Chapter Five #2
“You know anything about engines?” Pull asked.
“Enough to know when mine sounds like it’s dying.”
Prime leaned over the engine bay. “Great. Since you heard it die, I think your job here is done. Let us handle it from here.”
I rolled my eyes. “I also know where everything is supposed to be.”
Piney looked at me like I was crazy.
Shay grabbed my arm. “Come show us inside while they argue over the engine.”
I narrowed my eyes at Piney. “Be nice to her.” Then I looked at Shay. “Fine. Five-minute tour.”
Pearl followed us to the door. I unlocked it and climbed inside. Shay stepped in behind me. Pearl came last.
They both stopped, and I suddenly felt weirdly nervous.
Not because the RV was messy.
My little kitchen sat immediately to the right. The small table was across from it. The couch ran along one wall. Farther back was my bed, with cabinets tucked everywhere they could fit.
Nothing matched perfectly. I’d replaced things over the years as they broke.
The curtains were mine. The blankets were mine. The stupid magnets I’d collected covered part of the refrigerator.
Shay smiled. “Oh, I love this.”
Relief loosened something in my chest. “Really?”
“Yes.” Pearl walked farther inside. “This is cute.”
“Cute?” I asked.
“In a good way,” she reassured me.
I leaned against the counter. “It’s not fancy.”
“So?” Shay opened one of the curtains and looked outside. “You can literally go anywhere.”
“As long as I have gas,” I pointed out.
“And apparently an engine that runs,” Pearl added.
I pointed at her. “Too soon.”
She laughed.
Shay looked toward the bed. “You’ve lived in this for years?”
“Yeah.”
“By yourself?” Pearl asked.
“Yup.”
“That would be kind of amazing,” Shay sighed. “Can you imagine just waking up and doing whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted?”
“It has its moments.”
Pearl looked at the top three magnets. “Colorado. Texas. Arizona.”
“I’ve been around,” I shrugged.
“No kidding.” She looked at the next haphazard row. “California, New York, and North Carolina.”
Shay turned toward me. “Do you just decide you want to go somewhere and go?”
“Pretty much.” I tended to stay somewhere for a couple of months and then get the itch to see a new place.
“That sounds awesome.” Pearl sat on the couch and looked around slowly.
“It is until you break down in a haunted island parking lot.” I leaned against the back of the driver’s seat.
The thing was that I was proud of my RV. It wasn’t new. It wasn’t expensive.
The cabinets had scratches. The table had a dent from a jar I’d dropped two years ago. One drawer stuck if the weather got too humid. But it was mine.
After growing up in a house where everything belonged to my father and anything could become a weapon if he was angry enough, having a space that belonged only to me had mattered more than I’d expected.
Pearl ran her hand over the edge of the counter. “I get why you wanted to come out here yesterday.”
I looked at her.
She shrugged. “It’s yours.”
I nodded. “Exactly.”
Shay smiled. “Okay. I officially want one.”
Prime yelled from outside. “No.”
Shay spun toward the door. “How the fuck did you hear that?”
His laughter carried through the open window.
I laughed.
Pearl shook her head.
“Come on,” I said. “I have chairs. One is on its last leg, but you can still sit on it.” I grabbed the two folding lawn chairs from behind the driver’s seat.
Shay looked at the one with the broken arm flapping around. “You weren’t kidding.”
“What?”
“It really is on its last leg.”
“I keep forgetting to throw it away.”
Pearl took the good one. “I’ll take this.”
“Coward,” Shay laughed and grabbed the broken one.
“Yes,” Pearl conceded. “Yes, I am.”
We carried them outside and saw the guys had gathered around the front of the RV.
Anchor stood with his arms folded. Prime had his phone flashlight pointed somewhere under the hood even though it was broad daylight. Post was crouched near the front tire. Pull was looking underneath. Piney had both hands buried in the engine bay.
“This feels like you are violating my RV,” I said.
Post looked up. “We’re winging it.”
“Thank you for the confidence.”
Pearl and Shay set the chairs near the front corner of the RV. Shay swooped in and plopped onto the whole one.
“I’m not sitting in that,” Pearl gasped. “You stole the good one.”
“I made a decision,” Shay smiled, with her hand above her eyes shielding the sun. “You’ll be fine in that one.”
I moved closer to Piney while Shay and Pearl fought over the chairs. “What have you got?”
He pointed to the battery. “Battery looks fine.”
“I replaced it six months ago.” I did try to keep up with maintenance on the RV.
He nodded his head. “Good to know.”
“Alternator?” I asked.
Piney shook his head. “I don’t think so, but we’re not ruling anything out yet.”
Prime looked toward me. “What did it do before it died?”
“Lost power.”
“All at once?”
“Not exactly. It started feeling sluggish maybe twenty minutes before I got here. Lights dimmed. Radio cut out. Then it started coughing when I was going over the bridge.”
