The House on Stone's Throw Island

by Dan Poblocki

  Sensing the end of the tale, Eli spoke up. “So you and Charlie were like spies?”

  Beatrice laughed. “Hardly. We were the most ordinary sort of folk. No great stories to tell.” She glanced at Eli and Josie, a glimmer of apology in her eyes. “No secret children locked away in cages.” She didn’t pause to explain to the others what she meant. “It just so happened that the job we found was in an unusual place, working for an unusual group of people.”

  “To say the least,” said Cynthia. “I can’t imagine having to keep such a secret to yourselves.”

  “Back then, I couldn’t imagine it either,” said Beatrice. “But over the years, my imagination has grown. It’s funny, when I first set foot on Stone’s Throw, I knew there was something odd about it. Something off. Deep down, I think I believed that something as strange as this would happen one day. Like a bomb. Someone just needed to come along and light the fuse.”

  “Me.” Margo shifted her weight, and the bed where she was seated squeaked. “I was the spark.”

  “Let’s not start that again,” said Vivian. “We’re safe here now.”

  Aimee shushed them, pointing toward the closest window. “Are we really?” she whispered.

  At the top of the hill, a few lights had emerged from the shadows by the big house’s front door. They wavered wildly, like malformed and venomous lightning bugs. Seconds later, two spots, brighter than the others, appeared not far from the entry. These lights turned together and illuminated the wide expanse of sloping lawn that separated the house from the wharf.

  Eli and Josie glanced at each other from opposite beds, their eyes wide. The men had rediscovered the golf cart.

  “NO, NO, NO!” Aimee cried out. “How did they find us?”

  “We can’t be certain that they have,” said Vivian.

  “They’re heading straight for us.”

  “That doesn’t mean they know we’re in here.”

  “They will soon enough,” said Josie, standing and moving toward the bedroom door. The group followed her. “Maybe we should go downstairs and fortify the barricade.”

  “We can’t stay in this house!” said Aimee, glancing back toward the window. The golf cart had come nearly a quarter of the way down the long path. “They’ll do anything to get to us. I wouldn’t put it past them to start a fire, burn us all alive.”

  “So what’s your suggestion?” Eli asked. “We run outside to meet them instead?”

  “Well … I don’t know!”

  “We can’t just stand here,” Josie said.

  Margo raised her hand. “My offer stands. I can —”

  Everyone answered at once: “No!”

  “The little boat is still tied to the wharf,” said Cynthia. “Maybe it’s time to try that?”

  “And do what, Mom?” Aimee asked. “Capsize offshore? Drown?”

  “You’re being very negative, Aimee.”

  “Negative? Are you freaking kidding me?”

  “Either we end up back in the hands of the men,” said Eli, standing by Josie, trying to keep his voice calm, “or we try our luck in the dinghy, where we at least have a chance to get away from them.”

  Josie nodded. “It’s the only answer. Beatrice, do you know how —”

  Beatrice didn’t wait for her to finish. “Follow me,” she said, pushing through to the doorway and heading down the stairs.

  Josie noticed that Margo had left Dory’s journal behind, so she picked it up and shoved it back into her pocket.

  The glow of the headlights through the downstairs windows projected panels of white onto the ceiling and the walls of the storage room, sliding around like alien creatures searching for a place to hide. The group shoved away the makeshift barricade from the exit.

  “Make sure everyone takes a life jacket,” Beatrice instructed, gesturing toward a nearby crate that was filled with bright orange floatation devices. She grabbed a fat red lantern from a shelf over the crate and then threw open the door. The wind greeted the group again, breathing salty mist into their faces.

  Outside, the lights from the descending cart were blinding. Eli raised his hand to shield his eyes. The cart’s engine snarled. If the men hadn’t known before where the group had hidden themselves, they surely did now.

  Beatrice waved for everyone to follow her around the corner of the boathouse, toward the edge of the wharf. Two thick wood posts rose up from below: a ladder leading down to the angry surf.

  BECAUSE OF THE STORM SURGE, the tide was much higher than it had been the previous morning, making the ladder shorter and the dinghy closer to the deck.

