I take one last glance at the rows of whitewashed log walls. A veritable cascade of memories rushes over me. I wonder fleetingly if this is the last time I will ever set eyes on Edgartown. With chaos unfolding all around us, Abigail’s father and myself take hold of the body and run after the others through the forest.
We arrive at the willow tree exhausted and grieving our losses. The rest of the group is hidden behind the thick, leafy curtain and I’m grateful to see that the children are asleep. Someone has lit a candle and the dim light casts bleak shadows.
Elder Spool is staring at his son and his eyes grow wide when he sees us carrying the dead body. Abigail’s father spits at his feet and snarls: “Get him out of here, he doesn’t deserve to be in her presence.” Rich, lost for words, drags Father and Spool just outside the sanctuary of the willow tree.
Abigail stares blank faced at her mother. She seems to have withdrawn inside herself. I sit down next to her and hold her hand in mine. My mother removes a shawl from her bag and drapes it over the body. She sits next to Abigail and holds her other hand.
She is whispering to Abigail: “It’s just her body, her vessel. She is gone now. She’s somewhere else, somewhere peaceful and quiet. She loved you so, Abigail. You lit up her life. That kind of love, it endures.”
“I didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye, to tell her I loved her one more time.”
“She knew that,” says my mother. “She absolutely knew the love you had for each other was stronger than any other.” Abigail sniffs and the dam that’s been holding back her tears breaks apart. My mother is crying now too.
Abigail’s father walks over to us. I stand up to make room for him and he envelops Abigail in his arms. They hold each other, desperate and broken. He whispers to Abigail: “She will live forever in the center of our souls, Abigail. She’ll always be with us.”
I rub my eyes and walk over to Abigail’s mother’s body. I kneel by her head and pray that she wasn’t in pain and that the end came quickly. I pray her death hasn’t been for nothing. I kiss her forehead and tell her goodbye one final time. The finality of her death is brutally unfair. I stand up slowly and everyone looks at me.
“We need to plan how we will get off the island,” I say. “But first, we need to decide what we should do with the prisoners.”
“Kill them,” says Philip in an even voice. “Kill them like they were going to kill Delphine.”
“No,” says Carl. “I won’t be involved in my father’s death,” he says. “I’m with you all one hundred percent. You have my loyalty. You should be sure of that by now. But I won’t kill him or let him be killed.”
“If we kill them, we are no better than them,” says my mother. “There has been enough death tonight. Let’s move them somewhere so we can plan our escape from this place. Then we must set them free.”
“We should kill them like Philip suggested,” says Sally. She runs her finger over the scar on her cheek and looks down at her daughter asleep in her lap. “We can’t take any risks. Our cover is gone; everyone knows we have turned against the elders. There is no future for us here. We must deal with anything or anyone that may jeopardize our immediate escape from the island.”
“I agree that time is running out for us,” I say. “Let’s move them so we can talk. We can decide their fate later.”
“I’ll take them,” says Sally’s husband. “I trust you all to work out a way to get us out of here.”
“I’ll whistle twice when we are ready for you to come back with them,” I say.
Rich parts the green curtain from the outside and proffers the ropes tied to our prisoners. “Come on, you mongrels,” snarls Sally’s husband, taking the ropes. He yanks hard and the two elders stagger after him into the forest. Carl doesn’t take his eyes off his father.
Delphine passes me her notebook and I lean closer to the candle to read it aloud for her.
We must leave by boat tonight. By morning the elders will have put guards on every beach. We’ll have no chance to escape if we don’t leave now. But I’m worried about everyone we are leaving behind who are at risk from flooding. We should try to save them if we can.
“How can we save them?” asks Sally. “They are all loyal to the elders. They think you are crazy, that all of us are crazy. They would never listen to us.”
“We need to get off the island as quickly as possible,” interjects Ada. “We don’t have time to waste trying to save the others.”
