The Last Witness

by Claire McFall

  “I tried to convince Emma and Darren to join us,” he said, “but Darren said he’d rather be shot, stabbed, and run over by a bus than get back in there.”

  “And you still want to do it because…?” I raised one incredulous, amused eyebrow at him.

  “I’m insane?” He turned it up at the end, made it a question.

  “I’m not going to argue with that,” I said, but I found myself following him anyway.

  I balked as soon as my toes touched the coolness of the damp sand, anticipating the much colder water to come. But Dougie kept going, not hesitating when he broke the surface of the water. He didn’t pause until the waves were lapping around his knees, and then it was only a cursory glance behind to check I was still there. I hurriedly closed the final few feet to the water before he could realize what a wimp I was.

  It was just as cold as before. The iciness took my breath away, made my hair stand up on end. And I was only in up to my ankles. How cold would it be when the water was at waist height? Chest height? I shuddered as I imagined sticking my head beneath the murky surface.

  “Maybe Darren’s right,” Dougie commented as I drew level with him. “You definitely need a drink in you to brave this.”

  I huffed a laugh, though it came out oddly through the shivers that were racking my body.

  “I wish he’d stop being such a dick,” he continued bitterly.

  I nodded mutely, but I didn’t hold out much hope. Every time I’d met him, Darren had been exactly the same.

  Dougie sighed. “Martin’s ready to deck him. Hope he doesn’t. Darren’ll break his nose.”

  “Martin will cool off,” I reassured him. “And I’ll tell Emma to make sure she keeps Darren occupied. She can get him to take an inventory of her makeup bag. That’ll take him at least two days.”

  Dougie snorted and winked at me. I would have blushed, but all of my blood was busy keeping my internal organs going. I’d already lost the feeling in my feet.

  “So we doing this?” Dougie looked at me questioningly.

  “Only because it’s your birthday,” I told him.

  “Come on.” He grinned. “Race you to chest height!”

  He was off before I could object, sending a wave of icy spray cascading over me as he pushed forward through the water. I shrieked in protest, but that just meant I got a mouthful of nasty, salty water. Spitting and retching, I closed my mouth and followed him.

  Actually, once you were all the way in, it wasn’t so bad. Even better once I got up the courage to dunk my head beneath the surface. The salt water was foul, though, and I found myself wishing for the sterile environment of a chlorine-saturated, heated swimming pool. We didn’t really swim, but stayed far enough out for the water to flutter around my throat if I stood on my tiptoes. Dougie was tall enough for his shoulders just to clear the waves. He stood motionless, but I lifted my feet and treaded water, trying to stay warm.

  “You’re not swimming,” I commented, bobbing up and down as my arms and legs beat rhythmically, keeping me afloat.

  “I think my limbs might have frozen solid,” he admitted, grinning at me sheepishly. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

  “Oh no,” I said. “We’re in now. Imagine it’s the aquatics center.”

  “Minus the kids peeing in the pool!” he replied, laughing. “And the angry lifeguard who hates his life.”

  “And the grannies who don’t want you to splash and mess up their perfect hair,” I agreed. “So it’s better really.”

  “Yeah, it’s—” Then a comical look of shock came over his face, and he tumbled back into the water, disappearing below the surface.

  “Dougie?” I stared at the water, waiting for him to reappear. He didn’t. “Dougie?”

  I swam forward, searching the water with my hands. Nothing. I was right over the spot where he’d dropped, my fingers reaching, my eyes scanning the murky depths for his silhouette beneath the waves.

  “Dougie?” I was starting to panic, aware of each second as it ticked by. Was that a minute now? More? I half turned, about to scream to the shore, to Emma and Darren, when the water exploded right in front of my face.

  Dougie sprang up, dousing me with another sheet of icy spray and scaring ten years off my life.

  “You…you idiot!” I yelped. He was laughing between gasps, a wide grin on his face. “I thought you were drowning!”

  “Sorry.” He didn’t sound it. He wiped at his eyes and gave me an impish look. “My dad and I used to do that, challenge each other to see how long we could stay underwater. I always won.”