  Eli and Josie climbed down the slippery rungs and stepped into the aluminum vessel. It was not a very big boat, maybe sixteen feet. A pair of long oars lay across its three wooden benches. The bottom was filled with almost a foot of water. The two glanced at each other, another silent question passing between them: Will we climb out of this thing together on the other side of the gulf? Soon, they found themselves helping the others down the ladder. Turning back had become an impossible notion.

  As Beatrice busied herself for departure, Eli discovered a large plastic jug floating in the water by his ankles, a thin white nylon rope running from its handle to the side of the boat. The top of the jug was sealed shut, and the bottom had been cut open. If he held the jug by the handle, he could scoop the water out of the boat. He worked quickly, trying to empty the deluge.

  After untying the line from the front of the boat, Josie sat down beside Eli, who was still scooping out the water, and then looked toward the back, listening as Beatrice gave instructions to the other women. “Pull the buoys inside! Untie this! Loosen that! Disburse your weight. Watch out for the gas tank. Make sure the life jackets are tied tightly at your neck!”

  Beyond the lip of the deck, the misty atmosphere at the top of the ladder began to glow brighter. The golf cart was coming closer.

  Soon, the boat was drifting, unmoored, rocking violently in the surf, bobbing up and down like a carnival ride. Beatrice stood, ignoring the disturbance of the waves, managing to keep her balance as though her legs were made of rubber. Vivian held out one arm for support and, with her other hand, raised the fat red lantern. The glow at the deck grew brighter. Beatrice fiddled with the long handle that protruded from the front of the outboard motor before lowering the prop into the water. Then, she grabbed hold of a knob at the top of the motor and yanked it swiftly back, nearly hitting Aimee, who was sitting across from her. A long cord stretched out from the motor and a loud growling noise came from inside it and then sputtered out. Beatrice tried three more times before the engine finally came alive, vibrating the aluminum body that enclosed them.

  Slowly, the boat began to move out into the night. Seated on the bench at the bow, Eli and Josie clung to each other for a moment, as a real brother and sister would, reaching awkwardly around their bulky orange life vests. Giant swells brought them up and down, up and down. Waves splashed up over the side of the boat, drenching everyone. Eli glanced over the aluminum edge. The ocean parted ahead of them, but the water level outside seemed high, too high. The boat was sitting too deep, and Eli realized why Beatrice had saved this option for a last resort. There were too many passengers. Josie must have noticed the same thing because she released him and reached for the plastic scoop. She leaned down and tossed out water even as, every few seconds, the breakers dumped more inside.

  The wind assaulted them from every angle. When lightning flashed, the clouds were revealed, spinning tightly in the sky overhead. Eli considered that they were in a metal boat. What if lightning struck?

  His mother was sitting on the bench behind him. He reached back and took her hand. She squeezed his fingers, putting on a brave smile. Please, please, get us through this, Eli thought, imagining that somewhere Dory Sauvage was watching and wishing them success.

  THEY ONLY KNEW the direction in which they were headed by looking back at the island. The golf cart’s headlights were a diminishing beacon, a constant point on
the horizon.

  Eli couldn’t be sure but he thought he saw figures moving around on the wharf. His father, Charlie, and Gregory. Was it possible that Bruno was still out on the spit by the fort, dazed from his tumble? Despite what they’d done, he hoped they were all okay. And he wondered what would happen when they got back to the mainland. Would the men remember any of this?

  As the dinghy puttered farther out into the roiling gulf, the island disappeared into the darkness. Eli and Josie shared the task of scooping out the water, but it didn’t seem to help. The waves continued to toss them around. Eli’s head was spinning. Josie gagged, dizzied at what felt like a maelstrom drawing them toward its center. The women were shouting to one another over the roar of the wind tearing at the ocean. “How do you know where we’re going?” “Trust me!” “Sit down!” This went on and on.

  After a long while, Eli noticed a glimmer way back behind them, toward the island. Were those flashlights on the water? He felt his stomach sink. He remembered the large rubber raft that had been upended in the boathouse’s storage room. “Look!” he called out, pointing. “They’re following us!” The group stiffened and released a collective groan.

