“Bradley,” Jason said, horrified.
He was wet and bloody. Still tied to the tree, he looked crumpled, half of himself.
“Is he . . . ?” Beatrice said.
“Bradley!”
His swollen eyes fluttered slightly. A tiny, weak cough puffed through his split lips.
“What happened?” Jason said.
“Don’t, don’t,” Bradley said.
“Bradley, it’s us. It’s me.”
“Jason?”
“Yes.”
“Ohhh,” he moaned.
“Did he do this to you?”
“Yes. I—”
“Hold on; we’re gonna get you untied.”
“I’m sorry, man,” Bradley said.
“Don’t be stupid. We’re gonna get you free, just hold on for me.”
Bradley groaned. “It hurts so bad. I wish he’d killed me.”
Jason withdrew his knife, and Beatrice shook her head, saying, “No, not like that,” and she began untying the knots as gingerly as she could. It was hard work. Twice she pushed too hard on Bradley’s right hand, and he grimaced in pain. Eventually his legs and wrists were free, and he fell on his back on the wet ground. He opened his mouth to taste the rain.
After a while, Jason said, “Do you think you can stand?”
“Yeah. Not yet, but yes. Give me a sec, okay?”
The three of them huddled there in the trees for several minutes. The weather was biting, but Jason almost wished it could last forever. He had not forgotten why they were there.
Finally Bradley said, “I told him about the cabin. I can’t believe it. I thought maybe you were there. I thought maybe he might have . . .”
“It’s okay,” said Jason. “You had to. I mean, I think it was what needed to happen next for some reason. Before this.”
“What are you guys doing here?”
“I don’t know. I just knew that this is where I was supposed to come. I think I’m supposed to wait for him,” Jason said.
“Wait. What? He’s coming back here?”
“I think so.”
“You don’t want to mess with this guy, man. Look at me. He did . . . he really hurt me, man.”
“I know. But I don’t think there’s any avoiding it now. We have to go through it. I thought for a while that we could get out. But I don’t think it’s possible.”
“Jason, look,” Bradley said.
“What?”
“I . . . I can’t fight him. I’m in no shape.”
“I know. Bradley, it’s okay. You’re not supposed to. It’s supposed to be me.”
Bradley seemed to consider that. Jason assumed he was thinking the situation was totally hopeless now.
Finally, Bradley said, “What’s your plan?”
“Plan? I don’t know. I mean, I have a knife.”
Bradley started laughing, which quickly turned to a sputter of coughs.
“What’s so funny?” Jason said.
“You know what?” Bradley said through gritted teeth. “Jason, man, I’m glad we’re friends.”
“Yeah,” Jason said. “I guess I am too.”
“Dude, I tried with Archer. I tried to convince him, to get him to come with me.”
“I know. It’s okay. We’ll get him later. He’s safe right now.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Bradley said. “He didn’t seem right. But I’ll tell you . . .” He coughed, and a bit of blood spit from his mouth. “I keep hoping some tank will come rolling over the hill, and that Archer made it work. Wouldn’t that be something?”
“If anyone could do that,” Jason agreed, “Archer could.”
Beatrice broke in to say, “It feels like a dream, doesn’t it?”
“Not to me,” said Bradley. He was holding his stomach as a fresh wave of pain rumbled through.
“I know it’s real,” she said. “But there’s something more real out there, I’m sure of it. It can’t all be gone. We can find another place, another world. We can do that, don’t you think?”
Neither of the boys said anything. Neither of them was sure.
Thunder cracked overhead, and suddenly, there came a voice bellowing, “Beatrice!”
She shuddered.
Jason wheeled around, scanned the horizon. He began to shake too.
“What—what’s happening?” Bradley said.
“Shhh,” Jason said.
Rolling over the field, thunderous as the sky, came the call again. “Beeeatrice!”
“Is that him?” said Bradley.
“Be quiet a second; I need to think.”
With his good hand, Bradley grabbed him by the windbreaker sleeve and whispered, “Jason, Jason.”
“What, man?”
“He’s hurt. On his left side. Ribs. I hurt him.”
“Okay, okay,” Jason said. He turned slowly away, and Bradley grabbed him again.
“Jason.”
“What?” Jason said, and he was looking around nervously as if Tereus might be upon them any second now.
Bradley pulled him down close to his face. “Hey, man. Look at me.”
“Yeah, Bradley, what?”
He waited until Jason had locked eyes with him, and he said, “Don’t die, dude.”
Jason stopped. He smiled, but just for a second. Then he shook free of Bradley’s grip and sat upright.
I don’t think I can do this.
He turned to tell Beatrice. “I don’t think—”
But she wasn’t there.
He stood up then and could see in the near distance, his mother’s raincoat and the splashes of footsteps growing smaller and passing into a curtain of rain.
No, no, no.
Instinctively he leapt to his feet and ran after her, but he’d lost her. It was like the first moment he’d seen her, chasing her through the fog. She was a ghost, passing through realms of invisibility. The sky was getting heavier with rain, and thick, black clouds had blotted out the moon entirely. It didn’t look real. But it was.
