“I hope we can win,” Chad says softly.
I pat him on the back. “Seriously, with your huge brain and Marc’s diabolical mind, we’re way ahead of the curve. Let’s wake up the others. We’ve got to explore this area. If there’s thirty people out there plotting to kill us, we’ll be sitting ducks if we stay here. I say we refill our water bottles in the river and head for the high ground.”
“What about weapons?” Marc says. “Shouldn’t we make some kind of weapons?”
“Out of what?” Chad says. “Jessie’s right. We need to see what the Field has to offer in the way of supplies and defensive positions. I’m for climbing out of this valley.”
Chad heads back toward our gray cell, which lies wedged between a half dozen trees at an awkward angle. It looks like a cargo carton that was casually dumped from the sky. The idea disturbs me for some reason. For all I know we may have been flown here alongside five other metal containers, in the very same craft.
I go to follow Chad but Marc grabs my arm, holding me in place, and speaks softly in my ear. “I’m not fooled, Jessie. There’s something you’re not telling us.”
I turn and stare into his blue eyes, inches away. “Same with you.”
“How are we going to protect each other if we don’t trust each other?” he asks.
“Trust takes time. You of all people should know that.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Why me of all people?”
“Because while I’ve got my secrets, you’ve got yours.”
Marc squeezes my arm harder and sharpens his tone. “I said it a few minutes ago but I wasn’t sure until now that it’s true. I’m scared, Chad’s scared, but you’re not. Not the way an eighteen-year-old chick fresh out of high school should be.”
With my free hand, I reach over and mess up his already unmanageable brown hair. “I’m glad you think I’m fresh,” I say, before effortlessly shaking free of his grip and walking away.
* * *
By the time we reach our open cell, the others are beginning to stir. Shira jumps up fast when Marc gently shakes her awake and immediately demands to know who gassed her. I should have been the one to awaken her, I realize. But Marc smiles at her fury; and I swear he’s determined to push Shira over the edge.
“It was those damn Nazis,” Marc replies, a joke that only he finds funny. Shira glares at him and shoves him aside and this time I don’t blame her. After all, there was probably a good reason her family ended up in Israel.
Ora drinks four of our ten remaining bottles of water—we had twenty-four total—for breakfast, while Li spends over ten minutes in the bathroom. In the end Chad has to knock on the door to get her to come out. Li also drinks a lot of water; for such a small thing, she has a huge thirst.
We show the others the plaque. We have to take them to the river to see it—the thing is practically embedded in the stone. None of them is too happy to read what it says. Then again, I’m just glad no one gets hysterical. I suspect the gang as a whole was already prepared for the worst.
Yet when I think about it, I realize why none of the others is shocked. Shira serves in the army in one of the most violent parts of the world. Ora, also, lives on the edge of civilization and the Stone Age, and is used to fighting to stay alive. And Li—we don’t know much about her except that her past was undoubtedly brutal.
“Looks like I’m not the only one acting suspicious,” I can’t help but whisper in Marc’s ear after the others read the plaque and slowly absorb the enormity of our predicament. Of course, Marc is quick to point out that Shira, Ora, and Li come from vastly different worlds than we do.
“They’re used to violence,” he hisses at me.
“I didn’t exactly grow up in Candy Land.”
“Do tell?”
I push him away. “Would you shove it?”
Even though Shira doesn’t overreact, she does insist on giving orders as to what we’re to do next. It’s like she assumes she’s in command. Since she wants to climb to the top of the nearest hill, none of us puts up an argument. But I can see we’re going to have trouble with her in the near future.
We refill our water bottles in the river, carrying four each in dark green backpacks our benefactors have thoughtfully provided, and begin our hike. Except for the bottles and packs, there’s absolutely nothing else we’re able to salvage from the cell that would be of any use to us. Yet as I walk, I marvel at how snug my brand-new black boots fit. It’s as if someone molded them to my feet.
I’m glad we’re on our way. Since finding the plaque, I’ve been anxious to get moving. I’m glad Shira and Ora appear to share my anxiety. This very instant, I think, someone could be stalking us.
I immediately rip the sleeves off my shirt—Marc and Ora follow suit—and store the extra material in my pack.
“Who knows, we might need it for bandages,” Marc says as we plow up the nearest hill. Shira is in front, naturally, leading the way, with Ora by her side. Chad and Li walk in the middle, and from what I can hear it seems Chad’s managed to get her to open up a bit. Marc and I bring up the rear.
“The others may not act scared but they are,” I warn. “You might want to curb that loose tongue of yours.”
“On one condition.”
I groan. “How did I know you were going to say that.”
“Why did you say, ‘It’s you,’ when I woke you up?”
“You’re as bad as Shira.”
“It’s a legitimate question.”
I hesitate. “I dreamed about you before we were brought here.”
“No shit. Really?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“And you say I’ve got a loose tongue.”
“Sorry.”
He pauses. “What was the dream about?”
“I saw you at work, parking cars. Then I saw you hiding in the trunk of a car.”
