The House on Stone's Throw Island

by Dan Poblocki

  Behind the door, something was shuffling: footsteps shambling, hands grasping at walls for balance in the darkness. Eli pressed his lips together tightly, catching his breath. He stumbled backward, nearly tripping on the rising slope of shale behind him. He concentrated on the blackness beyond the door, but he could see no movement. After gathering his courage — it’s all in your mind! — he stepped closer to the cold bars, straining to see. But inside there was only darkness.

  He was about to turn back toward the stairs when he felt a warm breath on his cheek. A voice whispered to him through the gap, hushed and frightened. Eli pushed away from the door, running up the passage, pinpricks erupting across his skin, his head ringing in confusion.

  “Hilfe,” the scratch of a voice had spoken. “Hil-fe.” The sound rippled through his head, tilting the tunnel, making him dizzy. At the stairs, Eli glanced over his shoulder, twisting his body and then catching the toes of his sneakers on the bottom step. He tripped, landing lightly on his rear. He sat for a moment, craning his head for a partial view of the door, trying to convince himself that he’d imagined it. But he knew he’d not imagined it. He could still hear the sound of it in his mind.

  Who is Hilfe?

  The door shook. The chain rattled. Something had hit the gate hard, banging it like a gong. He turned away, scrambling on his hands and knees, imagining someone crashing through the tunnel behind him, reaching out for his heels, grabbing at his sneakers, pulling him back down into the whispering pit.

  Above him, the top step was a touchstone, a goal that would bring Eli back into the light. As he raced upward, he felt the rocks scraping the skin of his palms, tearing through the knees of his jeans. He slipped several times, knocking his chin once against the sharp shale.

  Bang!

  The noise sounded again, louder this time, as though the person who’d whispered to him was angry that Eli was leaving him behind. Eli squeezed his eyes shut as he continued upward, praying the rusted chain would hold.

  At the top step, he swung out his arms for the nearby wall to gain a grip with which to drag himself forward. To his surprise, his hand pressed against something warm and leathery, decidedly unrocklike. It was a boot. And the boot was filled with a foot, a foot attached to a leg. As Eli glanced up, the glare of the sky overhead was a shock. It blinded him, so that he could not make out the face of the person to whom he was clinging.

  WHEN SHE LAUGHED, Eli recognized her voice and understood. Josie had come to find him. Her eyes were wide, and her chest heaved, straining for breath.

  He released her foot and struggled to lift himself to his knees. The shale floor gouged at his injuries, and he squeezed his mouth shut to keep from shouting in pain.

  “I saw you from the window in my bedroom,” she said, her voice wobbly. Had she run here? “What on earth are you doing?”

  Eli wanted to tell her to go back to the house, to leave him alone. He worried that if he mentioned what had happened at the bottom of the stairs, she’d repeat it to everyone, embarrassing him further, daring his father to punish him in ways she probably couldn’t imagine. When she extended a hand to help him up, all those bad thoughts fell away. He realized that he was actually happy she’d come to find him. Standing up fully, he said, “I’m exploring.”

  “Hard-core,” she said, nodding at his bloody palms and scratched knees. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her purple cardigan.

  “I fell.”

  Josie stared at him for a moment. He knew she knew he was lying … sort of. She reached out and touched his chin. When she pulled away, he noticed a smear of his blood on her fingertips. She bent down and wiped it on her jeans. “The caretakers probably have a first-aid kit. Patch you up.”

  “I’m fine,” he said, ignoring the stinging sensation where she’d touched him.

  She sighed and then watched him intensely for a few seconds, as if she were weighing whether to share something very important. But when she glanced at the staircase behind him, her face changed. “What’s down there?”

  “I-I’m not really sure.”

  “Isn’t that where you just were?”

  “Yeah, but it was, uh, really dark.”

  Josie smirked. “Maybe I’ll go check it out myself.”

  “Don’t!”

