Isle of Man

by Ryan Winfield

  My body is getting loose.

  My mind is getting focused.

  Soon, I’m not thinking about anything, not even winning. I’m just alive in the moment, anticipating the ball and guiding it to the wall in ways that make Jimmy run the court. We spend nearly an hour fighting out long volleys, trading off points, trading off serves. I notice Jimmy is resting longer between his serves. And he’s limping more than ever, favoring his right leg and the old wound in his thigh from that day in the cove. I can still see the wide scar from my rough stitch job.

  I remember swimming him to shore and dragging him into that cave and worrying sick that he was going to die on me. Who could have known we’d end up here? Halfway around the world, fighting over who will be sacrificed by trying to best one another at handball. Jimmy’s serve blazes past my ear, and I run after it, scooping it off the rear wall, but my shot falls short.

  Focus, I tell myself. Focus.

  “Twelve serving ten,” Finn calls from above.

  If Jimmy scores three more points, it’s over. He’s shark meat, and I’m doomed to live a thousand years without my best friend. I can’t stand the thought of it.

  I return his serve, and we volley back and forth, our breath heavy, our hands slapping the ball, the ball cracking loudly off the concrete wall. Then Jimmy hits a high ball, and I leap off the court to return it. But something happens while I’m suspended above him. Everything seems to slow down. Or maybe it just seems like slow motion because my mind speeds up, calculating a million possibilities in a fraction of a second. I see the ball in midair, I see my arm cocked to smack it. I see Jimmy beneath me, his right leg stretched out as he tries to move out of my way. Then I do something that would make me sick with guilt on any other day. I change the direction of my swing and drive the ball into Jimmy’s thigh, aiming for the center of the white scar. The ball connects with an audible thud, and Jimmy falls to ground shrieking and holding his leg.

  The crowd gasps and leans over the court to see if Jimmy’s okay. He pulls it together, pushing himself up off the ground. It’s his serve now, and he limps over to collect the ball, carrying it back while looking down. When he lines up to serve, he looks at me and breaks my heart. His eyes are gray pools of light, his brow pinched with confusion. He looks at me like he doesn’t recognize me at all. As if I remind him of someone he used to know, but he just can’t place who.

  “Thirteen serving ten,” calls Finn.

  Jimmy serves, but the energy is gone out of his game. We volley a few turns but he seems to hardly try, limping after the ball without enthusiasm. I can’t tell whether it’s because of heartache over what I appear to have become, or the pain in his leg, but he no longer seems to care. I want to grab him and hug him and apologize. I grab the ball instead and line up a serve.

  The next five points are the easiest and hardest points of the game. Every time Finn calls down the score, I’m one point closer to saving Jimmy’s life. Every time Finn calls down the score, I’m one point closer to losing my own.

  “Game point serving twelve.”

  The crowd is quiet. Nobody cheering me, nobody enjoying the game. I suck it up and wipe away a tear with the back of my hand. Then I serve the final ball. Jimmy makes a show of going for it, but the moment it’s passed, he drops his head and walks to the ladder and climbs from the court. The crowd parts to let him through. They stare down at me—judging me, loathing me, shaming me. Maybe they should.

  “I didn’t have a choice!” I shout.

  Nobody listens. Several of the rough men from our hunt climb down the ladder and grab me. They carry me to the ledge and hand me up to others waiting to take me away.

  “You don’t understand. I didn’t have a choice!”

  My instinct is to struggle, to fight for my life and run. But I remember Bree telling me that the champion has to go willingly to his sacrifice or they kill him and the runner up. Which means they’ll kill Jimmy if I fight. I relax and let them take me.

  Someone ties my hands behind my back. Then someone else ties my ankles together. Now any chance of escaping my fate is gone for good. As I’m picked up and carried toward the seawall and the waiting crane, I don’t see any sign of Jimmy. Oh, well. It’s better that he doesn’t know until it’s over.

  I do catch a quick glimpse of Bree, but I immediately wish I hadn’t because the horror of what’s about to happen to me is clearly reflected on her face.

