The Castaways

by Jessika Fleck

  My arms and legs are tied with rope and I’m lying atop a soft, furry mat on the floor.

  Something pokes me in the shoulder.

  I pry my eyes half open.

  Eye Patch Guy stands over me, pointing a long, carved stick at my neck.

  “Who are you? Where are you from?” He jabs me with each question, the stick barely making contact, but just enough that I know it’s sharp.

  I open my eyes fully. Behind him, stand the others. They all stare at me.

  I focus back to Eye Patch Guy. The black leather over his eye is so worn and weathered it could be a hundred years old. His face is filthy and his dark, coarsely cut hair falls onto his forehead, but is short, nearly to the scalp over his ears. His face is stern, his jaw tight, but there’s something else there. Kindness? A bit of sympathy, I think? Despite the weapon pointed at what is probably a main artery in my neck, my stomach does that springy thing.

  “Well? Can you speak?” He nudges the stick so the point makes contact with my skin.

  “I—” I cough, clearing a knot of emotion and confusion and fear. “My name is Olive. I’m from Texas.”

  “Oh! Same as you, Will. You and Charlie and Duke…” The girl widens her eyes.

  Eye Patch Guy—Will—yanks the stick away from my neck.

  “That’s what I said to Jude! I found her near your place!” The boy with glasses throws his hands up in surrender to Will who seems to be in charge.

  “Lewis,” the girl whispers his name under her breath to shush him.

  Lewis is younger, though nearly as tall as the other two boys, but he’s quite wiry, his pointed features only exaggerating it.

  “My God, man! She could be lying!” Lip Ring Guy—Jude, I’m assuming, adding it to the short list in my mind—is muscular, his strength showing through his very worn T-shirt, a thick neck tattoo peeking out of the top. He pushes through the small crowd, wielding a shorter version of the spear. It’s in my face before I can flinch. “Who are you? What’s your business on this side of the island?”

  “I…I don’t know.” My voice quivers. I’m going to cry. The knot in my throat burns and my breathing is uneven and wheezy. “I was running through the maze and—”

  “And you ended up here.” Will pushes Jude aside.

  I nod, several tears escaping and streaming down my cheeks.

  “Untie her.”

  “What?” Jude looks from Will to me and back.

  “Untie her,” he repeats through clenched teeth.

  Lewis rushes to free my wrists, Jude reluctantly doing the same at my feet, then moving away when he’s done. Lingering to help me sit up, Lewis’s face is covered in a thin layer of grime and his hair is dusty brown and roughly cut in a similar fashion to Will’s. “I’m Lewis. That’s Will.” He points. “Jude and Matilda—”

  “Tilly,” she corrects him, forehead furrowed, eyes not leaving mine.

  “Sorry, that’s Tilly.” He wiggles his fingers at her. “Welcome to the island.” Lewis straightens his shoulders like he’s expecting a reaction. Like this is some sort of big announcement. Like this is really happening.

  Nervously, I smile at all of them, unsure how to respond. How does one react to a situation when they can’t tell if they’re dreaming, awake, or caught in some bizarre hallucination. Is this what limbo is? Did Lesley finally do me in for good?

  Jude snorts and strides away, leaving the room without glancing back.

  “I get your pork!” Lewis shouts after him, then motions to me. “Don’t let him get to you. He gets cranky when he’s tired.”

  “All right, let’s give her some space,” Will says, pulling Lewis away from me.

  My head is spinning. I take a deep breath and more intently inspect the room. The floor is pebbly sand but has been covered with large woven mats. The walls and ceiling are smooth, deeply grained wood, shadows from the fire reflecting on them like dancing figures. It’s a decent-size space and other areas branch off this one through arched openings. The stone fire pit stands as a centerpiece and there’s a sort of ventilation system built above it—a hole in the wall with a large tube of what looks like bamboo going through it and extending into a makeshift cone over the fire.

  Several torches hang along the walls, which are barren save one section. It’s covered with black chalky drawings, tic-tack-toe hashes, and what appears to be a calendar and a list. Glancing from wall to wall, I don’t see a door.

  My breath hitches.

