Do Not Answer #4
Trees crowded the slope above the beach. Their branches leaned inland, away from the sea. Long strands of pale grass flattened beneath the rain.
There were no houses.
No smoke.
No path.
Nothing moved.
She looked back at Keller.
He had opened the black case.
Inside were a plastic-wrapped radio, flares, a first-aid kit, and a folded piece of paper sealed in a clear bag.
He checked the radio.
No light.
Mason said, “Battery?”
“Water.”
“It was sealed.”
“The case opened when we hit.”
Keller took out the flares.
Mercer leaned closer.
“What’s the paper?”
“Chart.”
“Of what?”
Keller closed the case.
“The island.”
Mercer stared at him.
“You have a map of it.”
Keller wiped blood from his eye.
“I have charts for this whole area.”
“That’s not a chart case.”
Keller did not answer.
Mason paddled three more times before saying, “You’ve been here.”
“No.”
“You knew the beach was south.”
“I saw it on the map.”
“When?”
“Before today.”
“Why?”
Keller looked toward shore.
“Because it’s my job to know where land is.”
That was reasonable. Lena wanted it to end there.
Mercer did not.
“What’s on the island?”
“Trees.”
“I can see trees.”
“Then you know as much as I do.”
Mason stopped paddling.
Keller looked at him.
“What?”
“You told us there might be shelter.”
“There’s an old weather station.”
“You know that from the map too?”
Keller reached for the paddle.
“Do you want to make the beach or argue out here?”
Mason gave it to him.
The raft entered the shallows sideways.
The bottom dragged across stone.
Keller climbed out first. Water reached his waist. He held the raft while Mason stepped down on the other side.
Ruth refused to move.
Lena’s father went next, then lifted Lena over the side.
The water was colder than she expected. It climbed beneath Danny’s sweatshirt and pressed the fabric against her skin.
Her father carried her until his foot slipped between two rocks.
He nearly dropped her.
“I can walk.”
“It gets deeper.”
“I can still walk.”
He set her down.
A wave struck from behind and pushed her into him.
He caught her.
“See?”
She did not answer.
They dragged the raft onto the sand.
Ruth sat immediately.
Mercer walked several yards up the beach and bent over with his hands on his knees.
Mason checked the cut above Keller’s eye.
Keller pulled away.
“It’s fine.”
“You might need stitches.”
“I don’t.”
“You’re bleeding into your eye.”
Keller wiped it again.
Lena took off her life jacket. The wind found the wet sweatshirt beneath it.
Her father unfastened his own.
“Keep it on.”
“We’re on land.”
“Keep it on until we know.”
“Know what?”
He looked toward the water.
The broken boat rose and fell against the rocks.
“Just keep it on.”
Lena put it back.
Nobody else did.
Ruth noticed and retightened hers.
Mercer came back from the top of the beach.
“There’s no signal.”
He held up his phone as evidence.
Mason looked around.
“High ground might help.”
Keller took the map from the case.
He unfolded it over the raft.
Lena moved closer.
The island had been drawn by hand. The coastline was outlined in black ink, with a few rough marks inland. One square was labeled STATION.
Keller put his finger on the southern beach.
“We’re here.”
“How far?” Ruth asked.
“Less than a mile.”
Mercer looked at the trees.
“Through that.”
“There’s an old service path.”
“Old how?”
Keller folded the map.
“I don’t know.”
Mason held out his hand.
“Let me see.”
Keller hesitated, then gave it to him.
Mason opened it again.
There were dates written along the lower edge. Most were too smudged to read.
One was six years old.
Mason looked at Keller.
“You drew this?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
“My father.”
The rain softened.
Nobody spoke for a few seconds.
Mercer said, “Was he a cartographer?”
“He worked at the station.”
“You said it was old.”
“It is.”
“When did it close?”
Keller took the map back.
“A long time ago.”
“And your father was here six years ago.”
Keller folded the paper along the same creases.
“He came back.”
“Why?”
Keller placed it inside the case.
“I don’t know.”
Mason watched him close the latch.
“You brought us past this island on purpose.”
“No.”
“You had his map.”
“I carry it when I come offshore.”
“That doesn’t answer him,” Ethan said.
Keller looked toward the sea.
The boat was almost completely underwater now.
“I thought I might see the station from the water.”
Mercer gave a short, unbelieving laugh.
“You took paying passengers into a storm so you could look at a building?”
“The storm wasn’t forecast to turn.”
“That isn’t the part I asked about.”
Ruth stood.
“Can we do this somewhere dry?”
Mercer turned on her.
“He lied to us.”
“I know.”
“You don’t sound worried.”
“I’m wet, cold, and standing on an island with no phone. I have enough to be worried about.”
Mason looked toward the treeline.
“We take what we can carry.”
They pulled blankets and emergency supplies from the raft. Keller distributed flares. Mason kept the first-aid kit.
Ethan took one paddle.
Mercer asked why.