“We have lost good, wonderful friends here tonight,” says my mother. “If Delphine is correct, we may lose many more because of the stupidity of the elders. Remember that we are part of a community we leave behind with heavy hearts. Please be sensitive, Ada, I beg of you.”
“You’re right,” says Ada. “I’m sorry Ellie, everyone. Just remember my people are dying up there. And the Collection, which we have been safeguarding for centuries, may be lost forever.”
“Staying here is certain death,” says Marissa. Her voice falters and she stares at Abigail’s mother. “I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“It’s okay,” says Abigail, her voice heavy with emotion.
Delphine passes me her notebook once more.
I suggest Philip makes sure his boat ready for us all to leave in the next few hours. If we leave just before dawn we will not need to navigate at night.
“But what about this?” asks Rich, holding out the key given to me by Sally at the lighthouse.
“It’s the key to a secret storage space inside my house,” says Carl quietly. “I stole it from my father. I am not sure what is inside, but it is certain to be important. My father had no idea I knew about it. I guess he does now.” Carl forces a laugh.
“I want to go there tonight,” says Rich. “I can get to West Tisbury and be back at the beach before sunup.”
“No,” says my mother forcefully. “I can’t let you do that Richard. Don’t let curiosity rule your head. We must leave. The elders’ noose will close around us tighter with each passing moment. I can’t lose you.” My mother’s words hang in the air. So much remains unspoken. My father. Abigail’s mother. The friends we leave behind.
“I’m sorry, Mother. I have to do this. I want to see for myself what secrets Father has been keeping from us.”
“This may have nothing to do with your father,” cries Mother.
“I saw his face when I pulled out the key. He knows what’s in there,” says Rich.
“I’ll go with you, brother,” I say.
“No, Christopher,” says my mother.
“I’ll go too,” says Marissa. Her mother takes her arm and whispers urgently to her. But Marissa shakes her head and stands next to us. “I want to help,” she says. I smile at her gratefully.
The rest of us must prepare to leave on Philip’s boat.
“I’m not leaving until we bury my mother,” says Abigail. Delphine looks at her with deep sympathy. She writes a note, which I read over Abigail’s shoulder: I’ll help you.
“That’s settled then. Marissa, Chris and I will go to West Tisbury to see if we can open the store at Elder Spool’s home. The rest of you will do what you need to do to be ready to leave,” says Rich. “We’ll see you back here just before dawn.”
I whistle to Sally’s husband so he knows to bring our prisoners back to the willow tree.
Then I whisper in Abigail’s ear: “Will you be okay? Do you need me?”
“Your mother will be here with me. We can do this without you. Just make sure you all come back.”
Chapter Twenty
We are on the edge of West Tisbury crouching low in the long grass. The night is warm with a light breeze blowing from the east. With the end in sight, our spirits are buoyed. Marissa smiles at Rich and me in the darkness. I can’t help but grin back.
Rich leans closer and whispers to us both. “Carl told me his father’s home is the dark house closest to the village hall. He said if we come from this direction, we should be able to avoid bei
ng seen from the surrounding houses and reach the living room directly. His sister and mother may be sleeping in there, so we must be quick and silent.”
“There are only two patrols and one group seems to be on lookout from the other side of the village hall. The other patrol is making their way around the perimeter of the village. They seem tired, I don’t think it will be hard to get past them,” I reply softly.
“What do we do if someone sees us?” asks Marissa. Her green eyes reflect brightly in the moonlight.
“We shoot and run,” I say. “We can’t risk being caught. The others are waiting for us.”
We sit in silence for a moment, thinking of those we left behind at the willow tree. I wanted to be there for Abigail but I could not have let Rich do this by himself.
“My father was so angry that I came with you,” says Marissa quietly. “I wanted to come, to show him and everyone else that I am capable.”
“We’re glad you are with us,” I say truthfully. Philip may be protective of Marissa but she is athletic and an excellent shot.
“Don’t worry,” says Rich dryly. “Tonight is the night for disappointing our fathers.”