  Will stares over, piercing me with his one good—and very green—eye. The color is like sage, but darker and a touch brighter all at once.

  “The door’s hidden and in a different room.” He exhales, shrugging. “We won’t keep you here. If you want to leave, you’re free to go—”

  I stand and my head swims, stars polka-dotting the space before me. I sway. My knees buckle. I attempt to grab the wall, but miss, and instead land within a strong embrace. Warmth.

  When the stars clear, Will stares back at me. He’s close. Close, close. I’m not sure if I’m about to hyperventilate, scream, or faint, but I don’t dare move.

  “Before you go,” he says, voice low, inexplicably calm compared to how my heart pounds inside my chest. “I should explain a few things.”

  Chapter Ten

  Lucky 13

  I agree to hear Will out and put off my escape attempts until I’ve gotten the details and I can stand without buckling under my own weight.

  Tilly brings me a cup of tea that tastes more like dirt and an ice-cold clump of moss for the wound on my head, which she examines and explains is only a bump and a small scratch.

  My shoulders instantly soften and, as if beyond my control, my body leans back against the wall. I’m not sure if it’s the moss or the tea, but my injury numbs and a sudden calm overtakes me.

  Will sits cross-legged in front of me, barefoot, his worn jeans frayed around his ankles. He’s wearing a faded black T-shirt that’s been stitched up in several places. Lewis and Tilly sit a little behind and to each side of Will.

  I stare back at them, glance toward the fire, then follow the shadows up onto the ceiling, mesmerized by their silky movements. A loud sigh slips from between my lips as I bring my attention back to Will, my eyelids as heavy as rocks.

  He glares at Tilly. “How much moon root is in that?”

  She straightens her shoulders, one eyebrow cocked up. “What? Don’t question the Brit about the art of tea-making, thank you very much.” She smooths her stained and tattered dress. It’s old-fashioned and similar to a porcelain doll that’s somewhere in the depths of my closet.

  “Yes, but we need her to at least be coherent, so—”

  “There’s not that much,” Tilly snaps, her crooked strawberry bangs swaying with the jerkiness of her words.

  “Okay.” Will looks to me. “Sip slowly.”

  I nod, the cup at my mouth. I only allow the liquid to splash my lips then pull it away.

  Will runs his hands through his dark hair, leaving it sticking up in places. His jaw keeps flexing.

  Despite the heavy relaxation of my body and mind, my heart races in anticipation.

  “We should get on with it before the Littles wake,” Tilly breaks in, her voice both sarcastic and sing-song.

  Will clears his throat, shooting her another look.

  “Just a thought,” she murmurs under her breath, winking at me.

  “I’m going to give you a speech like the one I gave Charlie, who you’ll meet in the morning. He joined us most recently.”

  Tilly’s eyes dart to a nearby doorway while Lewis chews a fingernail.

  Will takes a deep breath and continues. “You’re on an island. We call it the island because none of us ever planned to be here long enough to name it. We don’t know what ocean surrounds us. We don’t know if there are other islands nearby, but none can be seen from the highest point and on the clearest day.” He exhales. “You are the four—I mean—” Will eyes Tilly. “The thirteenth person on this island�
��”

  “But how?” I interrupt.

  “No questions until I’m finished.” He puts one hand up. “It’ll make more sense to give you all of the details first.”

  I answer by taking a gulp of tea, cringing at the bitterness as it bites its way down my throat.

  “Six of us live in this cave-tree. I found it years ago after I arrived. It’s several hollowed tree trunks that have grown together to form a shelter. It keeps us dry and warm at night and cool during the hot days. We’ve found ways to make it livable. Using bamboo, we collect rain water for drinking and ventilate our fire, among other things.” He pinches his brow. “You following all of this?”

  I nod, taking another sip, the tea beginning to taste more appealing in a medicinal sort of way.

  “Good. As I was saying, there are six of us here: Tilly and Lewis.” He tilts his head to each side.

  Tilly scoots forward. “I’m sixteen, from Sheffield, England, 1940.”

  I choke on my tea. “What?” I manage between coughing and spurting. “Did you say 1940?”