  She flinched and then squinted at him. That intense look came over her again. “Why not? I brought my phone. There’s a flashlight app. It’s pretty bright.” Her face was pale, and she looked nervous, as if she knew perfectly well why they should stay away from the dark passage.

  “It’s just … There’s a big metal gate. And it’s locked. So, there’s really no point.”

  Josie stared down the stairs, looking more curious now than she had seconds earlier. “When I was walking here, I heard a noise. A clanging sound. Was that you?”

  Eli shook his head. “I don’t know who it was.”

  “Who it was? You think someone’s down there?”

  “Or what it was, I mean.” He flinched. “It was probably the wind.”

  “It didn’t sound like the wind.”

  “The wind can sound like a whole bunch of things other than wind.” When her mouth twisted up with skepticism, Eli went on. “Voices, for example.”

  Josie froze for a moment, and then she glanced over her shoulder, through the ruined doorway toward the house. “You heard voices?”

  “I said: for example.”

  “What is up with you?”

  “Nothing. I just got a little spooked, I guess. I didn’t expect to find a ruined fort way out here on this island.”

  “Oh, is that what this place is? A fort?”

  “I think so. Or a prison. Or something. It’s pretty old. Look, you can see where it’s fallen apart. The second-floor support beams there. And the ceiling …”

  Josie glanced up and around. “It’s pretty.” That was not what Eli had expected her to say. “I wonder if my brother and your sister knew that a ruined building was out here when they picked this place for their wedding. Doesn’t seem like something Aimee would be too happy about.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I dunno. She seems … particular.”

  Eli chuckled. “You’re right. She’ll probably freak out when she sees this place from her bedroom window.” He clutched at his throat. “An eyesore! Ugh! Gross! Bruno, fix it!”

  Josie laughed, doubled over, clenching her stomach. She laughed so hard, it made Eli laugh too. For a moment, he almost forgot about what he’d heard down at the bottom of the stairs. When Josie caught her breath, she looked at him again, this time with concern. “Are you sure you’re gonna be all right? Your chin is still bleeding.”

  Eli shrugged. “Does it look like it needs stitches?”

  “I don’t think so, but I’m obviously not a doctor.”

  “I think I’ll live.”

  “Listen,” said Josie. “I’m sorry about what I said earlier. In front of everyone. Your cannibal story? That was … kinda mean of me.”

  “Yeah. It was mean, I mean, but only if you did it to be mean,” said Eli, smirking. “It was almost worth it to see the horrified look on my sister’s face, if only for a second. And my dad was wrong, by the way. It isn’t just a story. Everyone at my school has heard it.”

  “That doesn’t mean it’s true though, right?”

  “I guess not. Lots of stories that seem like they’re true actually aren’t.”

  “And lots of stories that seem like they’re lies turn out to be true,” Josie said, clutching her rib cage and stepping closer to the stairwell. Something was swirling around in her head. Tidal waves. “It’s hard to tell. Without evidence anyway.”

  “What, you’re a detective now?” he asked. She didn’t seem to hear him. Eli stepped toward the fort’s doorway. “Let’s go back to the house. Everyone’s probably wondering where we are.”

  “Wrong,” said Josie. “When I left to find you, they were all gathered in the front garden staring at the sky, jabbering on a
bout the weather and what sort of plans they’d need to come up with in case good old Mother Nature betrays them this weekend. They barely looked at me when I passed by.”

  “Still,” he answered, continuing to shuffle onward, hoping she’d follow, “we should be getting back.”

  Josie shook her head. “I don’t want to.”

  “Why not?”

  She scratched at her nose. “There’s something weird about the house. I saw something. Something I don’t know how to explain.”

  Eli wiped moisture from his forehead. He looked into her eyes, trying to see what kind of story was inside them. Was it true, or was it a lie? “What did you see?”

  Josie hesitated, then answered. “I’ll tell you … if you tell me what really happened at the bottom of these stairs.”

