by Hamill, Ike
ROBBY WENT DOWNSTAIRS to the laundry room after his parents gathered everything together for the trip. His only contribution was to suggest they take along a few household chemicals—bleach, baking soda, rubbing alcohol. He didn’t have anything specific in mind, but he wanted to have some basic supplies along in case of a crisis. Robby also liked that he’d been consulted, and was happy to have an answer.
He found the Norton brothers—his friend Jim, and Jim’s jerky brother Brandon—sitting on the air mattress with a flashlight between them. Brandon was playing a game on his phone, and Jim was playing with an iPod.
“Nice job letting go of Paulie Carver,” Brandon said.
“I didn’t let go,” Robby said. He realized too late he should have just let the comment roll past him.
“Remind me not to trust my life to you,” Brandon said. “Your friend is going to get us all killed,” he said to his brother.
“Shut up,” Jim said, under his breath.
Brandon hauled back and punched Jim in the shoulder. The action bounced a blanket on top of the flashlight and the room was lit only by the game screens.
“Move over,” Robby said to Jim. “We gotta get up early.” He slid past Jim to claim the edge of the air mattress closest to the dryer. He kept on all his clothes but kicked off his shoes. Brandon bunched all the pillows on his side of the mattress. Robby’s mom had also put out a few blankets for the boys, so Robby bunched one up to use as a pillow. He couldn’t sleep. He could barely keep his eyes shut. Upstairs, the adults were still talking. Robby knew there must be more to the story—stuff his dad didn’t want to say with him around. It probably regarded Mr. Dyer’s cellar.
Robby thought about the cellar. His father had insisted he not look behind him. Robby wondered what his father had been protecting him from. It must be something violent, he figured. That would be the only thing his dad would want to protect him from seeing—he wouldn’t want Robby to be disturbed by seeing some gruesome result of violence. Robby had already seen a dead person. He’d seen his own dead grandmother at her wake. So this would have to be a gory death.
Robby closed his eyes and thought of the strange symbols on the foundation wall in Mr. Dyer’s cellar. He remembered as many as he could and made sure to recall them in their exact sequence. He’d already written them down twice.
Behind Robby, Jim and Brandon fought over a pillow. They both seemed younger to Robby since the crisis started. Brandon was fourteen-almost-fifteen, and normally didn’t even bother to talk to his little brother. But that day he was acting like a ten-year-old. Robby thought back to his own behavior. He recognized moments of immaturity. Being scared of the dark and not being able to control your bladder were certainly not appropriate for a teenager. Robby took a deep breath and let it out slowly, letting his body sink into the mattress as he exhaled.
The basement was cooler than the rest of the house, but Robby still wore his pants and sweatshirt, so he was comfortable enough. He tried to forget about everything from that day. His hand moved up to his throat and held the spot where his zipper had drawn blood. He drifted off to sleep while Jim and Brandon were still fighting about their sleeping arrangements.
In the night he heard someone climbing the stairs. He looked up to see Jim going upstairs, using his iPod as a flashlight. On the far side of the mattress, Brandon snored into his own armpit.
✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪
“ROBBY, BRANDON, WAKE UP,” Robby said’s dad. He was holding the lantern above the mattress. Sam stomped on the edge to shake them awake. “Get up.”
Robby pushed himself up and then climbed to his feet. Brandon moved slower, blinking hard against the lantern light.
“What time did Jim leave?” Sam asked.
“I don’t know,” Robby said. “Where is he?”
“Did he say anything? Did you see him?” Sam asked.
Brandon didn’t respond. He slid to the end of the mattress and started pulling on his shoes.
“Dad, what’s going on?” Robby asked.
“We don’t know where Mrs. Norton and Jim are,” Sam said. “The door to the garage is open.”
“I don’t know what time,” Robby said. “I don’t have a clock or anything down here. Did you notice?” he asked Brandon.
“I didn’t even know he left,” Brandon said. He got up and headed for the stairs. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he yelled back to Robby as he started up.
