Fury

by Steven James

  In this wind it wasn’t going to take long for the wooden lighthouse—and the keeper’s home along with it—to be totally consumed.

  Crying out from the effort, Daniel cranked on the femur, heard the clasp snap, and threw open the trapdoor.

  Half a dozen split logs tumbled down as a rush of stifling heat enveloped him.

  The floorboards above the root cellar were blazing and, even if he could’ve tried running across them, at this point he wasn’t sure they would’ve supported his weight. The last thing he needed right now was to end up plummeting back into that cellar.

  The only clear path to the front door was along an adjoining wall where the flames weren’t as intense.

  Thick smoke and fumes choked him and the searing heat from the fire blasted against his face and bare hands where his coat didn’t protect him. Drawing the top of his shirt up over his mouth so he could breathe through the smoke, Daniel rushed toward the door.

  Because of the heat, he had to shield his face with one arm. Flames radiated across the floor in front of him, but he was able to leap over them and pivot past a column of fire that was flaring up the wall.

  The front doorway was engulfed, but Daniel rushed it, pounded it open, and stumbled out of the building, dropping and rolling in the snow.

  The cold air and wet snow felt good on his face and hands, immediately cooling his exposed skin.

  Yes, yes.

  He tugged his shirt back down past his mouth and struggled forward through the knee-deep snow to get away from the burning building.

  After he’d made it about forty feet, he paused and glanced back.

  Even with the snow blowing in his face, he could feel the raging heat of the fire.

  A spectacular but also unnerving sight.

  As he watched the lighthouse burn, he thought of what Mia had told him on Saturday—in the early days, fires on hills were used to serve as warnings to ships.

  They didn’t set the lighthouses on fire, though.

  The truth of what’d just happened slammed into him: Someone tried to kill you.

  And a second revelation: You need to get off this island.

  He hurried toward the boat, and when he got to the rocks that he’d crawled over when he first arrived, he found that his life jacket was gone.

  So were the oars.

  Kyle shut off the motor and shouted, “Are you alright?”

  “Yeah. Did you see who did this?”

  Kyle shook his head. “He was wearing a ski mask. He took off toward the other side of the island.”

  “And he took the oars and the life jacket?”

  “I don’t know why, but he did.”

  Daniel eased onto the ice.

  “You don’t have a life jacket,” Kyle said unnecessarily.

  “Then I better not fall through.”

  “You’re not really gonna walk across?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “I don’t know, I—”

  “There’s someone on this island who wants me dead. He knew I was in there when he started that fire. If he sees me here alive, who knows what he’ll do.”

  Kyle gave in. “Alright. But be careful.”

  Here, close to the shoreline, the ice would be thicker, but still, Daniel was tentative as he took his first few steps.

  “Steady,” Kyle urged him.

  Concerned that the ice might break if he moved too quickly, Daniel continued to take it slowly as he gently flattened his foot with each step to spread out his weight.

  The farther he went, the more confident he became that he was actually going to make it.

  Just get to the boat and get out of here.

  But when he was about three quarters of the way to the skiff, withering cracks began to spiderweb out from beneath his feet and he heard the crinkle of splintering ice.

  He froze, afraid to make the slightest movement.

  But it didn’t help.

  All at once the ice beneath his feet split open with a crack that sounded like a gunshot echoing across the water.

  “No!” Kyle watched helplessly as Daniel dropped into the inky black water ten feet away from him.

  And didn’t come back up.

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-SIX

  Knives.

  Hundreds of knives stabbing into him, all over him.

  That’s what it felt like.

  Daniel tried to remain calm, tried not to panic, but he hadn’t gotten a good breath before he went under, and now as he sank into the freezing lake, it felt like he had no air in his lungs.

  Though faint light filtered through the ice above him, the water below him was impossibly dark.

  He scissors-kicked toward the surface, but didn’t see the opening he’d fallen through.

  You need to swim toward open water.

  You can make it.

  Relax.

  But the heavy winter clothes and boots were dragging him down. He gave up on the idea of trying to get the boots off, but managed to untangle himself from the bulky winter coat that was making it nearly impossible to swim.

  He stroked upward and kicked fiercely against the incoming tide, which seemed intent on taking him closer to shore where he would never be able to break through the ice above him.

  He searched desperately, but couldn’t locate the fractured ice that’d broken away and plunged him into the lake.

  Battling the stiff current, he went for the ice sheet’s edge, but what little air he had was quickly running out and, despite himself, he let out a gasp of bubbles that burst into the water and then rose, gurgling around his face.

  Still ten feet to go, but it might just as well have been ten miles.

  He wasn’t going to make it.

  You have to!

  More bubbles escaped, and he had to fight the terrible urge to breathe in because if he did, if he took even the smallest gulp, it would all be over.

  Swimming as hard as he could, Daniel aimed for the surface, but it felt like something had wrapped around his leg and was pulling him down.

