The House on Stone's Throw Island

by Dan Poblocki

  What was even more frightening was the thought that Charlie might be telling the truth. If he really had been injured by the shattered glass, then someone else had tried to hurt Margo. But who? And why?

  Eli leaned against the wall, glancing at the faces of strangers and family alike, feeling suddenly exhausted.

  “Where the heck is my daughter?” Vivian said, finally noticing Josie’s absence. She stiffened and spun, glancing around the room as if Josie had simply been hiding among them all along.

  “Wasn’t she upstairs?” Margo asked. “I thought she came to my room.”

  “No, she didn’t,” said Eli. “Josie wasn’t there. And neither was Charlie. Remember?”

  Though the room was dim, lit by hash marks of flashlight, Eli noticed Charlie glare at him. Beatrice crossed before her husband, kneeling beside his chair, and dabbed at the blood with a damp towel. Eli felt warmth at his side. Margo had moved away from the radio and stood next to him. Her eyes were swollen. The skin around her mouth was red and chafed. His face flushed as he realized that she was staring at him with a look that said she knew exactly what he was thinking. The fear etched into her furrowed brow told him that she agreed with him wholeheartedly.

  Bruno whispered, “You don’t think Josie was downstairs when …” But he didn’t finish, as if the idea of it was too terrible to say out loud.

  “Maybe she’s still in her bedroom,” Eli offered.

  “You really think she could have slept through all of this nonsense?” Otis grumbled.

  Vivian swung open the parlor door. Wind blasted her hair back from her forehead. She called out, her voice panicked and raw, “Josephine Silvia Sandoval! Where are you?”

  Bruno released his grip on Aimee’s waist and followed his mother to the doorway. “I’ll go get her,” he said.

  “I’m coming with you,” Vivian said as Eli stepped quickly after her.

  Apparently, no one wanted to be left alone on the ground floor with a gaping hole in the house and the possibility of a midnight assailant on the prowl, so the whole group ventured out into the yowling hallway and back to the foyer, where their thin flashlight beams lit the way up the stairs.

  ELI CHASED BRUNO up the hallway to Josie’s bedroom. Without knocking, Bruno thrust the door open and shouted out her name. Eli followed him into the room, and together they discovered that Josie was not there. Seconds later, the others crowded through the doorway, and the room that had, in the morning, seemed so spacious suddenly shrunk.

  Eli checked under the bed to make sure that she wasn’t hiding from them, though he couldn’t imagine why she’d do such a thing.

  The room flickered with pinkish-white light, and almost immediately afterward, thunder clapped, as if right above the house. Standing by the window, Bruno cried out. “There! She’s outside!” He slammed his hand hard against the glass, indicating the direction he’d seen her heading.

  Otis bumped into Bruno’s shoulder. “Yes! Out on the spit. Just past that strip of trees. I saw her too.”

  “Oh my goodness,” Vivian said, clutching one of the bedposts, as if to keep herself from dropping to the floor.

  “By the fort?” Eli asked, sliding over the mattress toward the window. He pushed between them, trying to catch a glimpse. But the night was dark, and Eli could see nothing farther than the rain that blew several inches from the house. “What would she be doing out there?”

  “Maybe something in here scared her,” said Charlie, leaning against the doorframe behind them. The left side of his forehead was now covered by a large white bandage.

  “That makes no sense,” Vivian said. “Josie would never just run away. Especially not on a night like this. She’d never leave all of us behind.”

  “I know what I saw, Mom!” Bruno insisted. “It was Josie. She was sprinting toward that ruined building.”

  Vivian straightened up. She ran her fingers through her hair. “I’m going after her.”

  “Me too,” said Bruno.

  Aimee pushed through the crowd to be by his side. “You’re not going anywhere without me.”

  “And me,” said Eli.

  “I don’t know about that, Eli,” said Cynthia.

  “The kids aren’t heading out there without me either,” said Otis.

  “I don’t need you to protect me, Daddy.”

  “Don’t argue, honey.” Otis glanced at Eli and winked. It was so unlike him that Eli grew even more anxious.

