by Tim O'Rourke
The area we now stood in was open and vast. The rock above me formed a lip, which Coanda climbed beneath. We followed, only to find ourselves in a compact alcove. Coanda pulled a flashlight from one of the many pockets that adorned his overalls. He switched it on and cast a cone of bright white light across the walls. No sooner had the light splashed across them, then they began to glow a luminous green. I could see the walls were covered with that seaweed-type plant I had seen in the tunnel when first crawling into The Hollows.
The seaweed, if that’s what it was, sent a sickly glow across the alcove, painting our faces the colour of Halloween masks. I glanced at Luke and he no longer looked like a god, but sallow and sick, as if just getting over some prolonged illness. I looked at Isidor and Coanda, and they too looked ill. Isidor removed his rucksack and crossbow, placing them on the ground and sighing as he arched his back. In the distance I could hear the sound of water dripping, and to think that there might be water in such an arid place seemed strange to me. The sound of it made me realise how thirsty I was, and my throat felt as if it had been coated in a layer of dust.
“How come I hear water?” I asked Coanda.
“Why is that so strange?” he shot back.
“It’s just that this place, up above, seems so dry,” I said.
“Come with me and I’ll show you something,” he said turning away and walking to the furthest reaches of the alcove. I followed him, Isidor and Luke trailing at my heels. When I thought Coanda was going to walk straight into the wall, he turned sharply to his left and squeezed himself through a narrow gap. Drawing breath, I snuck through the gap and stepped out onto a ledge. Luke and Isidor joined me, but neither of them looked upon the sight with the same amount of awe I did. Perhaps they had seen it all before, but the vines that hung from the ceiling were beautiful in this cave I now found myself in. The ledge ran along the side of what looked like a giant bowl, and from above hung an intricate weave of vines and roots, like those of a giant tree. They curled and wrapped themselves about one another like the most carefully platted length of hair. The roots and vines glowed green just like the seaweed-type plant that covered the walls in the alcove. They glistened wetly with a yellow liquid which dripped from them like some kind of honey.
Coanda knelt on the ledge. Steadying himself with one hand, he reached into the vast bowl with his other hand and dipped his fingers into the gloopy liquid which had collected there. He pulled his hand free and held it up before me, his eyes gleaming in the yellow light that the substance was omitting. Then, without taking his eyes off mine, he ran his tongue up the length of his fingers as if savouring a lollipop. The goo ran from his lips and it looked sticky and wet as if he had just gone berserk with a bottle of lip gloss.
Once he had licked his fingers clean, and with a look of sheer delight on his face, he smacked his lips together and said, “Root Juice - there’s nothing like it.”
Without hesitating further, both Luke and Isidor were on their hands and knees, reaching down and taking a fist full of the yellow goo. Holding their hands to their mouths, they slurped and sucked the liquid from between their fingers.
“Go on, Kiera,” Coanda said, and it was the first time on our journey I had seen him smile – well, half-smile if I am to be honest.
“It doesn’t look as if it will quench my thirst,” I said, watching it drip in thick steams from Luke’s fingers. “It looks kinda sticky.”
“Just try it,” Coanda urged.
With my throat in need of any kind of moisture, I knelt down and tenderly dipped my fingers into the liquid that dripped from the roots sprouting from the rocky ceiling. It felt warm, and just as I had suspected, very sticky. Gingerly, I raised my fingers to my mouth and closing my eyes, I prodded the liquid with my tongue. At once my whole body tingled, as if it had just drank from a mountain spring. Although it had felt warm to the touch, it felt ice cold against my tongue. Sticking my fingers into my mouth I sucked the Root Juice from them. The inside of my mouth seemed to explode to life as the sticky substance ran down my throat. At once, my thirst was quenched and I could never imagine myself feeling thirsty ever again. But it wasn’t just the icy cold, mouth-watering sensation, it was the taste. It was as sweet as honey but sharp as a lemon, and I wanted more.
I licked my fingers clean and reached into the giant bowl again. Before my fingers even touched the goo, Coanda gripped me by the shoulder and pulled me back from the edge.
“No more, Kiera,” he said, as if in warning.
“Why not?” I asked him, trying to hide my disappointment. “It’s wonderful.”
“In small amounts,” Luke cut in. “Too much of the stuff can make you go crazy and you’ll just want more and more.”