  CHAPTER 21

  A Message from the Gods

  Oh God, if you exist, what have I done?

  The world shrinks into two small windows of faraway blue as Finn clamps the iron mask on my head.

  I smell the saltwater, I hear the clinking chain.

  Finn’s blond hair appears in the mask’s eyeholes, his head bent as he traces something with his finger on my bare chest. Then I feel the prick of his knife, the cutting sting as he drags its blade across my flesh, followed by the warmth of my own blood. He’s carving something in my chest. Perhaps a message for me to carry into the afterlife. I struggle against my bonds, but then, remembering that this only works if I’m a willing sacrifice, I clench my teeth and promise myself I won’t scream.

  The crowd surrounding me is silent, but I can feel them watching. Finn works for several minutes, and by the time he’s finished I don’t even mind the pain any longer. In fact, I wish he’d continue. Anything except what I know is coming next.

  Finn’s head disappears from the eyeholes, and I glimpse the blue water beyond. I see the shadow of the crane’s boom swing over the waves, bringing the shadows of the sharks up from the depths. They cruise their vicious circles like angels of death swimming in a watery sky. A fin breaks the surface. I hear the rattle of the chain as the rope pulls it up. I feel the tug of the iron helmet on my neck. Warm piss runs down my leg. Please, I pray, to anything, just let my neck break before I’m eaten. Just let me die and join my mom and dad.

  My mind leaves my body and floats over an ocean of time, retracing my short life. The journey here in the submarine, the adventures at the lake. I’m on the mountain with Jimmy now. We’re sitting on the glacier, looking at the rising moon. I can see the glint of wonder in his eye, his long lashes visible even in the moonlight. It’s funny what images stick with you. Suddenly, I’m in the cove, learning to swim. I hear Jimmy laughing. He calls me buddy for the first time, and I recall how good it felt. Now, I’m standing at the shore after my trip down from the wrecked train, and I’m seeing Jimmy again for the first time, crouched on that rock, the orange sun oozing into the waves as if setting only for him. Now, I’m back underground, my father is rushing to the closing elevator, his words making it just in time: “I love you, Son.” Three simple words—I love you. I only said them once in my life. I said them to my father on his last day alive. I should have said them more. I should have said them to—

  Something grabs my legs.

  I brace for the pain.

  The pressure eases on my neck as I’m lifted and my soul seems to slide back into my body.

  “Put him down!” a distant voice yells. “Put him down, I said. Do it now!”

  Jimmy? Is that you, Jimmy?

  “You lost your chance,” I hear Finn say.

  “Jus’ put him down and let me explain.”

  My feet hit the ground and Jimmy’s strong hands hold me up. Everything is white and blurry outside the eyeholes now.

  “You’s got this all wrong,” Jimmy says. “You dun’ need to kill nobody to be safe. There ain’t no gods out there tryin’ to destroy you here. We can explain ever-thin’.”

  An angry growl rises from the crowd.

  “Throw him to the sharks!” someone shouts. “Yeah, string him up, too,” another says. “Double, double!” they chant.

  “Somebody restrain him,” Finn calls.

  “Wait! Wait!” Jimmy yells as he struggles with someone beside me. “Wait! I’ll prove it. Jus’ give me a chance.”

  “Prove what?” Finn asks. “That you’re delusional?”<
br />
  “Jus’ hear me out,” Jimmy says. “You give me three stones and nothin’ more. Then let me in the water and I’ll call up an iron shark like you’ve never seen.”

  “What do you mean, an iron shark?” Finn asks.

  My legs buckle, but Jimmy’s hands jump to hold me up.

  “Let me show ya,” he says. “We’re not from here, Aubrey and me ain’t. We came from far away to bring you a message.”

  “He’s got a message from the gods!” someone shouts.

  “A message from the gods!” others chant back.

  Then I hear Finn’s voice again: “Are you claiming to have a message from the gods?”

  “Sure,” Jimmy answers. “From the gods.”

