by Tara Ellis
Ally knows that Sam means it. She would never try to make her do something she didn’t want to, even if it were important to her. But it’s not like they’re looking for a lost dog. Ally would always wonder about the girl Carrie, and if she really existed, if they don’t find out for themselves.
“And miss out on all the fun?” Ally finally answers, taking the branch from Sam’s hand so she can walk past it. “Never!”
Sam’s smile broadens and her pace quickens so that they can catch up with the boys. The twinge of excitement that had been brewing slowly starts to spread, giving her an extra burst of energy. She knows that they’re close to solving this mystery. Now they just have to find that boat!
It isn’t long before they reach a small clearing, and on the other side, they discover the marshy cove that Captain Brown described. It’s obvious by the muddy grass that there’s a much larger area of water when the tide is up, but right now, they’ll have to walk through the muck before getting to where it’s deep enough to float a boat. However, there is no boat in sight.
“Where is it?” Sam cries desperately, her hopes fading.
“Hold on,” John urges, looking around slowly. “If it’s really been a few years since anyone has been here, it could be covered up. We should spread out and look along the edge, where it would be tied up.”
Following his directions, they start making their way clumsily through the overgrown brush and weeds, their feet getting sucked down into the swampy ground. After ten minutes, Sam is on the verge of tears, but then Hunter suddenly whoops triumphantly!
“I found it!” he shouts, waving his arms over his head. He’s on the far end of the open space, underneath some trees so that they can hardly see him. Rushing over, the four of them work together to pull the vines, weeds and debris from the old, wooden boat.
Once they’re done, what’s revealed isn’t that impressive. “Do you think it’ll float?” Sam asks John, not feeling very optimistic.
“I don’t see any holes in it,” John replies. “These old things can go through a lot and still be seaworthy. Come on!” he orders, grabbing an end. “Let’s drag it out.”
It takes several long minutes to get the boat out into the water, and Sam is beginning to worry about the time. The tide has to be all the way out by now and they won’t have that long before it starts to turn back again. She can see the open ocean just beyond the trees overhanging the entrance into their small hideout, and for the first time she questions their plan. She’s so distracted by the thought that she hardly notices that the boat is floating.
“It works!” Ally gasps in surprise. “I don’t see any water inside of it.”
“And there are even a couple of solid oars,” Hunter adds, holding them up for emphasis.
“We have to go now, if we’re going to do this,” John states, thinking the same thing as Sam. “We don’t have much time before the tide comes in and blocks the way.”
It takes some tricky maneuvering, but they manage to drag the decent sized boat out. It’s big enough for four people, so they all just fit. It’s a good thing both of the boys are good at rowing, because navigating is no easy task. Fortunately, they’re in a protected spot, so there are just some large swells to get over, rather than breakers. It’s surprising how fast they move, with the outgoing tide helping them along. In less than fifteen minutes, they're searching the coastline for the telltale triangle shaped rocks.
“There!” Sam calls out, pointing towards the impossible-to-miss rocks. Jutting up dramatically from the water, they form a perfectly sized tunnel. The old rowboat easily slips through.
Once on the other side, they find themselves in a large, protected space. It’s basically a bowl made of rock, and there is only one area that they can pull the boat up on. Sam shudders at the thought of what would happen to anyone caught there during high tide.
They carefully pick their way over the wet slippery rocks, and up the only path available to the top. Sam breaths a huge sigh of relief as she feels the fresh wind on her face when she reaches the surface. Turning, she grabs Ally’s hand and helps pull her up beside her. Together, the four of them look in triumph at the lighthouse that towers over them.
“Now what?” Hunter asks, straining to see the top of the huge structure less than fifty feet away.
“Now we find out if Carrie is real, and if she’s in there,” Sam declares.
“I’m afraid I will have to change your plans!”