  “HILFE?” JOSIE REPEATED. “You’re sure that’s what you heard?”

  Eli nodded. “It must be a name. Don’t you think? I don’t know what else it could mean.”

  Josie shook her head. “We studied German last year. Our class only learned some basics, but I remember that word. It’s one of the first things we learned.” She bit her lip. “It’s the German word for ‘help.’ ”

  Eli shivered. “So, you’re saying that I heard someone on the other side of that door asking me to help them? In German?”

  “Maybe.”

  “But who? Who could possibly be down there?”

  “Maybe no one,” said Josie. “Maybe it was all just the wind, like you said.”

  “Did something similar happen to you back at the house?”

  “No,” said Josie. “What I saw was completely different.”

  He waited for her to tell him. But she bit at the inside of her cheek and remained silent. He gritted his teeth and tried to hide his frustration by keeping his eyes wide and imploring. “We should tell someone.”

  “Yeah, sure. Let’s go mention it to your sister.”

  Eli scowled. “You want everyone to think I’m making up stories again?”

  Josie widened her eyes and smiled. “No,” she said. “Duh. But I’m having the same trouble. I have a story no one will believe.”

  “Right,” said Eli. “I told you what happened to me. Now you tell what happened to you.”

  “You’re going to think I’m crazy,” Josie answered, taking another step toward the staircase.

  “But I already do.”

  “Har-har.” She continued on down.

  “What are you doing?” Eli asked, feeling a dizzy rush of panic.

  “If there is someone down there calling for help … in German … maybe we should actually, you know, help them.”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Something’s not right.”

  “I know.” She glanced back at him. “Don’t you want to do something about that?”

  Not really, thought Eli. But if this is what it takes for you to share what you saw, then okay.

  Besides, maybe it really was the wind’s fault.

  He sighed, wondering how differently this conversation might have played out with Aimee instead. “Fine. You go first.”

  THE BLACK DOOR appeared around the bend in the tunnel, looking like a portal to another dimension or time. Josie held up her phone, which was useless out here except for the flashlight beam that glowed from its back panel. “Whoa,” she said, moving the light across the bars, as if examining them for rusted-out weak spots. “You’re right, Eli. This is spooky.”

  To his horror, she kicked the gate. The noise erupted all around them, bouncing off the rock walls. When the echo petered out, he peeled himself away from the side of the tunnel and whispered, “Why would you do that?”

  Josie ignored him. “Who’s in there?” she called out. After a moment, she asked, more quietly, “Is it you?”

  “Me?”

  “No, not you.”

  “Then who?”

  Josie shushed him, and Eli blushed. Soon, she tried again, this time, with words he didn’t recognize. “Wie gehts?”

  “Vee Gates? What’s that? A name?”

  “In German, it means ‘How are you?’ Or something like that.”

  “How are you?” Eli repeated, shaking his head. “And what if they answer, ‘We’re fine; thanks for asking’? Can we go then?”

  “I couldn’t think of anything else to say. We only studied the language for a couple months.” She leaned closer to the door, listening for a response.

  “You probably scared them off, knocking like that.”

  “Is this the chain you mentioned?” She was pointing the light at the latch. The rusted links glimmered in the pale violet glow.

  “The one and only.”

  “There’s no bolt.”

  Eli felt his spine lock up. His armpits had grown damp. He licked his suddenly parched lips. “But … Why would the person ask me for help if he could open the door himself?”

  “Was there a lock the first time you came down?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  Josie reached out and began to unwind the chain from the hasp attached to the frame.

  “What are you doing?!”

  “I’m helping. Helfen. Ha-ha.”

  Eli stepped backward until his heels hit the bottom step of the stairwell.

  “Oh, come on,” Josie said. “You’re not curious about what’s behind the door?”

  “Sure, I’m curious. It’s just … doors are usually locked for a reason.”

  “True. But this one wasn’t locked. It was only closed.”

