And there they waited patiently for her to live or die.
TWENTY-EIGHT
123 HOURS, 52 MINUTES
SAM, EDILIO, QUINN, Astrid, and Little Pete followed the FAYZ wall out to sea. The curve of the barrier took them away from land, then back toward it.
There was no gap in the wall. There was no easy escape hatch.
The sun was setting as they traveled north of a handful of tiny private islands. One of those islands had a beautiful white yacht smashed into it. Sam considered detouring to take a closer look but decided against it. He was determined to survey the entire FAYZ wall. If he was to be trapped like a goldfish in a bowl, he wanted to see the whole bowl.
The FAYZ wall met the shore in the middle of Stefano Rey National Park, having inscribed a long semicircle on the face of the eerily placid sea.
The shoreline was impossible, a fortress of jagged rock and cliffs touched with the golden light of the setting sun.
“It’s beautiful,” Astrid said.
“I’d rather have ugly and a place to land,” Sam said.
The surf was still tame, but it would take very little for the rocks to tear a hole in the hull of the already crippled Boston Whaler.
They headed south, creeping along, hoping for a place to put in before the gas tank ran empty and night fell.
Finally they spotted a minuscule spit of sand, a V shape, no more than twelve feet wide and half as deep. Sam figured he could, with luck, run the boat in there and beach it. But the boat would not survive for long, and they would be on foot, without a map, at the bottom of a seventy-foot cliff.
“How’s the gas look, Edilio?”
Edilio stuck a stick down into the tank and pulled it back up. “Not much. Maybe an inch.”
“Okay. Well, I guess this is it, then. Tighten up your life jackets.”
Sam pushed the throttle forward and aimed straight for the tiny beach. He had to keep up speed or the sluggish swell would shove him into the rocks that crowded in on both sides.
The boat ran up on the sand. The impact jolted Astrid, but Edilio caught her hand before she fell. The four of them quickly piled out. Little Pete could not be induced to get out, or even to acknowledge their existence. So Sam, fearful that at any moment Little Pete might freak out and choke him, or teleport him, or at least start howling, carried the boy ashore.
Edilio took with him the boat’s emergency kit, which amounted to little more than a few Band-Aids, a book of matches, two emergency flares, and a tiny compass.
“How do we get Little Pete up this cliff?” Sam wondered aloud. “It’s not a really hard climb, but…”
“He can climb,” Astrid said. “He climbs trees sometimes. When he wants to.”
Sam and Edilio wore identical expressions of doubt.
“He can,” Astrid said. “I just need to remember the trigger words. Something about a cat.”
“Okay.”
“He followed a cat up a tree once.”
“I don’t know if we have tides anymore,” Quinn said, “but if we do, this beach is going to be underwater soon.”
“Charlie Tuna,” Astrid said.
The three boys stared at her.
“The cat,” she explained. “His name was Charlie Tuna.” She crouched next to Little Pete. “Petey. Charlie Tuna? Charlie Tuna? Remember?”
“This is not too crazy,” Quinn muttered under his breath.
Sam said, “Okay, how about Edilio, you go first, then Astrid so Little Pete will follow you. Quinn and I will come last in case L. P. slips.”
It turned out Astrid was right, Little Pete could climb. In fact, he almost passed Astrid on the way up. Nevertheless, it took them till dark to gain the top of the cliff. By the time they finally collapsed on a bed of grass and pine needles beneath towering trees, they needed every one of the Band-Aids Edilio had brought.
“I guess we sleep here,” Sam said.
“It’s warm out,” Astrid said.
“It’s dark,” Sam said.
“Let’s light a fire,” Astrid said.
“Keep the bears away, huh?” Edilio agreed nervously.
“That’s a myth, unfortunately,” Astrid said. “Wild animals see fire all the time. They’re not especially scared of it.”
Edilio shook his head ruefully. “Sometimes, Astrid, you knowing everything isn’t really helpful.”
“Understood,” Astrid said. “What I meant to say was that bears, like all wild animals, are terrified of fire.”
“Yeah. Too late.” Edilio peered nervously into the blacker-than-black shadows beneath the trees.
Astrid and Edilio watched Little Pete while Sam and Quinn searched for firewood.
Quinn, nervous for more than one reason, said, “This isn’t me dogging you or anything, Sam, but brah, if you really do have some kind of magic, you need to be figuring out how to use it.”
“I know,” Sam said. “Believe me, if I knew how to turn on a light, I would.”
“Yeah. You always have been scared of the dark.”
After a while Sam said, “I didn’t think you knew that.”
“It’s no big thing. Everybody’s scared of something,” Quinn said softly.
“What are you scared of?”
“Me?” Quinn paused, holding his few sticks of firewood, and considered. “I guess I’m scared of being a nothing. A great big…nothing.”
They collected enough wood and enough pine needles for kindling and soon they had a cheerful, if smoky, fire burning.
