Chapter 13
13
CATHERINE
A s tired as I am, I can’t sleep. The rain is a constant reminder that storms never last very long, so I could be wasting the best time to travel. It might let up before I can leave, and then I’d just be out there with no rain.
Although…the rain might not help me as much as I want it to. It comes down in thick sheets, drumming on the roof. I couldn’t see the other side of the clearing when the sun was out. Raymond Harris won’t be able to see me in the storm, but I won’t be able to see him, either. The entire island will be made of white noise.
Then I can’t sleep thinking about how Raymond Harris might be one of those people who likes being out in the rain. I’ve never wanted to be caught in a rain shower. I like to go inside well in advance. I had a lot of practice avoiding the rain in London, obviously. I didn’t know many people there who willingly went out in the rain. Is it a mistake to assume that Raymond Harris doesn’t like the rain, either?
And then there’s what might be between us and the radio tower. If it is a radio tower.
It has to be. Right? There is a secret cabin on this island with a radio tucked into a cabin, and if that radio doesn’t work inside the cabin, it has to work somewhere else.
It has to.
Jacob tosses and turns. It’s still very dark when we give up and turn the candle back on and make our plan.
The plan is simple. Most of the plans people make when it’s not even dawn yet are probably pretty straightforward.
I will take the booklet and the radio in its case—Jacob thinks the box thing is a battery of some kind, or something to strengthen the signal, and neither of us wants to risk the trip only to find out the radio doesn’t work at all without it—as well as one of our knives, my perfume, and a towel to dry my hands with. I’ll use the compass to find the tower, which is northeast of us. We don’t know exactly how far it is, but it’s probably not far.
Once I’m there, I’ll wait for a break in the rain—or, if God really does exist and is on our side—I’ll arrive at the moment the rain stops. I’ll see if the radio works any differently by the tower. I’ll try the codes. If someone answers, I’ll tell them we need help. I’ll hope they know which island I’m talking about. Then I’ll return to the cabin.
And then?—
I don’t know. If nobody answers, I’ll go back to the tower at the same time the next day. And the day after that.
Unless something else happens that would prevent me from going.
Jacob hates this plan. He gets out of bed three times and attempts to prove that he’s strong enough for a stealth hike by pacing in circles around the cabin. The first time, his knees give out before he’s gone a full loop. The second time, he makes it two loops, but he has to keep his hand on the wall the entire time. The third time, he passes out, and it takes all of my non- weightlifter strength to get him to the floor without hitting his head on anything.
I can tell he wants to fight again, but the argument isn’t going to change. We can’t wait indefinitely. The canned food in the cabinets will run out, or Raymond Harris will find us, or—who knows. We could try waiting until Jacob’s more recovered, only…
I don’t know if he will recover on the island. He’s barely eating. I’d thought—hoped—that the things he said about eating when he was sick didn’t have any real meaning.
They do, though. I know they do. I also know that Jacob doesn’t want to talk about it. I know he’s subsisting on bites of soup because I’m here with him, and I keep bringing it to him, and he said he’d do anything.
It’s not a long-term solution. Neither is staying on the island. We finally agreed, both of us too wired to sleep, that I should leave before the sun comes up. We reassure each other more than once that the sun will rise, and that’ll make it a little easier to see.
I dump everything out of my bag and put things back in one by one. The radio case. My bottle of perfume. The steak knife, which I separate from the radio case with the rolled-up towel. My phone. An ACE bandage from the cabin’s first-aid kit. A few bandaids. Antibiotic cream. Half a bottle of water. The radio is heavy enough on its own. I don’t want to get so weighed down by my stuff that I can’t move.
Getting back to Jacob quickly is my third-highest priority after summoning help and surviving the walk.
Once that’s set, I get dressed in dry socks—not that they’ll stay that way—a pair of leggings, and a tank top. I pull my hair into what I’m starting to think of as my plane-crash bun , which is not a good name for it. The final piece of my uniform is my packable raincoat. I bought it on a trip we took to Scotland one weekend. It had rained the entire time. It wasn’t the kind of thing I wore in London, though, and especially not in the winter. I must’ve thought about taking it out of my bag a hundred times.
I’m glad I didn’t.
The booklet with the map goes into one pocket. The compass goes into the other along with a packet of rice.
Jacob looks me over. He tucks some loose strands of my hair into the hood of the rain jacket, reties the string under my chin, and takes my face in his hands.
Then he leans down and kisses me. It’s soft at first— anguished , I think, and promise myself I won’t think of Jacob in anguish anymore. At least not until I get back. He shouldn’t have to feel like that. My husband is a good man who loves me. If I told him he deserved the world, he wouldn’t believe me, but he at least deserves to feel safe and happy.
I press closer to the familiar strength of him, my arms going to his neck. He kisses me harder. My jacket makes a soft swooshing noise against his skin. Jacob hasn’t put a shirt on yet—for the scratches, I think. I wish I could dress him in armor. That would be horrible, though. He would be so uncomfortable.
