by Mark Robson
Think positive, he told himself. Don’t give up.
A tongue of rocks projected down the beach and into the sea ahead. Sam expected his captor to slow as they approached, but the creature’s running rhythm barely stuttered as they powered up and over the rocky outcrop. It leapt from rock to rock with goat-like sure-footedness and with a final gigantic leap, they flew down to land on the soft sand of the beach on the far side. Despite the force of the impact, the creature’s massive legs appeared to absorb the shock of landing with ease and it continued running without any sign of effort.
‘Bloody hell!’ Sam swore under his breath. What would it take to slow this thing down?
Rather than running straight on down the beach, they turned left and raced up through the softer sand towards the jungle. Sam knew from experience how hard it was to run through soft sand, but the extra effort did not appear to have any effect on the lizard-man other than a slight shortening of its stride.
It was quieter here, the rocky outcrop providing a natural barrier against the storm winds. As they approached the trees, Sam could see that the foliage was barely moving. Instinctively closing his eyes, tucking his head down and tensing his shoulders in expectation of the same whipping impacts he had experienced when he had first been carried from the jungle, Sam did not see the path coming. It was not visible until they entered it, cutting into the trees at an oblique angle.
The sound of the creature’s footfalls changed as they entered the trees. Sam suddenly felt a weird sensation of enclosure. After a few moments, he tentatively lifted his head and cracked his eyes open. He did so just in time to witness the end of the short path and see their destination, which proved to be a whole new surprise. He had expected a cave, or a nest, or a further group of creatures with hungry grins. Instead, he found himself blinking with amazement as they entered a small clearing and approached a large wooden house with a pitched roof. It seemed to be of human design, tucked in the lee of the low rocky outcrop.
They stopped a few paces short of the front door and the creature let out one of its fearsome roars. Sam felt as though his heart might burst free from his chest as his imagination ran wild. Was he about to be saved or did a new horror lurk within?
A voice called out inside the building – a human voice. What was more, the voice held no note of fear.
‘Leah! We’ve got company.’
There was a short pause and the door of the building opened. A man stepped out on to the threshold. He didn’t look particularly old, but his thick mop of hair was white-grey and he had a trimmed beard and moustache of the same colour. Sam had never been so pleased to see anybody in his life.
With an abruptness that took him totally by surprise, Sam was dropped to the ground. Callum landed with a thud next to him. The lizard-man made some clicking noises. They were much slower than when the creatures had chattered at each other earlier. To Sam’s amazement, the man in the doorway responded with some throat-bending clicks of his own. There was a further exchange and then the man bowed and waved as the creatures turned and raced away back towards the beach.
Sam found he couldn’t move. His relief was so intense that all strength deserted him and tears began to flow down his cheeks.
‘Are you OK, boy?’ the man asked, kneeling at Sam’s side and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. ‘Are you hurt?’
‘I’ll be fine in a minute,’ Sam sniffed. ‘I’m not hurt, but I think my friend Callum might be hypothermic’
‘Well, don’t worry. We’ll get Callum inside and warm him up. With any luck, he’ll be right as rain in no time. Are there any others with you?’
‘No,’ Sam replied. ‘It was just us on our boat. We did see a light earlier, but that seemed to be coming from the land.’ He paused and then continued in a rush. ‘Excuse me, sir, but who are you? And what were those things that brought me here? And where is here?’
The man looked him in the eye and gave a wry smile.
‘Have you ever see the film The Wizard of Oz, lad?’ he asked in return.
‘Yes. Why?’
‘Well, let’s just say, “You’re not in Kansas any more!”’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘Yes, that’s right. They’re still missing.’ Matthew Cutler’s face said it all as he spoke into the phone: frustration, pain and anger.
Niamh finally understood the haunted look in his eyes. She had seen it many times before, normally whenever anyone mentioned her mum, Claire, but she had never truly understood it until now. She had felt strangely hollow since Sam’s disappearance, but at least she could sense he was still alive. How must it be for her dad? He had never had such assurance with Mum, nor would he have it now with Sam. It was no wonder he looked the way he did.