  “My mom and dad are probably wondering where I am.”

  “Wrong. They’re probably wondering how to calm down your sister.”

  The chain dangled to the ground from the gate, rattling like the tail of a snake.

  Josie reached out to him, shining the light into his face. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped a bit closer. She shrugged, then turned and yanked the door open. Its rusted hinges squealed.

  The whirring sound Eli had heard earlier whispered up the tunnel, wrapping tenuous arms around him, a smothering hug. The noise could have been anything. Wind. Waves. Germans. The space beyond the door was pure black. He watched as Josie stepped into it a millisecond before she grabbed his wrist and pulled him along behind her.

  JOSIE SHONE THE FLASHLIGHT all around, revealing a large cavern. A few feet past the door, more steps continued down. To the right was a precipitous ledge. She and Eli took the stairs slowly, staying close to the wall on the left. The shale here was even darker, more corroded, its jagged surface slick with moisture. The salt water mixed with the odor of something fishy and rotten. Eli closed off his sinuses with the back of his tongue so he wouldn’t gag.

  Twenty steps down, well beyond the reach of sunlight, the stairs ended at a landing. Josie slowly swiveled her phone. The light reflected off the dampness coating the walls. Patches of a slimy substance oozed from the ceiling, looking like rotted, striped wallpaper. A few feet below, the floor was pockmarked with cracks and depressions, all filled with water. When Josie’s light bounced off their sheen surface, the puddles rippled as if something living inside them had been disturbed.

  “What was that?” Eli asked, squeezing Josie’s hand tightly.

  “Maybe little fish are trapped, like in tidal pools by the shore.”

  “Fish? How would they get up inside a cave?”

  While remaining on the landing, Josie continued to explore the room with her flashlight, as if she might discover the answer. In the far wall, four cell-like spaces had been carved unevenly from the rock. Rusted bars grinned across the front of each. Cage doors hung askew from three of them. A fourth door lay flat inside the cell, broken entirely off its hinges.

  “This cavern must have been a jail once,” said Eli.

  “There,” said Josie, flicking her flashlight at a crevice in the floor of the farthest corner. “Listen. That’s the sound of surf. This space must be connected to tunnels below. Maybe the tides force the water up to flood this room. That’s how
the little pools could be filled with fish and stuff.”

  “You’re the detective here.” Eli nodded. “And that was a cool science lesson, but, um, weren’t we looking for a German person in need of help?”

  “Do you see anyone down here besides us?”

  “Well … no.” Eli stared at the crevice in the corner. The whirring he’d heard back up at the entry seemed to be coming from there. Inside the prison cavern, the din had changed, become less focused. It spread out, bounded off the rocks, sounding less like whispering voices and more like radio static. It was the noise of a giant beast groaning in restless sleep. “But maybe he’s hiding,” he added. When Josie looked at him in confusion, he nodded at the dark space that was spewing the strange sounds into the fetid air.

  Eyebrow cocked with the ammunition of sarcasm, Josie said, “The German begged you for help at the door up the stairs, and then climbed all the way down there?”

  “Unless I was just hearing things,” said Eli, his face burning. In fact, he was pretty sure that’s what had happened. Now that the threat of weird German prisoners was nearly extinguished, he stepped away from Josie and off the landing.

  “Don’t trip,” Josie warned, following him to the wet floor. “I won’t be able to carry you back by myself.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you could if you tried really hard.” Eli crept to the edge of one of the tidal pools. Josie shone the light for him. The bottom of the pool, several inches down, was covered with white blisters, living barnacles. Patches of mossy seaweed carpeted the rest of the rock. There were no fish, but a little green crab scurried out of the water, backing toward the rusted bars of the four jail cells, waving its tiny claws at them, as if to block the phone’s glare. Eli bent down and stared at it for a few seconds, wondering what the crab thought about him. Nothing, probably. Just a few blips in its brain, neurons flashing DANGER.