Jacob breaks the kiss with a soft sound that I pretend not to hear. He keeps his hands on my face and looks into my eyes like it’s the last time he’ll ever see me. The flameless candle isn’t very bright, but it’s better than nothing.
“You’re ready.” He strokes the pad of his thumb over my cheek, then does it again and again.
Is anyone ready for something like this? I guess a few rare people might think a hike in the dark with a murderer on the same island was an average day’s work.
I’m not one of those people.
But more than that, I’m not ready to lose Jacob.
“I’ll be okay. It’s just, like, a walk in the woods.” For a hopeful second, I believe it. And I don’t just believe that I’ll succeed at getting to the tower and coming back. I believe, with all my heart, that no matter what happens, we’ll be okay.
Jacob sighs and leans his forehead against mine. One more kiss, and he straightens, offering me the flameless candle. “It’s dangerous to go alone in the dark. Take this with you.”
It’s warm in my palm. “Do you think it’ll survive the rain?”
“Yes,” Jacob says solemnly. “It can survive the rain. It’ll help you get back before I know you’re gone.”
I go up on tiptoe and kiss him. “In sunshine and in rain.”
That wasn’t part of our vows, but it earns a smile from Jacob. He’s putting on a brave face. When this is over—when I get us out of this—I’m going to make sure he doesn’t have to put on a brave face for a long time. No bravery required in the villa by Mougins.
“I’ll race the sunrise.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
My husband escorts me to the door, takes a deep breath, and undoes the locks.
The door opens to reveal…
More rain.
Jacob peers into it, the candlelight casting shadows on his face. “I think the rain’s letting up.”
I stick my hand past the threshold. “Still feels pretty strong. It’s probably waiting for me to get to the tower.”
Jacob wraps me in a tight hug, like he can’t stand to let go.
“Sorry,” he whispers, and then he’s kissing me again, deep and hungry. I can feel his balance shift as he runs out of strength.
So I kiss him back just as hard and pull away long before I want to.
“Rest for a little while. I’ll be right back.”
His lips part—he wants to argue with me, I know it—but instead he breathes in, his expression settling.
“You’ll be right back,” he repeats. It’s a vow between the two of us.
I go out into the rain and wait for Jacob to lock the door.
He hesitates. I knew he would. No matter how many times he promised to follow the plan, I knew he wouldn’t want to lock me out.
I rap gently on the door. “Lock it.”
“Fine,” Jacob answers. The locks slide into place. “I love you, kitten.”
“I love you, too.”
For a few seconds, I can’t make myself leave.
Then the light inside the cabin brightens a tiny bit. Jacob’s turned on the other flameless candle. He moves in front of the window and holds his candle up. We both have one. We’re both doing everything we can.
He waves goodbye.
I wave back.
Time to go.
I might have overestimated my bravery. The second I squeeze through a too-small gap in the trees—I want the camouflage netting to stay where it is—my heart bounces into my throat.
Why did I think it was a good idea to come out here with only a steak knife to use for self-defense? Why did I think my shoes would survive this? They are made for strolling from villa to beach and back again, not tromping through thick mud.
I calm myself by checking out the camouflage netting from the other side. It’s good. In the dark, it matches well with the forest around it. I can’t see the light from the window. Hopefully, Raymond Harris will never know the camouflage exists. Hopefully, he’ll never find the cabin.
“Okay. Next steps,” I mention to the rain.
I get the compass from my pocket and orient myself to the north in the light of my flameless candle. Then I find a northeast-ish direction.
The trees grow so close together that I have to skirt around what must be the waterfall-side of the clearing. When I think I’m close by, I stop and listen as hard as I can for the burbling water.
I can hear it, I think.
A sudden hush in the rain comes, and then I do hear it.
The rain picks up again.
I have a map and a compass, so I’m confident I can find the cabin again. It might be a ridiculous thing, what I’m about to do. But if Jacob breaks his promise and comes looking for me, I don’t want him spending precious energy going the wrong direction.
That’s what the rice is for. I take out the packet and sprinkle a few grains near the base of a tree, where they won’t sink into the mud. Then I move on.
I can’t tell if I’m following a path that was made on purpose, or if the spaces between the trees are coincidentally convenient. The ground starts to slope up as soon as I pass the hidden clearing, raising my heart rate and making me very glad there’s not a ton of plants growing in the mud. Rain taps on the leaves far above my head like the rain on the roof. It’s comforting to imagine being in a forest-room, I guess.
I’m not too comforted, which is good. I’m energized. I can pretend my heart is only thudding from the steeper hike and dragging my feet through mud. Definitely not fear.
I can also pretend I’m on a game show and my overall safety is guaranteed. I can pretend the prize is getting back to Jacob.
Well—
That is the prize.
The light from the flameless candle doesn’t reach very far from the base. I can see in front of me just enough to keep my balance. Sometimes, more rain pours through a gap in the canopy and hits the hoot of my jacket.
It’s not a smooth incline. I guess that’s what the map said, but I didn’t have a clear idea of what that meant.
Now I do.
It means climbing over steep rocks jutting out of the ground and stopping to catch my breath and slogging through more mud until there’s another boulder.