“I didn’t…” Robby started. “I just thought he was going to use the bathroom or something. I didn’t think anything of it.”
“It’s okay,” Sam said. “Get your shoes on, we’ve got to figure out what we’re doing.”
“How long have they been gone?” Robby asked.
“We don’t know,” Sam said.
“Mom’s still here, right?” Robby asked.
“Yeah, she’s upstairs.”
Robby grabbed his shoes and ran for the stairs without putting them on. When Robby got to the kitchen he found his mother trying to calm Brandon down. The two were lit only by a set of candles set on the microwave.
Brandon yelled into Sarah’s face, “Where is she? Where did she go?”
Sam came into the room holding two jackets. He stepped between Brandon and his wife and shoved one of the jackets at the boy. “Put this on,” Sam said. “You and me are gonna do some scouting.”
“Sam?” Sarah asked.
“We’ll stay right near the house,” he said, “and we’ll have this.” Sam held up a length of rope. He knelt down and fed it through Brandon’s belt loops and then tied a sturdy knot. He repeated the process, tying himself to the other end of the rope.
“We’ll finish getting the Jeep ready,” Sarah said. She moved back towards the sink, and leaned back against it, folding her arms.
Sam took a couple of steps and closed the distance to his wife. He nearly pulled Brandon off his feet when the rope pulled him by the waist. Sam kissed Sarah on the cheek and said, “We’ll be right back.”
“You better,” Sarah said. She smiled.
Sam led Brandon out through the back door, leaving Sarah and Robby in the kitchen.
“What time is it?” Robby asked.
“About five,” his mom said.
“Can I get something to eat?” Robby asked.
“Oh, yeah, of course,” she said. “I made you a turkey sandwich.”
“For breakfast?” Robby asked.
“It won’t kill you,” Sarah said. “Jeez, you think I’d just offered you rat poison or something.”
Robby smiled. He sat down at his place at the table and his mom got his sandwich out of the refrigerator. He took a big bite. “So we’re going on Mr. Deemer’s boat?” he asked through a mouthful of food.
“Well, depends on…” Sarah started.
“On whether we find the hands at the school? We’re going to check the school first, right?” Robby asked. He was referring to the deckhands for the ferry. The ferry usually ran with a captain, mate, and three hands.
“Yes,” Sarah said. Robby only finished her sentences when he was preoccupied or stressed. He knew she hated it when he did that. She’d only needed to tell him a couple of times—it made her feel transparent.
When Robby was smaller, Sarah thought he was psychic. He always knew what she and Sam were thinking. Eventually, they came to believe Robby was just good at deduction, and Robby learned when he finished too many sentences he made people uncomfortable.
This time, Robby guessed Sarah and Sam had discussed going to the school to see if they could find any other people. It would be a tough trip to get over the hill without a plow, and it was in the opposite direction from the docks, but it was a common gathering place during emergencies and power outages. The three deckhands might have made their way up to the school. Even though the main entrance would be locked, all the islanders knew you could get in through the attached Lion’s Club banquet hall, as long as none of the Lion’s were there to question you.
“Do you think we’ll find anyone
there?” Sarah asked Robby.
Robby turned his sandwich around, so he could take a bite out of the side that was starting to bust apart. “No,” he said.
“Why not?” she asked.
“We’ve lost half our people, and we were pretty sure something bad was going on, so we were pretty careful. They probably never guessed anything was happening, so I bet they’re all gone,” he said. “Some of the people would have panicked and tried to run, too.”
Sarah wondered if Robby was right. When he didn’t have enough information to form an opinion, Robby always kept his mouth shut. A thorough answer from him usually meant a correct answer.
“So you don’t think we should bother going over there?” she asked.
“No, I understand why we have to,” he said. “Like you said—some things you do just because they’re the right thing to do.”
Sarah couldn’t remember when or why she’d said that, but she was pleased Robby remembered. Robby finished off his sandwich and Sarah gathered the last supplies. They switched on their flashlights and blew out the candles.
