by Toby Neal
These and other unhappy thoughts occupied her as they walked toward the grove and slipped under the trees. Bea put her hand forward to touch Sam’s shoulder as they moved from the moonlight into the dark of the trees. She let him lead so they wouldn’t outpace his limp. Nick was pressed close to her from behind. The leaves inevitably rustled, and a twig broke—not loudly, but enough to make them freeze.
Bea’s mind suddenly filled with a moonlit picture of the dog, chained to the corner of the porch, waking. It lifted a big, square head to sniff, and she could see the hair rising on its ruff. In a moment, it would start barking.
Beosith, spying for her. Thanks, Beosith. I need you for that other thing, too.
I know. I’m gathering materials. He sent her a sense of how unpleasant they tasted, and she gave a little shudder.
I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t really need your help.
She crept forward as close as she could get, within sight of the house, and slid her backpack off in the darkness.
“Go on, guys,” she whispered. “Sam, give me your slingshot.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.” Sam handed over the slingshot and bag of weights, and he and Nick melted away from her side, heading toward the back of the grove near the cave where they’d sheltered and the shed.
She’d made her preparations at the beach—chunks of driftwood sprinkled with oil she’d taken from the Apucans filling a ziplock bag. She crept one tree closer to the house and squatted down behind its roots.
The dog still hadn’t barked.
Beosith rustled up beside her, a shadow darker than black. She smelled the sulfur and horse dung of fire’s raw materials on his breath. His eyes, muted in stealth mode, shone only enough for her to see he was right beside her.
Are you sure you want to try this?
Yes, but I’m not sure how we’re going to do it. She took out a chunk of oily wood, holding it by the dry end. In the dark it was hard to see, and suddenly the oily wood seemed to burst into flame, singeing her fingers—and she hadn’t seen the dragon do anything yet. She dropped the chunk of wood, fumbling for the slingshot as flame flared up among the leaves.
The dog burst into its bellowing barking.
Bea grabbed the end of the wood that wasn’t on fire and set it in the leather thong, but she couldn’t get leverage to shoot with the brand already lit. The chunk fizzled weakly into the yard and rolled in front of the pit bull. The dog stopped barking to look at it.
New strategy. She set the next one, unlit, into the thong and pulled it back. “Light it now, Beosith,” she whispered.
This time she saw a ball of blue heat shoot from the dragon’s nostrils. It flew by her crude missile, landing in the leaves, but it did catch the wood on fire. Bea shot the flaming bit of wood as high and as far as she could.
It landed on the ancient cedar shake roof, rolling down to land in the gutter, sputtering out. The flaming chunk on the ground in front of the dog went out, and the animal resumed barking even as she stomped on the leaves catching fire at her feet. She heard thumping in the house as the Boyz woke up.
The third flaming brand settled onto the flat roof over the porch, burning merrily. The fourth and fifth also stuck and kept going.
“Go, guys, hurry,” she muttered.
I think we have enough distraction going, Beosith said.
That’s when Bea realized the fire was getting out of control.
Chapter Eighteen
Nick kept a hand on Sam’s shoulder, following the boy through the trees. Even in the darkness he could tell that Sam knew the way. They heard the dog begin barking, so Bea had begun her distraction. By then they were at the edge of the yard closest to the locked toolshed. There was no more cover.
“Go,” Nick said, giving the younger boy a push. He’d lifted Sam’s Leatherman out of the younger boy’s pocket without him noticing, and the metal blade gleaming dully in the moonlight felt reassuring to Nick. As long as the Boyz didn’t use guns, he’d have a good chance against them—he’d learned how to use a knife from Dodger.
While Sam fumbled with the combination lock, which was still on the shed door, Nick faced the back of the house—and jerked in surprise as he saw a flaming ball of wood hit the top of the roof and come bouncing down in their direction. Bea had chosen an undeniably effective distraction. His heart thudded with fear for her.
“Hurry,” he whispered.