All I can think is Jacob Jacob Jacob.
All I can think is that I’m going to save him. I’m going to try to save both of us, but he’s the one who matters to me.
And that…
Doesn’t scare me.
Being in love—being married—scared me for a long time. I thought being in love with a man would put my life at risk. The laugh I let out at that thought is more of a wheeze. My life is at risk, but not because Jacob’s a terrorist, and not because I’m afraid to leave him. This isn’t like my parents’ marriage at all. They were the wrong kind of team, ready to turn on each other at any moment.
Another boulder—God, this one’s high—and lean against a big tree trunk, panting.
The rustling comes from behind me, somewhere off the mud.
I whip around to see what’s making the noise, but it stops. I can’t see anything moving but some swaying branches and leaves.
Fast footsteps patpatpatpatpat out of time with the rain, getting closer.
I can’t hold my breath—can’t stop panting—so I freeze instead.
A second break in the rain, and the footsteps pause?—
And run in the opposite direction, the way I come.
I’ve just turned to keep climbing when a similar rustling sound rushes through the leaves above me.
I tilt my head back—what’s doing that?—and all the leaves that form the canopy are fluttering in the breeze. It feels like I’m looking up at the surface of the water from underneath. The breeze strengthens, becoming wind. It whistles like a flute, and then?—
It’s day.
The clouds blow away, and the sun is up. I missed the start of the sunrise.
Now it’s here, and Jacob’s waiting.
The wind stops as suddenly as it started, the rain stopping with it. Droplets fall lazily from the leaves. After so many hours of downpour, my ears don’t know what to do with the silence. I keep moving through it, my thighs burning, my breath shallow, checking the compass every few feet.
Boulder.
Climb.
Boulder.
Climb.
And there it is.
The ladder. The radio tower. It’s just there, metal gleaming in the light, on the highest spot on the island.
Nowhere else looks higher from here.
I stare for a minute.
The tower is part of a tree. Its metal structure hugs the trunk and the branches. The top of the tower rises a few feet above the highest branch on the tree.
More camouflage.
I did it. I found it. It’s not a ladder.
I want to sprint back down to Jacob.
Instead, I follow the plan.
Booklet. Radio. Black box. When I flip a switch on the black box, a red light turns on that didn’t before.
I turn on the walkie-talkie.
The static is the same as it was before.
Until a voice breaks through. A voice . Another voice? Someone chatting. They’re too faint for me to make out the words, but those are voices. Those are people. We have a chance.
I sit down on the ground. My ass is already wet from the rain, and I don’t care. I flip open the booklet to the horoscope page, find the first channel, and hold down the button.
“Aries.” Is this the right protocol or whatever? Too bad if it’s not. “I don’t know if anyone can hear this, but I found your radio, and I need help. My husband and I are on the island where you left the book and the radio. The word next to your name is shield. I—” I release the button. More static. Faint, crackling voices. “I’m looking for Aries, and the word next to Aries is shield . I’m going to try the rest of the signs now.”
I go down the list one by one. After Cancer, a voice breaks through.
“—island?”
“Yes, I’m on the island,” I answer. “Our plan went down here. The pilot is trying to find us. To kill us, I mean. Not to save us. I don’t know what the name of the island is.” Phone. I need my phone. I yank it out of my bag, frantic. It takes forever for it to turn on. “Shit. I still don’t have any service. I don’t know where we are, but the radio was here. And we have to go home. Did you hear me? Are you still there?”
No answer.
No answer.
No answer.
“That’s better than nothing. It’s so much better than nothing.”
I move on to Leo.
There are few more quiet voices that must be too far away.
I go through the entire list, then go through it again, then hold the walkie-talkie and wait for ten minutes, as per our plan.
Nobody answers.
Tired, disappointed tears fall out of my eyes, but this isn’t a loss. I pack the radio stuff into the case and the case into my bag. We can try again tomorrow.
It’s well after sunrise, and I need to get back.
I find southwest on the compass and start walking.
Downhill is easier, although my feet slip on a couple of the boulders. It’s so quiet . The insects hum like they’re on vacation. All that rain, and it’s just gone.
I can’t see the ocean, but I can hear it.
I can’t see the cabin, but the gunshot?
I hear the crack , and the strangled scream.
“ No ,” I shout through the echoes. “No, no, no.”
I only know of one gun on this island. I only know of one man who wants to use it, and I only know of one man he wants to kill.
I run without thinking. I run without breathing. I run so fast that when Raymond Harris steps out into the path, I can’t stop.
He grunts when I collide with him, but his arms lock around me like a cage, and they won’t let go. I don’t know what I scream at him. I only stop because he leans back and slaps me across the face.
“That’s a waste of energy,” he scolds. “Save it for the walk.”
“I’m not going with you.”
“There’s nowhere else for you to go.” Because he killed Jacob. Because he just shot Jacob and killed him. That’s why he’s so sure. He found the cabin and he killed my husband Jacob was only there alone because I left him. “Come on. I don’t have all day.”