Elizabeth took a deep breath of the crisp, salty air. "We're going to find them," she told Jeffrey confidently. "I just have a feeling!"
Jeffrey pulled her closer to him, his eyes taking on some of the enthusiasm in her own. "That's the spirit, Liz!"
Soon they neared the spot where Ken thought the Maverick had foundered. As Nicholas swung the Nighthawk in a broad arc, setting a course for the islands Ken had pinpointed on the map, the others took up posts along the yacht's railings. Steven, Cara, and Bruce looked off the starboard side while Elizabeth, Jeffrey, and Ken covered the port. They weren't looking for a lifeboat anymore, but they were hoping to spot some other evidence—a piece of clothing, for instance.
"A message in a bottle would be nice," Ken joked.
They were still a couple of miles from the first of the Channel Islands when the rain began. First it fell in large, solitary drops, then it grew to a steady downpour. The dark clouds that had been hovering on the horizon when they started out from the marina were now looming overhead.
Nicholas frowned. "I don't like this weather," he admitted, "but it shouldn't slow us down. The Nighthawk's seen worse. We keep a bunch of raincoats in that box over there. Help yourselves."
Ken caught Elizabeth's eye. "I don't like this weather, either," he said in a low voice. "It's too much like the weather yesterday."
"Oh, I don't know," Elizabeth said. "I'm sure it's just a passing shower," she commented with a casual wave of her hand. The truth was, the butterflies had started up in her stomach, too, but she didn't want to panic, not now when they had a chance of finding Jessica and Winston.
Just then a spidery streak of lightning flickered across the sky. Only seconds later the ear-splitting boom of a thunderclap made them all jump.
Nicholas was listening to the ship-to-shore radio, and now he slapped his hand against the wheel. "Of all the luck!" he exclaimed.
"What is it?" Ken asked, moving closer so he could hear the radio, too.
The message that had caught Nicholas's attention was repeated on the radio, punctuated by sharp bursts of static. It was an all-craft warning to return to shore. Another storm was approaching, one that promised to be as severe as that of the previous day.
No one, not even a bitterly disappointed Elizabeth, argued with Nicholas as he made a U-turn and headed back toward the coast. If it wasn't safe to be on the water, they had no choice but to abandon their search.
After dropping off their friends, Steven and Elizabeth headed straight home. Steven tried to look at the bright side. "Well, at least we got out of the house for a while. We killed some time."
"Yes. That's true." Elizabeth stared out the car window at the driving rain. Jessica and Winston were out there somewhere in this storm, alone and unprotected.
To Elizabeth and Steven's surprise, when they pulled into the driveway their parents were standing in the front doorway, as if they'd been watching for them to return.
"We were worried to death!" Mrs. Wakefield cried as Elizabeth and Steven climbed out of the car. She looked mad, upset, and relieved all at the same time.
"About fifteen minutes after you left we heard on the radio that there was a bad storm coming," Mr. Wakefield explained, his own relief apparent. "They were telling all the boats to get off the water."
"I'm sorry you were worried. But we got the warning, and Nicholas came right home," Elizabeth assured them. "I told you he was mature and responsible," she added in a teasing tone.
But instead of smiling as Elizabeth hoped, her mother started crying quietly. Elizabeth rushed to her side. "I'm sorry, Mom," she repeated, giving her mother a big hug. "We really did get back as fast as we could."
"I was so afraid we were going to lose you and Steven, too," Mrs. Wakefield whispered as she held her daughter tightly. "I couldn't bear it."
"Oh, Mom." Tears sprang to Elizabeth's eyes. "We didn't mean to scare you. And we're fine! Please don't be sad."
Alice Wakefield wiped at her eyes and laughed shakily. "Once a mother hen, always a mother hen, I guess," she said, doing her best to sound more cheerful. "No matter how big you kids get, I'm always going to worry about you."
Now Steven embraced his mother. Then the four realized that while they had been standing on the front steps talking and hugging, they'd also been getting soaked to the skin by the rain. "Come inside right this minute!" Mrs. Wakefield ordered her family, her eyes twinkling through the traces of tears. "Mother hen says you'd all better change into some dry clothes on the double! I'll have hot chocolate waiting for you in the kitchen."