  “Never mind that!” Beatrice cried. “Brace yourselves!” She raised her arm sharply and pointed to her left. “Wave! WAVE!”

  Eli glanced around as he tried to figure out what she meant. Wave? Wave at whom? And then he saw it. A swell ten times the size of the others rose up out of the darkness, curling at the top, ready to crash.

  BEFORE HE KNEW what had happened, Eli was underwater again, spinning out of control. He flailed his arms and legs, trying to steady himself. Water shot up his nose, forced its way into his throat. He swallowed it down. Thick and salty. Immediately afterward, he gagged, nearly vomiting up the contents of his stomach, but he managed to hold his breath. In the swirling darkness, he clutched at the life jacket that hugged his neck and felt it pulling him in a certain direction. It could only be up. Right? He kicked his legs. Seconds later, he broke through the surface, gasping for breath.

  He struggled to cry out. “Mom! Aimee! Josie!” His voice crackled with phlegm and salt water.

  The sky lit up. A dozen feet away, in the negative space at the bottom of a swell, the bottom of the overturned dinghy gleamed silver. Eli watched as several heads popped up around it. He couldn’t make out any faces. He swung out his arms, kicking his legs toward the capsized boat.

  The momentum of the surf carried him forward. By the time he reached the others, they’d already managed to grab hold of the vessel. To his horror, the current pushed him past the dinghy. He tried to turn around, to swim back, but the ocean had already decided his fate.

  The wind carried away the sound of screaming — the others’, his own.

  This is it, he thought. I’m going to die.

  He was a dozen yards gone when something splashed right next to his head. He cried out in surprise and then instinctively grabbed at the object. It was white and hard. He recognized it instantly: the plastic scooper from the dinghy. As soon as he had a hold of it, he felt himself being slowly reeled back to the boat.

  At the other end, he saw Margo and Josie working together to help him. They were each grasping the boat one-handed. When he was within a couple of feet, they reached out and caught his life jacket. He threw himself up onto the bottom of the boat, shuddering. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you, thank you.” It seemed as though they were the only words he knew anymore.

  “Are you okay?” Josie called out to him.

  “No way,” he answered, coming back into himself. “Are you?”

  “Not a chance!”

  Margo hung on to the vessel. Eli could hear her sobbing.

  “Where are the others?” he asked. “My mom? My sister?”

  At that moment, he heard another voice call to him from nearby. Pulling himself farther up onto the capsized dinghy, he caught a glimpse of the water on the other side, by the upended propellers. To his relief, he saw his mother’s face. She and Vivian clutched at the edge of the vessel. “Mom!”

  “Where is Aimee?” Cynthia cried out. “Where’s your sister?”

  ELI, MARGO, AND CYNTHIA dragged themselves to one side of the dinghy. Josie and Vivian held on to the other, trying to keep everything balanced. The waves continued to swell, bringing them up out of the valleys and then dropping them back down. At each crest, they scanned the black water within view, but they still had no sight of either Aimee or Beatrice. They shouted their voices to tatters, listening through the gale for an answer, but none came.

  Eli’s own mind raced. We’ll find them. We have to find them. Aimee is marrying Bruno on Sunday. The lobster people are coming tomorrow. I’m supposed to help everyone set up the seaweed platform for the bake. We’re wasting time. This is so stupid!

  “I’m going to go search for her!” Cynthia said through a sudden mouthful of sea foam. She choked, hacking up whatever had slipped down her esophagus.

  “Don’t you dare let go,” Vivian answered, her voice low and threatening. “Your son needs you, Cynthia!”

  “But Aimee is out there!” Eli shouted. “Maybe she and Beatrice are nearby!”

  “No!” Vivian called to him, slapping the belly of the boat that was now between them. It rang out with a hollow metallic thud. “This is how people die! Stay put. We cannot lose you too!”

  “Help will be coming soon,” Margo offered. “Let’s hold on for just a little longer.”

