Summer by Summer (28 page)

There, across the lake, a woman stood.

I blinked, thinking my eyes had to be tricking me. It was the sun, the shine of rays through the trees across the water.

But then she moved, a fight or flight look obvious in her body language. She turned to head back the direction she’d come from.

“Wait! Please!” I dove under the water and swam across the length of the lake, knowing she may be gone when I came up.

My head cleared the water and I pulled myself onto the shore, but couldn’t see anything except a narrow path of flattened grass where she’d gone. I dropped my head in my hands as hope and water trailed in rivulets off of me. Nearby, a branch snapped. I spun. There she stood, not ten feet from me.

For a few seconds, we both stayed unmoving. She shuffled a few feet closer. Her hair was long and dark, matching her eyes. White shorts and an orange bikini top graced her body. Off to the right, her trail waited, and she threw a glance to it, then back to me as if trying to figure me out.

My mouth opened, but the whole thing was so surreal, I couldn’t quite muster what to say.

Then, her eyes narrowed, head tilting a millimeter. She sucked a breath, eyes widening with understanding. “You’re him.”

“I . . .” She spoke English, but there was a Belizean accent to her words.

Her feet carried her closer. “You’re one of the American kids who went missing in the storm.”

Hearing those words — about me — made my knees buckle. I leaned forward, feeling like the air couldn’t reach my lungs. For stability, I planted my hands firmly on my thighs, trying to shore them up.

She came closer and placed a flat hand on my back. “You and someone else. A girl.”

The mention of Summer cleared my thoughts. “Can you help me?” But that’s when I realized I recognized this girl. She’d been with the boat men.

Her gaze shot off toward the north end of the island. She shook her head.

“Please.”

She took a step back. “I’m not in charge. They’d kill you.”

I knew as much. My eyes scanned the area and dropped onto my pile of stuff across the lake. “Can you come with me?”

She hesitated, but after a fleeting moment of empathy entered her eyes, she dipped her chin in a nod.

Once we made it to my stash, I turned to face her. “What are you doing here by the lake?”

“Don’t worry. None of the others will come this far in. There was a croc. I just wondered if he’d found a home.”

“He did. Unfortunately, it was the only fresh water supply. I had to kill him.”

This seemed to disturb her. She looked sad. “I see.”

“Why was he here?”

She chewed her lip. “Authorities followed us from Belize. The guy that has the boat dropped her here in case they caught up to us and wanted to board.”

“Are you going back to Belize?”

She chewed the inside of her cheek. “Yes.”

I grabbed the brochure from the ground and pressed it into her hand. “Please. Tell them I’m here.”

Her gaze narrowed. “You and the girl?”

I knew what she was doing. She’d spoken of us in plural tense. I spoke in singular. She knew I didn’t want anyone to know Summer was with me. I could either trust her or not. And maybe my decision right now would determine if she did or didn’t help. “Yes,” I answered, and prayed I hadn’t just signed our death sentences. “The girl is with me.”

She seemed to absorb this. “I can’t go to the authorities.”

“I know. I understand. But could you just drop this off at my parents’ house?”

She stared into the tree line as if waiting for the boat men to pounce.

I took the time to kneel down and place the brochure against a rock. I usually carried a pencil in my pocket for Summer to use in her hair, but didn’t have one, so I used my dive knife to scratch the address onto the paper. “Can you read it?”

She nodded, repeated the address twice, and then used my rock to scratch out the letters. “I can’t make any promises.”

Hope drained from me, my shoulders curled forward.

“But . . .” She folded the brochure and tucked it into her white shorts. “I’ll do what I can.”

I reached for her hand, took it in both of mine. “Thank you.”

“What else have you seen here?” It was a very direct question and I knew I needed to be careful with the answer. “There was another man with us, last trip.”

“Yes,” I said. “His name was Jamison Cavanaugh.”

Her face lit with understanding. I’d either given her exactly what she needed to help us or I’d given her what they needed to kill us.

“We’ll be in Belize in the morning.” The woman turned and started walking away.

Before she could get far, I said, “My name is Bray Garrison.”

She half turned, chuckled. “Yeah. I know. You’ve been all over the news. After the cruise ship went down —”

I ran the few steps to her to close the distance. “What?”

“In the storm. A cruise ship hit the coral reef and sank trying to come into Belize. Huge mess. Three days to get all the people out of the water.”

So that was why we didn’t see or hear any rescue boats or planes for the first few days. They’d probably all been diverted to the cruise ship.

“I can’t believe you drifted this far from the mainland. They were searching for you north.” Her brown eyes looked troubled as she seemed to try to make sense of our location.

“Why?”

“The current.”

“Are they still searching?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.” Hearing those words brought a hopelessness into my heart. Had our families given up on us?

“Please help. I don’t know how much longer we can do this.”

Her gaze dropped to the ground. I didn’t know what she would or wouldn’t do. I didn’t know if I’d helped or hindered our situation. After I watched her disappear, I ran back to the hut, pausing only long enough to grab my stuff. The trees stayed where I’d dropped them. Tonight we weren’t going to be smoking anything.

After returning to the lagoon, I doused the fire — which was little more than a few glowing coals. Still, there was no need to draw attention. “The boat men are here.”

Summer’s eyes widened as she came down the hut steps and stopped at my feet.