Elizabeth raced Steven upstairs. Although he lived in a dorm on campus, Steven still kept a lot of his clothes in his room at home.
In her own room Elizabeth shed her wet clothing quickly, changing into a clean pair of jeans and a royal-blue, long-sleeved cotton shirt. She toweled off her hair and then faced the mirror over her dresser, studying her face as she ran a comb through her damp blond hair. The eyes that stared back at her were uniquely her own, and yet at the same time they were just like Jessica's. By this point in her life Elizabeth was used to the fact that she shared a physical identity with her twin.
Shared—or had shared?
"Coming back downstairs, Liz?" Steven asked, sticking his head around her bedroom door.
"Yep. Just a minute." Elizabeth brushed her hair back from her face, then fastened it in the back with one big barrette.
Steven flopped down on Elizabeth's bed to wait for her. His eyes met hers in the mirror. "Are you all right? You look pale."
Her hair taken care of, Elizabeth turned away from the mirror. "I'm just so worried," she explained. "And what Mom and Dad said just now, the way they reacted, really shook me up."
"How do you mean?"
"Mom said they were afraid of losing us, too, remember? That sounds like they've already given up on Jessica. Like they think she really is lost—forever."
Steven fiddled with the bedspread, refusing to meet Elizabeth's eyes. "I think they want to believe she's OK. So do I. But, Liz, the outlook isn't good. We have to face that."
"You can face it if you want," Elizabeth declared, dangerously close to another bout of crying. "I can see as well as anybody that the situation seems bad. But I don't believe Jessica's . . ." Her voice trailed off. She couldn't bring herself to complete the sentence.
"That Jess is dead?" Steven finished the sentence for her.
"She can't be," Elizabeth said passionately. "I'd know. I'd know," she repeated with conviction.
Steven nodded in understanding. The whole family recognized that there was a strong bond between the twin sisters. On more than one occasion in the past, when they had been miles away from each other, Elizabeth had felt that Jessica was in trouble and vice versa. If one twin experienced pain, the other sensed it.
And Elizabeth didn't feel that Jessica had drowned. Instead, she felt that Jessica was alive and safe, and for the moment she had to believe that there was still hope.
Ten
The fluffy clouds that had dotted the morning sky had multiplied and blocked the sun by the time Jessica and Winston finished their shelter and set off into the woods to collect wood and food.
"I'm glad we built that lean-to first thing," Jessica told Winston, looking apprehensively at the darkening sky. "Or rather, I'm glad you gave me a good kick in the behind and made me help!"
Winston grinned. "I knew if I handled you right, I'd have you eating out of my hand eventually," he joked.
"You'd better watch out or I'm going to kick your behind!" Jessica threatened with a pretend scowl. She chased Winston for a few yards and then slowed down to a walk. "Phew, I don't have any energy," she observed. "I'm so hungry I feel weak."
"Me, too." Winston stopped to pick up a piece of dry wood, just the right size for a campfire.
"If I were home in Sweet Valley, I'd probably be on my way to the Dairi Burger with Cara and Lila and Amy right now," Jessica reminisced. "I'd order a burger with everything on it, fries, and a
chocolate malt. I can almost taste it!" Just thinking about such delicious, unattainable fare made Jessica's stomach feel twice as hollow.
Winston licked his lips. "I'd probably go home and stuff myself with microwave popcorn. That is, if I didn't stop at Guido's Pizza Palace on the way!"
Jessica shook her head, trying to forget the image of hot, crispy french fries doused with ketchup. "We shouldn't torture ourselves like this," she lectured Winston. "We should be getting ourselves psyched to eat berries and oranges. Just think of how healthy we'll look. It's like one of those low-cholesterol diets."
Winston groaned. "Just what I need."
They each spotted a good piece of firewood at the same moment. Winston insisted on carrying Jessica's log as well as those he'd found. She was glad to hand it over; her mind was occupied with another issue.