Sam got the lock undone and rushed into the darkness of the shed. Nick saw the younger boy pause and grab something—and then it flared into light. A barbeque lighter, not mechanical enough to have been fried in the solar event. In its flickering light, Sam held up the list they’d made. “Help me find these things!”
Glue
Resin
Nails/screws
Wire (plastic coated)
Duct tape
Varnish/paint
Rope/string
Rubber tubing
Hammer
Screwdriver
Wire cutters
Pliers
Clamps
Nick stayed as close as he could to the door while frantically feeling along the shelves and workbench for potentially useful items. Sam kept the barbeque lighter and went for his dad’s toolbox, a big wooden contraption with a sticky lid that Nick finally had to hit to get open. They scooped tools into the backpacks, along with a bag of nails, a bottle of industrial glue, a metal canister that Sam whispered was the varnish. Nick found a huge coil of rope on the lowest shelf and stuffed it into his own backpack, filling it completely.
“That’s it. We have to go,” he whispered, spooked by the red glow flickering into the shed. “We’ve got to get Bea out of there.”
They ran out of the shed and into the trees with no attempt to hide the noise. Nick slid the knife out of his pocket and held it ready. They hurried to Bea and were able to see easily by the burning light of the roof.
The Boyz had run into the yard, waving their guns and holding their baggy pants up, swearing and yelling in consternation. Someone brought out a bucket of water and tried to throw it up onto the roof even as another corner caught fire with a little whoosh and an explosion of sparks.
Another bucket of water tried, and failed, to reach the burning area. The fire was out of control. Bea stood just behind the trunk of the tree, the fire flickering on her face, the slingshot dangling from her hand. Nick tugged on her elbow as she watched the Boyz frantically hauling their possessions out into the yard, apparently giving up on suppressing the blaze.
“You set the house on fire, Bea.” Sam’s eyes were wide in the light of the leaping flames beside her.
“It was an accident.” She turned to them and her eyes were so wide there was a white ring around them. Her lips seemed to be stiff as she said, “I thought they’d put it out. I thought it would just keep them busy.”
“We have to go.” Nick tugged on her arm again, but she was unresponsive. He grabbed her stiff body and turned her away from the blaze, half carrying, half dragging her into the darkness under the trees. She seemed paralyzed, her legs dragging.
“Bea! We have to go!” Sam, ahead of them, sounded frantic.
Finally, Bea’s legs started working and Nick was able to pull her through darkness lit by a wavering reddish glow from the burning house.
Sam peered off the top bunk to check on Bea as he lay down in the fishing shack. She lay motionless on the bottom bunk. Her eyes were open. Wide and blank, spooky. The light of the moon outside reflected off the whites, and she didn’t blink. Nick was a dark shadow on the ground beside her.
Sam rolled onto his back, stared at the splintery wooden ceiling just a foot or two over his head. He closed eyes gritty with smoke and tiredness.
Bea had been like a robot getting back to the fishing shack. Nick had had to lead her back to Rainbow, pulling to get her to run, even carrying her part of the way. Sam had been terrified they’d let the dog off the chain and it would come after them, or that the Boyz, ousted
from their hideout, would be looking for revenge.
He’d untied Rainbow and mounted. Nick got Bea up on the horse in front of Sam by lifting her up. They rode away as fast as they could in the dark. Sam kept Bea on by physically holding her in front of him. It was a hard ride back to the fishing shack holding Bea while still wearing the heavy backpack laden with stuff from the shed, but he didn’t envy Nick trotting alongside them, stumbling in the dark and burdened by his heavy backpack. Away from the immediate threat of the Boyz and the dog, Sam had shouted at Bea, trying to snap her out of it. He’d even slapped her cheeks until Nick made him stop.
“She’s in shock,” Nick said. “She didn’t mean for the fire to get so bad.”
Bea must be feeling terrible about burning the house down.