  A quick glance down: he saw the demon that Nicole had drawn, its bone-white grin gleaming in the eternal darkness, its claws clenching his foot.

  A blur.

  Reality.

  All the same.

  He kicked at it violently and as it swirled away into the angry, churning depths, he focused on getting to the open water above him.

  You can do it. You can make it. For your dad. You need to save your dad!

  The final dribble of air floated from his mouth.

  He stroked once more and reached for the edge of the ice.

  Caught it.

  There.

  Yes.

  But he could barely hold on.

  He was too tired, too fatigued.

  When he kicked forward with what little strength he had left, he wasn’t able to pull himself up or hook his other hand around the ice’s edge.

  He couldn’t get his face to the surface.

  It’s over.

  His grip was weakening, and just as he felt like it was going to slip away for good, a dark form moved toward him—

  The boat?

  But—

  Something snagged his wrist as the fathomless lake tugged at him, trying to claim him for good.

  Daniel felt himself being drawn upward.

  But then he felt nothing but a cold, clutching darkness, and even the feeling of the knives piercing into him was gone.

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-SEVEN

  Kyle clasped Daniel’s wrist as tightly as he could and leaned back in the boat to bring his friend’s head to the surface.

  The waves were washing against the other side of the boat, threatening to move it closer to the ice and crush Daniel or break Kyle’s grip on him.

  Come on, man, pull. You’ve got this!

  He repositioned his hand and heaved again, this time managing to get Daniel’s head above the surface. It didn’t look like he was breathing. His skin was drained
of color.

  You need to get him in the boat.

  Now!

  He hauled up his friend, managing to get his armpits to the gunwale.

  The rowboat wobbled perilously but kept from capsizing.

  Bracing his leg under one of the seats for leverage, Kyle reached down, grabbed the back of Daniel’s belt, and lifted. As the skiff tilted to the side again, nearly taking on water, he hefted Daniel up and swung him into the rowboat.

  His body dropped heavily to the bottom of the boat, his head lolling to the side.

  From being a lifeguard, Kyle realized he needed to get air into Daniel’s lungs immediately.

  With the boat’s seats in the way, positioning his friend on his back was tricky, but once he managed, he tilted Daniel’s head to open up his airway, and gave him two rescue breaths.

  His chest rose.

  Nothing’s blocking his airway.

  He found a pulse on Daniel’s neck.

  Good. That’s good.

  Kyle knew that sometimes when a person falls into ice-cold water, an instinct kicks in—he didn’t know what it was called, but he knew it was there—closing off their throat so that, even though they might drown, their lungs won’t necessarily fill with water.

  If that’s what’d happened with Daniel, it might actually work in his favor.

  He gave Daniel another breath.

  Come on, buddy. You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.

  But Daniel didn’t come to.

  Kyle tried again, then shook him and slapped his face, hoping to revive him.

  Nothing.

  Another breath.

  Then another.

  Come on!

  Kyle was leaning down to give him one more breath when his friend’s body lurched and he coughed up a mouthful of water, then gasped for air.

  Hurriedly, Kyle rolled him onto his side so he wouldn’t swallow any water again and so he could clear out his mouth.

  Daniel coughed twice, spitting out more water as he did, then drew in a long hoarse breath as deep shivers began to wrack his body.

  Shivers are good. They’re the body’s way of trying to stay warm.

  Kyle held him. “You’re alright, man. Just breathe.”

  Daniel nodded.

  “I’m gonna get you to shore.” Kyle was still supporting Daniel’s back. “You okay on your own?”

  “Yeah.” Daniel wasn’t exactly sure that was true, but he didn’t want his friend to worry about him. “I’m good.”

  It took a lot of effort, but he was finally able to scootch over so his back was against the middle seat of the rowboat.

  Kyle offered him his coat, and he accepted. He sloughed off his wet shirt and slipped on the warm, dry jacket while his friend hoisted the anchor, revved up the motor, and aimed the skiff’s bow toward the mainland.

  Nicole watched as Michelle fell asleep.

  The girl hadn’t wanted to take a nap, but while she was reading her a story—something about a moonbeam becoming friends with a unicorn—Michelle had ended up nodding off beside her on the bed.

  Gently easing herself to her feet so she wouldn’t wake her up, Nicole went to get her cell phone from where she’d left it in the kitchen.

  She’d just started looking up online news articles about the wolf shootings when there was a knock at the front door.

  Going to the living room, she peered out the window beside the Christmas tree. Two police officers stood on the porch. From their uniforms it looked like they were troopers with the state patrol.

  Another knock.

  A bit apprehensively, she opened the door. “Yes?”

  “Hello, ma’am,” the taller of the two men said. He was holding out his badge. “Is this the Goessel residence?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you are?”

  “I’m Nicole. I’m the babysitter.”

  “Nicole.” He put the badge away. “We’re looking for Daniel Byers.”

  “Okay.”