  “Well, you could have warned me!” I snapped, feeling foolish now. “That wasn’t funny.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  I opened my mouth, planning on lecturing him on all the ways that it wasn’t amusing…but something slithered past my leg. “What was that?” My breath froze in my lungs, and my limbs tensed. I immediately forgot about Dougie’s antics, focusing on the water around me. Another soft brush ticked the base of my spine. “Something touched me!” I squealed.

  “Jellyfish?” Dougie suggested, trying not to laugh at what I’m sure was a look of absolute panic on my face.

  “There are jellyfish in here?” My voice was just a squeak, inaudible to all but dogs.

  “Probably.”

  Another “thing” grazed my forearm, seemed to curl around my elbow. The gentle contact threw me into action. I dived forward toward Dougie, thrashing my arms hysterically. Convinced I could feel tendrils creeping across my lower back, I grabbed for him, clutching at his shoulders with my hands, wrapping my legs around his middle. I didn’t even realize I was screeching in his ear until he twisted his head away, trying to escape the noise.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I babbled, but I still didn’t let go. “Get me away from them,” I begged.

  Dougie was wickedly amused—I could feel his chest shaking with laughter—but he started wading back toward the shore, practically carrying me since I refused to let go. Somehow, the terror of creatures of the deep had made me forget to be self-conscious. Luckily, Dougie didn’t seem bothered by my feebleness. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying it, grinning hugely at my wide-eyed hysteria.

  “If only I’d known that all it’d take to get you to throw yourself into my arms was a couple of jellyfish,” he joked, dropping me onto the shore but keeping his arms wrapped around my waist. “What will you do if I have to come to your rescue when there’s a spider in the tent?”

  “Marry you!” I blurted out. He threw back his head and laughed.

  Ten

  It took a long time to heat back up after our dip in the sea. I huddled in a towel in my chair, my arms wrapped around my knees, teeth chattering, thinking. Thinking about Dougie’s throwaway comment about the jellyfish. Was it just a jokey thing to say between friends, or was it something else? Something…flirty?

  I was embarrassed too. My face burned—it was the only part of me that was warm—as Dougie recounted the tale for Emma and Darren, both of whom had heard my hysterics but been too far away to see what was happening. They laughed at me, but it was good-natured, and better yet, Dougie sent me another wink as he got to the part where I’d practically thrown myself at him.

  “I’m sorry,” I mumbled back, not quite brave enough to say something playful, something suggestive, like Emma would have.

  “Don’t be, I enjoyed it.” Dougie lifted one eyebrow at me.

  Then he laughed at the expression on my face.

  I looked down shyly—and a little annoyed at myself for not being able to come up with a witty comeback—and the conversation moved on.

  To fishing. That was what Dougie’s dad had always come here for. Dougie wasn’t sure if he’d ever actually caught anything—except, one time, the flu—but Darren was itching to have a go, to prove his manly skills. Only he didn’t have a fishing
rod. Or even a line and hook. The only thing he could come up with was a long length of twine from the junk-filled trunk of the Volvo and a cold, cooked sausage that he planned to tie on the end. He was adamant that it would work and was deaf to Dougie’s criticism. I offered no opinion—I knew as much about fishing as I did about alternator brushes—although Darren’s plan seemed a little optimistic. He’d have more chance of catching a passing Irishman. Emma was ignoring us, lying in the sun, trying to tan away her sunburn. I was dubious about whether that plan would work, either.

  The fishing argument continued, but after a while I tuned it out. I contented myself with staring at the sparkles dancing on the sea. Then suddenly they disappeared.

  “Hey!” Emma complained, lifting her sunglasses and glaring at the sky.

  I hadn’t noticed their approach, but thick clouds covered the sun, cutting off the light. They were innocuous enough, fluffy white cotton hovering in the sky, but behind us, crawling over the hill, they darkened to steel gray. Rain.

  “We need to get our stuff inside,” I warned, watching with alarm as the rain clouds made steady progress across the sky.

