by Dan Poblocki
“It leads to the sea caves beneath the fort,” said Beatrice. “And beyond that, to the open water.”
“Is this a real possibility, Beatrice?” Cynthia asked. “For escape?”
“If you have a death wish.”
The tide sloshed them all forward, against the iron bars. The water level was now above Eli’s belly button.
Aimee went on. “But there’s a chance? Crevice leads to cave. Cave leads to ocean?”
“Yes,” Beatrice added. “And ocean leads to sharp, sharp rocks, upon which the waves will most likely toss whoever is stupid enough to try it. That is, if she hasn’t already drowned.”
Eli closed his eyes. The darkness was the same as when he had them open. In his mind, he could hear the screaming — Hilfe! — from early that morning. Those sailors had died with an icy shard of fear in their hearts. Eli couldn’t allow that to happen to his family.
He pushed himself away from the group, away from the platform and the door, dropping down into the water, his head bobbing above the surface of the black pool. If his sense of direction was even mildly intact, he knew that the crevice should be directly below him. He took a mammoth breath, filling his lungs. The last thing he heard before plunging was his mother’s voice, calling out to him, “Elias! No!”
JOSIE PEERED THROUGH the doorway. Inside the fort, Bruno stood at the top of the stairway, his spine stiff and his arms straight at his sides. He held the flashlight at his hip, shining it at the ground. His face was lit by the reflection bouncing up from below. His eyes were pits of shadow, his lips pressed together, making his expression unreadable. He seemed to be staring at nothing, concentrating on being still, the way a soldier might behave while on guard duty, which, Josie sensed, he was. She squinted, trying to recognize the brother she knew in the statue-like figure who merely resembled him, but this only made everything blurry.
Josie picked up a stone and tossed it toward him. It clattered against the rocks several feet away. He spun, robotic, aiming the light as if he were clutching a pistol. While he was distracted, Josie stepped forward. “Bruno,” she said. “I’m here.” He snapped his head toward her. The beam of light soon followed, and Josie had to raise her hand to keep from being blinded. She imagined him opening his mouth to call to the other men, so she spoke quickly, trying to hold his attention. “I know everyone else is looking for me. But I wanted to come to you first. I wanted you to have the honor of capturing me. Agent Coombs will be pleased.” It felt like the end of a make-believe game she’d once forced him to play.
Bruno lowered the light slightly so she could see his face. He looked curious, interested in what she was saying. Muffled voices rose from the hole behind him. The rest of the party was down there; she had a feeling that it was not by choice. “But you have to promise to let everyone else go.”
Bruno smiled. To Josie’s surprise, he held his arms open as if inviting her to come closer. She froze in wonder, hoping that the gesture was genuine, that he’d been only pretending while the other men were around. She was his little sister. He would do anything to help her.
She approached him, stopping about a foot away, and then looked up at him. “Bruno?” With the light now directed away, his face was a shroud of darkness. Still, she thought she saw him nod. “I knew you were in there somewhere,” she said, wrapping her arms around his torso, pressing her cheek into his sturdy chest. He hugged her back. She felt her tears leak onto his shirt, dampening her already wet skin. “What’s going on?” she asked. Her voice sounded so small, like it had when she’d been a toddler and he a teenager who seemed to know so much more of the world than she did. “I’m so confused.” She pulled away, trying to glance up, to see into his eyes.
But Bruno squeezed her tight. Tighter. So tight, she could no longer move. So tight, she could barely breathe. “Achtung!” he called out to the night. “Achtung! Das Mädchen ist hier!”
“No,” Josie wheezed. “Bruno … stop.” She swung her shoulders sharply backward, one, then the other. When she realized she was trapped in his grasp, she screamed. Voices rose once again from the bottom of the stairs. She imagined the cavern filling with water like Dory had described.
Craning her head back, she tried one last time to see Bruno’s face. But the man staring down at her, his brows knitted in fury, was not her brother. She whipped her head forward as hard as she could, making contact with his sternum. A crack rang out. This was followed by a blast of pain between her eyes. She wasn’t sure if she had broken something in him or herself.