  She smiles back at me the way I smile at Lucky when I’m about to tell him Mom says he can’t have dessert. Gently. Timidly. “I know it’s alarming. Just listen, okay?”

  I say “okay,” but all I can think is, What’s happening?

  Lewis picks back up like they’ve given this speech before. “I’m fifteen, from Memphis, Tennessee, ’53.”

  I force myself to sit up straighter. “Nineteen fifty-three. Like, the year.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Will lightly squeezes Lewis’s shoulder. “And I’m eighteen. Hillings, Texas. 1962.” He watches me intently.

  I can’t speak because I know I must be on a reality show or something. Finally, after I don’t know how long, I find words. “This is a joke, right?” I glance around the cave. “Am I on camera?”

  Will raises an eyebrow and shakes his head no.

  Despite the calm-inducing tonic, my head and stomach spin. “Come on.” I look to Tilly.

  Her mouth is set into a grim, pale line.

  “Really. I mean, really,” I sort of say to Lewis, who gives me a crooked smile.

  I stare back at Will. “So… You’re telling me… I’m…” I can’t spit the words out, my mind a mush of moss, that post-Trio anxiety slowly building in a new way—closing my throat up, speeding up my heart rate. Quickly tossing me into the throws of the monster.

  Out of nowhere, Tilly shoves the tea in my face, shushing me like my mother would, urging me to drink. “Breathe. It’s all right. I promise you.”

  I take another sip. And though her presence is comforting, her promise of “all right” doesn’t calm me much.

  Will scoots in closer. “I know this is a lot to take in. And, trust me, we’ve all been where you are. Just…try to stay with me here, okay?” He leans in even closer and despite that I’m somewhere between fainting and losing my mind, my cheeks warm at the impossibly short distance between us. “You’re familiar with the Bermuda Triangle?”

  “Yeah.” I take in a deep breath that steadies the whirling in my head and almost turns into a yawn.

  I swear I catch the corner of Will’s mouth turn up a bit, and it’s like he has to backtrack to remember what he was saying. “Bermuda Triangle… Think of it this way. Instead of a large triangle, it’s little pockets—for you and me, a corn maze. For Tilly, a bomb shelter. For Lewis, a chain-link fence. Instead of planes and boats, it’s kids that disappear.” I glance from one face to the other. They all share the same sad and tired heaviness in their eyes.

  “But… How? Why? Have you tried to escape?” I ask, wondering if my eyes are already showing early signs of that same burden.

  Will laughs under his breath.

  “Sorry.” I bite at my bottom lip. “Of course you have.”

  “We’ve tried it all. Rafts—”

  “They come right back.” Lewis jumps in. “There’s no way around it, the tides won’t allow anyone past a certain point. Not on a raft. Not swimming. We found that out when Jude swore he’d swim out of here.” Lewis rolls his eyes. “Pfft. The ass.”

  Tilly side-eyes him, swatting him on the knee.

  “Olive.” Will places his hand on mine and, again, my face prickles with warmth. Stupid face, this is serious! “We’ve done everything from sending smoke signals to nearly burning the island down to, yes, trying to swim away. The island won’t allow it.” Will sighs. “Another thing we’ve found is that there’s no ticking clock. Time doesn’t pass. While the sun still rises and the moon still shows itself each night, life, as we know it, is on standstill. Each of us showed up at random from our own times only to be frozen here.” My eyes flick to Will’s. He nods as if to confirm my doubt, to shut me down before I cry “It’s a joke, right?” again.

  “Also,” he continues, “we were all running away from something.”

  “I wasn’t,” I say, no idea why I’m lying, suddenly protective of the truth.

  Tilly and Lewis whip their heads toward Will.

  “You sure about that?” he asks, a glimmer of humor itching the corners of his mouth like he doesn’t believe me. Which, of course, makes me more defiant.

  “Yes.”

  He studies me intently, working something over beneath the surface of that serious, piercing stare of his.

  Tilly stands and walks to the list on the wall, picks up a piece of what must be charcoal and, under the heading, Connections, strikes a line through the top sentence which reads: Running.