He could hear voices but wasn’t sure of their direction. He walked cautiously forward, toward where he imagined the middle of the field to be. Briefly he looked back, wishing he’d told Bradley to hide behind the trees, but he was already too far away to see him. Everything was a blur.
He was cold, but his trembling was from the fear. And then, he saw them and froze entirely.
Beatrice looked so tiny before her father, who towered over her, all chest and shoulders, thick muscle and girth.
Jason could hear them. Through the rain, he could hear her voice.
“No,” she said. “No.”
“You belong at home,” Tereus said.
“I don’t have a home here,” she said.
“You have a home with me.”
“No. It was never a real home. Not to me.”
It felt like slow motion. A great arm rose into the air, a fist like a great stone formed at the end. And Jason didn’t think. He ran full speed.
He thudded into Tereus. It was not strong enough to knock the man down, but he stumbled sideways, his arm dropping roughly to his side.
Beatrice backed away as Jason regained his footing. He looked up into the molten face of a monster.
“How many of you are there?” Tereus said with a snarl.
Jason wanted to run. But he knew he was now the only thing standing between Tereus and his friends.
“Are you the tough guy now?”
Jason remembered the knife. He had slid it through his belt, hooked at the hilt. He fumbled with it, expecting Tereus to jump at him at any moment. But the man just watched him, bemused.
Finally, it was free. Jason held it up, his hand still shaking.
Tereus laughed.
Jason took a step bac
k.
“You know what?” Tereus said. “I’m going to kill you with that.”
And then the man was charging. Jason didn’t have time to do anything with the knife before Tereus launched a knee into his stomach and he keeled over, wheezing. Tereus was still laughing.
But Jason hadn’t dropped the knife. It was his only hope of surviving.
He pushed himself back against the ground, his heels kicking up a wall of mud in his wake.
Tereus moved again toward him, slower this time, leaving enough of an opportunity for Jason to rise to his feet. As the man ran at him, he swung the knife wildly in front of him. It cut Tereus across the forearm, but he was entirely unbothered and completed his tackle.
Tereus was on top of Jason now, a mountain falling on frail bones. The boy was pinned, squirming. He felt as if he might suffocate. And then, there was relief, but only for a moment. Tereus rose to his feet, grasping Jason in his arms, pinning Jason’s side to his own. Jason held the knife limply in his wet hand, but it began to slip out.
Tereus shook him, jumping up and slamming him down. Jason’s brain rattled against his skull, and he saw stars, then a blip of blackness. When he regained his senses, he realized that the knife was not in his hand anymore.
Tereus released him. He instantly fell to the ground again.
“It will be fun killing you,” Tereus said. “But not as much fun as it was your friend. He was stronger.”
Jason swept his arms wildly around on the ground, feeling for the knife, but all he could grab was wet grass. He could hear Beatrice crying close by, but he couldn’t see her.
Tereus reached down and grabbed his ankle, but Jason kicked free. He scooted backward in desperation and winced when he felt the point of the knife stick him in the back. It was under him. The man was quickly approaching again, as he felt underneath him to grab the handle. Swinging it out from under him, he cut himself in the back but now held the blade out in front of him, pointed at Tereus.
Jason jumped to his feet, but he was no match. In half a second, Tereus had a hold of his forearm. Jason thought his arm might break. Tereus grabbed his knife-holding fist with his free hand and easily pried it loose. They both looked at the blade, now rising in the man’s grasp—Jason with horror and Tereus with delight.
Jason turned to run, but time was speeding up, and he was slowing down. He felt a sharp pain in his right hip, a searing cut that drove down the length of his leg and set the nerves in his foot on fire. He instantly stopped, stumbled, grabbed for his hip. He felt the grip of the knife. It was stuck in him at a vertical angle, all the way to the hilt. Apparently, Tereus had stuck it in him before he’d even begun running.
Jason felt woozy. Shock began to take over. His right leg was going numb.
Then Tereus was grabbing him again, holding him in a terrible bear hug and squeezing.
Jason felt the tension in his ribs, his bones stretching against the pressure. And then he couldn’t breathe.
No.
He looked up, and the face of Tereus, burned red, all scars and hatred, was grimacing in strength. He looked up beyond him to the sky.
No, he thought.
His eyes fluttered, and as he opened his mouth to suck in more air, Tereus squeezed harder, and he felt as though he’d be shattered to bits, exploded into nothingness, just blood and bones to be scattered across the rocky shore below.
I didn’t want this.
I know.
Why does it have to be this kind of story?
I hear you.
I think I’m going.
No. It’s not over.
I think this is it.
I see you.
I miss my family.
I know. But I’m here. I see you.
Why like this?
Jason.
Who? Who is that?
I’m with you. I see you.
What was happening? He was delirious. Hearing voices. Getting close to the end. Jack said the first death was just the beginning. He’d already been through that. And this was definitely worse. The second death.
When you die here, you really die.
And he couldn’t let it end that way. If he was going to die, he wasn’t going to die this way.
