The Castaways

by Jessika Fleck

  One foot. One hand.

  Is he a bully? Did he brand that “P” on Duke’s chest? Could he?

  One foot. One hand.

  P? Pathetic?

  One foot. One hand.

  Pariah?

  One foot. One hand.

  The ground closer, somehow between the top of the cliff and the bottom, I’ve gone from loathing Duke to torn. I’m not sure if I hate him or feel sorry for him. If it is true, he’s a victim. A product of cruelty.

  My feet hit the ground.

  Everyone’s yelling.

  I run to Will, Tilly, and Lewis.

  Tilly hands me what I recognize as Jude’s small blade. My head goes fuzzy. I pull the horn from my shirt and set it on the ground. Tilly cocks her eyebrow, and the corner of her mouth tugs up, but she doesn’t say a word.

  “What do you want us to do?” Noah calls to Duke, bomb in hand.

  Duke doesn’t answer, his eyes set on Will.

  “You use that bomb, you’ll blow us all up!” Shiloh, arms out like she’s ready to make a run for it, answers for Duke.

  Noah lowers his arm.

  Duke sighs. “This isn’t how I saw it ending,” he mutters to himself, pacing. “I had a plan. A war. They weren’t supposed to come here.” He stops. “You weren’t supposed to come here!” He screams at us. Birds fly from the trees. Then, silence. It’s like a movie. We stare across at each other, waiting for someone to make a move.

  If this is war, we’re two clueless armies of children.

  Will steps forward, lowering his spear. “It doesn’t have to be this way.” He takes another step.

  Duke stops pacing.

  “We can work together. Find our way home. Isn’t that what we all want? To get home?”

  Duke steps back. “Home?” His eyes narrow in on Will. “I’m nothing at home. Thanks to you and your friends, I have no home. I’m a disgrace. A P-P-P-Pussy.” He points to the scar on his chest, eyes intensely dark, one corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile.

  A stutter? And a capital P for Pussy. Bad combo for Duke; perfect combo to get made fun of.

  “Do you remember that day, William? How I used to stutter my…” He pauses, swallowing. “My P’s?” And I can’t help notice when he says “P’s” there’s a definite hesitation, more an “H” sound to it than it should have.

  “Look. I can’t take any of that back. I wish I could. God, I wish I could. I’m so sorry!” Will’s voice cracks. He steps closer.

  “Let’s tell everyone about that day.” Duke steps toward the cave. “Gym class. Boy’s locker room. Super glue in my underwear. You and your friends held me down. Torn skin. Blood.”

  The guys all cringe and suck air in through their teeth.

  “‘P-P-Pussy,’ you yelled, pointing. Pussy!” Duke cries and whoops at once.

  He bends forward, holding his stomach with both hands, laughing his hyena laugh louder so it echoes through the cave and beyond.

  I stare at Tilly and Lewis, then at Will. He was like them. Locker room antics and all.

  He lowers his head.

  “Anyone need more details?” Duke says, wiping his eyes, smudging the red across his face like fresh wounds. No one responds. He nods, moving on. “But now? Here?” He surveys his mountain. “This is all mine. I did something here. I became a man. A king.” He lunges toward Noah, grabs the coconut bomb away, and runs to the edge of the cliff.

  We all stiffen, instantly on guard, watching him. Each one of us studies Duke, trying to read his body language, because surely, he wouldn’t… He couldn’t…

  Will walks toward Duke in slow, calculated steps.

  Duke pulls out a lighter. He clicks it, a small flame glowing next to the wick. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he speaks through clenched teeth, warning Will.

  Will jerks to a stop.

  “Now this—this is how it ends. On my terms.” Duke waves the flame around, eyes wildly wide.

  Noah, Henry, and Tommy run into the cave for cover.

  Shiloh backs toward us.

  “Don’t do it, man,” Will says, shifting closer to Duke. “It isn’t worth it.”

  Duke gazes out over the cliff. “Do you hear them? It’s beautiful.” He laughs. But not the hyena laugh, a real person laugh. A human laugh laced with all kinds of sadness.

  “Hear what, old friend?” Will asks.

  “The angels, they’re singing. They’ve come to take me to my real castle.”