“Are we ready to do this?” I say.
Rich nods and takes Marissa and me by the hand. “Be careful you two. If something were to happen to either of you helping me with this, I would never forgive myself,” he says.
One by one, we stand and run to the nearest house. From here, I can see the village hall in the center of West Tisbury. It’s a strange sensation, being back where it all began the night of the revel. I can easily conjure the memory of the long tables laden with food, bursting into the night—the candles flickering joyfully, moodily—and Delphine, of course.
Dismissing my reverie, I focus as we race from house to house through the dark and quiet village. It’s the small hours of the night, when most have succumbed to sleep. There are no clay lamps burning in any of the homes. All is peaceful and still.
It does not take us long to reach Elder Spool’s home. We turn to each other, our eyes sparkling, silently celebrating our success. We made it over the first hurdle.
Rich waits for the roving patrol to walk past and then slides open the window. It squeaks a little, but the sound is quickly swallowed by the wind. Rich hoists himself through the opening. I gesture for Marissa to go first but she shakes her head. She holds her gun out, covering me. I quickly pull myself inside and move out of the way. Marissa lands with a soft thud next to me.
It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Unfamiliar corners and shapes gradually materialize in front of me. I walk carefully, with my arms out in front of me, toward the opposite wall. Rich or Marissa bump into something but the noise is not loud. I’m not worried. The house seems deserted. I make it to where Rich is crouching in the darkness.
“Take the edge of this rug,” he whispers. “Help me pull it back. It’s heavy.”
We both take hold of the floor rug and heave it backwards. The rug is thick, and the edge is woven with an intricate detail that is unfamiliar. We peel the rug back a few cubits from the wall and Rich runs his hands over the wooden floorboards. Marissa has joined us now.
“How will we know?” asks Marissa quietly.
“Carl said one board has a slight indent. Once we find it, if we push down gently, the board should spring up.”
“Carl hasn’t tried to open it?” I ask.
“He secretly observed his father but never had the chance to open it himself after he took the key,” replies Rich.
We all run the palms of our hands over the ground, searching for any irregularities. My fingers probe the edges of each board but find nothing. It’s Marissa who finally finds it and we all hear the click of the wood panel coming loose as she presses down. As we gather around she whispers: “It’s just as Carl said.”
We help her pull up the board and Rich reaches in his hand. He slowly pulls out the next wooden board and then a third. I put my hand in and realize the secret compartment is barely a finger length deep. Rich produces the key and reaches in feeling for a keyhole. He smiles and inserts the key.
I hold my breath and there is the faintest click as he turns the key. Rich pulls open the hidden door to reveal a deeper chamber that seems to open right into the center of the earth.
“I can’t see what’s inside,” I whisper, frustrated.
“Let’s take it all and look at it later,” says Rich. “I bought a sack, let’s fill it up.”
Rich pulls an empty sack from inside his tunic and opens it wide. I reach into the hole, not knowing what to expect. I’m surprised when one of the first objects I touch is familiar.
“Books,” I whisper to myself. I reach in again and this time my hand finds a short, heavy cylinder, which I deposit in the bag.
“There’s someone there,” whispers Marissa in a frightened voice.
I’m instantly back in battle. I take my gun out and spin around in the direction Marissa is pointing.
There in the doorway is a young girl in a long, loose fitting nightgown. The moonlight plays eerily on her face and she looks pale, faded. Something shifts next to her and a familiar black face swims into focus in the darkness.
“It’s Delphine’s dog,” says Rich in surprise.
“What are you doing?” asks the girl. Her black hair is in twin plaits that fall over her shoulders, coming to rest on her chest. She doesn’t seem afraid of us, despite the guns trained on her.
“She must be Carl’s little sister,” whispers Marissa.
“It’s okay,” I say. “Carl sent us.” Rich and Marissa nod reassuringly in my peripheral vision. “We are just here to pick up a few things for him.”
