Was it worth it? he wondered. They’d traded Golf for Archer, essentially—a life for a life—killed a bunch of guards and terrified some poor, miserable civilians along the way. Was it worth it? He didn’t know the answer to that question. But, of course, Golf had the bunker codes, didn’t he? Maybe that was all that mattered to Staff Sergeant Prig in the end.
Malin helped Raymond bring the sloop in along the fishing dock, though they scraped the side of the deck in the process. Then Malin climbed over and tied the boat off to one of the corner posts of the handrail. It would have to do.
Spence and Prig carried the injured Marine. The guy looked like he was in bad shape. His face was all misshapen and bruised, one eye swollen shut, his cheeks puffed out, his lips split. It seemed like the militiamen had worked him over with a baseball bat. As they lugged him onto the deck, he grunted in pain, but he seemed remarkably patient with all the rough handling.
“Just take him up to the guesthouse,” Elna said. “Don’t wait for us. Find Dr. Ruzka or Selene. They’ll tend to his wounds.”
“Thanks, ma’am,” Prig said.
Golf put one arm around Prig, the other around Spence, and they took off at a jog up the road. By the time Elna, Malin, and Raymond had carried the packs onto the fishing dock, the Marines were halfway up the hill.
“Those guys have way too much energy,” Malin noted. “Do they ever get tired?”
“I think they get tired, but they keep going anyway,” Raymond said. He had stooped down to examine the exit hole of a bullet on the starboard hull.
Elna picked up the backpack that had formerly belonged to Archer and slung the straps over her shoulders. The weight of it seemed to surprise her, and she had to lean forward to keep her balance. “What did you guys put in here? Ten thousand scalpels?”
“I don’t know,” Malin said, shouldering his own pack. “Archer cleared shelves with her arm. There’s no telling what we got.” He felt a twinge of sadness to think of her. He’d barely known the woman, of course. Still, she’d been alive a couple of hours ago, and now she was lying at the bottom of the bay.
We almost made it out of there with everyone, he thought. Almost.
Then again, it could’ve been worse. The fact that he and Elna had accompanied the Marines in the first place was pretty crazy. He gazed at the ship and saw morning sunlight shining through a small hole in the mainsail.
“If she’s still afloat tomorrow morning, we’ll know the damage wasn’t too extensive,” Raymond said.
“Well, hopefully, we’ll never need to sail off the island ever again,” Malin said.
Raymond and Elna headed up the fishing dock. Malin started to follow them, but something caught his eye. A faint shifting shape in the water on the horizon to the northeast. He might have thought it was an optical illusion, some trick of sunlight on the bay, but when he squinted he could make out two distinct vertical lines. Masts on a ship, one big, one small.
He was still studying it when he heard a familiar voice from behind him.
“Oh my goodness, when did you guys get back?”
Norman was coming from the direction of the causeway. In his sweatpants and stained long-sleeve shirt, big wooly beard erupting from the lower half of his face, he was looking more and more like a wild man of the woods. But he was also a sight for sore eyes. The young Marine named Mac was walking with him.
“It’s a miracle we didn’t get swiss-cheesed,” Elna said. “We fled under a hail of bullets.”
Norman approached Elna and gently took the backpack from her shoulders. Elna didn’t resist. “Lady, you look like you’ve been through heck. I’ll carry this for you now.”
Malin noticed that Norman had one of the pairs of binoculars hanging from his neck. “Hey, Norman, hand me those for a second, would you?”
Norman pulled the strap from around his neck.
“I just want to take a look at something,” Malin said. “Thanks.” Raising the binoculars to his eyes, he peered out across the bay.
Now, he saw it clearly. A ship coming from the northeast. With its many sails, it looked like an old schooner. It was much too far away to make out any of its crew. Did it belong to the militia? If so, where could they have been hiding the thing, and more importantly, where they heck had they found it? It looked like something looted from a nautical museum.
“Looks like we’ll have visitors soon,” he said.