"Hey, Winston," she began. "Talking about the Dairi Burger makes me wonder what's going on at home. We've been so busy building the shelter and all, I haven't had any time to think about much else. Do you suppose everybody's really worried about us by now?"
Winston bent over, carefully balancing his armload of firewood, and added another branch to the stack. "Probably," he guessed. "I mean, they've got to be. But they've also got to figure that we'd make it to dry land. There's no such thing as an uncharted isle, no matter what they say. Wherever we are, you can bet it's on the map, and they'll find it."
Jessica hoped that was true, but the island certainly seemed remote and undiscovered to her. She and Winston hadn't come across any signs that people had been there before them.
All along Jessica had been assuming that she would be rescued as a matter of course. But she hadn't thought beyond the rescue itself, to her family and friends waiting at home, not knowing where she was or if she was even alive. She almost liked the idea of being mysteriously lost at sea, with everyone fussing and worrying and talking about her. People magazine would probably want her story when she got back to civilization. It was too bad it had to cause her family pain, though.
Jessica suddenly saw a group of orange trees nestled among a grove of small, stubby palms. "Hey, Winston, hold on!" she called. "I'm going to pick some of these."
Taking off her gauze shirt, Jessica used it as a sling, quickly filling it with a dozen of the ripest-looking pieces of fruit. Then she rejoined Winston and displayed her harvest proudly. "So, have I earned my first badge?" she joked.
"Nice going," Winston praised her. Then, shifting the bundle of firewood precariously onto one arm, he held out his left hand. "Here, give me that. I'll carry it."
"It's all right. I can manage," Jessica assured him.
"No, no, I insist." Winston grabbed the makeshift bag from Jessica. "It's the man's job to carry stuff," he said gallantly, "and to protect you frail, delicate women."
Jessica laughed. She was more athletic than Winston by far, but she wasn't going to argue. She was getting off easy.
Two more peices of firewood later, Winston looked as if he had reached his carrying capacity. But like a true macho man, he wouldn't admit it was too much for him.
"Why don't we head on back?" Jessica suggested, taking pity on Winston. "We've got enough wood and fruit. If we catch a few fish back on the beach, we'll be set for the rest of the day."
"Never say die!" Winston declared, blinking as a drop of sweat rolled into his eye. "I'm game to go a little further. And besides, I think this hill here"—he gestured with his chin toward a narrow, rocky rise to their left—"corresponds to that cliff I saw from the beach when I went for a walk this morning. And from the beach it looked like there were a ton of great-looking fruit bushes on top of the cliff. They might even be blueberries!"
"Blueberries, huh?" Jessica eyed the bluff skeptically. It was steep and dark, and who knew what was at the top? "I don't know, Winston," she said, shaking her head. "Climbing that hill could be more trouble than it's worth. Do you really think we need more fruit?"
Winston seemed to enjoy Jessica's nervous hesitation. It gave him an opportunity to stick his chest out and act brave. "I'll lead the way," he announced. "You'll thank me later when we're eating those blueberries."
Jessica gave in with a sigh. Winston was in the Lewis and Clark explorer mode again, and there was no use arguing with him.
A low rumble of distant thunder met their ears as they started up the hill. Jessica picked her way carefully among the rocks and tree roots, keeping her eyes peeled for lizards and snakes and other disgusting tropical things that might be crawling around, waiting to grab her bare toes.
Even without carrying anything, she found it rough going. Winston, meanwhile, was breathing heavily but doing his best to maintain an air of effortlessness. After ten minutes of steady climbing, they found themselves at the top of the bluff.
"I had no idea we were this high!" Jessica gasped, both thrilled and frightened. Far below them, the gray ocean dashed against the shore, the big waves booming with a hollow, echoing sound. A thin strip of lightning flickered among the rain clouds on the horizon. "I think we'd better pick those blueberries and get out of here," she added, crossing her arms across her chest and shivering in the cool breeze.
"Gotcha." Winston looked around and then made his way along the edge of the cliff. "Just a little further, Jess. I can see the blueberries right over there!"
With a gulp, Jessica followed. She didn't like being so near the edge of the cliff. It was a long way to the beach below.