  “It’s not going to rain,” Darren disagreed, shaking his head disparagingly.

  Just then, a stiff breeze blew up out of nowhere, bringing with it a spattering of droplets.

  “It is,” Dougie replied, standing up and staring at the approaching weather. “Pretty heavily too.” He looked at me. “Is your tent waterproof?”

  I made a face. “Theoretically.”

  The tent was old. It belonged to my cousin. Hoping for sun, I hadn’t thought to ask him how it would fare in a deluge.

  “Sit it out in our tent,” he offered. “Our rain fly’s good for a pretty heavy downpour.”

  “Thanks.” I jumped up, wrapping my towel tightly around me, and dashed for our tent. Once inside, I yanked on my clothes as quickly as I could, shoved everything else in my bag, hoping that would offer some protection, and bolted back out. The two boys were ferrying food and other provisions in through the empty opening of their much bigger tent, chucking everything on top of the three multicolored sleeping bags.

  Three. I frowned at that. “Hey, has anybody seen—”

  The heavens opened.

  There was no warning. No pitter-patter or sprinkle before the storm. A sheet of water dropped from above. I was soaked in an instant, rainwater dripping down my nose and saturating my hair barely dry from swimming. The T-shirt I’d thrown on clung to me like a cold, uncomfortable second skin. There was no trace of the summer we’d been enjoying just moments ago.

  I dived into the boys’ tent.

  “Shall I zip up the door?” I asked, trying not to step on any of their possessions with my wet, sandy shoes.

  “Just the screen,” Dougie told me. “The porch’ll keep the water out.”

  We sat in a line, staring out the half-moon-shaped screen and watched the rain continue to fall. It was a torrent: big, fat globules pitted the sandy beach and battered the waves. Time lost meaning as we sat there; it was mesmerizing to watch. The clouds were so heavy that an early twilight seemed to descend. It was like looking at the world through a filter, the colors leached out.

  “Who’s got the flashlight?” Darren asked.

  There was some scrabbling around on either side of me, but the light in the tent remained muted.

  “Where was it last?” Dougie wondered aloud.

  “I stuck it just by the opening, in case we needed it to pee in the middle of the night,” Darren said, his voice right at my ear as he felt around the groundsheet surrounding me. “Heather, I think you’re sitting on it.”

  “Am I?” I couldn’t feel anything, but I shifted obediently so he could check the space under me. Nothing was there.

  “What are you looking for?” Emma asked, a dreamy quality to her voice as if she were in a daze. “Here, this’ll help.”

  I heard a click, and the tent was flooded with light. “That,” Dougie said, laughing.

  “Emma, sometimes I don’t think you’re on this planet,” Darren grumbled, but the look on his face was indulgent as he reached to take the flashlight from her.

  “What?” She blinked and looked around at us, bemused.

  “Never mind, angel. At least you’re pretty.”

  I rolled my eyes and shifted back to my original position. Every time I thought Darren wasn’t quite so bad, he’d say something patronizing like that, voice showing no hint of humor, and I’d revert to my original assessment: he was an ass.

  “Ow!” Something dug into my hip painfully as I let my weight settle back down. Were there two flashlights?

  No. Whatever was hurting me was in my pocket. I ferreted around in my jeans until I could draw the thing out.

  “Oh.” I stared at it, surprised.

  The brooch. I’d almost forgotten it. The argument between Darren and Martin had totally driven it from my mind. It glittered, the curved edge throwing off sparkles. The light wasn’t quite good enough to show the carvings, not like I’d seen them earlier in the sunshine, but running my finger over the surface, I could feel the grooves.

  “You cleaned it!” Dougie said, surprised.

  I turned to see him peering eagerly over my shoulder. “Yeah,” I replied. “Yeah, it turned out really well.”

  “Can I have a look?” I surrendered it into his waiting palm. He held it up close to his face, angling the flashlight so that he could get a good look. “Wow,” he said. “That’s wild. Guess it’s not that old, then.”