Bruno loosened his grip for a moment, and, without thinking, Josie threw all of her weight at him. His ankle twisted as his heel slipped off the top stair, and he fell backward, taking Josie with him. They tumbled down the steps, splashing into the water that had spilled out from inside the cave.
After a moment, the world stopped spinning, and Josie realized that her brother was limp beneath her. The lower halves of their bodies were submerged. His head was lying on one of the stone steps, his eyes closed. His arms were raised over his head and in his right hand was the flashlight. Josie snatched it from him, then scrambled away, backing into the dark tunnel.
The water was at her chest, but she barely noticed. Voices echoed from behind her, imploring her for help, but she didn’t answer. She kept the light on Bruno, worried that he would wake up but also worried that he might never wake up.
ELI WAS FLOATING in space, in a black abyss with no borders.
He swam, directing himself downward. Pressure squeezed at his chest. The swelling of the surf rocked him, as if trying to lull him to sleep. He raised his hands and clawed at the water. His body rocketed forward. He repeated this action, bringing himself deeper and deeper into the cavern, until his fingertips brushed the slimy stone floor.
He’d made it down, but in order to stay there, he’d have to release some of his breath. It bubbled out of his nostrils and disappeared into the darkness over his head. The dampened sound of the surf under the water was dreamlike.
Is this a dream?
Stay focused! he silently screamed at himself. He frog-kicked his legs and stretched his hands out ahead of him, searching for the wall. Within seconds, he made contact.
Blind, he pulled himself toward the crevice in the far corner. A moment later, he was clutching its rough periphery. Waving his hand back and forth just inside the hole, he gauged its width. It was only a couple of feet across. He might be able to fit. But there was no way he could try without surfacing for one last breath.
Behind his eyelids, a horrible image filled his mind. A uniformed man had floated here seventy years ago, exploring this same spot, trying to find a way out. The button that Eli had plucked from the rock that morning was proof of this. But the man had not made it out. He and his companions had lost their lives doing exactly what Eli was doing. What had made Eli think he’d be any more capable?
He imagined a hand reaching out from the crevice — fingernails crusted with green gunk, blue papery skin decorated with a pox of long-dead barnacles — and then grabbing his arm, dragging him into the sea caves beneath the fort. He spun and tried to push off from the wall. But his sneaker caught on something. Or something had caught him! He released a muffled howl of terror. Unfortunately, he exhaled the rest of his breath at the same time.
THE BARS OF THE CAGE glowed white when Josie’s flashlight struck them. Inside the cave, the faces of the women stared back, unsure whether to shout in fear or joy. Her mother’s eyes went wide; her lips trembled. The tide was nearly at their shoulders now. Soon, they’d be treading water as it brought them buoyantly toward the ceiling.
“It’s me!” Josie cried. And a wail of relief ricocheted up the tunnel. “Don’t worry. I’m going to get you out.” With the flashlight raised over her head, she kicked against the surge and hopped toward the door. When she was inches away, a hand reached from inside and stroked her cheek. “Mommy, don’t worry,” Josie said, holding back tears. “Please don’t cry.” But the plea was pointless; eve
ryone was already crying, their voices a mix of unintelligible emotion.
She tried to yank open the door. It gave a few inches and then held fast. Glancing at the top of the cage, Josie noticed the pair of rusted handcuffs latching the door to the frame. She remembered seeing the cuffs earlier that day, attached to the bars inside one of the pocket cells in the cavern. Maybe Charlie had come out here after she and Eli had told him what they’d seen. Maybe he’d set this place up for what he and the others had planned — the plan that was unfolding right at this moment.
She thought of her brother lying on the stairs behind her and was suddenly nauseated. The men had all eaten dinner with them, provided comforting words about the storm, had pretended that everything was going to be fine. She wanted desperately to believe that they hadn’t changed before that.
“Stand back,” said Josie. She swung the butt end of the flashlight back before thrashing it against the cuffs. Crash. Again. Crash. Again. Crash. Again. Clink. Wide-eyed, Josie turned the light around. The beam revealed that the chain linking the cuffs was now broken. She was too surprised to do anything else but stare in awe at her handiwork.