Ally cries out at the voice behind them, and all four kids spin as one to face the man standing there. Sam has never seen him before, but he has the same large build and menacing look as the other two on the boat. The one big difference is that he’s holding a gun. And it’s pointed right at them!
19
DEAD MAN’S POINT
“You will come with me!” the man barks, his accent very thick. Pointing at an old wooden building behind him with his free hand, he makes a sweeping gesture with the gun, guiding them towards it. The shed had been at their backs so they didn’t notice it, and the man had obviously come from there. Sam could kick herself for not being more cautious, but the claustrophobia she’d been feeling in the confining rock formation had distracted her.
When the four kids don’t immediately follow his command, their captor gets red in the face and takes a menacing step towards them.
“Do you not understand your situation?” he yells, waving the gun for emphasis. He mutters something in a foreign language before coming up with the words in English. “You will do as you are told. Now!” Spittle flies from his mouth and his eyes widen further, giving him a wild look. This kicks them into motion, and John is the first to move, stepping in front of Sam and Ally with his arms open wide in a protective gesture.
“Okay, okay,” he says quietly, the waver in his voice the only real evidence of his fear. “We’re going.”
Numbly, they file inside the dark building and turn to face the man as he closes the door loudly behind them. Ally has taken hold of Sam’s arm in a desperate, vice-like grip and won’t let go. Although this isn’t the first time they’ve had a gun pointed at them, that does nothing to weaken the cold claws of fear. Sam can barely breathe.
“Sit against that wall,” the man orders, nodding his head towards the other side of the room. “And be quiet.”
While John is nearly as tall as the older man, he’s a good fifty pounds lighter and would be no match in a fight, even if there weren’t a gun involved. They could probably overpower him if they all rushed him at the same time…but there is a gun, so they have no other choice than to do what they’re told.
Sam’s mind races as she settles down onto the hard wood floor. This guy doesn’t know who they are. She’s never seen him before, but figures he must be the fourth man that the little boy told John and Hunter about. As far as he knows, they’re just some kids out snooping around, except for what he heard them say. She might still be able to talk her way out of it.
“We’re really sorry for trespassing, mister!” she blurts out, allowing real tears to blur her vision.
When he turns his attention to her, Sam bravely continues. “We didn’t know we weren’t allowed on this property. You see, we’re renting one of the beach houses, and we met a girl named Carrie that was staying next door. I guess she ran away or something, because she’s been missing for a while now. We just thought she might be hiding out here so we wanted to check. We’ll never come back, though,” she rushes on.
She can see him hesitating and the gun lowers ever so slightly. “I promise! Our parents would kill us if they knew we were trespassing!” she grimaces at her use of the word ‘kill,’ but is encouraged that she has him confused.
Sam’s hopes swell when the gun drops loosely at his side. He seems tempted to believe that they’re just there by chance. She imagines that he would like nothing better than to get rid of them and the hassle they represent.
“There is no one here but me,” he finally replies, placing a hand on the doork
nob…the pathway to freedom.
“We can see that now, mister,” John adds convincingly, taking Sam’s lead. “We’ll never come back again. We’re going home in a day, anyway. We’re done trying to find that girl. We’ll let her parents worry about her.”
Nodding his head abruptly as he makes up his mind, the man turns the knob and then opens the door a few inches, telling them to stand. But before they can, a loud crackling static emits from a large two-way radio sitting on the only table in the room.
“Regan. Regan! Check in.” The man releases the door and crosses to the radio in two long steps, motioning at the same time for the kids to stay seated. Sam’s hopes plummet and the dramatic dips in emotion are making her feel a bit sick to her stomach.
“Regan here. Ready for afternoon report. Switch to secondary channel.” The microphone looks small in his meaty hand as he grips it tightly. Looking at the four kids, he must be trying to figure out what to say about them.
“Switching to secondary channel,” the box squawks, followed by a brief pause while Regan reaches out, and turns a nob. “Go with report.”
The voice on the other end has become distorted and there is more static, which is likely why this channel wouldn’t be used by anyone else.