Sam hadn’t had much at the house that he cared about except for his comic collection. But Bea had more stuff, sentimental things like their mom’s nightgown and the photo album with all their pictures. He knew she kept the nightgown under her pillow and the photos under her bed.
At least they hadn’t owned the house. It was a rental, like most of the homes on the island. He could only hope Bea was better in the morning.
It seemed like the next minute he woke up, and sunshine was a bright lance coming in the door. He shot up, hit his head on the ceiling, fell back, and rolled over to look at Bea.
She was asleep. She wasn’t lying the way she usually did, though. Her arms were at her sides, soldier-straight, and she’d made no move to get into her sleeping bag. She looked frozen—but at least her eyes were shut.
Nick was gone.
Sam slid off the bunk, tiptoed over to the food cache, dug in, and grabbed a granola bar. He picked up the full backpack of supplies he’d taken from the shed. Might as well get started on the boat before it got too hot.
The sand was chilly with early day as he walked back to the Hobie and the assembled pile of potentially useful items. Nick’s full backpack from the night before had been placed beside the pile they’d made.
Sam turned to look around with a hand sheltering his eyes. He could see Nick out on the reef with the fishing line in his hand. The older boy raised a hand and Sam waved back.
Nick had earned his place with them, just as he’d said he would. He couldn’t help liking the Mainland boy for his courage and help. Even if Nick didn’t know much about surviving here, he seemed to be learning fast. Getting fish was a good idea and Sam’s stomach rumbled in agreement with it.
Sam turned back to the boat project. He decided to start with the rudder, since it required the most assembly and he was going to need Nick to help with bigger things, like the mast. Unlike Bea, he’d had a few sailing lessons with his uncle Buzz on Molokai. Uncle’s fishing boat was outboard driven, but sometimes he used a drift sail to save fuel when he was trolling, and Sam had learned a few of the basics from helping rig and steer the boat.
Hobie cats usually had dual rudders on a hinged pole attaching them, but Sam thought he could rig a single rudder that would work. He took the largest square of plywood and nailed it to a pole. He stood it up at the back of the aluminum frame, where their trampoline platform, if they could rig one, would be located.
There seemed to be little way to connect his crude rudder with the smooth aluminum of the frame. He needed something he could nail.
He found a two-by-four among the detritus and, using rope, lashed it onto the metal frame.
He opened his backpack and took out the items he’d been able to retrieve from his dad’s shed. He attached hinges to the pole with the rudder nailed to it, and he was screwing the last screw in to attach the pole to the two-by-four on the frame when he heard, “So this is what you’ve been doing.”
He whirled, the screwdriver held defensively, to see the grinning face of his friend Jeremy.
The boy’s face was pink with exertion—he’d probably gotten out of bed before dawn to get down here by the time the sun came up, and his black hair, always a little unruly, pointed in various directions. Jeremy had never looked better to Sam, and he almost hugged his friend.
“Hey. We’re fixing up this boat.”
“I see that. Can I help?”
“Sure. Hold this pole; stabilize it.” He was able to press down hard with the screwdriver and finish attaching the hinges must faster with Jeremy holding the pole steady. “Where’s Jaden?” Wherever Jeremy was, Jaden was sure to be there, too.
“It was Jaden’s idea to come check on you guys. He’s back at the shack, trying to wake Bea up. What’s wrong with her?”
“We had to sneak back to our house to get the stuff for the boat. Bea lit the house on fire by accident and burned it down. I dunno—I guess she’s in shock. She was acting all weird last night, getting back here.” Sam straightened up and pushed sweaty hair out of his eyes. “I hope he can snap her out of it.”
Bea felt something soft on her mouth. It was gentle, and pleasant, and she didn’t mind—in fact, it was very nice—but she felt the gray receding.
That scared her. The gray was there to keep her safe, to keep her from knowing something terrible. In a sudden panic, she lashed out and sat up, banging her head on the splintery underside of the bunk bed.
Jaden was sitting on the floor next to her, a hand pressed to his cheek, eyes watering as he rubbed his face.