The door swung outward and Josie came back into her body. Her mother’s arms found her, enclosing her, reminding her of the moment she’d had with Bruno at the top of the stairs. Josie had to force away the impulse to push Vivian back.
Margo and Beatrice slipped past them, moving toward the stairway that would bring them up to the fort. But Cynthia and Aimee remained in the cavern. They were shouting, their raw voices coming from a primal place in their lungs. “Eli! Elias!”
“What’s going on?” Josie asked.
“Eli said he knew a way out,” answered her mother. “Something about sea caves? Then he dove down. He hasn’t come back up.”
“How long ago?” Josie asked. Vivian stared at her blankly. “Mom, how long has he been under?”
“I don’t know,” Vivian muttered, her teeth chattering. Josie pushed past her and through the doorway. “Honey, what are you doing? No!”
Turning away from her mother, she shone the flashlight at Aimee and Cynthia. They barely blinked as they continued to call Eli’s name. “Which way did he go?” Josie interrupted. Aimee stopped screaming for a second and pointed, and Josie took a breath.
THE SALT WATER stung Eli’s eyes. He’d opened them in a panic when he found that he was stuck. And he’d kept them open even though he could not see.
He kicked and flailed his arms, certain that his vision of the lifeless hand creeping out from the crevice had come true. His chest pounded with pain. All he could think of was opening his mouth to catch more air, but a voice at the bottom of his brain warned him that it would be his last gasp. There was no air down here. Only blackness. Pitch, as sticky as nightmares.
Stop. Stop this, or you will die.
He calmed his movement, trying to ignore the pressure like a vacuum in his lungs and the sensation that he was about to slip into unconsciousness. He bent his knees and allowed his fingers to fiddle with his shoelaces.
Maybe … Maybe if I can … untie …
A greenish light appeared somewhere above him. Eli panicked, worried that he was already on his way out. Here was that lovely tunnel of which people so often spoke.
The glow came closer, moving lazily, like the phosphorescent head lantern of a deepwater predator — one with teeth as long as syringe needles.
From inside the green light, a soft hand stretched out to him, thin fingers straining forward. Another ghost, Eli thought. Coming to take me away.
JOSIE WATCHED AS Eli shrunk away from her.
What are you doing?! she shouted at him silently, saving her breath for when she might really need it. Then, she realized that whatever he was doing, he may not be doing on purpose.
The salt water burned her eyes, but she forced them open. Muffled sounds of surf pounded her eardrums. As she stretched her arm farther, her shoulder popped. She almost screamed out her pain, but instead, she pressed her lips together, keeping the brine out of her mouth and throat.
The flashlight was beginning to flicker, the water finally working its way through the seams of the metal body. Down below, Eli went limp, his limbs like noodles. Josie knew he might have only a few seconds left.
Scissor-kicking closer to him, she saw the real problem: His sneaker was stuck in the crevice where they’d discovered the swastika button. Eli had already managed to loosen his laces; they drifted upward like strands of seaweed. His head drooped, unaware of her presence. Josie came around behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest, clasping him like a lasso. She placed her feet flat on the floor of the cave, avoiding the snare of the fissure. She bent her knees and then pushed up as hard as she could.
Thankfully, Eli rose with her. With her chin grinding into his shoulder, she glanced down and noticed that one of his feet was now bare. He’d left his sneaker behind.
Breaking the surface of the pool, Josie was surprised to find the ceiling only inches from the top of her head. She turned Eli over so that he was floating on his back. The flashlight had dimmed but provided enough light to reveal the cavern’s exit. Just beyond the open gate, Josie watched Vivian and Cynthia cling to each other, their mouths open in relieved shock. Their cries bounced all around the last of the available air space in the cave.
Josie kicked toward them, dragging Eli along beside her. Once she’d made it through the doorway, Cynthia and Vivian clasped their children and helped pull them out of the tunnel. Around the bend, the stairway appeared. The number of steps had been significantly shortened by the rising tide. The enshrouded sky opened overhead. Josie’s mind was flooded with so many thoughts and hopes and fears that she nearly stopped moving. But her mother eased her along, until she felt the soles of her boots scrape against the stone floor.