  He seemed fascinated by the markings on the surface too. “What do you think the engravings are?” I asked, pointing at one swirl that was just about visible.

  “Don’t know.” Dougie shrugged. “Wonder what it was doing there.”

  We lapsed into silence again. Dougie was still studying the brooch, picking at the pin on the back. I watched him, trying to imagine how the piece of jewelry had ended up buried deep in the middle of a collapsed cairn. The hill was in the middle of nowhere. I supposed there were probably walkers going past, but it seemed unlikely that whoever had left it there had discovered the place by chance.

  My stomach turned uneasily as another theory presented itself. What if it was a love token? What if it had been left there by a distraught widow, a gift to a husband or wife, one no longer here, left in a spot they loved? Once again, I had the feeling that we shouldn’t have taken it. Maybe I would suggest to Dougie that we return it.

  I glanced around the tent as I thought about it, and my gaze drifted toward Darren, staring broodingly out toward the beer cooler, half buried in the sand outside. Yes, that’s what I’d do. But I’d wait until Dougie and I were alone. Darren wouldn’t get it. He’d laugh at me. I hoped Dougie wouldn’t.

  It felt like a weight off my mind to have decided. I went back to watching the rain.

  “We might find our stuff swimming in water after this, Emma,” I told her ruefully. The bag I’d stuffed everything into wasn’t waterproof, either, and I hadn’t thought to bring our sleeping bags with me earlier. That was stupid.

  “I’m not sleeping in a wet bag!” Emma complained.

  “There’s always the Volvo,” I replied, looking at Darren hopefully.

  He grinned. “Don’t worry, ladies, we’ll make room for you in here.”

  “Where?” Emma looked around. Every inch of the tent was covered with the boys’ gear.

  “Believe it or not, this is meant to be a six-man tent,” Dougie explained.

  “Ha!” Emma snorted derisively. “Heather says ours is a four. Four what, toddlers?”

  The talk of numbers pushed a thought back into my head. “Hey!” I exclaimed. “Where’s Martin? He still isn’t back.”

  Darren laughed. “Weirdo’s going to be drenched!”

  I scowled at him, irritated. “Don’t call him that!”

>   “Ooh, touchy!” He grinned at me. “Something you want to tell us about you two?”

  “Darren, shut up.” Dougie glared across the narrow space, and for once Darren did what he was asked. Dougie looked at me, his eyes uncertain. “Do you think we should call him?”

  I looked out at the rain, the darkening sky.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, we should. Hang on, I’ve got my phone.” I dragged it out of my pocket and flipped through the contacts. Finding Martin’s name, I smacked my finger down on his entry, and the screen jumped to calling. It lasted two seconds before it cut off.

  “What?” I stared at the phone, confused. Then I remembered what the girl from the metalworkers’ shop had told me, the one who gave us a jump. “Oh. No signal. There goes that idea.”

  Dougie pulled out his own phone and stared at it. He sighed. “Me either. How long do we give him before we go out looking?”

  I looked at my watch. Martin had been gone for hours.

  Dougie caught my expression. “Now?”

  I hesitated, then nodded.

  “Emma and I will stay here,” Darren said loudly. “You know, in case he comes back.”

  Emma’s noise of agreement was lost under the rustling sound of Dougie rising to his feet.

  “We’re all going. Darren, get your jacket on.”

  Though Emma accepted Dougie’s edict with resigned silence, Darren muttered and moaned for ten minutes while we got geared up for heading out into the downpour. Typically, the moment we were ready to go—suitably clothed in waterproof jackets and boots, both Emma and me clutching umbrellas—the rain stopped. We ditched the umbrellas and replaced the jackets with thick sweaters—the wind hadn’t died down, and there was a definite bite to the air—before heading across the beach in the direction I’d seen Martin go.

  “Hasn’t it occurred to anyone else that he might be going in a circle?” Darren asked. “Just because he left in this direction doesn’t mean he’ll come back this way. He’ll probably turn up back at the camp while we’re traipsing around in the dark.”