  “Fine,” Finn says. “You go call up your iron shark. But if you’re telling the truth, you shouldn’t need any stones to do it. The gods will protect you. So go ahead. Dive in.” He laughs, obviously thinking Jimmy won’t do it. The crowd laughs, too.

  Jimmy’s hands leave me, and the next thing I hear is a loud splash. Without Jimmy supporting me, it’s a struggle to stay on my feet. But refusing to surrender to exhaustion, I stiffen my legs and straighten my spine. Then I press my head forward in the mask for a better view. Jimmy swims amongst the sharks, his head down, his strong arms stroking confidently, propelling him elegantly through the dangerous water. As he breaks past the thickest of the sharks, several fins turn to follow him out to deeper water. But he swims without panic or fear.

  A strange sense of calm comes over me. As if my life is in the hands of something bigger. Some fate that I can’t change and shouldn’t bother trying to change even if I could. Not even with a wish. I doubt Jimmy will be able to locate the submarine in time, especially when he’s surrounded by sharks. And if he does find it, I have no idea how he’ll raise it with no stones, or why the professor wouldn’t be sleeping, or perhaps catatonic in one of his moods. I just wish Jimmy didn’t have to die too.

  Once he’s far from shore, but still short of the submarine by my estimate, Jimmy dives, surrounded by circling fins. A tail splashes. A minute passes. Then Jimmy pops up, treading water farther away. My eyes focus on nothing but him, wishing I could at least say goodbye with a look. Jimmy sucks in a deep breath and dives again. The fins disappear beneath the waves with him. Time creeps past. Two minutes—three—maybe four minutes now. The crowd starts to murmur. A dog yips somewhere behind me. Or maybe a fox.

  The crowds’ murmuring increases as the seconds pass:

  “Nobody can hold his breath that long,” a boy says.

  “He’s gone for sure,” a man’s voice chimes in.

  “The sharks got him for a snack,” a woman adds.

  “Let’s lower the other one now, too,” another calls.

  I hear the clattering chain, rising on its pulley again. The mask is caught up, pulling against my neck. I rise to my tiptoes, ready to die. Oh, well, I think, at least we’ll be together.

  Then Jimmy’s head appears, bobbing on the waves. Sharks rise with him—fins circling, tails thrashing. Jimmy punches at the water, defending himself. Do I really have to watch him get eaten before I die? Must fate truly torture me before I slip to the other side? Why? It doesn’t seem right.

  Suddenly, the fins scatter, the sharks disappear, and the patch of water surrounding Jimmy goes calm. Jimmy faces me, treading water, and although he’s much too far away for me to make out his eyes, I swear I see him smile. Then he rises from the water with his arms outstretched like some long departed sea god returned to embrace the world. He rises until his waist clears the water. Then his thighs, his knees, his feet. Next, the black, protruding submarine sail rises beneath him, lifting him above the waves, and the Park Service crest faces us, glinting in the sunlight. When he stops rising, Jimmy stands six feet above the water on the highest part of the surfaced submarine.

  The crowd behind me gasps.

  Someone screams.

  Several quiet seconds pass, and then I hear the rattle of the chain, the opening of the clasps.

  The mask is pulled from my head.

  My head lolls forward, my chin rests on my chest.

  I see my belly and legs covered in my own blood and I’m suddenly dizzy, feeling faint. I try to look up again, but my neck won’t budge. Even the effort is too much. My world spins, my legs collapse, and I fall backwards, caught in strong, but no longer enemy, arms.

  I close my eyes and surrender to oblivion’s sweet relief.

  CHAPTER 22

  No Turning Back

  “Tell me about my sister again.”

  Finn sits on the edge of his chair beside my bed, his arms propped on his knees, his chin resting in his palms. Jimmy sits beside him. I elbow myself up, wincing when the bandage pulls against my wounded chest where Riley patched me up.

  “Half-sister,” I say. “And she’s only about sixteen to your six hundred.”

  “But what’s she like?” he asks.

  “She ain’t none too nice,” Jimmy says.

  I cast Jimmy a disapproving glance before answering Finn: “She’s got red hair. And freckles. She’s smart as they come, too. Although we sure do have some talking to do when I get back.”