“I met one of them, a woman who was with them when they killed Cavanaugh.”

She sucked a breath and her fingers flew to her face.

My hand captured them and raised them to my lips. “Don’t worry. I think she’s going to help us.”

But her eyes were saying everything her mouth couldn’t.

“She was at the lake. Actually worried about the croc. She recognized me, Summer. Said she’d seen our pictures on the news.”

Her green eyes blinked, mind taking in and processing the information. “Bray, what if she tells the boat men?” Summer sank into me.

“I don’t think she will, but tonight we need to keep everything put away and dark. No fire.”

She nodded, face tucked against my chest. Then she popped up to look at me eye-to-eye. “We may actually be going home to our families, Bray. By now, they must believe we’re dead.”

“I can’t wait to see Joshie. Mom and Dad. This has to have been so hard on them.”

“I know, my parents too. We may actually be going home.”

“Yes, future Mrs. Garrison. We can plan that wedding.”

Her fingers closed around my face and she kissed me. “Yes we can. I think I see a ship on the horizon.”

I held her close, shards of that strange feeling I’d experienced earlier in the day rolling back toward me. I forced it away. “I told you I’d keep you safe.”

“At the risk of sounding like a cliché, Bray, you’re my hero.”

I kissed both her cheeks, the tip of her nose, then her mouth. “No, Summer. You’re mine.”

CHAPTER 16

Bray

We’d cleaned up and stashed everything the night before, so when the sun rose, I walked to the north end of the island to make sure the boat men were gone. I was almost back when I heard the deep rumble above and knew either a helicopter or plane was nearby. My heart kicked up. She’d done it. The woman I met yesterday had done it. I ran back to the hut, screaming Summer’s name and running through the trees like a wild man.

The sound muffled slightly, and I knew they must have landed. When I ran the last little bit, I could see the edge of the float plane in front of the hut.

My eyes darted around for Summer as I entered the clearing. She was immobile. Standing with her hands up and fear filling her features. When I made it all the way around the hut, I saw why. A man stood on the leg of the float plane, a handgun trained on her. I ran, shouted her name, and dove toward her as the shot rang out. Something ripped my side. I landed on a soft carpet and could hear the scream tear from Summer’s throat. More shots.
Bang
,
bang
,
bang
. Like fireworks on the Fourth of July. I realized I couldn’t see. Maybe my eyes were closed.

Shuffling. Whimpering. My soft carpet was moving beneath me. Beyond us there was commotion. Someone yelling instructions. I forced my eyes open. Sand had caked them and my eyeballs burned, but I blinked around the bits of sand and tears until I could see giant wings on the beach. Men in black jackets with white letters left the helicopter and moved onto the beach, weapons trained on the float plane. Others headed straight toward us. Words flew around me.

“Get the kids.”

“All clear.”

“Is Maria in the plane?”

“Yes, sir. She’s been shot.”

Someone touched me. Soft hands. Then, stronger ones. Lifting me from my spongy bed on the ground. I tried to form her name on my lips but couldn’t. How had it become so cold? A giant bird hovered over my head, its pounding wings startling me, waking me from my forced slumber and slicing the bright sunlight. But it wasn’t a bird, it was a helicopter.
Summer
,
where are you?

She didn’t answer. I was too weak to keep my eyes open any longer. Darkness closed over me, blotting out the light, the cold, everything.

CHAPTER 17

Summer

I woke in a hospital room.

To my right, the sun poured rays of heat through the window, but I couldn’t feel its warmth. I reached toward the pane, only to have my arm tingle with goose flesh from the air-conditioned chill. My long hair was matted, a tattered splash against my shoulders, ends frayed from too many hours in the unforgiving sun.

I closed my eyes and imagined him. Like me, his skin was sundarkened against the sterile bed. I saw him standing at a campfire, reaching down to take my hand. He had so much more right to live than I.

Yet I was saved. My throat closed, and the smallest of sounds escaped my lips because I’d felt this pain before.

Can a person survive losing both boys she loves? If so, I didn’t see how. I squeezed my eyes tight and wished for the one thing I never believed possible.

I wished I was back on the island.

But I was in a sterile room. “Please,” I begged as a nurse entered from the left. The door was held open by an armed man in a black
uniform. My gaze closed on his weapon, and everything else disappeared. I remembered the feeling of stepping off the porch of the hut and seeing the plane. The man, stepping out onto the leg. Raising the gun to my face. My body frozen as I waited to die.

Bray ran around the hut screaming. He jumped at me at the same time the man fired. Bray landed on top of me, protecting me with his body, covering me with his blood. Flat on my back, I saw the helicopter. It rounded the edge of the lagoon, and someone inside opened fire on the float plane. The man who shot Bray bucked, tried to lift the gun, bucked again and again, and then toppled backward into the water.

I pressed my hands on Bray’s gushing wound, but its force was unstoppable.

Bray was dying.

They pulled him from me, and I was whisked away with a blanket thrown around my shoulders and rough hands closing on me, dragging me to the helicopter and out of the pool of Bray’s blood. Within minutes, we were lifted from the island. I watched as it grew smaller and smaller. I held Bray’s hand while they worked, four men hovering over him, stripping things from packages and speaking words I didn’t understand. He was on a gurney. We were off the island.