A reservoir of strength surged through him. A last-ditch effort at survival, bewildered and wild, absorbed him. While he could not burst the bonds of his monstrous captor, he lowered his head and buried his face into Tereus’s vulnerable chest. And then, he bit him at the heart.
Tereus yelped and instantly dropped the boy.
Jason fell to the ground, still gasping for air, his lungs filling and burning with oxygen. His chest felt sunken, his arms broken, his legs soft. He couldn’t move.
And then Tereus was on him again, standing over him with all the rage of hell in him. He brought a booted foot down into Jason’s stomach, and the boy jerked sideways, retching into the grass.
The boot was on his turned head now, pressing him into the ground.
Tereus was going to crush his skull.
And he would have done it much quicker if the ground hadn’t been so soft.
Jason’s face sunk into the wet grass. The danger now was not his head breaking under Tereus’s foot but his mouth and nose filling with mud. He would drown.
Beatrice was at Tereus’s back now, raining a series of inconsequential blows upon him. He didn’t even turn to brush her off. She couldn’t stop him.
Then, as Jason’s head finally hit upon something solid, a stone beneath the field perhaps, he was in danger of being crushed again. His hands flailed for purchase, and he found it—the knife still stuck in his hip, pinned now between his leg and the ground.
Jason pulled the knife out, slipping it from muscle and fat like Excalibur from the stone. And as he felt his skull about to crack, with his remaining strength, he thrust the blade into the ankle of his tormenter.
Tereus screamed, stumbled, grabbing at the knife stuck firmly through the muscle. He tottered as he gripped it, and yanked it out only to scream again, step backward, and then . . . over the edge.
He was gone.
Beatrice rushed up to Jason.
He was swallowing big gulps of air.
“What—what,” he gasped.
“Jason,” she said.
“What. Where is he?”
“The cliff.”
The pain disappeared for the moment. He rolled over and looked behind him. He was mere feet from the edge of the fields, the overlook to the ocean, and he hadn’t even realized it.
They found Bradley where they’d left him. Jason collapsed at his side, startling his friend, who had passed out.
“Wh—what,” Bradley said. “Is . . . is he here yet?”
“Yes,” Jason said. “He was here. It’s over.”
Bradley lifted his head slightly. “You’re alive.”
“Yeah,” Jason grinned. “We’re alive.”
Bradley smiled. “I knew you had it in you.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“You’re right. I didn’t.”
Jason laughed. He put a hand on Bradley’s shoulder and squeezed.
The rain had stopped, and the clouds were breaking, scattered by the dawn, which rose in pink and orange and turned even the gusty winds into a gentle breeze.
Beatrice stood over them, her face resolute.
Bradley looked up at her, then again at his friend. “Here we are,” he said.
“Yeah,” said Jason. “Here we are.”
17
HOME
Jason and Beatrice were drying out by the fire in the cabin, hunched over in a row along the hearth, as Jack puttered away at his desk. He was putting the finishing touches on a passage in one of the green notebooks. Jason gently stroked his injured hip, now tightly banda
ged.
Nobody spoke.
Bradley was sleeping in the corner, his arm in a makeshift sling. Though his face looked like it had been through a meat grinder, it was oddly peaceful. He was snoring.
Jason looked across the cabin, so strange and sparse. Was this always here? he thought.
Jack lifted his pen to his lips, from which he’d just removed his pipe, deep in thought. He tamped the pipe into the ashtray, set it down, and then returned to writing.
The sun was shining so bright outside; there was no need of a lamp inside.
Then they heard it. For the first time since the whole story began, they heard the sound of life. A sweet, flirty chirping of a bird. And then there he was at the window, a sparrow perched on whisper-thin legs on the sill, his sliver of a beak twitching this way and that as he peered inside the glass.
Beatrice looked at the bird, blank-faced, then she reached over and took Jason’s hand. He held hers on his knee.
No one wanted to break the guide’s concentration, as if it might undo the whole story and ruin the ending.
Minutes passed. They watched the bird watching them and chirping.
And then, Jack put his pen down and closed the green notebook. He leaned over in his chair and slipped it in at the very end of the bookcase. Then he just sat there, staring at the desk.
Jason finally spoke. “Is that it?”
Jack turned to face them. He leaned back, crossed his leg. “Very nearly,” he said.
“And what’s it all about?” Jason said.
“A story isn’t so much what it’s about,” Jack replied, “but how it is about it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Naturally. And that is part of the story too, you see. From the beginning, there’s really only been a handful of stories. But a million ways to tell them. But I do think you did a smashing job with this one.”
“We did? But we weren’t writing it.”
“Weren’t you?”
“I don’t know if you’re joking.”
“Only a bit,” said Jack. “You could’ve stayed in that cave, you know. That could’ve been the end.”
“I’ve thought about that,” said Jason. He leaned back, feeling the warmth of the fire on his hips. The place where he’d been stabbed throbbed in the heat. “I could’ve stopped my part, I think. But I’m not the only character. It could’ve gone on with the others.” He looked at Beatrice, who was still watching the bird.
Echo Island Page 19
