It flew twenty feet and smashed against the bluff. It set off two things: a small avalanche of pebbles and midsize stones.
And a sudden rush of panicked coyotes.
Orc stared after them. Brianna’s eyes lit up.
She got close to Orc and in a hard whisper said, “I’ll bet those are the coyotes that did the eating. You got a choice: you want me to get them or not?”
Orc swallowed hard. The coyotes were already atop the bluff and in seconds they would be on level ground and running free. He would never catch them.
“Save one for me,” Orc said.
Brianna winked and zoomed away.
Albert had laid the groundwork carefully.
It was very hard for those without Caine-like or Dekka-like powers even to get out of the sea and onto the island. So he’d arranged for Taylor to carry a looped rope out to the island, secure it around a very sturdy tree, and drop the rope over the cliff.
It was right there in plain view. Anyone who went a little way around the western side of the island, past the wrecked yacht, could see it. He’d attached—well, had paid a kid to attach—colorful bits of fabric so that even now, in the eerie brown shadow, the rope was easy to find.
He guided the boat in. There were no waves, just the usual gentle surge. Albert was not a great boat handler, but he’d learned enough, just enough that he could position the boat beside the rope. The rope fell all the way into the water, which meant it was longer—and therefore more expensive—than necessary. But that wasn’t really the point. The rope was where he had arranged for it to be.
The loops made it almost like a ladder. A very awkward ladder that had an unfortunate tendency to push away when you tried to stick your feet in the loops. But once you got started you could climb okay, and especially once the end of the rope had been made fast to the chest in the bottom of the boat.
It was a long climb and Albert regretted not having arrived earlier. He shouldn’t have waited so long. Another hour or two and he wouldn’t have been able to see the ladder, let alone climb it.
He was first up over the lip of the cliff. With a final heave he pushed himself up into the tall grass, rolled out of the way, and, lying on his back, looked up at the sky.
How very strange. Like being inside a soft-boiled egg with the top of the shell chipped away. Sky—normal-seeming sky—but covering only maybe a quarter of the space.
And the growing stain wasn’t night. There were no stars. There was nothing at all. Just blackness.
He stood up and helped the others as one by one they reached the top.
The sea spread for miles before splashing against the black dome. Far away to the south and east was Perdido Beach, lit in sepia, like a crinkly old photo from long ago.
Turning, Albert gazed in quiet satisfaction at the mansion. It was dark, of course. No one was running the generator, which meant Taylor wasn’t here.
She was Albert’s one concern. Taylor could pop in and out whenever she liked. This would be useful for him—Taylor could let him know what was going on in Perdido Beach and the lake.
On the other hand, Taylor was hard to control. Which was why he’d brought a small sack of combination locks. One would go on the pantry, one on the cover of the generator’s switch. Only Albert would know the combinations, so only Albert would control the food and the lights. That would chill Taylor’s independence a bit.
He ordered the girls to pull up the rope and coil it well back from the cliff’s edge. Then he scanned the sea between Perdido Beach and the island. No sign of boats. Which meant most probably no one was coming anytime soon.
But they would. Sitting terrified in the dark, hungry and desperate, kids would see a distant point of light. They would realize it was the island, and that light meant hope.
So just as soon as they had rested a little, had a bite to eat and a look around, Albert would get them busy hauling a couple of the missiles up to the top floor of the mansion. Because whenever that boat came, it, too, would have a light. A single point of light in the darkness.
Albert sighed. He had survived. But he had given up everything. All of Alberco. All he had accomplished. All he had built.
He would miss the challenge of the business.
“Come on, guys,” Albert said. “Come see our new home.”
Drake was pretty sure Brittney had emerged at least once while he was down in this cramped, oily engine room. But he was back now and Brittney had not moved.
Maybe she was getting smarter.
He listened for Sam’s voice. He heard nothing. That didn’t prove Sam was gone. But it meant Drake could take a small risk.
With his tentacle arm he edged the hatch up a quarter of an inch.
The light was definitely different. Strange. Like it was shining through a bottle of Coke or something. Unnatural.
Unsettling.
He pushed the hatch just a bit higher. There was a foot. Not moving. Just there, toes in his direction. He shifted. A second foot. Someone was seated right there, just a couple of feet away. Aimed in his direction.
Problem or opportunity?
That was the question.
The hatch came down suddenly, slammed back into place by running feet.
“Hey, you guys, be careful!”
Diana’s voice! He’d recognize it anywhere.
“Justin, you’re going to break your neck!”
Drake closed his eyes and let the pleasure of it wash over him. She was right there. And from the sound of it there were little kids on board.
Perfect.
Absolutely. Perfect.