He handed the binoculars to Norman, and Norman took a look. “Wow, that ship’s gotta be a hundred years old. They’re definitely headed this way. Who’s sailing the thing?”
“I think it’d be wise to assume the worst,” Malin said. “Maybe the militia coming for revenge? I don’t know where they got the boat, but they’re coming.” He traded an anxious look with Elna. “How much time do you figure we have? How long does it take a boat to sail across the bay?”
“It took us a little over two hours,” she replied. “Wind’s against them, like it was us, so they’ll be going slowly.”
Mac spoke up then. He seemed like a quiet young man. Though he was built like a high school football player, he had a gentle voice. “We got another enemy coming. A mercenary group. Could be them.”
“Of the two enemies, which is worse?” Malin asked.
“Mercenary group,” Mac replied. “Hands down. It’s not even close, sir.”
“Got it.” Malin refrained from saying what he was thinking: We’re screwed.
“Let’s get back to the guesthouse,” Elna said. “They’ll be here by noon. We’d better figure out what we’re going to do.”
“Isn’t there some way we can stop them from coming onto the island?” Malin asked.
He was moving at a brisk pace up the winding road toward the guesthouse, Elna, Norman, and Mac following. Glancing skyward, he estimated they had a couple of hours to noon. Not enough time to prepare. It was all happening too fast.
“We have weapons,” Elna said. “We could stand on shore and fire on the boat. Of course, they will return fire, but if we can punch enough holes in the old wood-hull schooner, maybe we can sink it.”
“I blocked the road,” Mac said, “but that was for the militia. I don’t think there’s much we can do to stop a boat from coming ashore, and we sure don’t want to trade shots with the mercenaries out in the open.”
When they reached the guesthouse, Malin saw the Dulleses sitting on the porch, picking over a bowl of wild berries, looking rather glum. Malin felt bad for them. They were especially vulnerable under the circumstance.
“Hey there, Joe, Rita,” he said, trying to temper his voice so he wouldn’t scare them. “Would you guys please follow us to the lobby? We need to have a group meeting.”
“Oh no,” Rita said, grabbing Joe’s hand. Her little puff of white hair seemed to be getting thinner with every passing day. “What’s happening now?”
“We have some unwelcome guests headed for the island,” Malin said. “We’re going to make plans. Where are the others?”
“More?” Joe grumbled. “Does it never end? We’re just one small island. Can’t they all go somewhere else?”
“Most of the other people went to check on the injured,” Rita said, heaving a deep sigh that made her small, bent frame shudder. “We’ll head to the lobby in just a minute.”
“Thanks.”
Malin wanted to offer some words of encouragement to the couple, but he didn’t know what to say. And he wasn’t willing to lie, not now. He headed inside the guesthouse, leading the others, and worked his way through the building toward the back storage room that they’d turned into a makeshift clinic. When he got there, he found most of the Marines and the remaining guests crowded around the cots. Prig and Dr. Ruzka were seated on stools beside Ant, one of the packs open on the floor between them. The doctor was rooting through the medical supplies that Archer had looted, removing the boxes one by one and setting them on a small table nearby as Spence paced behind them.
George Pasqualee and Selene were tending to
the rescued Marine, the one called Golf, cleaning the wounds on his face. Raymond and Daniel Cabello were sitting with the woman and child in the corner, and the two kids seemed to be giggling and playing some kind of game with a deck of playing cards.
How do we break the news? Malin wondered. By the twisted look on Elna’s face, he could tell she was wrestling with this same thought, so he decided to spare her the unfortunate task.
“Let me tell them,” he said to her, squeezing her shoulder gently.
“I really don’t mind if you do,” she replied, with a look of near exhaustion.
As Malin approached the first cot, he heard the doctor give a little whoop of surprise, holding up a large, white pill bottle. “Antibiotics,” she said. “You guys did it. You found exactly what we needed. This should help your man here. Good job.”
“Well, it was Archer who grabbed the supplies,” Prig said somberly. “Hopefully, she got good stuff. She didn’t make it back.”