Niamh had few memories of her mother and those she did have were vague. Blonde hair. Warmth. Feelings of love and security. She had looked at pictures many times of course. Whenever she looked at them, she felt sadness and a sense of loss – not the loss of something tangible, but for something she’d never really had. All the other girls at school had grown up with mothers to care for them and love them and talk girly stuff with them. What would that have been like? Niamh could only imagine. She felt cheated and sometimes confused. Dad had been great at caring for her, but Niamh had often felt jealous when she saw the way her friends acted around their mothers. She could not help feeling that she had missed out on the most special relationship of her childhood.
More recently, looking at the pictures had also created confusion as to which were true memories and which were false, created from the paper and digital images. When she had last looked at the photos, Niamh had finally realised just how beautiful her mother had been. Looking in the mirror, Niamh had appreciated that she had inherited some of her mother’s features. It seemed the older she got, the more the likeness grew ever more apparent.
Niamh had noticed an odd look appear in her dad’s eyes when he was looking at her sometimes. It had made her feel strangely uncomfortable, and she knew that in those moments it was not her he was seeing.
‘As I told you earlier, they left about ten this morning,’ Matthew said, impatience rising in his tone. He rarely displayed anger openly, but Niamh could see her dad was building towards an explosion.
‘Calm,’ she mouthed, making a slow downward gesture with the palms of her hands. ‘Deep breath.’ She inhaled deeply through her nose, inflating her chest to its full capacity. Matthew gave a wry smile and an almost imperceptible nod. The venom melted from his voice.
‘Yes, I can give you the details of the boat again . . .’
Niamh moved away into the kitchen. The pizzas they had ordered should be arriving any time and she couldn’t stand eating it straight from the box with her fingers the way the boys normally did. Pulling a large wooden breadboard from the cupboard under the microwave, Niamh set to work laying the dining table.
First she set out the place mats, coasters, knives and forks before putting two plates in a bowl of hot water to warm. After all the trauma and excitement, it felt good to do something so routine, even if it did feel wrong to only set two place settings. As she carefully poured out two tall glasses of fruit juice, Niamh realised that she was still a bit shaky.
With all that had happened today, she could not imagine for one second how she was ever going to sleep again. ‘What if’ questions rattled round and round inside her head with little hope of any answers. What if the boys were gone forever? What if the coastguards found wreckage, but no bodies? What if the weather was stormy again tomorrow? What if, what if, what if!
There was a knock at the door. Niamh moved instantly to answer it. A pizza delivery boy was standing inside the porch with two boxes balanced on the fingertips of his left hand. His dark hair was plastered to his head and his shirt was soaking wet. Behind him the rain sheeted down in torrents. It was dark enough to be mistaken for evening outside, yet it was barely past four in the afternoon. Where were the boys? Even the thought of being out on the sea in this wea
ther made Niamh shudder. At the moment she could not sense what was happening to Sam, but his presence had not disappeared altogether. She felt confident he was still alive.
‘Twenty-three ninety, please,’ the boy said, giving Niamh a warm smile. He gave a sideways flick of his head. ‘Another fine day in paradise.’
As if to ratify his sarcasm, there was a flash of lightning followed almost instantly by a loud crash of thunder. He visibly flinched, but quickly grinned again in an effort to look as if he was dismissive of the storm.
‘Just a sec,’ she answered, leaving the door ajar and running silently through to the living area where her dad was still on the phone. She waved to get his attention and signalled that she needed some money. He fished in his pocket and pulled out his wallet, throwing it across to her and continuing his conversation with the coastguard.
Niamh caught the wallet, opened it and riffled through the notes. As she walked back to the door she drew out a twenty, a five and three one-dollar bills.
‘There you go,’ she said, passing the money over and taking the boxes. She could feel the heat of the pizza through the cardboard and the smell of it was heavenly.