“What’s wrong with that?” I asked. “It tastes amazing.”
“Just enough will kill your thirst,” Coanda said. “But any more and it will kill you.”
“What, like poison?” I gasped, wishing now I hadn’t tried it, however nice it had been.
“It will drown you,” Luke told me.
“Drown me?”
“How quickly did it cure your thirst?” he asked, staring at me.
”With just one drop.”
“Just imagine, then, what a handful, or a bottleful of the stuff would do,” Luke continued. “No one knows why, but the Root Juice retains water, that’s how plants and trees survive in The Hollows. A cup full of the stuff will keep a tree watered for months. So when it reaches your stomach it turns to a water-like substance. And you’ll just want more and more, and even when your stomach is bloated full and your bladder is screaming to be emptied, you’ll want to carry on drinking and drinking until there isn’t any more room in your stomach. Your lungs will start to fill and even when you are gasping for air, you’ll be slurping up that wonderful-tasting Root Juice until you suffocate - until it smothers you.”
“You won’t need water for hours now, maybe even a day or two,” Coanda said, and patted his flat stomach as if he himself were content. “The small amount you had will be enough to keep you hydrated just like it does the trees and the plants in The Hollows.” Then, without saying another word on the matter, Coanda slipped back into the narrow gap and was gone.
I looked over at the roots that hung from the roof of the cave, watching the gloopy Root Juice dripping from them.
“Don’t be tempted, Kiera,” Luke said, then he too disappeared, leaving Isidor and me alone.
Isidor stood on the ledge and looked down into the hollow of the cave and at the goo laying there. He had that haunted look in his eyes and I took the opportunity of being alone to speak with him.
“Neat stuff, huh?” I started.
“I guess,” he said back, but his voice sounded dreamy as if coming from a long way off.
Standing next to him, so close that my arm brushed against his, I said, “You never told me that you came from such an amazing world.”
“You never asked,” he replied thoughtfully.
Then, resting my hand on his arm, I said, “Please talk to me, Isidor. I know you are hurting about Kayla. I am too. We could help each other.”
“I don’t need any help,” he said, but not in anger or in resentment, but with a tinge of sorrow.
“I’ll find out who murdered Kayla,” I promised him. “I know how much you had grown to love her, Isidor, and I loved her too. You were her brother but she was like a sister -”
“Somebody else loved her,” Isidor suddenly said.
“Sorry? What did you say?”
“Someone else loved her,” he said again. “Or they told her they did.”
“Who are you talking about?” I quizzed, now feeling totally confused.
“She believed him,” Isidor said, “In her own way, she looked up to him, admired him, wanted to be like him. So when he told her she was special, that she was beautiful, she was so willing to believe him.”
“Who are you talking about?” I gripped his arm.
“I saw him kiss her at t
he resistance camp. When she was on her own, I asked her what was going on,” he explained in a dreamy, far-off manner. “I couldn’t believe my eyes. Why would she be kissing him? She swore me to secrecy and said that I wasn’t to say anything.”
“Who kissed her?” I demanded.
“So I didn’t say anything,” Isidor sighed, turning to look at me for the first time. “I kept my promise to her and now I wish I hadn’t. You were right, Kiera, I saw them talking together beneath that willow tree.”
I wanted to scream at him, “Stop rambling – just tell me! Who was it you saw with Kayla?” but I had waited this long for him to start talking, so I didn’t want to interrupt him for fear that he might clam up again, so I let him continue.
“The night Kayla was murdered,” Isidor continued. “They had been together. As I laid her in her grave, I could smell him on her. I don’t know if he was the one who killed her, but they had definitely been together.”
Almost on the verge of screaming at him, I took a deep breath and said, “Isidor, who is he?”
With a look of sadness, Isidor said, “I’m so sorry, Kiera, I wish I didn’t have to be the one to tell you this as I know it’s going to break your heart, but I think Elias Munn is -”
Before he could finish, there was a swishing sound like a blade being cut through the air. And then Isidor was clutching at his throat.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Isidor’s eyes spun in their sockets as he grappled at the wooden stake which was now protruding from his neck, just above his Adam’s Apple. Blood pumped from between his fingers and ran from the corners of his mouth in thick, black lumps.
“Isidor!” I screamed as he wobbled before me.
Taking him in my arms, I cradled him against me. I looked around frantically to see if there was anything close at hand I could use to stem the flow of blood from his throat.