“I have some…young pirates. They were looking for treasure.” Regan watches them as he says this, his expression unreadable.
“How many?” The voice has changed, and Sam looks in alarm at Ally. It’s Kevin!
“Four: two boys and two girls. Claim to be looking for a lost neighbor.” Sam winces as he says this, knowing that the same story that nearly freed them will now seal their fate.
“Does one of them have red hair?” The static has gotten worse, so that his voice is almost drowned out, but the message still comes through.
“Affirmative,” Regan answers with some surprise, looking at Ally with suspicion. “What are your instructions? I was going to release the…trespassers.”
“Negative,” Kevin replies immediately. “We’ll have our order completed tonight. Those four are a liability. Repeat…they are a liability. Put them with the treasure. Rendezvous time is moved up to the next low tide at o-four hundred.”
“What if someone comes looking for the….pirates?” Regan asks after a brief hesitation.
“I doubt they’re there with permission,” Kevin replies logically. “By the time anyone realizes it, we’ll be long gone.”
“Affirmative. Out.” Regan drops the mic on the table and turns on the group with a new sense of purpose. “You,” he says, pointing at John. “Come here.”
Ally grabs at John’s hand when he stands up, but he gently shakes her off and follows Regan’s order. Stopping a few feet away from the man, John crosses his arms over his chest and raises his eyebrows questioningly. Sam knows that he must be scared, but he’s doing a good job at hiding it. She figures that he came to the same conclusions as she has, based on what Kevin just said. Regan wasn’t told to hurt them, just to put them somewhere. Sam assumes that the ‘treasure’ is Carrie, and that they’ll soon be joining her.
“You, too.” Regan then directs Hunter, pointing to a spot next to John. Hunter isn’t quite as good as John is at hiding his fear, and his legs nearly buckle when he rises, but Sam catches and steadies him. When both boys are standing in front of Regan, he keeps the gun pointed at them while rummaging through an open toolbox on the table. After a couple of minutes of searching, he smiles and brings out a bag of zip ties. Tossing it to John, he then nods at Hunter. “Tie him up.”
John’s cheeks burn a deep red in contrast to his blonde hair as he reluctantly secures Hunter’s wrists. Regan doesn’t object to him keeping his hands in front of him, but gives the plastic strips an extra tug to make sure they are tight. He then binds John’s wrists in the same way, before escorting them all back outside into the bright, late afternoon sun.
Sam is a bit insulted that Regan didn’t feel it was necessary to restrain her and Ally, but then nearly laughs aloud at the absurd thought. Barely containing the hysterical giggles, Sam carefully picks her way over the uneven ground and follows the others towards the lighthouse. She focuses on the hope that Regan’s underestimating them will be their one advantage, but it won’t do them any good if she totally loses it. Taking deep breaths, Sam gets a loose control on her raging emotions.
Ally is having a more difficult time. Crying, she turns back to look at the man trailing behind them. “Please let us go,” she begs, tripping over a rock and nearly falling. Catching herself by grabbing onto Hunter, she holds onto his arm. “We promise not to tell anyone you’re here!”
Regan’s cold eyes study the young girl’s face, no sign of remorse registering on his hard-edged features. “That is no longer an option,” he says evenly. “Do as you are told and no one will be harmed.”
As bleak as the situation is, his words seem to have a calming effect on Ally. She straightens her shoulders, and visibly struggles to choke back the sound of her crying. Sam quickly steps up to Ally’s side and throws a steadying arm around her. Ally turns into her sideways embrace, and the two of them approach the base of the lighthouse together.
John is already standing at the large, old wooden door set into the stucco walls. He’s studying them with obvious concern, his hands already turning a bit red from the ties cutting into the circulation. Sam watches his expression change to alarm when the door behind him is suddenly pulled open, and he nearly falls backwards. Standing there is the larger of the two men from the boat, Her Vaere Drager. He takes in the group gathered there, before turning on Regan.