TWENTY-EIGHT
123 HOURS, 52 MINUTES
SAM, EDILIO, QUINN, Astrid, and Little Pete followed the FAYZ wall out to sea. The curve of the barrier took them away from land, then back toward it.
There was no gap in the wall. There was no easy escape hatch.
The sun was setting as they traveled north of a handful of tiny private islands. One of those islands had a beautiful white yacht smashed into it. Sam considered detouring to take a closer look but decided against it. He was determined to survey the entire FAYZ wall. If he was to be trapped like a goldfish in a bowl, he wanted to see the whole bowl.
The FAYZ wall met the shore in the middle of Stefano Rey National Park, having inscribed a long semicircle on the face of the eerily placid sea.
The shoreline was impossible, a fortress of jagged rock and cliffs touched with the golden light of the setting sun.
“It’s beautiful,” Astrid said.
“I’d rather have ugly and a place to land,” Sam said.
The surf was still tame, but it would take very little for the rocks to tear a hole in the hull of the already crippled Boston Whaler.
They headed south, creeping along, hoping for a place to put in before the gas tank ran empty and night fell.
Finally they spotted a minuscule spit of sand, a V shape, no more than twelve feet wide and half as deep. Sam figured he could, with luck, run the boat in there and beach it. But the boat would not survive for long, and they would be on foot, without a map, at the bottom of a seventy-foot cliff.
“How’s the gas look, Edilio?”
Edilio stuck a stick down into the tank and pulled it back up. “Not much. Maybe an inch.”
“Okay. Well, I guess this is it, then. Tighten up your life jackets.”
Sam pushed the throttle forward and aimed straight for the tiny beach. He had to keep up speed or the sluggish swell would shove him into the rocks that crowded in on both sides.
The boat ran up on the sand. The impact jolted Astrid, but Edilio caught her hand before she fell. The four of them quickly piled out. Little Pete could not be induced to get out, or even to acknowledge their existence. So Sam, fearful that at any moment Little Pete might freak out and choke him, or teleport him, or at least start howling, carried the boy ashore.
Edilio took with him the boat’s emergency kit, which amounted to little more than a few Band-Aids, a book of matches, two emergency flares, and a tiny compass.
“How do we get Little Pete up this cliff?” Sam wondered aloud. “It’s not a really hard climb, but…”
“He can climb,” Astrid said. “He climbs trees sometimes. When he wants to.”
Sam and Edilio wore identical expressions of doubt.
“He can,” Astrid said. “I just need to remember the trigger words. Something about a cat.”
“Okay.”
“He followed a cat up a tree once.”
“I don’t know if we have tides anymore,” Quinn said, “but if we do, this beach is going to be underwater soon.”
“Charlie Tuna,” Astrid said.
The three boys stared at her.
“The cat,” she explained. “His name was Charlie Tuna.” She crouched next to Little Pete. “Petey. Charlie Tuna? Charlie Tuna? Remember?”
“This is not too crazy,” Quinn muttered under his breath.
Sam said, “Okay, how about Edilio, you go first, then Astrid so Little Pete will follow you. Quinn and I will come last in case L. P. slips.”
It turned out Astrid was right, Little Pete could climb. In fact, he almost passed Astrid on the way up. Nevertheless, it took them till dark to gain the top of the cliff. By the time they finally collapsed on a bed of grass and pine needles beneath towering trees, they needed every one of the Band-Aids Edilio had brought.
“I guess we sleep here,” Sam said.
“It’s warm out,” Astrid said.
“It’s dark,” Sam said.
“Let’s light a fire,” Astrid said.
“Keep the bears away, huh?” Edilio agreed nervously.
“That’s a myth, unfortunately,” Astrid said. “Wild animals see fire all the time. They’re not especially scared of it.”
Edilio shook his head ruefully. “Sometimes, Astrid, you knowing everything isn’t really helpful.”
“Understood,” Astrid said. “What I meant to say was that bears, like all wild animals, are terrified of fire.”
“Yeah. Too late.” Edilio peered nervously into the blacker-than-black shadows beneath the trees.
Astrid and Edilio watched Little Pete while Sam and Quinn searched for firewood.
Quinn, nervous for more than one reason, said, “This isn’t me dogging you or anything, Sam, but brah, if you really do have some kind of magic, you need to be figuring out how to use it.”
“I know,” Sam said. “Believe me, if I knew how to turn on a light, I would.”
“Yeah. You always have been scared of the dark.”
After a while Sam said, “I didn’t think you knew that.”
“It’s no big thing. Everybody’s scared of something,” Quinn said softly.
“What are you scared of?”
“Me?” Quinn paused, holding his few sticks of firewood, and considered. “I guess I’m scared of being a nothing. A great big…nothing.”
They collected enough wood and enough pine needles for kindling and soon they had a cheerful, if smoky, fire burning.
