Evie followed Catherine until they stepped out into a happy little town square. A few kids were playing soccer on one side, and a fountain gurgled in the middle. An older man sat on a chair watching from his front porch, and two teenagers were lounging at the base of the fountain, sunbathing. But the moment Catherine and Evie appeared, everything stopped. Everyone looked at them closely, though it felt like they were more curious than scared or suspicious. And that was when Evie realized that by finding their way to the town, they’d passed a kind of test. These people trusted them.
Catherine approached one of the teenagers and spoke to him. He looked at her for a moment and then turned to the girl next to him. They chatted in another language, and then he told Catherine in English, “Peter knows. He lives over there.” The boy pointed toward a small path leading toward another on the edge of town.
“Thank you,” said Catherine, and she returned to Evie. “Peter knows where Benedict is.”
“Who’s Peter?” asked Evie, grateful that the teens at least knew who they were talking about.
“No idea. Shall we?” Catherine pointed toward the path, and they started down a thin dirt trail bordered by short grass that led out of the tiny town toward a little house on top of a small hill. The house was quite pretty—picturesque, even. It stood on stilts, though only a few feet off the ground, not nearly the same kind of height as Thom’s home in the trees. It had a low, sloping grass roof that met up with slightly faded but colorfully painted walls in a lively yellow. And as Catherine and Evie approached, they noticed a young man sitting on the narrow staircase that led up to the door. He was so engrossed in a thick book on his lap that he didn’t even notice them until they said hello.
“Are you Peter?” asked Catherine.
The young man stared at her for a moment. Evie couldn’t tell if he was scared or confused. His brown eyes were huge, the whites impressively so.
“Catherine Lind,” said the young man with a slight accent.
Evie looked at Catherine, and she couldn’t tell if the explorer was scared or confused.
“Yes,” said the explorer carefully.
“You are the famous Catherine Lind.” The young man’s eyes grew even wider, if that was possible, which, it turned out, it was.
“Well…I don’t know about famous,” said Catherine, looking uncomfortable.
The young man stood up and held the book under his arm. He stuck out his hand. “I’m Peter Booth. I’m Benedict Barnes’s apprentice. Well, that’s what I call it.” He smiled a little at that.
“What does he call it?” asked Evie.
Peter shrugged. “He doesn’t call it anything. He doesn’t like me tagging along all the time. He lets me, though. He sees I care about photography. He loaned me this!” He held up the book, a worn copy of Photographing Everything: By Which We Mean Everything. “You must be looking for him. I’ll take you to him. He will not be happy to see you, but I’m so happy to see you. To meet you. And you, too, little girl.” He smiled at Evie.
“Evie Drake.” She extended her hand. Peter’s eyes grew so wide that Evie was certain this surely had to be the farthest extent that his eyes could reach. It took her a moment to understand his reaction. “Uh…yeah. Oh. Yeah.” Her last name. Of course, her last name.
“Drake?” asked Peter, his jaw practically on the ground.
“Yup, that’s my last name.” How awkward. And yet, how kind of wonderful, too. To have someone who had some sense of who she was because of family.
“Oh my. Oh my, my. It’s so lovely to meet you. So lovely to meet you both. Come with me. I’ll take you up the mountain. It’s a long walk but pleasant. He won’t be happy to see either of you at all. Oh, it’s just so fantastic to meet you both!”
And with that, Evie and Catherine, after a glance at each other, followed Peter back through the town and out the other side and began their long and evidently most unwelcome journey to the top of a volcano.
Sebastian was getting seriously tired of waking up with a start. In fact, he was getting so tired of it, he could likely have fallen asleep from it, but he didn’t because he just knew he’d end up, of course, waking up with a start afterward.
He sat there, bleary-eyed, heavy-bodied, like he was balancing a massive weight on his head. For a moment he actually thought he was, until he realized someone had put those sound-canceling headphones on him to protect his ears. In any event, he was altogether and completely disoriented and generally unhappy. It took him a full five minutes to figure out he wasn’t in the private plane, as he’d assumed, but back in the helicopter. Or in a helicopter. How had that happened? When had that happened? How had he slept through all that? He thought back to the plane and remembered being given some water to drink. Had they given him something to make him sleepy so that he wouldn’t try to escape again? In his fuzzy state, Sebastian’s logical brain still was able to answer: Most likely yes. It was tough to gather his bearings, feeling like this, and he was pretty resentful that they’d done that to him. Though, he did have to confess, he probably would have tried to escape again had they not.
He looked around the helicopter. This one looked different from the one he’d flown away from the Explorers Society in. Roomier on the inside, large enough that he was sitting only opposite the frowning Mr. K, while the other two were sitting somewhere behind him. It was also daylight. It was also distinctly not Seoul.
Seoul. The Lost Boys. Kwan. Suwon. They all seemed part of a dream, and maybe they were. Maybe, now that he thought about it, he’d been flying all this time, and when he’d gotten mouthy in the private plane someone had drugged him and the rest had not happened at all, had just been a fever dream. The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. He hadn’t really joined a K-pop group. That was too absurd for words.