  “He disappeared from a hospital in Duluth early this morning. We understand that Kyle Goessel is one of his friends and we’re following up on . . . Wait—” He appraised her. “You said your name is Nicole. Are you Nicole Marten?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your name was favorited on Daniel’s cell phone as well.”

  “He’s my boyfriend.” Say what they’d expect you to say. Don’t act weird. “What do you mean you’re looking for him? Is he okay?”

  “Well, that’s what we’re trying to ascertain. We don’t know his current location. He’s not here?”

  “No.”

  The other officer cut in. “And do you know where he is?”

  Sure, she had an idea of where he was, but Daniel and Kyle might be anywhere between here and Bayfield, so, officially, she didn’t know.

  She went with that and shook her head. “Uh-uh. I saw him at the hospital yesterday, but I couldn’t tell you where he is now.”

  “Do you mind if we come in and take a little look around?” the first cop said.

  “I don’t think you better. Mrs. Goessel’s not here.”

  “She’s not?”

  “No. Like I said, I’m the babysitter.”

  “We’ll be quick. I promise we’ll—”

  “No. Daniel’s not here. And you can’t come in.”

  The officer eyed her coolly. Finally, his partner handed her an official-looking business card. “If you hear of anything, please call us. My cell number’s on there.”

  “Thanks,” she said noncommittally.

  She watched them return to their patrol car and when they were pulling away she tried Kyle’s number.

  No answer.

  She texted him to call her right away. If the cops were out searching for Daniel, he needed to be on the lookout for them.

  Then, distracted by her thoughts about him, she went back to finding out what she could about the wolf poaching.

  Who would have been able to access those wolf tags? Who would even think of killing those wolves?

  Of all the people she knew, Ty Bell was the first one to come to mind: not only was he the kind of guy who might actually do something like this, he might have been able to access the tagged wolf locations from his dad’s office.

  He’d also been the person who found the second wolf.

  How convenient.

  She thought of ways to narrow things down and had an idea.

  Tapping at her phone’s screen, she did a search to see if there was any evidence that the wolves had been shot after or before school hours and if there were any more details about Ty’s discovery of that second poached wolf.

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-EIGHT

  Daniel stood in Larry’s shower with one hand against the wall to keep his balance and stay on his feet. He’d stripped down to his underwear and now blasted the hot water.

  At first, the heat didn’t seem to do any good, but as the tiny bathroom steamed up, the shivers began to subside and he started to regain his strength.

  Both Larry and Kyle had crowded into the bathroom to make sure he didn’t collapse. The shower curtain was yanked to the side and water was pooling on the floor, but Larry didn’t seem to care and simply tossed some towels down to sop it up.

  “So, you feeling any better?” he asked Daniel concernedly.

  “Starting to. Yeah.”

  Daniel tried to let the hot water rinse away the dark residue of fear that had lodged in his mind when he was under the ice, but it didn’t work. He guessed it would stay with him for a long time, probably forever—especially the image of that demon grinning at him, trying to drag him down into a nothingness that would never end.

  On Saturday, Nicole had said that Job had been so haunted by his nightmares that he wished he could be strangled and killed.

  The way things were going, Daniel could start to understand how the guy might have gotten to that point.

  You’re holding on to the edge of the cliff.

  Don’t.

 
; Let.

  Go.

  When he was finally warmed up, he stepped out of the shower and toweled off.

  Before leaving for the kitchen to round up something hot for him to eat, Larry lent Daniel a set of clothes. Since he was almost as tall as Kyle, the clothes didn’t fit much better than Kyle’s had—long arms but tight across the shoulders—but Daniel didn’t mind. He was just glad to be here.

  To be alive.

  To be out of the clutches of that lake.

  Kyle joined Larry in the kitchen while Daniel changed.

  Outside the window, Daniel could see that it was still snowing and it was nearly dark.

  Man, he’d been out of it, hadn’t even noticed how much time was slipping away. Larry and Kyle must have been working on warming him up for longer than he’d thought.

  Once he was dressed, he followed the smell of stew down the hall.

  As Daniel took a seat at the table, Larry asked him again if he was okay and he reiterated that he was fine.

  “You were not looking good, amigo,” Kyle said. “Blue is not your color.”

  “Good to know. Listen, thanks for pulling me out.”

  “No problem, but I gotta say, when you’re dead, you’re heavier than you look.”

  “I’ll try to lose some weight before drowning again.”

  “A few weeks of Zumba should do it.”

  “Only if you join me.”

  “I’ll have my people get back to you.”

  Larry went to the stove and ladled out three bowls of stew. “Do you want some coffee or tea or anything?” he said to Daniel. “Something hot to drink?”

  “No thanks. I’m not really thirsty.”

  “I can’t imagine why not.”

  Larry found three spoons, dipped them into the bowls and delivered them to the table, carrying all three at the same time to save himself a trip across the kitchen—which wasn’t really that big anyway.

  Daniel accepted the stew. “Thanks.”

  “Yeah.”

  After Larry took a seat, silence settled over the table. As they ate, Daniel tried to relax, but failed.