Piney looked at Post.
Post stood. “Could be alternator.”
“Could also be a belt,” Pull said from underneath.
I crouched beside him. “Which belt?”
He slid out far enough to look at me. “You gonna crawl under here?”
“If I need to.”
He smiled. “Bob’s gonna love that.”
I frowned. “What does Bob have to do with me crawling under my own RV?”
“Nothing.”
“That sounded like something.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I was really starting to hate that phrase.
I stood again.
Anchor had moved around to the driver’s side. “Keys?”
I tossed them to him. “Don’t wreck it.”
“It doesn’t move.”
“Still.”
He opened the driver’s door and climbed inside.
I went right back under the hood. Piney was wiggling a connection when the engine cranked.
Everyone jumped.
I slapped a hand against my chest. “Jesus.”
Anchor leaned out of the driver’s door. “Sorry, but you had to know, since I asked for the fucking keys, that I was going to try to start it.”
“Yeah, well, still, you could have warned us,” Piney grumbled.
“I’m gonna try again, assholes,” Anchor shouted. The engine tried to catch again.
Once. Twice. Then nothing.
Piney frowned. “Again.”
Anchor turned the key. The same thing happened.
Post leaned over my shoulder. “Fuel?”
“Half tank.”
“Pump?”
“Maybe.”
Prime stepped closer. “Check the obvious shit first.”
“I am checking the obvious shit,” Piney snapped.
“This is going really well,” I told Shay.
She lifted her coffee cup. “Very professional.”
Pearl, who had sat in the broken chair, nodded. “Highly trained.”
Piney looked over his shoulder. “You two want to help?”
“No,” they answered together.
I laughed.
The next half hour turned into a rotating series of theories.
Alternator.
Fuel pump.
Loose battery connection.
Sensor.
Starter.
One of the guys suggested bad gas.
I nearly kicked him. “It is not bad gas.”
“You sure?”
“I buy good gas.”
“Gas is gas,” Shay said. “Right?”
“No, it is not.”
Prime looked at me. “You have strong opinions about everything.”
Post tapped the hood. “This thing has character.”
“Thank you.”
He scratched his head. “That wasn’t necessarily a compliment.”
I pursed my lips. “I’m taking it as one.”
Eventually, Piney straightened and wiped his hands on a rag. “We need tools.”
“What kind?” Post asked.
“More than I brought out here.”
Anchor nodded toward the clubhouse. “Go get whatever you need.”
I folded my arms. “How long are we talking?”
“Could be an hour,” Prime said.
“Could be all day,” Post added.
I sighed.
Fine.
At least they were looking at it.
And apparently doing it without charging me whatever a mechanic on an island full of fake ghosts would charge.
Then I heard it.
The entire group reacted before I did. Prime turned toward the road. Anchor straightened. Post and Pull looked up.
Two motorcycles appeared first. Then a pickup truck. They rolled into the parking lot together and headed straight toward us.
I put my hands on my hips and watched them get closer. The motorcycles came to a stop.
Vin pulled off his helmet.
Lost parked beside him.
The truck rolled in behind them.
Skull was driving, but I couldn’t tell who was in the passenger seat because of the sun glaring off the windshield.
The passenger door opened, and everything inside me stopped. “No fucking way.”
Skull got out of the truck and went around the back.
I barely noticed. My eyes were locked on the passenger side.
Ashland turned in the seat. One leg came out and then the other. He gripped the doorframe and slowly pushed himself upright.
My heart climbed into my throat.
He stood there for a second, steadying himself. His face was tighter than yesterday—tired and pale—but he was standing.
Ashland took one step. Then another. Then a third. Slow and careful. He reached back and slammed the truck door shut.
I couldn’t speak. For once in my life, I had absolutely nothing to say.
Skull rolled the wheelchair around the back of the truck. “Bob.”
Ashland waved him off without looking. “I got it.”
Skull stopped. “You’ve got about fifteen feet before your legs tell you to fuck off.”
“I said I got it.”
He shook his head. “Stubborn asshole.”
“Yeah, but this stubborn asshole is going to walk.”
Nobody moved to help him. That surprised me.
Then I realized why. They were letting him do it. Watching and ready, but letting him.
Ashland started toward me. His steps were slow—not shaky exactly, just deliberate. Every step looked like it took thought.
I didn’t move. Part of me wanted to rush over and grab his arm. The other part knew he’d probably bite my head off if I did.
So I stood there—sunglasses still on top of my head, hair probably sticking out everywhere, grease smudged across one hand from leaning over the engine, a breakfast burrito wrapper still shoved into my back pocket—and watched Ashland Moore walk toward me.
The man I’d come to Skull Island looking for. The man who’d nearly died. The man who was supposed to still be in the hospital.
He stopped a few feet away. His breathing was heavier than it should’ve been.