"Bingo!" Winston exclaimed triumphantly. "What did I tell you? Blueberries galore!"
As soon as the words left his mouth, Winston froze on the cliff in front of her. Jessica, who had picked up her pace in her eagerness to grab some berries and go back down to their shelter, walked right into his back and accidentally bumped her nose on his bony shoulder. "Ouch! Winston, what are you doing?" Jessica asked as she rubbed her nose, annoyed.
In answer, Winston let out a strangled yelp. Jessica looked over his shoulder to find out what had stopped him in his tracks. Had the headhunters found them at last? she wondered, her heart beating wildly.
Something large and dark and furry was blocking the path. Even from a distance Jessica could see its sharp teeth, bared and glinting. The claws on each of its paws looked as long as her fingers, perfect for tearing a person from limb to limb.
"A bear!" Jessica shrieked, her eyes wide with horror. She was as frozen with fear as Winston, her hands clutching his shoulders. "It's a bear," she repeated dumbly, her mouth going dry.
The bear was standing on its back legs by a blueberry bush. Then with an angry growl it dropped to all fours and started shuffling toward them.
Jessica was too frightened to scream, and some instinct told her that the best strategy might be to stay calm and quiet. Although she knew it was a terrible thought, she couldn't help being glad that Winston was positioned between her and the bear.
Jessica had begun to get a grip on herself, but Winston had lost all of his composure. Looking pale and panic-stricken, he whirled around to run away from the bear. "Watch out, Winston!" Jessica whispered fiercely.
Wobbling precariously near the edge of the cliff, Winston dropped everything he had been carrying, including Jessica's shirt that she had used as a sling to carry the fruit.
Still waving his arms wildly, Winston charged past Jessica and took refuge behind her. Now there was nothing between Jessica and the bear but a few feet—a very few feet—of grassy earth.
Even the day before, capsized in the stormy sea, Jessica hadn't been as frightened. Her life jacket had saved her when she was thrown from the boat, and even though she had lost the jacket, her swimming skill had gotten her to the island. But now she had no weapon, no skills, nothing to save her from the bear's powerful jaws. She couldn't fight a bear the way she had fought the ocean waves!
Jessica stared at the fierce animal, wishing it would disappear, prove a figment of her imagination. Who'd have thought they'd run into a bear up there? She had been prepared for boa constrictors, even a
cannibal or two, but not a bear!
Then Jessica noticed something. The bear had stopped loping toward them and was now standing on its hind legs again, looking past her. Its big black nose twitched hungrily.
The fruit! Jessica thought. It's after the fruit, not us! She turned to look behind her. Sure enough, Winston was cowering next to a bush laden with berries.
Jessica faced the bear again. All of a sudden she recalled Mr. Russo's lecture on island flora and fauna from the week before. He had said something about black bears once indigenous to the coastal region but now extremely rare on the California mainland. Jessica took a closer, calmer look at the bear. It was small, not even as tall as she was. Not exactly a grizzly, she thought. But a bear was still a bear, and this one was hungry. She and Winston had to take action before it decided to have them for dinner instead of berries.
Jessica thought of a solution. "Winston, the bear isn't interested in us, it's just trying to get the fruit next to you. Pick some and throw it over the bear's head! It'll go after the fruit and we can escape!" she frantically explained.
But Winston was still completely petrified. He didn't move or speak in response to Jessica's command. She would have to distract the bear on her own.
Reaching over and grabbing a handful of berries, Jessica lobbed them over the bear's head. The bear sniffed, curious, but didn't turn around. Jessica tossed a second handful. This time some of the berries hit the bear in the nose. The bear let out another low growl, its black eyes glinting.
"Rats!" Jessica muttered desperately. She ripped an entire branch off the bush and prepared to hurl it. This time she absolutely had to get it right—there was no time left. She wasn't an expert on wild animal behavior, but she knew a bear about to charge when she saw one.
At that instant a deafening crack of thunder split the air around them. As if a switch had been pulled somewhere, the rain started abruptly. It came down in sheets, and Jessica was soaked to the skin in a matter of seconds.
Lost At Sea (Sweet Valley High Book 56) Page 7