  “But, Otis …” Cynthia glanced around the room, as if suddenly realizing that she sounded insensitive. She quickly added, “Fine, we’ll all go together.”

  “Great,” said Bruno, moving toward the door.

  Margo spoke up. “I hope I don’t seem uncaring, but I think I may need to head back to my room.”

  “That’s a good idea,” said Charlie. “You’re injured. So am I. We’ll keep each other company.”

  Margo flinched. “I — I don’t …” she stammered. Eli understood why: The number one suspect of her attack was offering to stay with her.

  Gregory sidled up behind her. “Maybe we should all go together,” he whispered.

  “Yes,” said Margo stiffly. “I think actually that may be best.”

  Bruno paused in the hallway just outside the door. “My sister is out there all alone. We’re wasting time!”

  Beatrice held on to her husband’s arm. “We can’t let them go without us, Charlie. We know every inch of the island.”

  “Super,” Charlie answered brightly, seemingly unfazed by Margo’s rejection. “It’ll be a party.”

  IF ANY OF THEM had explored the closet, he or she might have noticed the crack in the right seam of the rear wall. He or she may have pushed on the panel and discovered the ladder leading up into darkness. Then, he or she would certainly have crawled through the long tunnel and found the room where Josie sat in the chair by the low window. But Bruno’s claim that he’d seen his sister running across the far side of the island had distracted everyone. And Otis’s confirmation that Josie was indeed outside had only spurred them along.

  In the attic, Josie turned the journal pages quickly, engrossed in Dory’s tale. By the time the wedding party had assembled their shoes and jackets, hats, scarves, and umbrellas, and had gathered in the foyer to head out onto the spit, Josie had reached Dory’s final entry. Her mouth was gritty, and her eyes were sore. Her phone’s battery was at a dangerously low level. But she couldn’t stop now. Her imagination was whirling furiously, desperate to uncover what was to happen next.

  FROM THE DIARY OF DORY M. SAUVAGE

  Sunday, September 6, 1942

  IF YOU’RE READING THIS, I’M PROBABLY DEAD.

  I am writing from the secret space above my bedroom. It is after midnight. I am safe for now, but that safety could evaporate like a dream at any moment.

  I’m so confused. I don’t know exactly what happened or in what order, but I shall do my best to convey the events of the past few hours. You see, the Germans have invaded.

  I have tried my best to keep the enemy at arm’s length. I expect that this will not last for long. When I finish writing this tale, I shall drop the journal into the bottom of the crate in my attic. If I survive this night, I shall return for the book. If I don’t make it, you should now understand why you’re holding my diary in your hands. The enemy will have taken me.

  It happened like this:

  Earlier, while I was hiding in the library, I heard a commotion down the hall. Upon inspection, I discovered Emil Coombs standing over my brother with a rifle. He used it to strike Frankie in the face. Both Betty and Esther were shrieking in horror. I managed to sneak into the room just across the hallway. It took all of my strength to hold my own screams inside.

  After a few minutes, I crept to the kitchen, where I thought I could radio the mainland for help. But before I reached the device, there was a sudden flash of lightning, and I noticed shadows moving through the sheets of rain in the backyard. Several figures were approaching the house.
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  I opened a cabinet and slipped inside. Shame weighs heavy on my shoulders that I didn’t try to do anything to warn my brother and the girls. I wonder if I could have prevented what happened next, or if I too would have also been caught in the trap.

  Soon, there was a crash at the back door by the solarium. Through a crack in the cabinet door, I saw several men pass by. They were dressed in military uniforms. When I heard them clamor down the hallway, calling out in their gruff German language, I began to hyperventilate.

  I don’t know why at that point I was surprised to hear Emil Coombs answer them. It still took me several minutes to understand his role in all of this. The lantern in the window upstairs. His agitation about my tricks. He’d planned out this trip as cleanly as I had. It came to me: Emil was a real-life secret agent. A handsome spy with a French accent, like something out of the movies! And my brother had led him to our island — unwittingly, I must believe — so that the Germans might gain a foothold, as my father had warned us they’d certainly try.