Marc stops midstride and I have to ask myself why I bother to taunt him. However, my loose mouth may not be so reckless after all. At some point I’m probably going to have to tell the others I’m a witch. I’m just hoping I’ve earned their trust by then. Preparing Marc ahead of time with a few hints might not be a bad strategy.
“What was I doing in the trunk?” Marc asks.
I smile. “A girl can only wonder.”
The thickness of the foliage is staggering, and by the time we reach the top of the hill the gang’s breathing heavily and our green uniforms are soaked with sweat, except for Ora’s. He’s obviously used to strenuous exercise and warm temperatures. I notice him collecting sticks as we walk, a few that could be used for staffs, and long strands of dried-out reeds. I can tell how alert he is, his eyes always scanning in all directions, and am glad he’s up front.
Naturally, I don’t get winded like the others but I’m not immune to the heat. Just a small reminder that changing into a witch did not make me a superhero.
At the top we find another—taller—hill waiting for us, and if the terrain had not suddenly opened up we probably would have sunk to our knees and begged for mercy. Fortunately, the worst of the jungle seems confined to the valley. The trees and shrubs suddenly thin and there are actually areas where we’re hiking through tall grassy meadows.
Near the top of the second summit, flat slabs of rock are added to the environment, and by taking a winding course over the stone we’re able to escape the skin-scraping branches and the worst of the vines and bushes.
The rock is a deep black, obviously volcanic in origin, and it’s etched with lines and grooves that remind me of currents and ripples, making it easy for me to imagine a molten river that long ago froze in place.
At the summit we’re treated to a staggering view.
We’re on an island. Off to our left is the ocean. It’s east of us, five miles away, and in front is a vast expanse of rolling land that leads down t
o the water. In places it’s thick with trees. Other spots are either covered with grass or more black rock.
A churning river flows down the center of the expanse, a much larger and aggressive body of water than the one we left behind. From our vantage point I’m able to count five separate streams that feed it; and I have to ask myself how we’ll ever be able to cross it—if we’re forced.
The coastline is enchanting: the white sandy beach, the crashing waves, the towering stones that look like ancient statues that disintegrated due to the passage of time or neglect. The swells are a force, the waves easily ten to fifteen feet high, and they send up massive jets of foam as they strike the fallen rocks.
Yet for all its beauty, it’s not the coast that holds our attention. Far to our right and in front of us is a dark mountain crowned with a smoking cloud of black smoke shot through with burning red streaks. It takes time for the truth to sink in. We’ve been left to fight an unknown foe on an island with a highly active volcano.
“That’s odd,” Chad says.
“What is it?” Shira demands.
Chad shakes his head, his face already showing signs of sunburn. “This island—I don’t recognize it. I mean, there are dozens of active volcanoes in the world but I’ve never seen one like that before.” He gestures to the terrain below. “I’ve never seen pictures of a place like this, which is weird. I’m no expert when it comes to geography but I should at least be able to tell what part of the world we’re in. But . . . I can’t.”
“This is looking more and more like Lost,” Marc says. “Did any of you watch that show? It was awesome. It was about a bunch of people stranded on an impossible island.”
“I do not know this show,” Ora says seriously. “But I do not own a TV.”
Marc pats him on the back. “Right now, buddy, I envy you. Because you have no idea how bad this can get.”
“Shut up!” Shira snaps. “This isn’t TV. We’re here—this island is real. We have to figure out how to defend ourselves.”
“Good luck with that,” Marc says.
I speak. “Chad, like you said, there’s dozens of volcanic islands spread all over the world, and we’ve only seen a portion of this place. We’ve only just begun to explore. I’m sure we’ll figure out where we are eventually.”
Chad nods. “I suppose. It just caught me off guard is all, seeing that cinder cone. It looks like it’s about to blow.”
“I don’t want to stay up here any longer,” Shira says. “We’re too exposed. We could be seen from miles away.” She nods to the expanse in front of us. “We have to go down.”
“We don’t know who’s down there,” Marc says. “It might be safer to go back.”
“No, Shira’s right, we can’t go back,” Ora says. “We need to find another source of water and a strong place we can defend.” He points to our right, along the edge of the cliff where we stand. “I see shadows along the side of this ledge. They might be caves.”
“A cave can turn into a perfect place to get trapped,” Shira warns, although she speaks to Ora with respect, like one warrior to another.
Ora nods gravely. “It depends on the cave. Let us decide after we have seen what is there.”
We don’t head straight in the direction Ora pointed. Shira insists we hike down lower, decrease our visibility, before turning west, to our right. Since I can’t dispute any of the choices Shira and Ora are making, I keep my mouth shut. For the most part Marc does likewise, until Ora stops and picks up a long sleek piece of volcanic rock and asks Marc if he can carry it in his pack.
“What’s wrong with your pack?” Marc asks.
“It is full,” Ora says. He has been collecting rocks since we reached the summit.
“All right but don’t get carried away,” Marc says, accepting the stone. “These babies are heavy.”