‘Thanks,’ he replied, noting the tip. ‘Enjoy your food.’
‘Thank you. We will.’
She closed the door and took the boxes to the table.
‘. . . and if there’s any news . . . any news at all, you’ll ring me. Good. I appreciate that, thanks.’ Matthew hung up.
‘Perfect timing, Dad,’ Niamh said. ‘Come and get some while it’s hot.’
‘I just want to ring the Sheriff’s Office . . .’ he began, picking up the handset again.
‘Please, have some food first,’ she begged. ‘It’ll get cold. Don’t make me eat alone. The Sheriff’s Office will still be there in ten minutes. You know how I can normally feel when Sam’s in trouble? Well, I’m not getting any sense of danger at the moment. He’s OK. I’ve no idea where he is, but I think we can spare a few minutes to eat. Come and sit down.’
Matthew hesitated a moment, then he put the phone down and joined her at the table. Despite feeling hungry, Niamh found that for all her brave words, now the food was in front of her she could hardly eat anything. The aroma from the pizza was wonderful, but from the first bite she found herself struggling to swallow. Hawaiian pizza was her favourite, and this one was a beauty. The thin base was perfectly cooked, and the blend of the meat with the sweet pineapple was just right, but her stomach rebelled. It churned continually with tangled emotions.
Her father ate quickly and in silence. Niamh watched him, jealous of his appetite. He appeared to be viewing the pizza rather like a refuelling exercise. His face remained expressionless and flat as he demolished one slice after another.
‘So after the Sheriff’s Office, what then?’ Niamh asked.
‘I’ll give my friend Mike a ring. He works with the Florida Wildlife people up in Marathon,’ he replied, meeting her eyes for the first time since he had sat down. ‘They have several boats – more than the Sheriff’s Office, I think. They did a lot of searching for . . . for your mum when she disappeared.’
Niamh had to look away. She couldn’t bear to look at him. The pain in her father’s eyes tore at her, yet strangely, she did not feel the pain for herself. Was she cold-hearted? It felt as if she was just going through the motions, rather than really believing that the search around the Keys would lead them to Sam and Callum. An empty space yawned inside her like the black mouth of a mineshaft, yet Sam’s presence was still there, like a distant echo. She felt no tears welling at the thought of him not coming back because, deep down, she knew that he was alive, just out of reach. But why could she not look her father in the eye? He needed her now, more than ever. Everything was mixed up.
‘When are you going to ring Callum’s parents?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know,’ he admitted, shaking his head. ‘I keep thinking about that. I mean, what am I to tell them?’
‘The truth?’
‘Yes, but how?’ He paused, a slice of pizza drooping from between his fingers. ‘Oh, God! Can you imagine it?’ His voice changed as he began to playact. ‘Hello, Mrs Barnes – Matthew Cutler here. Sorry to disturb you in the middle of the night, but I just wanted to let you know that your son has gone missing in my boat. It’ll be dark here soon. There’s a storm raging outside and the waters around here have a nasty reputation for being treacherous, but don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll be just fine. The coastguards are out searching for him. They’re very good at their job.’
He tore a vicious bite out of his pizza slice. Niamh thought quietly for a moment.
‘I know there’s no easy way of telling them,’ she agreed. ‘But put yourself in their position: would you rather find out sooner or later that something bad had happened to one of us?’
The little colour that had remained in Matthew’s face drained away, leaving his skin the colour of pale margarine.
‘You are your mother’s daughter, Niamh,’ he said softly. ‘That’s exactly the sort of thing she would have said.’
‘Except Mum would have said it with an American accent,’ she replied, trying to lighten the moment. ‘I’d try, but I don’t do accents.’
‘Please, don’t! You get more like her every day as it is.’
‘And is that such a bad thing?’ Niamh asked tentatively.
