by Lauren Child
“Sharks?” spluttered the Count. “My dear Ms. Redfort, how uncreative you must believe me.” He laughed. “No, no, not sharks.” This notion seemed to have really tickled him. “At least not at first.”
“What do you mean, not at first?” said Ruby.
“All in good time, Ms. Redfort. All in good time,” assured the Count.
Ruby needed to think on her toes and fast, or she would have no toes left to worry about. If she could just think of something, some means of escape, stall for time.
“So how long have you been residing here?” she said, the merest tremble in her voice. “Looks like you’re really settled, got everything just the way you like it — what with the torture pool and all.”
“Oh, you’re mistaken! This isn’t a torture pool. I’ve been doing some research for a client of mine, and discovered this wonderful species, you see. Could revolutionize my industry,” he said.
“I’m super pleased to hear that,” said Ruby.
Ruby was putting on the best show of her life: outwardly calm, inwardly her brain bounced ideas like a pinball machine. RULE 44: WHEN IN A TIGHT SPOT, BUY YOURSELF SOME TIME: ONE MINUTE COULD CHANGE YOUR FATE.
“You could say I’ve been searching for this place for most of my life,” said the Count. “A distant relative of mine told me about this island when I was just a slip of a boy. He mentioned how pirates occasionally used the Sibling caves to store . . . well, things that were not, strictly speaking, technically their own. It was a particularly good place to wait things out while the storm blew over, if you understand my meaning.”
“Yeah, I don’t suppose you’re referring to the weather here.”
“No. Apparently, the townsfolk were constantly baying for blood; not very forgiving people these Twinfordites, revenge constantly on their minds.”
“Yes, that does seem petty,” said Ruby. “I mean, what’s the big deal about a few thousand gold coins and the odd sack of gems? You’d think they could get over themselves.”
“Wouldn’t you?” agreed the Count.
“I expect that they objected to all the cutthroats and the general murder bit more than anything,” continued Ruby. “You bump off someone’s husband and that’s it, they’ll never let it go.”
“Yes, people can be so sentimental.” The Count nodded. “Sentiment won’t get one anywhere, not in this world of ours. I mean, take your situation: all those Happy Holiday cards you’ve sent over the years to your ‘pals’ and where are these so-called loyal friends?” He looked around him theatrically. “Nowhere.” He made a sad face. “So you will have to die all by yourself.”
“Would you mind,” said Ruby earnestly, “if we did that thing where you explain how you came to find this place and exactly what you’re looking for? It would give me something to think about while I endure whatever it is I’m about to endure.”
“Oh, you mean that marvelous tradition of the villain explaining himself to the victim because he can’t resist bragging about his cunning and guile?”
“Yes, that,” said Ruby.
“Why of course, Ms. Redfort. It would be my pleasure.”
He puffed himself up and began his monologue. Ruby, it had to be said, was only half listening, her brain being occupied with the more immediate concern of dodging death. So far nothing was coming to mind.
“Like you,” the Count was saying, “I know the importance of stories, particularly those other people ignore. It was a child who led me to these caves; others discounted his story, but not me. Always pay attention to even the youngest voice; it can be a terrible error not to.”
Ruby couldn’t help thinking of Froghorn: a case in point.
“I, of course, learned to value the younger mind when I first encountered Spectrum’s very first child agent, Bradley Baker. He nearly brought about my demise, but in the end I won out. I have to admit he was the brightest child who ever lived.”
“So I’ve heard,” said Ruby, yawning.
“Oh, I’m sure you’re very clever too.” The Count smiled.
Ruby smiled back; she wasn’t feeling so clever right now, but she was thinking hard. So at least you still have the antidote; if there are stinging things, you’ll survive. If there are chomping things, you’re in big trouble.
The Count was getting into his stride. “Anyway, to cut an ancient story short, one pirate survived that night along with little Miss Fairbank. But unfortunately for him, he was bitten by the Sea Whisperer, and though he washed up on the sand still breathing, he died soon after.” The Count raised his arm dramatically. “But not before he had confessed everything to a small boy who was collecting crabs on the shore. The fellow couldn’t help it, you see; the truth serum made him. He told the boy of the monster, the rubies, and the cave.”
“And who was the boy?” asked Ruby, now gripped by this tale, quite forgetting to concentrate on her escape.
“My great-great-grandfather,” he replied, fixing her with his cold, cold eyes. “So you see, you’re not the only one with family ties to this place. And of course I knew that asteroid YKK 672 would be passing close by again, providing me with still waters in which to work.”
“Of course,” said Ruby.
“Now hand me the trinket,” said the Count.
“What?” bluffed Ruby.
“That tiny one attached to the band around your wrist. It must be for something — surely it’s not simply decoration.” He cocked his head to one side and smiled.
Ruby looked up at him, puzzled.
“Always check for life-saving gadgets,” said the Count. “This looks like something that isn’t just part of your costume; this looks like it might have some higher function.”
Very slowly she pulled the band from her wrist and handed it to him. She didn’t have a whole lot of choice.
The Count examined it carefully and smiled. “What irony,” he said, and let it fall to the floor. With some pleasure he stamped his beautiful Italian shoe down on top of it, and Ruby heard the glass vial inside the canister smash into a thousand pieces.