“What are you doing here?” she cried, swinging her legs off the bunk.
“I was trying to wake you up.” He looked down. He was red to the tips of his ears. It appeared she must have hit him. “Glad you’re awake.”
“You tried to kiss me.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. But nothing was working to wake you up.” His face flamed even redder than where she’d slapped him.
“I wish you’d left me alone.” Tears rose, hot and stinging, behind her eyes as she stood up and walked out of the fishing shack. “I burned our house down.”
“Oh, crap—I mean, wow,” Jaden said, getting up to follow her out into the cool sand under the naupaka tree. She sat down, looking out across the smooth, sparkling early-morning water on the reef, lacy around the edges with foam. The Kalohi Channel was as smooth as glass, and Molokai, all orangey-violet curves and shadows, looked close enough to touch. Nick was just bringing up a fat fish from the pool she’d showed him yesterday, and he whooped with triumph.
They waved to him as he splashed in to shore.
“What happened?” Jaden asked.
“We needed stuff for rebuilding the boat.” Bea told him about the salvage expedition. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I bet you wanted them out of there,” Jaden said, his jaw set and eyes narrowed. “I bet you wanted the Boyz gone so bad you were willing to burn the house down rather than let them have it.”
Nick had reached the shore and was now struggling to get the hook out of the mouth of a good-sized papio, a silver jack that would cook up nice over their fire.
“It was an accident. I was just thinking of distracting them. I thought they’d be able to put the fire out.” She considered. “But you might be onto something there.”
Bea turned, feeling the cold grains of sand against her legs, the cool of early morning touching her skin as she looked at her friend. She liked the way the sun struck Jaden’s deep brown eyes, lighting his long lashes with their almost-blond tips. She wished she’d enjoyed his kiss instead of freaking out. She could have pretended not to know what he was doing, just gently woken up, or pretended to keep sleeping, and he might have done it again.
She touched her lips, then dropped her hand. Her stomach growled loudly. He grinned, that bright flash that always made her smile, too. “Hungry?”
“Always, these days.”
Nick came up with his fish. “Breakfast,” he said proudly.
“It’s a start,” Jaden said. “See you’re learning a few skills.”
“Helps to have the right equipment,” Nick quoted with a grin. “Glad to see you feeling better, Bea.”
“Y
eah.” Bea ducked her head in embarrassment. She could hardly remember getting back to the shack, or anything but realizing the house was burning. “I’ll get some firewood.”
“I brought some food from the house. We thought you guys might be hungry,” Jaden said, unzipping his backpack.
“We’re doing okay that way,” Bea said, laying the fire in the pit as Nick cleaned his fish with the Leatherman knife. She wondered how he’d gotten it. He must have borrowed it from Sam. “We went fishing yesterday, but we’re going to have to do that every day or eat the stuff we want to take on the boat.”
“What boat?”
Bea told Jaden as he opened his backpack to take out a couple of homemade fish musubi: compacted cooked rice, topped by a fish filet, all of it wrapped in nori. The chewy, salty, fishy mix of flavors was delicious as she munched down the Japanese variation on a sandwich. Jaden handed one to Nick, too.
“Damn, this is good,” Nick mumbled around a mouthful. “Never expected it to be so tasty.”
Bea set Nick’s catch on the wire rack over the fire. “Let's cook this and then get over to the boat, and you can see what I’m talking about. I bet Sam’s already working hard.”
They joined the younger boys, carrying the cooked fish on a pile of leaves. Bea looked over Sam’s adaptation of a rudder: a square of plywood nailed to a pole, hinged on to a spar tied on to the aluminum frame. Sam looked up at their arrival, face flushed with excitement, and something she didn’t remember seeing before—confidence.
“Check it out, Bea,” he said, demonstrating that by turning the pole attached to the “rudder” back and forth, the square of wood scythed through the sand. “I think this will work.”
“Good job, bro,” Bea said, feeling bad about her behavior last night.
