Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ramona
“Come on,” I muttered as the RV jerked hard beneath me. “Please don’t die. We are so close.” The engine coughed in response.
The steering wheel vibrated beneath my palms while the headlights cut through the darkness creeping over the water. Wind whipped against the side of the RV hard enough to make the whole thing sway slightly.
“This is fine,” I lied to myself.
The RV immediately made a loud clunking sound.
“Don’t you start with me.”
I had exactly three hundred and twelve dollars in my checking account, half a tank of gas, two hoodies, a box of Pop-Tarts, and enough emotional trauma to qualify for at least one free coffee somewhere.
I really didn’t need the RV breaking down too.
The engine sputtered again. “Oh, come on.”
I leaned forward over the steering wheel like somehow my body weight and desperation were going to help. Ahead of me, the island loomed out of the darkness, shadowy trees surrounding glowing lights deeper in the distance.
Another horrible grinding noise echoed through the RV.
I sighed dramatically and glanced upward. “Listen, I know we haven’t talked in a while, but if you could just let this thing survive another five minutes, I’d appreciate it.”
The RV wheezed.
“That didn’t sound encouraging.”
The bridge finally ended beneath my tires, and relief loosened something in my chest. Gravel crackled under the RV as I followed the signs toward parking.
Everything around me looked eerie as hell.
Fog drifted low through the trees while orange lights glowed in the distance somewhere deeper on the island. I could hear faint music echoing through the night along with what sounded suspiciously like screaming.
The RV jerked violently and then the engine died completely.
“Oh, you bitch.”
The steering wheel locked up for half a second before the RV rolled forward on pure momentum. I barely managed to guide it into a crooked parking spot before it gave one final sad shudder and stopped moving entirely.
I dropped my forehead against the steering wheel with a groan. “Fantastic.”
The past six months had been one disaster after another, and this stupid island was supposed to be my fresh start. A place to hide out for a little while.
I grabbed my bag, pushed open the RV door, and climbed out into the cool night air. The old thing creaked behind me as I shut the door and looked around the parking lot.
Then I turned to the left and saw the sign.
Welcome to Skull Island.
A laugh slipped out of me, tired and nervous all at once. “God, Bob,” I muttered. “I really hope you’re worth this.” Because after all these years, after everything that had happened between us, there was only one reason I would ever come to a place like this.
Bob.