Then he turned to the unhappy-looking Mr. Darling, who seemed like he might be in a hurry to get started; his fingers were twitching.
“So let’s get on with it,” said the Count with a flourish. “Time to release the little darlings.”
If not sharks, then what? thought Ruby. What could be worse than sharks?
Mr. Darling was untying her hands. Why? Why would he do that?
“So take a long walk off a short plank!” said Mr. Darling, shoving her in the direction of the high board that extended across the pool. Ruby moved very reluctantly, very slowly, pausing to look down, but she could see nothing but water.
“All the way!” bellowed Mr. Darling.
As she edged forward, the plank got less stable and began to bend alarmingly. Ruby was small and she weighed very little, but even her slight body was too much.
“I said all the way!”
Ruby was perched at the very end now, her toes gripping on for dear life. She felt like a cartoon character but without the laugh track. Mr. Darling started to jump up and down, gently at first and then with more vigor, and the board began to bounce. It would have looked very amusing to the ignorant bystander, this pudgy, sweating man jumping for all he was worth, this miniature girl balancing like a gymnast.
But not so amusing if you knew that the man had murder on his mind.
Ruby began to wobble. She tried to move with it the way one might if jumping up and down on a diving board. She kept her balance for almost two whole minutes and then suddenly she felt herself slip and a split second later the cold salt water whooshed past her ears.
Her head emerged and she gasped for air, treading water and frantically looking about her, but there was nothing to see, nothing at all.
And then she felt the most tiny of tiny stings.
He moved quickly and silently toward her. It had to be more than important, her reason for being there. She was sweating and looked to be in some pain.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Ruby,” she whispered. “Where is she?”
“At home,” said Hitch.
“I don’t think so,” replied Kekoa. “I tried to make contact, but her signal is down. She must be somewhere in Sibling waters, out of radio range.”
“But why?” asked Hitch. “The action’s happening here.” He indicated the pirate ship. “Why would she head off somewhere else?”
“There’s something bigger going down,” said Kekoa. “Much bigger, and Ruby must have worked out what.”
“You sure about this?” asked Hitch.
“I called into Spectrum, got Froghorn; apparently, she was trying to make contact with you and, evidently, Froghorn didn’t take her seriously.”
“That dumb schmuck. Why didn’t he send someone to tell me?” Hitch was already putting a plan together; he would have to put someone else in command here and then he had better move like the wind if he stood any chance of getting to Ruby before someone else did.
“By the way,” said Kekoa, “the currents are returning. We have around an hour.”
“An hour before what?” said Hitch.
“An hour before it’s too late.”
IT DIDN’T HURT EXACTLY, but it made her finger feel odd, sort of numb.
How strange.
After the men left, the cave was plunged into darkness, and Ruby found herself suspended in blackness, utter and total blackness . . . except . . . What was that? What were they? Floating in front of her were beautiful iridescent umbrellas. They seemed to be hovering in space, but of course they were not; they were in the water with her, all around her, under her, beside her, drifting past her. Dragging their lazy tentacles as they gently twirled by.
Now and again she felt a small shock like a tiny jolt of electricity. She went to close her fingers but couldn’t. She tried to wiggle her fingers, but they didn’t move. Her brain was no longer in control of her hand. She was slowly being paralyzed.
These were jellyfish, glow-in-the-dark, beautiful parasol jellyfish. Their sting was by no means fatal, not even life-threatening; you could be stung a hundred times, two hundred times at least, and recover. The sting caused temporary paralysis, not a problem if you lost the use of a leg or an arm for a while, but what if you lost the use of both legs, both arms? What then?
Ruby realized she would know the answer before long. And she understood why the Count had sniggered at the irony of it as he destroyed her anti-sting serum.
Only her right leg seemed to be functioning in any useful way, but she was tiring, her body was failing her, and drowning would soon be her fate. The one thing that could have saved her was trickling through the cracks of the rock floor.
A voice came out of the darkness.
“Alas, I am afraid myself and Mr. Darling must leave you; so much to do before we retrieve the rubies and return home. I’m sure you understand, do forgive me. Although . . .” He paused. “You won’t be completely alone. In just a few minutes our hungry friends will be joining you; it’s feeding time, you see, and they follow a very strict routine. Farewell, Ms. Redfort.”
“I knew it!” shouted Ruby valiantly. “Sharks, so corny — every evil genius uses sharks.”
“Corny they might be, Ms. Redfort,” the Count called back. “But they are very effective.”
She heard the footsteps retreat, the elegant ones and the heavy ones, as the two men exited the drowning cave. She thought of her mother and subconsciously began to hum the lullaby, Martha Fairbank’s song. It echoed eerily around the chamber, floating through the island passages. A sad tune and a soon to be forgotten one, never more to be passed down from mother to child.
Like Ruby herself, it would soon be lost.
She took her last breath as her legs and arms finally became inert. Her face dipped beneath the surface, and she was aware that there was just one minute, one second before she either began to drown or was eaten alive. The following spiraling thoughts twirled through her mind.