  “Well, they don’t want you to go this way. Not by blowing everyone up. Just—drop the bomb. Please, David.”

  Duke grimaces at his name. He then glares at Will, evil grin stretched across his face. “If I can’t have this island, no one will.” Duke lights the bomb.

  “Stop!” Will shouts.

  Lewis pulls Tilly to the ground.

  I run toward Duke.

  No.

  “No!” My thoughts spring to life as one loud word in a guy’s voice. I turn my head and see Jude running up the mountain path straight for us. He throws something on the ground and the smeared lion’s face on his chest twists and roars as he sprints. Past Bug and Charlie behind the boulder. Past Tilly and Lewis.

  “Jude, no!” Lewis yells.

  Tilly screams, scrambles out of Lewis’s grip, and follows Jude.

  Will tries to grab Jude. He misses and falls, tumbling to the ground.

  Jude comes straight at me, and with one long arm, shoves me so I roll back toward Lewis. Once I stop, I force my eyes to watch.

  Tilly chases Jude.

  Jude runs straight for Duke. The bomb. The cliff.

  Duke’s eyes go wide.

  “No! Stop! Wait!” Several voices shout at once.

  Lewis lunges, shielding me with his body.

  With one eye peeking over Lewis’s shoulder, what I see is most definitely a scene from a movie because it’s in slow motion and cannot be real.

  Jude slams into Duke, shoving him to the ground, then grabs the bomb.

  He’s about to take himself and the bomb over the cliff, but the bomb bobbles in his hand, and he nearly drops it. He doesn’t see Tilly coming up behind him. She runs full force toward the bomb, wraps it in her arms, hugging it to her chest like an infant, and jumps.

  The last I see is a gloriously beautiful mane of strawberry blond curls, the sun illuminating it like a golden halo.

  Then, there’s a crack, ka-boom.

  The loudest yet.

  It pierces clear through me like I’ve been sliced in two.

  The mountain shakes.

  Time stands still.

  The wind sings a sad song. Or maybe it is an angel.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Aftermath

  My ears ring like a locomotive. Or maybe it’s a tornado. Don’t they say they sound the same?

  Beneath the ringing is moaning. Crying. Yelling.

  I lift my head. Everything is gray smoke and ash. Lewis stares blankly toward the cliff.

  Tommy and Noah sit on their knees, stunned, as Shiloh runs in and out of the cave with rags and water. I can’t see his state, but Duke lies on the ground near the edge of the cliff, unmoving. Jude lies face down not an arm’s reach from Duke. He’s trying to lift his body up, but failing. And there’s another body near them. But it isn’t Tilly. Henry, holding his arm tightly to his chest, is sprawled on his back near Duke like he’d gone after him, too, but Jude and Tilly beat him to it.

  Oh God, Tilly.

  Sweet, sweet Tilly.

  No, no, no!

  Sour heat rises from my gut.

  My breath shudders as I force myself to breathe.

  How can this be real? That conch shell’s song wasn’t meant for Tilly.

  Never for Tilly.

  Quietly strong, mother to all, lovely Tilly. Memories flash like a film strip behind my eyelids: Tilly shaving Jude’s face, her light eyes and bright smile, the freckles that stippled her nose, how she tended to Bug and Charlie like they were her own. She kept us all grou
nded and fed and clean. That knowing way she looked into my eyes the day I betrayed them. She knew, saw right past my forced act.

  Oh God.

  I glance around at the chaos, the smoke still lifting.

  What is this cursed place? This nightmare?

  Tears flee my eyes, blurring my vision, as I search for Will through dust and smoke, my body shaking and numb at once.

  I don’t see him.

  I search from rock to rock, tree to tree, my heart stopping and starting up in spurts.

  No.

  Will?

  He was close to the blast, too.

  I sit up on my knees. “Lewis?” My voice sounds weird like I’m in a dream—no—a nightmare.

  The dust finally settling, debris floats through the air like a million dark fairies. Lewis lifts himself off me but refuses to look toward the cliff.

  “Where’s Will?” I ask him.

  Lewis glances around then nudges his head toward the rocks where Bug and Charlie were. I follow the direction with my eyes.

  Will…

  Thank you.

  I’m not sure who I’m thanking. The angels? Maybe.