Josie nearly broke down when she turned to see Cynthia helping Eli crawl up the steps. He was conscious! He was moving as slowly as a slug, but that didn’t matter. He was moving. Thank you, she thought. Thank you, thank you! Josie didn’t even know who she was thanking. Soon the others would be thanking her — chastising her foolishness for risking her life, but thanking her nonetheless.
BRUNO WAS ON the ground — eyes closed, breathing steadily — at the top of the steps. While Josie had been underwater, Margo and Aimee had managed to haul him up the stairs before the flood overtook him.
Soaking wet and shivering, Josie stared at her brother, remembering the moments that had led to them taking that tumble. The hug — his strong arms squeezing the breath from her lungs. Had the jolt to his head knocked sense back into him? When he woke up (if he woke up), would he be himself again?
As Cynthia fawned over Eli, who was lying a few feet away from Bruno, Josie tried to explain to everyone what she’d overheard when she’d crept to the fort. That the men had gone back to the house to look for her, that when she’d approached Bruno, he’d called out a warning to them. It was possible that they would return. Maybe they were watching right now. But everyone was crying, and Josie wasn’t sure anyone actually heard her.
Aimee stroked Bruno’s cheek, speaking quietly into his ear. “Wake up. Please, wake up. I know it wasn’t you who did that. I understand everything. I’ll try to forgive you. I promise, just wake up.” Vivian joined her, kneeling at his side, holding his shoulders, trying to shake him into consciousness.
“We need to be quiet,” Josie whispered. No one was paying attention. She stood, watching through the fort’s doorway for any movement on the spit. But the flashlight finally died, and the slope went black. She laid the metallic tube on the ground next to Eli’s head and sat beside him on the stone floor. He glanced at her. Even in the dark, she made out his grin.
“My mom says you saved me,” he said. Sitting across from Josie, Cynthia held his hand.
“If you hadn’t been such an idiot, I wouldn’t have had to,” Josie snapped, not realizing until that moment how angry she was with him.
Cynthia nodded, her lip tr
embling. “It was a dumb thing to do, Eli. I don’t know what I would’ve …” She trailed off, unable to continue.
“Please, Mom,” Eli said, slurring speech. “Don’t cry. I’m sorry …” He struggled to sit but only managed to prop himself up on his elbows. Cynthia raised his hand to her mouth and kissed it again and again. Josie felt warmth rush her own cheeks. She moved to stand, to go check on her brother again, when Eli reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Where were you before? We looked everywhere.” Teeth chattering, his words poured out, rushing like water off a cliff. “The tree crashed through the solarium. And you were gone. And then we went upstairs. And my dad and the others thought they saw you way out here. And we followed them. But then they changed. And Gregory told us his name was Coombs. But he was a ghost. And he said Margo’s mother lived on this island when she was a girl. And she was responsible for his death. And before we knew it, Bruno and Charlie and my dad and Gregory forced us —”
“I know,” Josie answered, trying to speak over him.
“And I almost died! In the cave, I saw you swimming toward me with your light and I thought you were an angel or something coming to take me away. I was so scared.”
“I know, Eli. I know.” Josie reached into her jacket pocket, feeling the wet cover of Dory’s journal. It was probably ruined now, the words on the pages blurred into nothingness. History erased. But that was the least of her worries. “I know everything. I promise, I’ll tell you more, but first you need to help me.”
“Help you what?”
“Convince everyone that we’ve got to find a place to hide. And quickly.”
Gasps rose up from behind them. Cynthia, Eli, and Josie turned to see what the commotion was all about, but when Aimee shouted out “Bruno!” Josie knew exactly what she’d find. She stood and wandered over to where Margo and Vivian and Aimee were crouched. Bruno’s eyes were open. He was staring blankly at the sky, blinking again and again. He didn’t seem to notice the women leaning over him, nor their tears wetting his forehead like rain.