“Put your plate in the dishwasher,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because I’m not coming back to find a house full of mice,” she said.
“Oh,” Robby said. He put his plate in the empty dishwasher and closed the door until it clicked.
“Do you want anything from upstairs before we go? Any of your things? If you do, I’ll go with you,” Sarah said.
Robby thought for a second. He knew his mom packed some of his clothes, and all his winter gear was in the mudroom. He could fill his pockets with his things, but that was almost like admitting he didn’t think they’d ever come back to this house.
“No, I’m okay,” Robby said. He wanted to be like his mom. He wanted to believe they would all return some day to their normal island life, with all their possessions intact. All they would need to do is run the dishwasher, and everything would be back to normal.
His mom took the driver’s seat and Robby got in the back of the Jeep. She started it up to get it warm, but they sat in the dim garage—lit only by the running lights of the Jeep. Their house had been in Sam’s family for three generations, and was one of few with an attached garage. Most of the islanders barely needed a vehicle, let alone a taxed addition to store it in. Sam was proud of his garage, and he kept it neat. Looking through his window, Robby studied the rows of orderly tools hung up on the wall. Sarah scanned through the dial—the radio wouldn’t lock on any stations. When she manually tuned into some of the local stations, they only heard static.
When they saw lights dancing through the windows on the garage door, Sarah hit the button to make the door go up. Nothing moved.
“Shit,” she said. “Power’s out. We have to raise it up manually. You stay here.”
Sarah left her door open and went around back. She stood on the bumper to reach the orange pull-cord. Robby pressed his face against the glass to watch her. The door wouldn’t open—the snow pressing against it on the outside stuck it in its tracks.
“You need help?” Robby yelled.
“Nope,” Sarah said. She climbed into the driver’s seat and shut her door. “Your dad can open it when he gets back.”
Robby slid over to the other side, the rear passenger’s seat, and opened the door. He flipped the little switch to turn on the child safety lock. With that switch turned on and the doors locked, the door couldn’t be opened from the inside.
“What are you doing?" Sarah asked.
“Nothing,” Robby said, “just checking on something.” He slid back to his own seat, behind his mother.
Sarah jumped when the door from the house swung open. They caught a glimpse of Brandon coming through the door and then he pointed his flashlight right at the Jeep and Sarah and Robby couldn’t see anything but the bright light. When the second flashlight appeared, Sarah let out her breath.
Sam and Brandon came around the front of the Jeep. Sam untied his knot by the time he reached the passenger’s door. Brandon piled in the back with Robby.
“I couldn’t get the door open,” Sarah said.
Sam just nodded and turned around. He kicked the door first, delivering a good blow to the bottom panel, and then flung it upwards. When he closed his car door, he immediately hit the button to lock all the doors.
Robby wanted to ask about his friend Jim and Mrs. Norton, but he held his tongue. No news was bad news, he figured.
“To the school?" Sarah asked.
“Got to,” Sam said.
Sarah gunned the engine to hit the snow bank with as much speed as possible. The Jeep wobbled a bit in the fresh powder, but Sarah backed it out with confidence. Her hands fluttered over the wheel to correct any loss of traction before it led them astray. She used the wide part of the driveway to whip the front end of the Jeep around and put in drive.
The Jeep’s big wheels pointed up the hill, and Sarah counter-steered the slight skid. A light snow fell now. Sarah put the windshield wipers on low.
Robby looked over—Brandon was staring out the window into the dark. The snow looked blue in the soft pre-dawn light, almost like it gave off its own glow. Down at the library they displayed black and white photos of the island; that’s what it looked like to Robby. Everything looked still and dead. None of the houses had any lights on, or their walks shoveled. No smoke rose from the chimneys.
Sarah took a right on Church street.
“Easy now,” Sam said.
A rusty old Toyota blocked the right side of the street.
“I see it,” Sarah said.
“Not that,” Sam pointed to the car, “that!”