  Will only reacts by raking his hands through his hair.

  I yawn, shutting my eyes just for a…

  “Wait—” Will shouts.

  I rub my eyelids and strain to keep them open.

  “I said you were number thirteen, but there’s only six of us here—” He pauses for breath. “Our population has been divided in half by necessity and a sort of…war.”

  “War?” Half asleep, I bite my tongue on the word, the metallic bitterness of blood filling my mouth.

  He nods. Tilly and Lewis’s faces are serious, eyes unblinking. “I didn’t come here alone. Duke followed me. He and five others live on the other side of the island. They call themselves the Panthers.”

  “Panthers? That’s my school’s mascot. Weird…”

  Will stares into my eyes, so deeply my stomach not only springs but full-on flips. “It’s not… Duke and I attended the same school you do, just decades apart. He was the definitive jock and wouldn’t consider any other name for his group.”

  Then it hits me. “You don’t age.” I say the words more to myself as if confirming the unbelievable.

  “No ticking clock.”

  That makes me wonder if time at home keeps going. Are my parents going to freak out tomorrow morning when they find I’m not in my bed? “What about—”

  “Time at home keeps passing.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Charlie confirmed it when he showed up last year. He knew about the maze sucking Duke and me into it decades before it took him.”

  My poor parents. Lucky. Oh my God…

  “The war…” Will brings me back, lowering his head to mine, forcing eye contact. “The Panthers want control of the island and refuse to let up. Our last encounter with Duke cost me my left eye, but gained us these…” He stands, walks to the fire, picks something up, and comes back. “Flint. For quick and painless fire-making. And this—” He pulls a small metal bat from behind his back. “Aside from wanting control, I fear the island’s worn on Duke’s mind. He’s… Well, he was always bad, but he’s since gone mad, too. He beat me with this one too many times.” Will whacks the bat against his palm, a far-off look in his eye. I can’t help but wonder if there’s more to the story. “So I took it from him.”

  “He and his group have the absurd idea we’re onto figuring out how to get home and they’d like more than anything to torture it out of us.”

  My brain shudders awake at “torture” and I manage to sit taller despite
the jelly that is my body.

  Will shakes his head. “We’re not, though.” He laughs airily under his breath, but not in a funny way. “No one is.”

  We share a moment of silence where I begin to fall asleep and dream I’m rowing a boat off the island.

  “Any more questions?” Will’s voice yanks me from the boat and I jump. Only partially awake, I do have one question on my mind.

  “What is our, I mean, your group called?”

  “We’re the Lions. Each must earn his place among us.”

  “Why…lions…?” I say through a yawn, my body slowly sliding down the wall.

  “Because lions are strong, keep their families close, and are one of the few predators of panthers.”

  I nod. My eyes shut.

  “You sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

  I mean to say “okay” or “thanks” or “good night,” but only sigh in response. When I finally give in and lie down, I curl my hands beneath my head as I always do, but something’s missing.

  My last thought is a fleeting one: my necklace…

  Chapter Eleven

  Lion Cubs

  The soft rhythm of warm breath blows like steam against my nose. I know it’s either Hazel or Lucky and the dream I had was so real my head actually aches from my “stumble” in the forest. My eyelids are heavy, and as I strain to open them the fishy breath grows more sour and moist. I focus on the face before me.

  Two big brown eyes stare back at me like beautiful twin cocoa truffles.

  I sit up and scoot back in one quick motion.

  It’s a little girl with a dark halo of hair, her skin nearly the same rich brown. I take in my surroundings. I’m in a tree. A cave. A cave-tree.

  It wasn’t a dream.

  My body shakes. I’m terrified, confused, exhausted. My stomach growls, but I can’t fathom the thought of food.

  The girl scuttles closer, no sense of personal space. Poised on hands and knees atop the fur where I slept, she studies me over, searching me with her eyes, repeatedly going back to my hair.

  I throw my hand over the stubble above my ear.

  She jerks back. Still staring at me with those eyes that remind me of Tawny’s, she’s sitting cross-legged, back perfectly straight. “I like her!” she shouts.