Then he looked down at himself.
He was still wearing the shiny jeans and the shiny sports jacket over the artfully ripped white shirt.
Okay. So he’d really joined a K-pop group.
How he missed his K-pop group.
The grogginess was slowly leaving him, and finally he was able to feel a bit less resigned and nostalgic, and more scared and frustrated. No, not frustrated, angry. Angry with himself and with these men and with the pilot of the plane and now helicopter. He’d been so close. So close to getting away. Getting to Evie. Getting home. And to have that all ripped away at the last moment just like that—in, admittedly, a very clever fashion—well, it was really all too much for him to bear.
“I hate this,” he said, the anger bubbling forth and spewing out bitterly. He crossed his arms and seethed.
“I’d be surprised if you didn’t,” buzzed an annoyingly jovial familiar voice in his earphones. “But think of it this way: you had a once-in-a-lifetime experience.” Mr. M paused as he always did when he thought about what he’d just said. “Well, I suppose all your experiences from this point on will be once-in-a-lifetime. Seeing as there isn’t much of it left.” He said it as fact and as a fascinating realization, not as a threat. But of course, it made Sebastian’s blood run cold. He turned around to look at Mr. M sitting in the seat behind him.
“I think I’ll have as many experiences as I want to, thank you very much. Because I’m never telling you anything,” spat Sebastian at Mr. M.
“Well. We’ll see about that,” replied Mr. M with a smile.
Sebastian hated that smug smile so much. He hated it! He was this close to getting up and smacking Mr. M in the face, and that was crazy-weird because Sebastian had never had a violent tendency in his life. Even his temper tantrums as a small child had always been measured and polite. No kicking or screaming, just an “I would still rather like to do this thing, please.”
But he was angry, and he was scared, and he also was still a little fuzzy, and he hated Mr. M so much and hated all of them so much.
Still, o
f course he wouldn’t hit him.
He just smiled back instead.
Which appeared to strike Mr. M just as well as any physical blow would have, because he frowned and turned away in a huff.
Sebastian, too, turned away, with a small feeling of triumph, and looked out the window. They were flying over a brilliant blue body of water, and even though it was the last place he wanted to be, he was still quite impressed by the sight. There was no land around for miles, and he wondered why they were in a helicopter in the first place. Why not still in the plane?
There was something ominous in that question, and Sebastian wrapped his arms more tightly around himself and sank lower in his seat.
What did the helicopter mean?
“He’s up ahead, just beyond that ridge,” said Peter, pulling back a large branch and pointing.
Evie was impressed by how not-winded he was. He had taken them halfway up the mountain at quite a clip, but since Catherine hadn’t said anything and since it did make the most sense to get to Benedict as fast as possible, Evie had kept quiet. A good thing too, because now she could hardly speak for lack of breath. The journey through the jungle up the mountain had taken them an hour, and they hadn’t packed any water or food, and neither had Peter. And yet he seemed perfectly content and fresh.
“I’ll leave you now. Let you speak with him alone. He’s not going to be happy to see you. It’d be best if I wasn’t there,” said Peter cheerfully, and he turned around and started to head back down the mountain, just like that.
“Why do you keep saying that?” Evie called after him.
He stopped and looked at her. “Saying what?”
“That he won’t be happy to see us?”
“Oh! Well. He refuses to talk about the team and won’t read that letter Alistair Drake sent him. It seems quite clear to me. Is it not to you?” he asked sincerely.
“If he refuses to talk about us, how do you know so much about us?” asked Catherine.
“I did research. And I don’t hate you.” Peter smiled at that, and then with a wave turned around and disappeared into the foliage.
“Ever feel really not wanted?” asked Evie.
“Well, right now, as a matter of fact,” replied Catherine. They looked at each other for a moment. “Oh. That was you being sarcastic again, wasn’t it?”
“It was!” said Evie with a smile. Catherine smiled too, and then they started up the mountain again.
By the time they reached the end of the jungle, their clothes, which had just begun to dry off, were now fully drenched with sweat once more. Evie’s hair stuck uncomfortably to the back of her neck, and what she wanted more than anything was just to jump into a lake. Preferably a very cool one. Though, as they stepped into the sunshine, Evie realized that that wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon.
Before them the landscape had changed drastically. An incline of grass and dirt presented itself to them and then vanished over a small ridge. Beyond it the top of the volcano grew tall and dark, covered in black volcanic rock and looking not just a little ominous. The peak wasn’t far away. Evie was tempted to run for it, to go right up its side and look over the edge. But that wasn’t what they were there for. This wasn’t an exploration; this was a meeting. She did have to confess, though, that a meeting on the side of a volcano was way better than one in a dank, dark boardroom underground.