To the left of the Toyota a snow-covered lump sat in the road. Sarah pulled the wheel to the left and skipped the left wheels onto the soft shoulder, but their right wheels still bounced over the lump. Robby and Sarah just bounced a couple of inches. Sam and Brandon, on the passenger’s side, flew up out of their seats. Sam bounced the top of his head off the Jeep’s roof. He reached around and pulled on his seat belt.
“Sorry,” Sarah said.
“So’s Tom, I bet,” Sam mumbled.
Robby twisted in his seat. The Toyota belonged to Tom Willard, any islander would have recognized it. The tired old vehicle only had one seat, and could only be registered for island use. Tom used it to carry supplies from the dock up to his restaurant. There wasn’t enough light out to be sure—Robby guessed the lump might have been Tom. Robby wondered if his father knew for sure the lump was Tom.
“Dad, do you think it was him?” Robby asked.
“Not now, Robby,” Sam said. “We’ve got bigger fish to fry.”
“It’s just that… Wouldn’t he be the first we’ve seen?” Robby asked.
Sarah took a left on Pepper Lane.
“No, Robby,” his father said. “Hold tight.”
Brandon put his palm against the window and pressed his forehead to the glass. Robby ducked and bobbed, trying to see what Brandon was looking at. Against the charcoal sky, black shapes moved across the rooflines, keeping time with the Jeep.
“Mom,” Brandon whispered. He reached down and unhooked his seat belt.
“Brandon?” Robby asked. “Brandon?” He touched the older boy’s arm.
Brandon spun and glared at Robby—“What?”
“Did you say something?” Robby asked. “You took your seat belt off.”
Sam watched the exchange from between the front seats.
Robby glanced to his dad and then back to Brandon—“It sounded like you said something.”
“I didn’t,” Brandon said.
“Put your seat belt back on, Brandon,” Sam said.
“No need,” Sarah said. She pulled the Jeep to a stop in the side parking lot of the schoolhouse. A few spaces down, two other cars sat covered in snow.
Sam leaned forward and looked over the building. There wasn’t much to see on this side—just a long wall dotted with a few windows. Everyone dropped off their kids on th
is side.
“I’ll go in, you guys stay here,” Sam said. “Keep it running.”
“In and out,” Sarah said.
“In and out,” Sam replied.
Sam’s door swept a flat surface through the snow. He plunged his foot into the powder. After closing his door he pointed down and mouthed, “Lock it.” The snow drifted deep here, against the southern edge of the building, and Sam waded through it to get to the door. He expected the school door to be closed, but the door to the Lion’s club was around the other side, so he thought it worth checking.
The handle turned. He pushed his way inside. The hall to his left housed all the cubbyholes where the kids kept their gloves and boots. With all the boots at home, the cubbies currently held their Japanese house slippers. Sam pulled a flashlight from his pocket and pushed through the curtain to the main schoolroom. He didn’t need the light. The skylights and windows provided enough ambient glow for Sam to navigate. He turned off his flashlight and crossed the room.
On the opposite side, the curtain that led to the other outside door was fluttering. He pulled it aside and found snow drifting in through the door to the playground. The door stood open about a foot. He looked through the window out to the playground. He didn’t any tracks or signs of life, just a snow-covered jungle gym, swing set, and benches. He pushed the outer door shut and headed back for the main room.
Past the wood stove, Sam used his light to see down the hall. He shined his light in the teacher’s office, and then into Robby’s study room. Robby had his own study room away from the rest of the kids. His teachers discovered years before that Robby needed several hours a day to study independently. Without his alone-time to read, research, write, and figure problems, Robby tended to zone out and not interact with anyone at all.
Sam found nothing out of the ordinary in either of the rooms, so he continued down the hall to the utility room. The far end of the schoolhouse shared a wall with the Lion’s club, and the only door between them connected a dressing room with the school’s utility room. Flashing lights lit up one corner of the utility room. An emergency power supply for the furnace flashed to announce it was out of juice. Sam read the LCD display. It read, “Batt. Fail - 2:37:12.” The twelve counted to thirteen and fourteen as he watched.