Why had she told Clancy not to go back to shore? At least she would have some chance of being rescued. Maybe he would have had the sense to call the coast guard, the sheriff, Mrs. Digby, anyone. But then no, Clancy would never have made it, he was certain to get lost; it was just as well not to have even the hope of a chance, she couldn’t count on him. Sure, he was a good friend, but he was useless in an emergency. I mean, take this situation for example. What good would he be even if he was here? He would never come anywhere near the water; she would be eaten alive before he would even think of coming to her aid. Yes, all in all it was just as well he wasn’t here. At least she could wriggle off this mortal coil without him yacking at her all the time.
Ruby was so busy trying to distract herself from the inevitable that she hadn’t noticed that something strange was happening. She was rising above the glowing things — she was floating in space. No, wait a minute, the glowing things were sinking. The part of her right foot that could still feel was now touching the bottom of the pool, the water no longer above her nose.
The water level was lowering.
She looked up and saw a shimmery figure standing by the pool. Someone small. It wasn’t Mr. Darling. No — it looked like, sort of like a boy.
Clancy?
It couldn’t be . . .
But it was.
Ruby tried to smile, but her face was sort of numb. “I thought you were meant to be scared of sharks,” she mumbled.
“And I thought you were meant to be some kinda secret agent,” he replied.
CLANCY HELD OUT HIS HAND, AND GRABBED RUBY’S. He pulled her up and half out of the pool just as one gray swimming beast pushed its way through the opening. It came directly at her, aiming for her legs, which still trailed in what remained of the water.
“No you don’t, buster!” Clancy hissed as he heaved with all his might, pulling the deadweight that was Ruby free of the water and far from the pool’s edge.
The shark snapped its jaws and swam away.
“You look a bit pale, Ruby. You OK?”
“I guess I’ve been better. How did you find me?”
“I heard you singing. Can you run?”
“I’m not sure I can stagger!” croaked Ruby.
“Can you crawl at least?”
“Doesn’t crawling involve the use of at least two limbs?” Ruby was spread flat on the floor.
“Could you crawl if I told you that the Count might be making his way back down here and could find us at any minute?”
Ruby’s eyes widened. “I can run,” she said.
But this was certainly an exaggeration. She couldn’t actually stand without falling over, and Clancy found himself half carrying, half dragging her and her bag along the cave passages. He wanted to put as much space between them and the drowning pool as he could manage, which was not easy. For though Ruby was not what anyone could call heavy, and though Clancy was remarkably strong considering his build, it was awkward to carry someone who had no ability to hold on.
Several times he nearly dropped her, and she was accumulating bruises that fortunately for now she could not feel.
Finally, they stumbled into a huge cave that had passages peeling off in several directions. Clancy picked a route and staggered, with Ruby on his back, up some roughly cut steps that led to a cramped cave . . . and a dead end.
For now it felt safe though. At least no one would be passing this way. Clancy set Ruby on the ground like a sack of vegetables and then slumped down next to her.
“Boy! Am I glad to see you,” said Clancy. “I wouldn’t want to be in this place alone.”
“Oh, it’s not so bad if you don’t mind jellyfish and murderers for company,” replied Ruby, her speech slurred, her face still half paralyzed. “What happened?” she wheezed. “Suddenly fancy a little dip?”
“Ah, just missing your good conversation,” said Clancy.
“That all?” said Ruby. “Because I’m not feeling particularly blabby right now.”
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br /> “Well also, something there in the ocean wanted me out of the boat, and I didn’t like the way things were headed. I thought it might be safer in here with the madman and his large assistant-in-madness.”
“Well, I’m glad you managed to work out the scuba gear.”
“I didn’t,” said Clancy. “The tank was empty.”
“You just didn’t know how to work it,” said Ruby.
“I turned it to the right like you did,” Clancy snapped.
“But did you push the valve down first?” she asked.
“No,” said Clancy.
“Well, there you go,” said Ruby. “The tank was full.”
“Oh,” said Clancy.
“So how did you get here?” Ruby slurred.
“With this.” Clancy held up the breathing buckle. “I found it in the boat where you left it. Some agent you are.”
“Well, you should be grateful; it saved your life,” said Ruby.
“Don’t you mean yours?” said Clancy.
“OK, so I’m grateful. But now what?”
“Well, I was kinda counting on you for the escape plan. I believe you are the secret agent here,” said Clancy.
The movement in Ruby’s neck was coming back, and her left arm was tingling. She wiggled her fingers: her hand was working. Her legs, though, were still useless. She looked around her.
“Clance, do you have a flashlight on you? It should be attached to your dive belt.”
“This?” he said.
“Yeah,” said Ruby. “Shine it around a bit.”
As he moved the beam across the surface of the rock, Ruby began to make out markings scratched in the cave wall.
What are they?
“M,” said Ruby.
“What?” said Clancy. “What do you mean, M?”
“Martha,” whispered Ruby. “She was here. She told the physician how she scratched her initial into the rock when she was exploring the caves while the pirates slept.”
“Why?” said Clancy.
“So she wouldn’t get lost, duh brain.” They stared at the carving; it was amazing to see that two-hundred-year-old letter clearly etched into the wall.