“Walking stick.”
“You planning to hike with a plastic paddle?”
Ethan looked at him.
“I’m planning to have something in my hand.”
Mercer took the other.
* * *
The path began beyond the grass. At first it was only a break between low bushes. Farther in, Lena could see gravel beneath the mud.
Keller led.
Mason stayed close behind him.
Ruth went next. Mercer walked beside her until the path narrowed and he had to fall back.
Lena and her father came last.
The trees stopped most of the rain.
Water still fell from the leaves in large drops. The air smelled of wet bark, salt, and something sweet rotting under the ferns.
Ethan kept looking behind them.
Lena said, “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’ve done it four times.”
“I’m checking the beach.”
“It’s behind us.”
He looked at her.
She waited.
“I thought I heard somebody walking.”
“There are five people in front of us.”
“Behind us.”
Lena listened.
The others’ footsteps moved ahead in the mud. Keller’s heavier stride. Ruth’s short steps. Mercer catching branches and swearing under his breath.
Behind them, rain tapped the leaves.
Nothing else.
“Probably water.”
“Probably.”
They kept walking.
The path climbed.
After several minutes Lena noticed the sweatshirt had become heavy around her shoulders.
Her father noticed too.
“You should take that off.”
“I’m cold.”
“It’s wet.”
“So is everything.”
“You’ll get colder.”
She pulled the sleeves over her hands.
He did not mention it again.
Ahead, Mason stopped.
Keller nearly walked into him.
“What?”
Mason pointed at the mud.
A shoe print crossed the path.
It did not follow it. It came from the trees on one side and disappeared into the trees on the other.
Mercer leaned over.
“Someone else is here.”
Keller looked at the print.
It was small. A child’s sneaker, perhaps, with a star-shaped pattern in the tread.
Ethan moved past Lena.
“How old?”
Mason looked at him.
“What?”
“The print. What size?”
“I don’t know.”
Ethan crouched.
The mud had begun filling the edges.
Lena stood behind him.
Danny’s shoes had stars on the soles.
She remembered because he once stepped in dog mess and left small brown stars across the garage floor. Their mother made him clean them, then made him clean the mop bucket after he tried using it indoors.
Her father looked back at her.
She knew he remembered too.
Mercer said, “Could be from before the rain.”
Mason touched the mud beside the print.
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s fresh.”
Keller looked into the trees.
“Families used to work at the station.”
“Six years ago?” Mercer asked.
Keller did not answer.
Ethan stood.
“Maybe people come here.”
“There’s no dock,” Mason said.
“Boats don’t need docks.”
“No.”
Ethan stepped off the path.
Lena caught his sleeve.
“Dad.”
He looked at her hand.
“What?”
“You don’t know whose it is.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you going that way?”
“I’m looking.”
“For what?”
He looked past her toward the print.
The answer was obvious enough that she wished she had not asked.
Mason stepped between him and the trees.
“We reach the station first.”
“What if someone’s hurt?”
“One footprint.”
“That doesn’t mean one person.”
“It doesn’t mean anyone’s here now.”
Ethan glanced at Lena.
She could see him deciding whether to argue.
Ruth said, “We’re all cold.”
That ended it better than anything Mason could have said.
They continued uphill.
Lena looked back once.
Rainwater gathered in the shoe print.
As she watched, the water trembled.
A second print appeared beside it.
Not pressed down all at once.
Heel first.
Then the middle.
Then the star-shaped toe.
Lena stopped.
Her father took two more steps before noticing.
“What?”
She pointed.
The second print sat half full of water.
“What about it?”
“There was only one.”
He looked at the mud.
“Maybe you didn’t see it.”
“I did.”
Mercer called from ahead.
“You coming?”
Ethan looked at Lena again.
“You sure?”
She was.
Then she looked at the first print and tried to remember whether leaves had covered part of the second. Whether Mason’s boot had hidden it. Whether she had been watching her father instead of the ground.
“I thought so.”
Her father put one hand on her shoulder.
“It’s easy to miss things in the rain.”
She nodded.
They caught up with the others.
Lena did not look back again.
The station appeared through the trees twenty minutes later.
The first thing she saw was the roof. Dark metal, rusted along one edge.
Then the walls emerged between the trunks.
It was larger than she expected. One main building with a porch, a smaller shed behind it, and the remains of a narrow tower rising above the trees. Most of the tower’s upper section had fallen away.
Mercer stopped.
“That’s a weather station?”
“It was,” Keller said.
The front windows were boarded. A rusted rain gauge leaned beside the porch.
Mason looked at Keller.
“You’ve seen it.”
“Photographs.”
“Recent?”
“No.”
Keller climbed the steps.
The boards complained under his weight.
A chain had been wrapped through the door handles and secured with a padlock.
Mercer looked at him.
“Your map come with a key?”
Keller reached beneath his shirt and pulled a ring from a cord around his neck.
There were three keys on it.