  Of course, he’d go straight to the kids. Always looking out. Always protecting.

  Will is on his knees, gash across his forehead, skin covered in dirt, and he holds Bug and Charlie into him. Bug’s black puff and Charlie’s yellow mop of curls burrow into Will’s chest.

  I can’t stop staring at the scene when Will catches me. His eyebrows buckle and he closes his eye, tucking his face into Bug’s hair. His shoulders shake and his body bows into them.

  A piece of my heart splinters and a sliver chips away. I’ll never forget this image. Ever.

  I walk over. The ringing in my ears has lessened, but it’s still there, a lingering, high-pitched tone. I swallow my sadness, the terror, Tilly’s strawberry halo, erecting a wall between myself and all the horror for the kids.

  “You guys all right?” I force out.

  Bug and Charlie wriggle free and attack me with hugs. “Guess so,” I say.

  Their eyes are surprisingly, impossibly dry. I can’t imagine how anyone’s eyes aren’t overflowing at a moment like this. But then I realize. They don’t know. They didn’t see any of it. Will made sure of it.

  Will wipes his face, smearing dirt around.

  Bug pulls away and stares at me with those June Bug eyes. “Oh, Olive, I missed you!”

  “I missed you, too, Bed Bug.” I pull her back into me and kiss her forehead. “And you…” I glance down at Charlie. “You scared the crap out of me.” My voice slips, the knot in my throat creeping up, but I manage to push it back.

  He smiles a cockeyed smile.

  “No more coconut?” I ask.

  “No more coconut,” he confirms, “but Tilly is gonna have to figure out a new way to make soap for me.” He squishes his mouth to one side.

  My heart drops to the dirt-covered ground, puddling in a muddy heap.

  But I nod, then pull him in, too. “We’ll figure it out, buddy.” My voice is a scratchy, quaky mess.

  Charlie and Bug squeeze me back and let go at the same time. Then the two little sneaks sit underneath a tree where Will’s told them not to move an inch until he comes back. Obedient pups they are, they nod, then begin a game of I Spy. So innocent. So pure to the evils and cruelties of life.

  I envy them.

  When I turn to speak to Will, he’s already several steps ahead, scoping out the scene. No doubt tallying who’s where and in what state.

  I catch up and grab his arm.

  He pulls away. “This isn’t over. I’ve gotta—”

  “Gotta what?”

  Without answering, he scans the cave. Still on guard. Always on guard. But when he sees what I see—the fight has stalled. Sides have been temporarily suspended in the chaos, in the unbelievable, horrible reality. His shoulders fall and his chest folds and shudders.

  “What about you?” I whisper. “Will you figure it out?” The question is so loaded, full of so many possible meanings, I’m not sure I even understand it.

  Will shakes his head, peering up at the cloudless blue sky.

  I hug him and he melts into silent sobs at my neck.

  Who is this complicated, beautiful, tortured creature, anyway? He isn’t the Will I knew before. He’s different now, but not. And I care so much for him. My head spins. I’m not sure what any of it means and I can’t begin to dissect it right now.

  Instead, I shove it aside and wrap my arms around his waist tighter. “Is it Tilly?” I ask.

  He breathes into my neck. “Oh man.” He sniffs. “This is all my fault. Tilly. Annabel. The cave-tree being bombed. Duke. Nearly getting us all blown to shreds. My. Fault.” His voice is higher than normal, cracking with emotion.

  I pull back, shaking my head. “No.”

  Will rubs his eye with more force than necessary then pulls his hands through his hair with a jerk. He nods meaningfully because he knows there’s truth to his comment.

  And I’ve got nothing to say to that. I want to find something. A group of words that will make everything all right, but they don’t come. Because I haven’t a clue what they are.

  He pulls away, his expression soft, mournful.

  “Can we get some help over here?” Shiloh calls.

  Will jumps as if being awoken from sleep. He takes off and I’m left with an empty space and too much to grasp.

  I turn and run after him, following the sound of voices up near the cliff.

  Will runs toward Shiloh, Duke, and Henry, but Lewis leaps up from where he’s tending to Jude and stands in front of him, forcing Will to stop or plow Lewis down. “Why should we help them?” Lewis shouts.

  Will grabs Lewis’s shoulder, turning him so they’re face-to-face. “Lew—”

  “No!”

