JACK KILBORN ~ TRAPPED (26 page)

Leaving Tyrone in Cindy’s capable hands, Sara pressed ahead. In just a few steps she found something. Not Lake Huron, but something that indicated the water was close.

A boat.

It was on its side, the hull split wide open, vines and overgrowth obscuring the outline. Sara guessed it had been here for years. She played the tiny flashlight beam across the bottom, up the side, to the stern, and read the fading name painted there.

SS MINNOW

That was the boat from the TV show
Gilligan’s Island.
But it was also the name Martin had used in his campfire story, when he talked about the party of eight who had come to the island and were attacked.

It couldn’t be a coincidence. This must have been the boat he was talking about. But how could he have known? Unless…

Sara crept around to the other side of the boat, a growing feeling of dread creeping up her back. She had to fight the thicket, and branches poked at her hair and caught on her clothing. The cabin was setting on the ground, partially crushed like a stepped-on soda can. Two of the bridge windows were broken out. Sara shone the light through one, peering into the cabin interior.

The inside was filled with mud and dead leaves. Pieces of a deck chair, part of a life preserver, and various other detritus vied for space with an abandoned raccoon nest. Amid the mess, resting on a pile of disintegrating magazines, was a hardcover book that looked disturbingly familiar. The silver embossing on the cover was faded and dirty, but it clearly said, LOG.

Sara reached through the window, brushing the book with her fingertips. She leaned in further, snagged it, and then something screeched. Before she could pull back, it pounced, scrambling up her arm, over her shoulder, and racing into the forest.

Guess that raccoon nest wasn’t abandoned after all,
Sara thought, leaning against the wreckage, clutching the book to her hammering heart. When her pulse returned to something resembling normal, she took a closer look at the log.

Please don’t let this be what I think it is.

The book was damp and smelled of mildew. The cardboard cover wilted as she opened it up. There, on the first page, Sara’s fears were confirmed. Handwritten on the first blank line was:

SS MINNOW, CAPTAIN JOSEPH RANDHURST

Joe. Martin’s brother.

Sara had always liked her brother-in-law. Joe was sort of like a more playful, less serious version of her husband. Rather than dedicating his life to making a difference, Joe preferred the life of leisure, day trading and blowing his money on travel and toys. Sara could remember the day Joe talked about buying a boat. He’d come over for Thanksgiving dinner before she and Martin had gotten married, extolling the many virtues of living on the open water. The three of them killed four bottles of wine, and afterward Martin and Sara disregarded Joe’s plans. Joe always talked about doing silly things like that, but never did.

For Christmas that year, Sara had bought Joe the captain’s log book as a gag gift, a goofy nod to that memorable night.

That spring, Joe disappeared.

Martin had taken some time off to search for him. He still continued to take occasional weekends to follow down some old lead or ancient hearsay, refusing to believe his brother was dead.

It seemed Joe had bought that boat after all. He’d apparently named it the SS Minnow, and taken it here.

Which meant Martin knew Joe had come here. After all these years, he’d followed his brother’s trail to Plincer’s island.

Sara shook her head, not wanting to believe it. How could her husband bring the children here? How could he risk all of their lives?

“
I didn’t know there was anyone here, Sara. Jesus, I would never do anything to hurt you or the kids. You know that.”

But was that the truth? Was he so anxious to find his brother that he had jeopardized all of them?

No, not Martin. Martin couldn’t have brought them here if he thought it could do them harm. Especially Jack. Martin wouldn’t ever willingly put their child in danger.

Yet Sara couldn’t help but wonder. If Martin had kept this secret from her, what other secrets had he kept?

Sara was dwelling on that when she heard someone scream.

Martin followed the cries, hurrying through the woods as fast as he could, one hand protectively covering his sleeping child.

Meticulous a planner as Martin was, he couldn’t have predicted all of the misfortunes that occurred on this trip. It was all his fault, he knew. Hopefully the consequences wouldn’t be as dire as they were shaping up to be.

He hurdled a cluster of Hawthorn shrubs and stopped dead, his flashlight focusing on Tom.

Tom wasn’t alone. A large man with sharp teeth was munching on his finger.

Martin’s first reaction was surprise. Then came disbelief, swiftly followed by anger.

“
Hey! Freakshow! Get your goddamn hands off my kid!”

“
Martin…” Tom whimpered.

The tall psychotic opened his mouth, releasing Tom’s finger; the bone was still attached, but the flesh had pretty much been stripped off. The giant smiled at Martin, flashing his vampire teeth.

“
Martin. Tom hurt his finger. Lester is making it all better.”

Martin clenched his fists. “Lester better back the fuck off.”

Lester stuck his hands in his overalls, winked, and then quickly backed into the woods. Good thing, too. Seven feet or not, Martin was so angry he had been ready to throw himself at the larger man.

“
Martin…”

Tom was on his knees, his body wracked by sobs. Martin went over, placed his hand on the teen’s shoulder.

“
Easy, Tom. Easy.”

“
That guy…that guy Lester…he was…”

“
Lester is gone.” Martin’s eyes darted around the forest to make sure. “He won’t hurt you anymore. I promise. I’ve got you, now.”

He patted Tom’s back, then eased his hands under his armpits, gently guiding him to his feet. The kid looked shattered, and with good reason.

“
We’ve got to find the others, Tom. Do you have any idea where they are?”

Tom sniffled, seemingly getting his control back. Then he looked at his hand and began bawling again. Martin could appreciate the pain and fear, but they didn’t have any time to waste.

“
Tom, do you know where Sara is?”

“
That’s my bone…
Jesus Christ
… my bone is sticking out.”