This comment seemed to cast a pall over the room. Spence came to a sudden stop, baring his teeth, as if he wanted to lash out at someone. The tension among the Marines was a strange, almost electrical sensation in the air.
“Well, it’ll give this man a fighting chance,” Dr. Ruzka said.
“Ant, you’d better pull through,” Spence said. “I’ll come down there and kick your ass in hell if you die after what Archer did for you.”
The injured Marine called Ant looked horrible. He was all sweaty and flushed, muttering under his breath, but he seemed to be hanging in there for now. If he heard Spence’s comment, he didn’t give any indication. The wound on his shoulder was clean and freshly bandaged, but Malin spotted a wad of soaked and discolored old bandages in a ceramic bowl on the floor nearby.
“Staff Sergeant,” Malin said, drawing Prig’s attention.
When the Marine looked up at him, pale eyebrows going up in an expression both weary and wary, Malin beckoned him. Prig rose from the stool with a groan, adjusted his cap, and approached. George Pasqualee came with him. Elna’s dad looked about half asleep, dark circles around his eyes. His beard was pushed in all sorts of directions, as if he’d been tossing and turning in bed. He moved to embrace Elna.
“By the look on your face, I guess there’s worse news,” Prig said to Malin.
“Yeah, we’ve got another boat headed to the island from the northeast,” Malin said. “We’ve got two hours at most to get ready for them.”
Prig pulled a face, tapped a finger against his lips, and said, “Could be the mercenary group.” He seemed to consider this for a moment. “Look, we need to get to the bunker ASAP, okay? I recommend you bring the islanders. I mean everyone. Round them all up, and let’s go. It’s a more defensible place than this big box of kindling on the hilltop. What do you say?”
Malin looked at Elna.
“I don’t suppose we have much choice,” Elna said. “We’d better move fast. It’ll be quite a little hike down to the lighthouse, especially if we’re bringing everyone.”
Malin retrieved Garret’s old cobbled-together pushcart, and they loaded it up with medical supplies, food, and clean water. Spence and Mac carried the cot bearing the injured Ant. The doctor had already given him some antibiotics, though only time would tell if it was too late. As they started down the hill from the guesthouse, the Marines stuck close together, Cat limping along with an arm around Prig’s shoulders. Norman and Selene were helping the Dulleses, who had not been particularly happy about leaving the guesthouse. Raymond and Miriam walked with the kids.
“It’s going to be a long, hard walk for some of these people,” Malin said to Elna.
“Yeah, I wish we could just load everyone up in a big trailer or something,” Elna replied. “This is awful, Malin. Prig warned us that another enemy was coming, but this is too sudden. We’re not prepared.”
“Hey, we’ve got the United States Marine Corps with us,” Malin replied. “How much more prepared could we possibly be?”
She rolled her eyes. Somehow, she didn’t seem comforted. “I wish I’d been able to turn the island into a fort, line the walls with cannons or something. I just want to keep the world out, Malin.”
He put an arm around her. “I know. Well, if there’s really a bunker down there beneath the lighthouse, it should give us a tactical advantage.”
“Let’s hope.”
Malin and Elna decided to fall back, letting Prig and the Marines lead the way down the backside of the island while they kept an eye on the others. The kids, Daniel and Chloe, seemed to be having a fine old time, laughing and capering about like they were on vacation. That was good, at least. Malin was most worried about the Dulleses. The old couple was shuffling along at a snail’s pace, holding hands and looking frail.
“Is there a way I can help you folks?” Malin said, falling back beside them. “I could give you a piggyback ride. That’s what the Marines are doing for their injured friend.”
Joe gave him a withering look, made all the more poignant by his scraggly white beard and bushy eyebrows, which made him look like a disgruntled homeless man. “We are still ambulatory, Malin. If we’re going to be dragged out of our homes all the way down to the farthest corner of the island, we will at least proceed with some dignity.”
“Fair enough,” Malin replied.
“It was nice while it lasted,” Rita Dulles said, gesturing back at the guesthouse. “We’d come to like that place. We had a nice thing going for a while there, but I guess all good things come to an end.”