  “Lewis.” Will squeezes.

  “No! They killed Annabel! Jude’s hurt. And they—” Lewis’s eyes pool like great lakes as he looks to the cliff, then falls into Will. He punches Will in the chest with loose fists but soon melts into a shaking, sobbing boy. Just a kid. There’s a burning in my stomach and my sobs catch at my chest because we all are, aren’t we?

  “I know, brother. I know,” Will consoles Lewis, pulling him into a hug, breathing in the top of his head, and staring down on Duke and Henry. I swear the look in Will’s eye is one of doubt, distrust. He can’t get over this war. None of them can. They’re all too close.

  But I’m not.

  I take off in a sprint, running back toward that spot where Tilly handed me the blade. I pick up the horn I’d left there and make my way back to the cave. In the mere minutes I’d been gone, the two groups have broken out into full-on shouting. Two sides divided. Always divided.

  Damn it, why can’t they just see?

  I take a few steps forward so I’m in the middle of them all. My hand clenched in a fist around the horn, that sad, sickening heat I felt earlier in my gut has turned to a burning ball of fire. I lift the horn up and blow into it as hard as I can.

  I expect the familiar and commanding, pha-ooh, but instead, it gives off a deep and severe phoooo!

  The shouting stops and all goes quiet. Time stands still. All eyes are planted on me.

  I drop the horn to the ground with a thud.

  “This is shit!” I yell, the words resonating from deep down, so deep they sting on their way up. Everyone continues staring. “How many of us have to die before we open our eyes and see what’s going on?” I ask, not expecting an answer, but taking in the silence, the dirty, tear-streaked faces staring back at me. I inhale through my nose, out my mouth. “A girl just died. She sacrificed her life for us. All of us.” I glance around. “This has to stop. We’ve got to work together. For Tilly.” My voice breaks and I swallow back the pain, determined to get the words out. “The last thing that’s going to get any of us home is war.” Drawing in a shaky breath, I run my hands through my hair, pausing a moment to gaze into the endless blue sky. It’s s
o perfectly light blue, it could be paint on a canvas. Not a cloud or blemish upon it.

  I bring my eyes, along with my thoughts, down from the blue and back to the present.

  This starts with me.

  A light breeze whips through the rocky valley and, I swear, a faint song rides along the wind.

  Tilly.

  Lump in my throat, but with my head held high, I walk past Will, who stares, and Lewis who averts his eyes from mine, over to Shiloh. She kneels between Duke and Henry, her hand resting on Duke’s chest, where blood seeps under her fingers, running down his ribs like wax off a candle.

  “How can I help?” I ask.

  Shiloh stares up at me then back to Duke. His face is covered in scratches, that gash across his chest extends to his abdomen, and he’s fallen unconscious. I think.

  “Is he…” The words seep from my mouth in a numb buzz. Please, no more death.

  “He’s breathing,” Shiloh answers, and my shoulders fall as I remind myself to breathe, too. Long black hair a shield, she bends over Duke, her hands trembling and flailing, not sure where to begin. “Do you have anything that will help?” she asks, her tone desperate.

  Footsteps come up from behind. Will and Lewis stand beside me. Lewis pulls his shirt from the back of his pants and hands it to Shiloh, who sponges Duke’s blood.

  On the other side of Henry, Will bends down. He’s already torn his own shirt into a strip and is bandaging the cut on his forehead. “His arm looks broken,” he says, fashioning a sling from what’s left of his shirt, then helping Henry sit up.

  Before I know it, there’s a fuzzy, brown crown of hair right next to me. Bug has Tilly’s small medicine pouch and digs for the ointment shell, holding it out, then setting it in my palm. We exchange a glance and I realize her and Charlie must have heard everything. Her eyes are swollen and red, but she doesn’t say a word, just nods, going to Will and dumping the contents of the bag next to Henry.

  Noah and Tommy race toward us from the tunnel, carrying large containers of water. They join the cause, jumping to action, and we’re all accounted for. Well…most of us.

  Glancing over my shoulder, Charlie is deep in an embrace with Jude, who’s rocking the small boy in his lap, golden curls swaying just under Jude’s chin, against the colorful tattoos on his neck.