  “And this serum that keeps me from aging,” he says, “You have it in your blood also?”

  “I do,” I answer. “And Hannah does. Jimmy doesn’t have it yet, but he will once we return. Won’t you, Jimmy?” Jimmy tips his chin and looks down instead of nodding yes, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s because he still doesn’t want the serum, or if it’s because he isn’t coming back with me.

  Finn stands and walks to the window. He holds up his right hand, inspecting it in the light.

  “This key you talk about. You’re certain that it’s in my hand?”

  “That’s what the clue says. And you yourself said that you remembered being pricked the last time you saw your father.”

  “And his name was Radcliffe?”

  “Yes,” I reply, “Dr. Robert Radcliffe.”

  “I do remember him doing something to my arm or hand that hurt me. I tried not to cry, and he told me I was strong. But that could have been this serum you talk about. And besides, my memory is worthless. I thought he was a god.”

  “Well, who wouldn’t have? You didn’t know any better. Him flying in and out of here in some machine like nobody in these parts had ever seen or even dreamed. And the gifts. I’m assuming he brought all those statues here.”

  Finn nods.

  “They came on ships, offloaded by cranes that seemed to work themselves by some magic of the gods. Gifts for my mother in between his visits. Then while he was away, she got sick. I must have been seven, or maybe eight. He came one last time. I remember him holding her skull and crying. I have it still. My mother’s skull. It’s the first one in our family wall.” Finn turns from the window and I see that he has tears in his eyes. “I really messed up badly.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  His voice quivers, “The games. The sacrifices. All those kids. Hundreds of them.” He covers his face with his hands and weeps. “Oh, sweet Mother, I really messed up.”

  “But how could you have known?” I ask, wanting to ease his grief. “If that’s what the adults taught you, that the gods demanded sacrifices to protect the island, how could you have known any different? I was taught lies. I was told none of this was even up here. And I believed it, too, until I saw for myself. You couldn’t have known, Finn.”

  Finn drops his hands, but his eyes are still filled with tears. I can see the pain in his expression, the self-judgment written there. It must be torture.

  “I could have known,” he says. “I should have. The truth is, I had suspicions over the years. Deep down, I did. But the people believed the stories. And the rituals made them feel safe. I’m not an evil man. I know that I’m not. But I have a strange feeling I’ll pay somehow for what I’ve done.”

  I don’t know what to say to that, so I don’t say anything. Jimmy and I share a l
ook as Finn stares at the floor. When he speaks again, his voice is soft, as if he’s speaking to himself.

  “I used to climb to the highest point on the island—on clear days, in the early years, when I was young. I remember looking across the water to distant lands and wondering. I knew there were answers out there somewhere. But I never found the courage to leave the island. I just never did. I chose to remain ignorant and believe the old myths. I failed my people.”

  “You would have been hunted by drones anyway,” I say. “So you were stuck here. It just wasn’t the gods and the sharks that kept you protected. It was your father’s mercy, something he seemed to have little of for anyone else.” I lean forward, not wanting to take advantage of his regret, but not wanting to miss an opportunity either. “Now’s your chance to change all that. Come back with us, Finn. Let Hannah X-ray your right hand. The code hidden inside you has the power to save countless lives. If that’s not some kind of amends, I don’t know what is.”

  “What about my people here?” he asks.

  “We’ll bring you back to the island after. We can do the round trip in less than two months. Can’t we, Jimmy?”

  Jimmy nods.

  Finn paces the room, shaking his head.

  “I’m not at all certain they’d make it here without me,” he says. “I’m not even sure they’d let me leave, to be honest. Even though they call me Lord, they’re possessive of me, too.”

  “We can sneak away then,” I suggest.

  “Never work,” he says. “There’ll be chaos here for sure. And who knows what sacrifices they’d make without me here to deny them. I won’t let another innocent islander die.”

  I sit up and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. The pain brings tears to my eyes, so now both Finn and I are crying, although for vastly different reasons.