“
Your finger can be fixed,” Martin lied. “Now do you know where Sara is?”

“
How can it be fixed?” Tom whined, drawing out his vowels. “Theeeere’s nooooo skiiiiiiiiin leeeeeeft.”

Martin put his hand on Tom’s chin, forcing the boy to look at him. “Focus, Tom. Sara. Where is she?”

“
I dunno.”

“
How about the kids? Cindy?”

“
She’s with Tyrone. I think they’re still at the camp.”

“
Meadow?”

“
Oh, God.”

“
Where’s Meadow, Tom?”

“
I aaaaaaaate Meeeaaaadooooow…”

Martin grimaced. This had gone from bad to horribly worse. But this wasn’t the time to dwell on the loss. Martin needed to keep a clear head, needed to figure out what to do next.

“
He tasted like chicken!” Tom wailed.

Martin realized he wasn’t going to get anything out of Tom. He stared off into the woods, thinking of Sara, and felt like putting his fist through a tree.

Calm down. This island isn’t that big. You’ll find her.

Martin knew he would. He swore on it.

He just hoped Sara would still be alive when he did.

They approached the giant iron door, the only entrance to the prison.

There were people inside, they knew. They could smell them. Practically taste them.

The doctor was in there too. The doctor who had made them like this.

They hated the doctor.

Two of them yanked on the door, trying desperately to open it.

They strained and groaned, but it wouldn’t budge.

It never budged.

But they kept trying. Every day, they kept trying.

Waiting for the day when it wouldn’t be locked.

Their efforts were interrupted by screams, coming from the woods. Several of them peered into the forest. Then, as one, they headed for whoever was screaming.

They would try the door again later.

Cindy used the last of the burn ointment on Tyrone’s hand, then wrapped it in gauze. Her shoulder hurt like crazy, so she couldn’t imagine the pain he must have been in.

“
Sara said you need to drink this. When she comes back, I’ll ask if you can have more aspirin.”

Cindy tilted the water bottle up to Tyrone’s lips. Some spilled down his chin, but he managed to swallow a few gulps. She cupped his cheek, feeling such a flood of affection for him she was ready to start crying.

“
Thanks,” he mumbled.

Cindy wanted to hug him, to comfort him, to take his pain away. Almost as badly, she wanted him to comfort her, to tell her it was all going to be okay, that they’d live to see the morning. But she didn’t want to seem clingy or needy. She cast her nervous eyes over Tyrone’s shoulder, scanning the woods, knowing what was hiding in there, knowing they could pop out at any time and attack.

“
Sara will be back soon,” Tyrone said. “The boat is coming. We’re gonna be safe.”

He didn’t sound convinced. Neither was she.

“
You’re in a lot of pain, huh?” she asked. After she said it, Cindy looked around for a hole to bury her head. Of course he was in a lot of pain. He was probably thinking she was an idiot.

“
Ain’ so bad,” Tyrone said. His eyes softened. “Cuz you’re here.”

Cindy felt nervous again. Not because people were trying to kill them. But because she was suddenly overcome with the oldest insecurity known to teens. The abrupt change from one kind of apprehension to another was silly, but at that moment she couldn’t help it. Staring at Tyrone, one thought blocked out all others.

Does he like me?

A totally inappropriate question, considering they were in a life-or-death situation. But right then, Cindy’s silly, girlish anxiety mattered more than the pain and the fear. She’d spent her last few years either doing drugs or trying to get drugs, so this completely normal emotion took her by surprise. Especially since she’d never actually had one like it before.

Does he like me?

On one hand, Tyrone has always been nice to her. When he kissed Cindy, it made her heart feel like it would pop like a birthday balloon. But Tyrone probably kissed a lot of girls. It might have been the stress of their current predicament. Or—God forbid—it could have been a pity kiss.

Does he like me?

And what if he did? What did it mean? Cindy liked Tyrone. A lot. But how did this relationship thing work? Did that kiss mean they were going out? Were they exclusive? Was she Tyrone’s girlfriend?

“
You look kinda freaked out,” Tyrone said. He reached out and stroked her cheek with his knuckles. “I don’t want my girl to be freaked out.”

Cindy didn’t know how to read that. But she knew how to find out. The girl who had the courage to crawl into that tent could certainly find the courage to ask him.

“
So, uh, I’m your girl?”

He gave her a sly grin. “Yeah. I mean, if you wanna be.”

Cindy lit up. “I wanna be. So we’re going out together?”

“
Yeah. I won’t be no good at holding hands for a while, though.”

“
I know.” Cindy moved a little closer. “But maybe we should, you know, kiss to make it official.”

He nodded. “That would probly be best.”

She put her hands on his chest and leaned into him.

The kiss made her toes curl.

Cindy held the embrace until she realized how exposed they were. With neither of them paying attention, those wild people could sneak up.

She moved back, just a millimeter. “We should, um, watch the trees. Make sure no one is coming.”

“
Yeah.” Tyrone learned backward. He looked quickly over her shoulder, then back at her. “One helluva first date, huh?”

Cindy smiled shyly. “Best I ever had.”

“
Me too.”

Cindy watched one side, Tyrone the other. The woods were quiet and dark, and though a sliver of moonlight broke through the tree tops, it was hard to see more than a few yards. Her eyes swept back and forth, like a security camera.

When she heard the scream it made her feel like she needed to pee again.

“
That’s Tom,” Tyrone said.

“
He doesn’t sound too far away.”

They listened, and the sound made Cindy want to claw her ears off. She didn’t like Tom, especially after he acted all crazy with the gun. But he didn’t deserve whatever horror was happening to him.