  How could we be so stupid?

  Everything else that happened, happened so quickly, I barely had time to think, never mind note every detail.

  From the cabinet, I watched the few soldiers round up Frankie, Betty, and Esther. They were all crying, as confused as I was. Emil was shouting orders in another language, but I was able to sort out his intentions by watching his actions.

  The soldiers led the trio out into the backyard at gunpoint, and I immediately worried where they were taking them. All that was out in that direction were the cliffs and, beyond those, the old fort that Daddy always tells us to never play in.

  When I was sure that I was alone in the house, I grabbed a flashlight from the cabinet and then followed them. Down the hill. Through the woods. Up the rocky slope. Through the rain. I slunk along by memory, keeping the light off so I wouldn’t give away my presence.

  I held back, hiding around the corner of the fort’s doorway, and watched as the soldiers forced my brother and the girls down the stairs to the cavern below. Their protests echoed into the night, dampened slightly by the sound of rain pounding on the rocks and the wild surf at the bottom of the cliffs.

  Soon, the men came back up into the fort. I heard Emil mention something about making contact with a ship or a boat. A U-boat maybe, like the ones they talk about in the newsreels? I inferred that the rest of the crew would soon disembark and take the island. The men rushed past my hiding place, back toward the house. I nearly collapsed from fear.

  When they were out of sight, I crept into the ruin. Once I was at the bottom of the steps, I whispered for Frankie not to worry. You can probably imagine his surprise to see me standing on the other side of the gate. I think they were all in shock, otherwise, they might have been trying to escape. As I examined what was holding the door shut — a pair of ancient handcuffs I’d once seen inside the jail cells below — I told them what I’d overheard. They were only half listening to me, paying more attention to the water that was filling the cavern, as it sometimes did during serious storms. I removed a bobby pin from my hair and fiddled with the lock. Thank goodness it worked.

  Esther and Betty hugged me when we reached the top of the stairs, but Frankie reminded us that if we wanted to get off the island alive, we needed to act quickly.

  It was then that he came up with the plan.

  We three girls waited out at the fort while Frankie ran back to the house. He took one of my father’s rifles and then revealed himself to the men. They gave chase. Gunfire exploded the night. Thankfully, my brother managed to avoid getting hit.

  Frankie and I both knew that there was a part of the fort against the farthest wall where, if you shouted, your voice sounded like it was coming from the caves below. While Frankie raced across the spit, Esther and Betty hid there. I stayed out of sight. Once the men had come through the ruined doorway, the two called out. Their voices echoed as if from the cavern. The soldiers descended the staircase, splashing into the rising water.

  Frankie and I went after them. Before they knew what had happened, we’d locked them inside. Frankie held the rifle on them, and quickly, I wrapped a chain around the same cuffs they’d used, so they’d have a more difficult time opening them than I had if they tried. I prayed that they didn’t have the key.

  As the water continued to rise, Frankie continued to point the rifle at the gate. He told them to toss their guns away into the water, implying that he’d let them out then. But he didn’t let them out. We four waited and watched as the men shouted for us to help them, cursing us as the water reached their shoulders, their necks, their chins. At the last moment, Emil looked right at me, his sapphire eyes pleading with me. To release him. He knew I’d had a bit of a crush on him during his visits to our house on the mainland, so he was probably just as surprised as I was when I turned away and walked up the steps.

  I didn’t look back. Minutes later, when their cries stopped, I threw up. Esther and Betty held my hair out of my face.

  Frankie rushed us all back to the house. Once inside, he raced for the radio and contacted the authorities. I don’t remember what he said to them, but I remember thinking that more Germans soldiers were probably listening in from wherever they were stationed, translating the message.

  Now, all we can do is wait.

  I imagine a vessel offshore, hidden somewhere a bit farther than the length of a stone’s throw across the water. This is why we remain inside: Frankie says that if we were to attempt to pilot the Yankee Girl back to Haggspoint, we’d risk being taken by the enemy. I am uncertain that we shall be saved. As we wait for the navy to arrive, I worry that more shadows will appear in the woods, moving through the rain toward the house.