“Why do you call the dark stones babies?” Ora asks.
“A figure of speech, my friend,” Marc replies.
An hour later we encounter—to our relief—the birthplace of a stream that literally bubbles out of the side of a sloping stone wall. I’m not entirely surprised to find it. Like Ora, I’ve been mentally mapping the lines of water that feed the central river far below and knew there had to be a source nearby. But I’m as happy as the others to replenish my water bottles. The heat and humidity are forcing us to drink almost constantly.
I sit beside Li as we take a short break, although Ora has continued on, saying he wants to scout an area that’s caught his interest. Marc and Chad strip off their shirts, boots, and socks, and stretch out in the flowing water, which is delightfully cool. Even Shira takes off her boots and soaks her feet.
But I stay with Li because I’m worried. She’s been falling behind all day and now looks on the verge of collapse.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
She nods as she sips from her bottle. “Fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re beat. We’re all tired but you looked tired before we left that cage behind. Tell me, what’s wrong? I won’t tell the others if you don’t want me to.”
Li hesitates. “I’m diabetic.”
That’s what I feared, especially since we haven’t seen any fruit trees all day. Not even banana trees, which grow practically everywhere.
“Type one or type two?” I ask.
“Type two. I can control it mostly with diet if I can eat a little every hour. But I do take medicine.”
“Insulin?” At least she’s not type one, I think.
“No. I take other medication, but I don’t need shots.”
“I don’t suppose you woke up with your pills in your pockets?”
Li shakes her head. “No such luck. I get dizzy without the meds.”
“Can you manage the condition in an emergency? If you do get enough to eat?”
Li nods. “I can get by. But I need protein, not fruit. And I have to rest often.”
I squeeze her hand. “Is it okay if I explain your condition to the others? They might wonder why you keep falling behind.”
Li watches as Marc splashes Shira when she turns her back to him. For an instant Shira smiles, before whirling and shouting a foreign obscenity at him. Marc splashes her again, in the face.
“I’ll try to keep up,” Li says.
“All right. I’m sure we’ll find something to eat soon.” I say this to give her hope, but also because it makes no sense that those who have organized the “Field” would not give us enough food to stay alive long enough to fight.
Ora reappears thirty minutes later with news. He’s found a series of caves. Better yet, he says one of them has a narrow opening and is well hidden behind a row of trees. Shira acts skeptical but her interest is piqued when Ora reassures her that it has a back door.
“The cave digs deep into this side of the hill,” Ora explains. “And the opening at the rear leads to the other side of the hill.”
“You discovered all that in half an hour?” Marc asks.
Ora nods. “I move fast when I’m alone.”
The hike to the cave takes only a few minutes; and once again I’m impressed with Ora’s eagle eyes when he points out the opening. The entrance isn’t merely camouflaged—it’s virtually invisible. The trees help but it’s the low entryway that makes the cave next to impossible to spot. We have to drop to our hands and knees to crawl inside. If I had been searching alone, I would have missed it.
Ora’s discovery is a good reminder for me. I may be the only witch in the group but each of us has something to contribute. I’m glad we’ve established a hidden base of operations within walking distance of fresh water. It’s my hope that having a home of sorts will help our gang bond.
Yet we have a problem. Because the upper lip of the stone entrance extends almost to the ground, the interior is extremely dark. We’re fortunate the narrow cave opens to a decent-size
cavern, but move us ten yards away from the opening and we start walking into walls.
“We need flashlights,” Marc grumbles.
“Torches,” Ora counters.
“You’ve been collecting sticks and volcanic rocks,” I say to him. “Can you make us a torch?”
Ora hesitates. “We need another ingredient. But I think I know where to find it.” He turns toward the entrance. “I’ll be back soon.”
I move to follow. “I don’t want you wandering out there alone. I’m going with you.”
“I can move faster when I’m alone,” he repeats.
“Trust me, I won’t slow you down.”
No one else volunteers to accompany us, probably because they’re beat. As Ora and I hike away from the cave, heading west toward the distant volcano, I ask what he’s looking for.
“Tar,” he says.
For an instant I think he’s talking about Cleo and the Council. Then I realize he’s using the word the way most people do.
“Have you seen some?” I ask.
He stops and shifts his bundle of long sticks and rolled-up dried reeds into one arm and points with the other arm toward an area near the base of the hillside.
“Do you see it?” he asks.
As a witch, all my senses are naturally magnified. Still, I’m unsure what I’m searching for. One thing, though, the area’s choked with trees, and there’s a weird kind of fog. . . .
“Is that smoke? Has someone built a campfire there?”
He accepts my ignorance of the outdoors gracefully, although I catch a faint smile. “What you see is steam, not smoke. It can confuse the eye in the bright daylight.”
“We’re looking at a hot spring?”
“Yes. It’s probably caused by lava flowing beneath the ground, mixing with water. But sometimes the lava rises all the way to the surface.”
“How did you happen to spot it?”
He touches his nose. “Smelled it.”
Black Knight Page 11