  Of course, Eli thought. Yes. Help. It will be coming. That’s what happens in these kinds of situations. Right?

  Cynthia opened her mouth in a silent wail. Her blond hair was plastered to her face, making her look like a demonic creature crawling out of the dark water. A mermaid. A naiad. A siren. It made perfect sense. This whole day had felt like something out of a fairy-tale nightmare.

  At the next crest, a flash of light greeted them from not far away.

  “Hey!” Eli shouted, waving his hand as high and hard as he could.

  “Eli, shh!” Josie said, shaking her head.

  “What? Why? It’s help! It’s the help that Margo told us was coming!” Even as he spoke, he realized his mistake; the tumble into the ocean had confused him, momentarily scrambling his thoughts. Voices called back to them, but Eli couldn’t make out any of the words. The other vessel slipped down the slope of a wave, casting a beam of light on the trough. When it reflected back up at the newcomers, their identities became clear. Charlie, Gregory, and Otis were in the large rubber raft, rowing toward them.

  “This is not the kind of help we need!” Josie answered.

  THE GROUP WATCHED in silence as the men came closer. What to do? What to do? The words were a gale inside Josie’s skull. This rescue would put them right back into the hands of the men who’d attempted to drown them only an hour prior.

  To let go of the boat would mean they would separate and possibly get lost in the gulf. But to stay … to stay …

  The raft came closer, skiing down another steep swell. This time, when the men shouted out, Josie could hear what they were saying.

  “Is everyone okay?”

  “Stay where you are! We’re coming to get you!”

  And, “Cynthia! Cynthia! I’m so sorry, honey! Please answer me!”

  Josie shook water from her face trying to focus.

  The men sounded no different than they had early that morning, before they’d even set foot on Sonny’s ferry. Had the spirits of the Nazi sailors departed? She wanted to shout out to them to go search for Beatrice and Aimee. The two couldn’t be far. The rest of the party should be fine hanging on to the dinghy until everyone else was safely returned.

  “They’re here to help!” Cynthia said, lifting her body high up onto the underside of the boat. “Otis! Please! Hurry!” Everyone else remained quiet, unsure of the truth.

  Eli tapped at the dinghy to catch Josie’s attention. “How can we trust them?” he called out to her.

  “This isn’t right,” she
agreed.

  Nearly twenty yards away, the men continued to row the rubber raft, keeping their flashlights directed at the overturned dinghy. “Almost there!” one of them called out. “Almost safe!”

  Josie wondered when they’d notice that their group only numbered five. Safe seemed like a cruel word when two of them were still missing. Except for Eli, the others were now crying and shouting and waving, wanting to believe that none of what had happened earlier had happened at all.

  When the raft was ten yards out, the men began to cheer more encouragement and apologies. Their faces were intermittently lit by their wavering flashlights, and Josie wondered if her fears were unfounded. They looked worried. Shocked. Weary. But as the distance closed between the vessels, the fact that no one had yet mentioned Aimee’s and Beatrice’s absence disconcerted Josie. Their headcount must be perfectly clear to the men at this point. Didn’t Otis care that his daughter wasn’t visible? Wasn’t Charlie concerned for his wife?

  “Come around this side of the boat,” Josie called out to Eli. “Bring the others.” When Eli squinted at her skeptically, she added, “Trust me! And hurry!”

  Eli goaded Margo and Cynthia around the sharp props of the motor to the other side of the boat. They were confused and in shock, as was Eli, but they gave little argument. Josie and Vivian made room for them by sliding toward the bow. When they were all in place, Josie explained, “It’s just in case the raft collides with us. On this side, we won’t be crushed.” What she didn’t say, but thought, was, On this side, it’ll be harder for them to grab us.

  WHEN THE RAFT was only a few feet away, the men reached out with their oars, trying to catch the dinghy and hold the two vessels together. Wood slammed against metal and rang out into the night, like a bell on a buoy.

  “Come back around,” Gregory said, holding out his hand. “We’ll pull you up!” When no one moved, he smiled sadly, his brow furrowing. “I know this is an almost ridiculous request, but you have to trust us. We’re here to help!”