  I just want this to be over. When I close my eyes, all I see is Emil pleading with me. In my mind, I can still hear the men screaming for mercy. We had no other choice. Or did we?

  Josie turned the page, but the writing ended abruptly. No signature this time. No careful good-bye. She closed her mouth, which had been hanging agape, and then glanced around as if Dory might be watching from the shadows.

  IN THE FERAL DARKNESS, ten figures struggled to cross the wide yard behind the house, careful to avoid the fallen pine. Though the heaviest rain seemed to have passed, unrelenting wind gusts throttled the group.

  Charlie and Bruno led the way, shining pinpoints of light at the slowly sloping ground. Otis and Gregory followed up the rear with their own flashlights, making sure that no one tripped or twisted an ankle. By the time they reached the woods that marked the beginning of the spit, the umbrellas that Beatrice had lent to the group had been stolen away by the storm — one from Cynthia, one from Margo, and one from Beatrice’s own hands — and were most likely stuck up in one of the tall trees that shuddered and waved high over their heads.

  Everyone called out Josie’s name again and again.

  Eli stepped into the footprints of the men who walked ahead of him, onto the path where the grass abruptly changed to pine needle–covered muck. Heavy drops of water fell from the branches overhead, splashing onto his already soaked scalp, dripping down his forehead to the tip of his nose. Something was not sitting right in Eli’s mind — something beyond the obvious. Eli’d spent the evening trying to erase Bruno and Charlie’s weird conversation from his memory, but watching them plow forward through the forest brought it all back into focus.

  Agent Coombs.

  The name had given him chills when he’d first heard them speak it that afternoon. Now, somehow it felt as though Bruno and Charlie were literally leading them down a dangerous path. Part of his brain told him that this was nonsense. Another part reminded him how strange it was that Josie had run out into the night, into the storm.

  What if Bruno had been lying?

  Hadn’t Eli’s own father backed him up, claiming he’d also seen her?

  Eli didn’t know what to think anymore.

  The men clutched the flashlights, shining them forward, illuminating the trail. “Ste
p lively, kiddo,” said Otis from several paces behind Eli. He was holding Margo’s arm, helping her across the rough terrain of the woods. He winked at Eli again, as if trying to lighten the mood but only managing to give his son goose bumps. “We don’t want to get separated out here.”

  Eli hadn’t noticed that he’d begun to slow down. His thoughts were dragging through the mud. He realized that the group was now passing the moss-covered tree trunk where he and Josie had stopped to rest early that morning, on their return trip from the fort, when they’d raced away from the cavern and its bloodcurdling cries. The moment felt like it had occurred forever ago, but the voice that had shouted Hilfe tickled the back of Eli’s neck, as if it had been waiting all day for him to pass this way again.

  Otis used the flashlight to poke him between his shoulder blades. Eli rolled his eyes. Then he began to gallop forward, trying to catch up with the rest of the group.

  JOSIE STRUGGLED DOWN the ladder, clutching Dory’s journal in one hand and her phone in the other. At the bottom rung, she pulled open the secret panel and crept into the bedroom, anxious to head down the hall, knock on Eli’s door, and show him what she’d found.

  The light on the table beside the bed was off. Hadn’t she left it on?

  She edged farther into the room. When she stepped into a cold damp patch on the wooden floor, she gasped and leaped away. Her flashlight revealed wet footprints and pine needles and bits of dirt all over the place. To her right, a greasy smudge had been smeared onto one of the windowpanes. Looking closer, Josie realized that the mark was a large handprint.

  People had been here while she’d been upstairs reading Dory’s diary — many people, from the looks of it. Maybe the whole wedding party.

  But why?

  Josie glanced at the door to the hall. It was wide-open. She tried the light switch but nothing happened. The power was out.

  Peering into the hallway, Josie observed more muddy footprints soaked into the rug, leading to almost all of the bedrooms. It appeared that several other doors had also been left open. Only then did she notice that a breeze was blowing at her from the direction of the grand foyer. Had someone left the front door ajar too?