They made their way along the slight incline of dust and dirt and short grass, enjoying the breeze that now cooled their bodies, until they climbed over the ridge. The temperature was dropping, which was a massive relief, and the breeze was turning into a proper wind. However, they now faced a new problem: walking against the wind was very challenging, slowing their progress and bringing tears to their eyes from the exposure. Finally, her cheeks wet from her watering eyes and her legs approaching the end of their usefulness, Evie felt the texture of the ground change beneath her feet. She had made it to where the dirt turned to basalt at the very base of the volcano’s tip. Yes, they had arrived, in the shadow of the mountain peak, at a small campsite with a little beige tent and an extinguished fire pit. And sitting on a promontory, not much farther away, looking in the opposite direction, was Benedict Barnes.
He sat cross-legged, in khaki trousers and a dark green jacket, the collar pulled up around his throat. He was perfectly still, his camera dangling from his neck. He was staring through his black-framed glasses at something. Or nothing. Or everything.
They approached the campsite, and the sound of their feet crunching on the stone should have signaled their presence to him. But he didn’t turn around. They were tentative in approaching where he sat. It seemed one of them really ought to have called out to him. It was almost as if they were being sneaky, almost like when someone tiptoes up to you and then says “Boo!” to startle you. Now that Evie was thinking about it, she found she was actually kind of tempted to do it.
But she refrained.
“I don’t know why you came here,” said Benedict. His voice was soft and calm and warm. “I don’t want anything to do with you, Alistair. You know that.”
Alistair? Evie looked at Catherine in confusion. That was a bit unexpected.
“It’s me, Benedict,” said Catherine. Her voice too was soft. Almost as soft as when she spoke with animals.
Benedict turned and stared at her. Many people had stared at them in the last few days but none of them quite like this. There were so many emotions on his face, and yet Evie couldn’t pinpoint exactly which ones. The emotions swarmed around like leaves dancing in the wind, never really landing anywhere. And just when she thought she’d figured them out, they would fly off again. Finally: “Catherine.”
“Hi,” Catherine said.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, rising carefully, his right hand lingering, still touching the earth for a moment as he rose.
“We need to talk,” she said.
He walked over to her, still staring. “We couldn’t have talked back in the city?”
“No.”
Evie felt squirmy. She was bursting at the seams to say something. To be a bit clearer than Catherine was being at the moment. But sometimes directness, she knew, wasn’t the point. Right now other things were going on. What they were, she was less sure of.
“If this is about Alistair, I don’t want to hear it,” said Benedict. Again, he didn’t sound mean when he said it. He just said it.
“Well, you’re going to have to,” said Catherine.
“And why’s that?”
“Because this is his granddaughter.” Catherine pointed to Evie, though she really hadn’t needed to. Evie was standing right there. The only other person on the volcano with them.
Benedict directed his attention to her now. Again his expression was unreadable.
“Hi,” said Evie. Yup, just like Catherine, that was pretty much all she could say in the moment.
He kept looking at her closely, and for a second Evie got a sense that it was with amazement. But the expression was fleeting, and, finally, after a moment longer he said, “All right, I’ll listen. But that’s all. Let’s sit.” Benedict directed them back toward the promontory. It jutted out over the far side of the mountain, which dropped steeply off and down, to far, far below, where it crashed into the sea. She understood now why the volcano could only be climbed up on one side.
The promontory was large enough for half a dozen people. And they sat, all facing outward toward the view. From where they were sitting, it almost felt like they were floating on air. It might have seemed silly, but it was the first time Evie had even realized there would be a view. She hadn’t once in their climb thought to look up or out, so focused had she been on the journey ahead. Hmm. That felt like a metaphor for something. Well, no matter.
Evie gazed out at what lay before her. Even though she had been spoiled with views of late,
this one certainly did not disappointment. It was vast, sweeping, spectacular. The island fell away all around them, and the sea could be seen on three sides. Everything was green jungle and blue sea and, if she turned around, black basalt. The town wasn’t visible at all. It was as if they three were the only humans anywhere.
“Wow,” she said, feeling instantly kind of ridiculous after she said it.
“Tell me what you came here to say,” said Benedict. He raised his camera and looked through the small viewfinder. Evie hadn’t seen anyone take a picture that way in a long time. It was old-fashioned. But also kind of cool. She waited to hear the shutter click, but it didn’t. Benedict lowered the camera instead.
“Why didn’t you take a picture?” asked Evie.
“I don’t know,” replied Benedict in that same calm manner, but there was a note to his voice now that sounded a little puzzled. As if he both didn’t know and also didn’t know why he didn’t know.
“Benedict,” said Catherine, “Alistair is in trouble.” Benedict picked up the camera again. “He’s in danger. We don’t know where or why, but we think he’s sent letters to all of us to use together to find him. To help him. Were you sent a letter? Peter said something about that.”
“I told you I don’t have any interest in him,” said Benedict, still staring through the viewfinder, not answering the question.
“But he could be killed,” said Evie, not able to contain herself anymore and not exactly sure why she had held back in the first place. There was just something about Benedict that made her want to behave respectfully.
“I doubt that very much,” replied Benedict.
“Why?” asked Evie. She certainly didn’t doubt it.
The Reckless Rescue Page 18