They argue loudly in a foreign language for nearly five minutes. Sam figures it has to be Danish, and she’s thankful that she has no idea what they’re saying. Do all of these guys have explosive anger issues? Reminding herself not to antagonize them, she tries not to stare, and instead studies their surroundings. It might come in handy later.
The huge, hundred-foot structure is set about fifty feet back from the trail they used. The bluff angles up sharply behind it, ending in what Sam imagines must be a sheer cliff. It’s clear that the only way here is by the slippery slope they climbed, in this unforgiving landscape.
“Why don’t they come for us now?” The second man demands in English. It would seem that the argument is over, but he is still agitated.
“I told you, Jacque,” Regan replies, throwing his one gun-free hand up. “We will be done with all of this mess by tonight. The tide will be out again at three-thirty. Take them upstairs, then secure everything, and prepare to leave.”
Still muttering to himself, Jacque pulls his own pistol out from his waistband, and takes over their imprisonment. As the big door closes behind them and he yells at them to start climbing the steep, spiral staircase; Sam suddenly longs to have Regan back in charge.
The stairs go on forever. In what feels like an endless upwards, swirling trek, Sam concentrates on her grip on the loose banister and the creaking wooden steps under her feet. Captain Brown said that the lighthouse was determined to be unsafe years ago, so her fear of falling through the old stairwell to her death is probably not that far-fetched.
Just when Sam’s fear starts to overwhelm her again, they come to a large platform in front of another door. The stairs continue beyond that, but Jacque calls out for them to stop. Shooing them away from the lock, he takes hold of a solid bar that disengages a new dead bolt, recently installed.
As the bolt scrapes against the wood, and Jacque pushes the large door open, Sam eagerly cranes her neck to get a look in the room. On the far side of an impressive chamber, a girl sits on the bare floor. Hugging her knees to her chest, green eyes wide with fear, she looks to be about the same age as John.
They all step into the space without any encouragement from their captor, who slams and locks the door behind them without comment.
“Carrie?” Sam calls out, her terror at their situation briefly forgotten. “We’re here to help you!”
20
THE
TREASURE
Carrie sits blinking at them for a moment, confused by the group that has suddenly appeared before her. Pushing herself to her feet, she is taller than Sam had imagined. Her cut-offs are covered in dirt, and the white tank top she’s wearing isn’t much better. She has the same unique eyes and long, thick black hair as her mother. Even though it’s a tangled mess, it doesn’t mask her striking beauty.
“You’re here to rescue me?” she finally says sarcastically, after studying each of them. “Please tell me that your parents or the authorities are right behind you?”
Well, she definitely has her mom’s personality, too, Sam thinks, her excitement at finding the girl quickly fading.
When they all silently exchange knowing looks, Carrie sighs loudly. “Oh, this is just great!” Kicking at an empty can on the floor, she stomps over to a dirty mattress with a lone sheet and plops down on it. “Who are you?” she demands, holding her head in her hands in a defeated gesture.
“Well, you’re welcome,” Hunter blurts back, his tone matching hers. “It’s not like we didn’t risk our lives or anything to get out here and find you.” He holds his bound hands out in front of him for emphasis. “Do you think we’re having fun?”
Blinking again, Carrie lowers her hands and places them loosely in her lap. Sam suddenly realizes that the poor girl is probably in shock. She’s been locked up in here for at least a week. Quickly crossing the room, she kneels down next to her so that they’re at eye level.
“Carrie, my name is Samantha Wolf. That’s my brother, Hunter. This is my best friend, Allyson Parker,” Sam continues, pointing to Ally, “and her brother, John. We rented the beach house next to yours, at Wood Cove. It’s a long story, but after meeting your little sister, mom, and dad, we got a bit suspicious.”
“Wait. My dad?” Carrie interrupts, her pretty face contorting in anger.