stairs. Even as he reached the first floor, thoughts of his past continued: a jungle in Guyana. A dark-skinned woman who had been his mother. And then, the family he didn’t remember. Plural—families. All of them dead now.
At the bottom of the stairs, he paused to peer into the alcove where Cameron had set up his security equipment.
“I’ll be ready in ten minutes,” Jack said. “Let me just freshen up, get some coffee.”
“No need,” Cameron said. “I’ve got this.”
The man’s eyes were bloodshot, his face gaunt.
“You should sleep,” Jack argued.
“Not today,” Cameron said with a shake of his head. “Go on. I think the woman’s up—Jamie. Find out if she needs anything before she leaves.”
Jack went out the front for a pit stop in the outhouse—not his favorite part of island living—and then went around the side and back in through the kitchen. The room was still dark, barely lit by a lantern on the small kitchen table. Jamie was seated there alone. For the first time since he’d met her, she looked unwell. Pale. Vulnerable—a word he didn’t readily associate with Jamie Flint.
She looked up when he came through the door, but she didn’t appear surprised. “Up and out already?” she asked.
“The facilities were calling,” he said. “Such as they are.”
She grimaced. “We’ll get plumbing out here this spring, I hope. One of my top priorities.”
“No more sun showers?”
“Not if I can help it.” She shrugged. “Not that it’s that bad. It could always be worse, right?”
“It could,” he agreed. He stepped farther into the room. Jamie wore a sweater and fleece pajama pants. A notebook and pen were set in front of her, beside a steaming mug of what looked like tea, from where he was standing.
She closed the notebook when he took a step closer.
“I can heat up some more water,” she said, following his gaze. She started to stand, but he lay his hand on her shoulder, gently keeping her in place. He felt the muscle beneath his hand, the strength. It was surprising just how much he didn’t want to remove his hand, after that scant contact had been made.
“Stay,” he said. “I can do it.”
He got water on the stove, and poured himself a bowl of granola cereal from the cupboard. He found a mug with a grinning pit bull on it, emblazoned with the words Every Day is a Bully Day, and set a tea bag inside.
All the while, he felt Jamie’s eyes on him.
“Did you sleep all night?” she asked when he sat down.
“I did, actually. For the first time in a while.” He took in her appearance, the shadows beneath her eyes. “I’m guessing you can’t say the same.”
“We had some activity in the night,” she agreed. “Everyone’s fine, but we were concerned for a while there.”
“What happened?”
She smiled faintly. “I’ll let Diggs and Erin explain. I only have part of the story.”
At the fatigue in her eyes, he let it go.
Jamie finished her own cereal while Jack ate his. They sat in companionable silence, Jack still sorting through the images from his past.
“When are you leaving?” he finally asked, pulling himself back to the woman beside him.
“Shortly—another hour or so. Carl’s packing the boat now.” The way she said it made him curious, though he didn’t ask the question that came to mind. Jamie smiled. “We’re not together.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Jack said.
“I know. But you wondered… Carl and I are friends. That’s all.”
“And he’s okay with that?”
“He’s fine with it,” she said. It was clear the subject was closed to further discussion. “So, when will you head to the mainland with the others?”
He considered pursuing his previous question, but Jamie clearly had no intention of discussing it. “That depends on the others—and how long it takes them to recover from whatever it is that happened last night.”
Jamie sipped her tea and leaned back in her chair, considering this. Outside, it was still black as night. Jack wondered what the hell Erin and Diggs had gotten themselves into this time. He felt a twinge of guilt for not being there to help them.
When Jamie had finished her breakfast, she stood and took her dishes to the sink. She took the boiling water from the tea kettle and filled the basin with it, adding dish liquid from a small, clear glass pitcher on the windowsill. Jack watched her for a moment before he got up to join her, bringing his own bowl and plate with him. He took the dishcloth from her, and nudged her gently out of the way with his hip. She nudged him back, hanging on to the dishcloth.
“You don’t need to help,” she said.
“I’m a guest—of course I need to help. Consider it payment for the haircut.”
She glanced at him, working to suppress a grin. “You wash, I’ll dry?”
“That’s fair.”
They worked in silence for a short time before Jamie glanced at him again. “What will you do?” Jack had been lost in thought, considering all the mysteries locked in his head. He pulled himself back again. “When this is all over,” Jamie clarified. “After you’ve taken down the organization? Will you go back to the FBI?”