“We’ll be back when this is over,” Malin said.
“It’s nice that you can think so,” Rita said. “Stay positive, young man.”
He didn’t know how else to help them, so he drifted away. Elna was walking off to one side, her eyes flitting back and forth through the long line of people. They’d rounded a bend and come in sight of the shed along the back road when she made a clucking sound and smacked the side of her head with her hand.
“What’s wrong with me?” she muttered. “I’m losing my mind. I knew someone was missing, but I’m just so tired, Malin, I couldn’t figure it out.”
“Someone’s missing?” he asked, but he realized it as soon as he said it.
“My father,” she replied. “Where’s my father? He was in the lobby when we met. How did I not notice he wasn’t with us? What’s wrong with me?”
Malin scanned the line of people moving down the hill. Indeed, George Pasqualee was missing.
“Maybe he went back to get something important,” Malin suggested.
“Hey, has anyone seen my father?” Elna asked. “Did anyone see him when we left the house?”
“Last night, I found him rooting around in drawers and cabinets looking for a photo album,” Selene said. “I don’t know if he ever found it. Maybe he started looking again before we left.”
“I saw him in the tasting room,” Raymond added. “He was in that little alcove behind the bar.”
Elna rolled her head on her shoulders. “Come on, Pop. What are you thinking?”
“I’ll go back for him,” Selene said, and before Elna could protest, she continued. “It won’t take long. Malin and Elna, people worry when you’re not here. I’ll take care of George. Don’t worry. I bet I know where he is. We’ll be along shortly.”
“Selene, are you sure about this?” Elna asked.
“Yes, you guys need to stay with the group,” Selene replied. She didn’t wait for Elna to agree but leaned over to draw Sniffy’s attention. She pointed from the dog to Chloe. “Go to Chloe. Good dog. Go to Chloe.”
Somehow, the little dog seemed to understand and bounced off toward the little girl. Chloe saw him coming and squealed in delight. She dropped back, waving the others forward. Malin could tell that Elna wanted to argue with her, but the group was moving on. There wasn’t time for an extended debate.
“Okay, but please hurry,” Elna said, after a moment. “We’re running out of time.”
“Worst-case scenario, we’l
l hide somewhere and wait for the bad people to leave,” Selene said, shrugging one shoulder. “George knows all kinds of secret rooms and places in the guesthouse and winery, right?”
“Yes, but let’s try to avoid that scenario, if we can,” Elna replied. “Please hurry.”
Selene gave her a little wave and turned, heading back up the hill at a jog. Malin and Elna watched her go until she disappeared around the bend, then they hurried to catch up to the others.
“I shouldn’t have let her do it,” Elna said. “Pop is my responsibility.”
“We’re all responsible for each other now,” Malin said. “Selene wanted to help. Let her help. Come on. Let’s get our people into hiding.”
19
The lighthouse looked like a sun-dried bone teetering on the edge of the rock promontory at the farthest point of the island. Elna found it especially ominous, the slate sky behind it holding the threat of impending violence. The Marines had gotten far ahead of the rest of the group, despite the fact that they were pushing a cart full of supplies and carrying two injured people. Fortunately, they waited for the others just beyond the open gate. Prig was a sight—he now had Cat clinging to his back as he gazed around in either wonder or disgust at the old, abandoned military base. The Southern boy kept surprising Elna with his sheer strength.
They went through this whole morning’s mission with us, she thought. How can they still have so much energy?
Joe and Rita came shuffling up last. They were holding hands, occasionally muttering comforting words to each other. Elna hated that they’d been dragged out of their familiar environment. It had taken so long to make them feel comfortable with the other islanders, but once they’d warmed up, they’d really come out of their shells. All of that progress seemed lost now. They seemed lost.
“We’re going to be okay,” Elna said to them, as they approached the gate. What a stupid encouragement! She regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth.
Island Refuge EMP Box Set | Books 1-3 Page 63