‘No,’ her father said. ‘It’s actually rather wonderful, but when I look at you now, I keep seeing her. I can’t help it. It makes the pain of having lost her seem sharper than ever. Your mother was a very special lady, Niamh, and you are growing up to be just like her. I know I should be counting my lucky stars, but
Niamh got to her feet and stepped round the table. Turning, she sat down on his lap and hugged him. It felt good to hold him close. Good, but just a little awkward. How long had it been since she had last sat like this? Not since starting secondary school. Sitting on her father’s lap made her feel like a little girl again. Since she had left primary school, she had shed so much of the innocent, affectionate behaviour she had shown her father when she was younger. It hadn’t seemed appropriate any more. But now, feeling the affectionate squeeze of his arms around her, she began to appreciate what she had given up.
The time of her little-girl innocence had ended, yet her time as an adult had not yet arrived. She was neither one nor the other, but stuck in between. Suddenly, it felt a horrible place to be.
‘You will always be my little girl,’ he said, seemingly reading her mind. Another bright flicker of light outside cast eerie shadows round the room. The thunder boomed, carrying a crackling edge to it that bore witness to the violence of the burning bolts of lightning. ‘Come on. Up you get. I need to be doing something towards finding your brother. I can’t stand thinking about him and Callum being out in this.’
‘Ring Callum’s parents first,’ Niamh said. ‘They need to know, Dad. You can’t keep it from them.’
‘All right,’ he agreed reluctantly. ‘I’ll ring them. What time is it?’
‘Back home it’ll be about 9.30 p.m.’
He picked up his wallet from where Niamh had put it on the corner of the table and pulled out a scrap of paper from behind a credit card. He stared at the number and then at the phone. Niamh could only imagine how he was feeling as he reached for the handset. Anyone looking at him at that moment could have been forgiven for thinking he was preparing himself to pick up a poisonous snake or stick his hand inside a hornets’ nest.
The rapid bee bee bee bop boo bee bee bop of the numbers keying through were just audible to Niamh. She watched her father wait nervously for the line to connect.
‘Hello? Mr Barnes? Sorry to ring at this hour. It’s Matthew Cutler here . . . yes, that’s right . . . yes, I’m afraid there has been an incident . . . well, that’s just it – I don’t know. There’s no easy way to say this, David, but . . . well . . . Callum and Sam have gone missing . . . They took my boat out without permission and haven’t returned . .
. About seven hours now . . . Yes, the coastguard and all the relevant authorities . . . We went out looking . . . Oh! All right. You have my number here? Goodbye.’ He put the phone down slowly.
‘What did he say, Dad?’
Matthew Cutler’s brow furrowed in a deep frown. ‘It was really strange,’ he said. ‘Have I missed something, somewhere? Callum’s father turned frosty the instant I told him the boys had gone missing. He only asked a couple of questions and then cut off the conversation. What was that all about? His son is missing for goodness’ sake!’
‘Beats me,’ said Niamh, giving a shrug. ‘He seemed friendly enough when he dropped Callum off at our house. Perhaps he’s just had one of those nightmare days when nothing goes right. Still you’ve phoned him now. Duty done.’
‘Yes,’ he sighed. He picked up the phone, steeled his expression and dialled another number. ‘Hello? Sheriff’s Office, please . . .’
David Barnes stared at the telephone for several long moments after replacing the handset. He took a deep breath and his eyes flicked across to the nearby coffee table where Callum’s postcard was still resting on top of the rest of the day’s post. His only child had always been one for playing practical jokes and when he had first read the card, David had laughed, assuming this was another. But the moment Matthew Cutler had told him Callum was missing, he could not help thinking that this time his son might have been at least half serious. It would be just like him to make a joke out of something like that. That was the problem with Callum – even when he was serious, he insisted on being the comedian. He leaned across and picked up the card again. The picture was an aerial photo of the Lower Keys. He flipped it over and read his son’s scrawled message again:
Dear Mum and Dad,
Weather is fantastic. Been snorkelling, water-skiing, fishing and generally having a great time. Turns out Mr Cutler is a mad axe murderer, but am keeping my head down and trying not to annoy him too much! Love you lots.
Callum