“Do you have my father?” asks the girl. “Mother told me that some bad people have taken him.” Her question hangs, unanswered. The girl pauses, watching us. None of us stir from where we are as we wait for her next move. “Are you really with my brother?” she says next.
“Yes we are,” says Marissa gently. “He’s a friend of ours. We are all helping each other.”
“Will you take me with you?” she asks. “Although I want to take my new dog with me too.”
“I’m sorry,” I say to her. “We can’t.”
“Why?”
I turn to Rich and he shakes his head. I don’t know what to say to her and we plunge into an anxious silence. As the moments pass by, the young girl staring at us in the darkness, I sense we should leave immediately.
“We need to get out of here,” I say in a low whisper to Rich and Marissa.
We each grab a few more items from the secret chamber and then stand slowly, leaving the door unlocked and the wooden boards scattered on the floor. We back up towards the window, all of us facing the girl.
“Please tell my brother I love him,” she whispers.
“We will,” says Marissa. “I promise.”
Rich lowers himself out of the window first and I pass the bulging sack down to him. I follow him and Marissa comes last.
We’re outside now, crouched low under the window and against the outside wall of Elder Spool’s house, our sack of contraband held tight in Rich’s hand. We wait for the patrol to pass and then run swiftly, house to house, until we reach the forest. We made it!
We run for several more moments and then collapse on the ground in a thicket of bamboo. Rich looks exuberant and for a moment we seem to forget the terrible things that have happened. He holds the sack high in his hands in triumph and we can’t help but grin back at him.
“Let’s see what’s in here,” he says to us conspiratorially.
He puts the sack on the ground and pulls it open. Marissa and I crowd around but the light is too dim. Rich gently upends the contents of the sack on the ground and we step back, surveying it all.
The pale light from the moon shines on the stolen objects. There are the books I first pulled from the secret chamber. I pick one up and examine it. Letting out a loud sigh, I trace the letters of the book with my finger:
The Catcher in the Rye. The circularity of it all confounds me.
There are a dozen more wondrous things now lying on the leaf litter. Marissa and Rich are both turning treasures over in their hands, trying to make sense of what they hold. Rich puts a square box—with a row of small circles down one side—back on the ground and selects another item.
Marissa holds a heavy-looking metal cylinder in her hands. She shows it to me. It’s smooth with a raised button. I examine both ends and find that one has a glass face. When I hold the glass up to the night sky, it seems to reflect the light.
“What do you think it is?” Marissa asks me.
“I’ve got no idea. It looks like this button can move. I’m going to see what happens.”
“I’m not sure you should do that,” says Rich.
Before the words are out of his mouth, I’ve pushed the button with my thumb. A blindingly bright light bursts forth from the glass end of the object. Marissa lets out an involuntary scream and I drop the object to the ground. We all stand around the thing, staring at the bright light as it pierces the blackness of the forest. The light is unblinking, unwavering.
Our astonishment is shattered by a loud shout from the village. Someone’s seen the light! Rich curses and throws the things strewn over the ground into the bag. The voices from the village are getting louder. They are coming for us. We grab our packs and run deeper into the forest, leaving the blade of light lying discarded on the forest floor.
We run until my chest is heaving. I slow and listen. I don’t think we are being followed anymore.
“Rich,” I call to him. “Hey Rich, slow down. We can take a break. They haven’t followed us.” Marissa and Rich slow their frantic running. Rich wheels back around and I’m surprised by the anger on his face.
“Why did you do that Chris? What a stupid move. We could have all been killed. Hasn’t there been enough of that already?” Marissa stands a short distance away. She seems unsure of where to look.
“I’m sorry, brother. I had no idea that the light would turn on like that. I don’t know what else to say.”
Rich glares at me briefly and starts walking off in the direction of the willow tree. I follow twenty cubits behind with Marissa beside me. Marissa seems lost in thought and we walk in silence for a while. I reach into my pack and pull out some apples. She takes one.
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