Beyond the highway, out in the emptiness at the edge of the desert, Penny stepped on a broken bottle.
And a sudden rush of panicked coyotes.
Orc stared after them. Brianna’s eyes lit up.
She got close to Orc and in a hard whisper said, “I’ll bet those are the coyotes that did the eating. You got a choice: you want me to get them or not?”
Orc swallowed hard. The coyotes were already atop the bluff and in seconds they would be on level ground and running free. He would never catch them.
“Save one for me,” Orc said.
Brianna winked and zoomed away.
Albert had laid the groundwork carefully.
It was very hard for those without Caine-like or Dekka-like powers even to get out of the sea and onto the island. So he’d arranged for Taylor to carry a looped rope out to the island, secure it around a very sturdy tree, and drop the rope over the cliff.
It was right there in plain view. Anyone who went a little way around the western side of the island, past the wrecked yacht, could see it. He’d attached—well, had paid a kid to attach—colorful bits of fabric so that even now, in the eerie brown shadow, the rope was easy to find.
He guided the boat in. There were no waves, just the usual gentle surge. Albert was not a great boat handler, but he’d learned enough, just enough that he could position the boat beside the rope. The rope fell all the way into the water, which meant it was longer—and therefore more expensive—than necessary. But that wasn’t really the point. The rope was where he had arranged for it to be.
The loops made it almost like a ladder. A very awkward ladder that had an unfortunate tendency to push away when you tried to stick your feet in the loops. But once you got started you could climb okay, and especially once the end of the rope had been made fast to the chest in the bottom of the boat.
It was a long climb and Albert regretted not having arrived earlier. He shouldn’t have waited so long. Another hour or two and he wouldn’t have been able to see the ladder, let alone climb it.
He was first up over the lip of the cliff. With a final heave he pushed himself up into the tall grass, rolled out of the way, and, lying on his back, looked up at the sky.
How very strange. Like being inside a soft-boiled egg with the top of the shell chipped away. Sky—normal-seeming sky—but covering only maybe a quarter of the space.
And the growing stain wasn’t night. There were no stars. There was nothing at all. Just blackness.
He stood up and helped the others as one by one they reached the top.
The sea spread for miles before splashing against the black dome. Far away to the south and east was Perdido Beach, lit in sepia, like a crinkly old photo from long ago.
Turning, Albert gazed in quiet satisfaction at the mansion. It was dark, of course. No one was running the generator, which meant Taylor wasn’t here.
She was Albert’s one concern. Taylor could pop in and out whenever she liked. This would be useful for him—Taylor could let him know what was going on in Perdido Beach and the lake.
On the other hand, Taylor was hard to control. Which was why he’d brought a small sack of combination locks. One would go on the pantry, one on the cover of the generator’s switch. Only Albert would know the combinations, so only Albert would control the food and the lights. That would chill Taylor’s independence a bit.
He ordered the girls to pull up the rope and coil it well back from the cliff’s edge. Then he scanned the sea between Perdido Beach and the island. No sign of boats. Which meant most probably no one was coming anytime soon.
But they would. Sitting terrified in the dark, hungry and desperate, kids would see a distant point of light. They would realize it was the island, and that light meant hope.
So just as soon as they had rested a little, had a bite to eat and a look around, Albert would get them busy hauling a couple of the missiles up to the top floor of the mansion. Because whenever that boat came, it, too, would have a light. A single point of light in the darkness.
Albert sighed. He had survived. But he had given up everything. All of Alberco. All he had accomplished. All he had built.
He would miss the challenge of the business.
“Come on, guys,” Albert said. “Come see our new home.”
Drake was pretty sure Brittney had emerged at least once while he was down in this cramped, oily engine room. But he was back now and Brittney had not moved.
Maybe she was getting smarter.
He listened for Sam’s voice. He heard nothing. That didn’t prove Sam was gone. But it meant Drake could take a small risk.
With his tentacle arm he edged the hatch up a quarter of an inch.
The light was definitely different. Strange. Like it was shining through a bottle of Coke or something. Unnatural.
Unsettling.
He pushed the hatch just a bit higher. There was a foot. Not moving. Just there, toes in his direction. He shifted. A second foot. Someone was seated right there, just a couple of feet away. Aimed in his direction.
Problem or opportunity?
That was the question.
The hatch came down suddenly, slammed back into place by running feet.
“Hey, you guys, be careful!”
Diana’s voice! He’d recognize it anywhere.
“Justin, you’re going to break your neck!”
Drake closed his eyes and let the pleasure of it wash over him. She was right there. And from the sound of it there were little kids on board.
Perfect.
Absolutely. Perfect.
Beyond the highway, out in the emptiness at the edge of the desert, Penny stepped on a broken bottle.