He considered the question. “I’m not sure they’ll take me back—that’s assuming I survive.”
“God forbid you approach this mission with a little optimism but, yes… Yeah, Jack. Assuming you live.”
Seconds passed, while he contemplated his life without J. The sink was empty, the water only lukewarm now. “I don’t know what I’ll do,” he finally admitted. “I haven’t really given it much thought.”
When he looked at her, Jamie was studying him. He couldn’t read her expression. “Maybe you should start thinking,” she said. “There’s a whole wide world out there, Jack. If you start considering what you could have rather than what you’ve lost, you might be surprised how much incentive it’ll give you to actually come out of this thing alive. And move on, one of these days.”
She dried the last of the dishes and put them neatly in the cupboard, her back to him. Jack stood at the sink and watched her; tried to imagine the world she spoke of, with J. behind him. The picture was even hazier than the dreamlike visions of his past.
At seven o’clock, Jamie went up to Diggs’ and Erin’s room while Jack remained in the meeting room. A few minutes later, Jamie returned with Einstein. Neither Diggs nor Erin were in sight.
“Erin’s not coming down?” Jack asked, surprised.
“She said goodbye upstairs. It was a rough night—I don’t think she’s up for public…anything, right now. You mind walking us to the boat?”
“Of course. The fresh air would be nice.”
“Even if it’s freezing fresh air?”
“Better than staying in.” To his surprise, he meant it. Being trapped in the old house was starting to get to him—right now, anything seemed better than four walls in a drafty house with too many secrets.
With the sun up and the sky gray behind it, Jack walked Jamie to the boat, a very unhappy Einstein alongside. The dog whimpered unhappily, straining at the leash to get back to Erin. Jamie murmured sympathetically, scratching the dog’s ears as they continued the trek.
When they reached the dock, Jack helped load the last remaining luggage and gear onto the boat while the engine idled.
“So, it looks like this is goodbye again,” Jamie said.
For reasons he preferred not to explore, Jack disliked the idea more than he should. “It does.”
She hesitated for a moment before she spoke again, her eyes holding his through the silence. “Do me a favor? Just keep an eye on Cameron, please. I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something going on with him—something he’s not telling you.”
“I think he truly wants to destroy J.,” Jack said, surprise
d at the request. “And the number of times over the years that he’s saved my life…”
“I know,” she agreed. “It’s not that. I can’t explain it. I just… There’s something not right.”
He frowned. They stood a foot apart on the dock, the black sea choppy around them. He thought again of her lips on his cheek in Coba.
“We’ll be careful,” he promised. “You do the same. When’s the storm supposed to blow in?”
“Sometime this afternoon. I should be outrunning it, though. I’ll be safe in Caribou by the time it hits that area. Keep watch on the weather yourselves—you’ll need to figure out whether you want to be on the mainland or the island, probably by four or five this afternoon. You won’t be able to travel safely back and forth after that.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“I’m sure you will.” She glanced back at the boat. “Well—I should go. Be safe, Jack.”
“You too.”
There was no kiss this time. No hug. She didn’t touch him at all, as a matter of fact. Jack stood on the dock and watched as Carl helped her load the dog into the boat, then hold her hand as she stepped over the rail easily herself. Einstein followed them into the pilothouse, still whining unhappily.
Jack remained at the dock, cold wind buffeting around him, until they were just an indiscernible spot on a darkening horizon.
It was after eight a.m. when Jack returned to the house, refreshed after a full night’s sleep and some time alone in the fresh air. He found Monty seated at the kitchen table nursing his coffee, his head down. He looked like hell.
“Am I the only one who got any sleep last night?” Jack asked. He took a seat across from him at the table.
“It’s a safe bet,” Monty said. “Carl and Jamie gone?” Jack nodded. “Did Cameron fill you in on what went down?”
“No. And Jamie said I should wait for Diggs’ and Erin’s version.”
“No need,” Monty said. “I was there for the whole damned thing. Our favorite little leprechaun pulled quite a stunt.” Usually easygoing, it was clear this time that he didn’t approve. He took a sip of coffee before he elaborated. “Erin took off in the middle of the night—it was my shift at the monitors. Next thing I know, I see her headed off into the woods with her mutt. Then the hot blond shows up—Diggs and I got there just in time to interrupt a pretty severe beat-down. Though the redhead was holding her own, I’ll give her that.”