“Help me!” I screeched. “Somebody help me!” And it was then that I saw it: Isidor’s crossbow propped against the wall in the gap we had slipped through earlier. Someone had shot Isidor with his own crossbow.
Isidor shook violently in my arms as if he were having a fit and his eyelids flickered. “Don’t you dare die on me, Isidor!” I roared at him “Don’t you dare! Do you hear me?”
Opening his eyes, he peered at me and made a gargling noise in the back of his throat. A black bubble of blood formed between his lips, then burst, showering me in a fine spray of blood. Knowing I was losing him and still desperate for answers, I lowered my face next to his and said, “Isidor, who did you see with Kayla? Who was it that betrayed her?”
His eyes flickered again, then closed. Shaking him by the shoulders and with tears rolling down my cheeks, I cried out loud, “Who did this to you?”
With his eyes still closed, Isidor took one blood-stained hand from his throat and gently ran it down the length of my face, taking my tears with it. Then, his hand flopped away and he fell still in my arms.
“No!” I screamed until my throat felt raw.
With my arms around him, I pulled him close, and all I could do was cry. I felt as if my heart had been crushed inside of me. “Isidor, wake up! Please,” I begged him. “I can’t lose you and Kayla! I can’t!”
I looked down into his face and could see those black flames tattooed up his neck now smeared crimson. His little tuft of beard jutted out and his eyebrow piercing gleamed green in the light of the roots that hung down from above us.
“Isidor,” I sniffed. “Please don’t leave me – please!”
But there was only silence apart from the drip-drip sound of the roots behind me. For how long I sat there and cradled him, I didn’t know. It was probably only minutes or perhaps just seconds before the others came running.
Coanda was first through the gap and onto the ledge, Luke at his heels.
“What’s gone on here?” Coanda asked, but I was too numb to say anything.
Luke rushed over and gently took Isidor from me. I was reluctant to let him go at first, but Luke prised him from me. I watched as he laid Isidor out upon the floor and pulled the stake from the puncture wound in his neck. He then laid his head against Isidor’s chest as if checking for a heartbeat. Slowly, Luke raised his head and looked at me.
“What happened?” he asked, sounding breathless. “Who did this?”
“You tell me,” I spat, and Luke recoiled as if my voice was full of venom. “One of you is a fucking killer and I want to know who!”
“Kiera, what are you talking about?” Luke asked, his eyes wide as he stared at me.
“Can’t you see what’s happening here?” I hissed, getting to my feet. “First Kayla, now Isidor - we’re being picked off one by one! There’s a freaking murderer amongst us and it isn’t me!”
“Kiera,” Coanda started, coming towards me. “What happened?”
“What do you think happened? Are you fucking blind?” I barked in sheer disbelief at him. “Somebody shot Isidor with his own crossbow!”
“But why would anyone want to do that?” he asked, glancing down at Isidor’s corpse then back at me. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Isidor thought he knew who had murdered Kayla,” I started, looking at both Luke and Coanda. “Apparently, whoever killed her had become close to her in the last few days of her life.”
“But who was it?” Luke demanded.
“You tell me, Luke,” I said staring into his eyes. “It could’ve been you who killed her.”
“It could’ve been - but it wasn’t…” he said flatly.
“And what about you, fly-boy?” I snarled turning on Coanda.
“What’s that s’pose to mean?” he shouted.
“We don’t know you - apart from the wild stories you tell about yourself, none us really know you. It was you who led us out here. It was your idea to come to the Light House. And why didn’t you really want me to tell anyone? Huh? Was it so you could murder us one by one and no one would ever know? You could be Elias Munn!”
“And what about you?” Coanda said. “We only have your word that Kayla died the way you said she did. It was only you who examined her body. That could’ve all been some elaborate show just to hide your own tracks.”
“Oh my god!” I gasped. “That’s ridiculous‘!”
“Is it?” Coanda went on and even Luke was now eyeing me with a look of distrust. Or was that just my own paranoia kicking in? “It’s you standing there with Isidor’s blood on your face and hands. The crossbow is just over there in that gap, within easy reach I’d say. We only have your word that he told you this stuff about Kayla. For all we know, he could have been accusing you of being the one who killed Kayla and you silenced him before he could tell anyone else.”
I stood and stared back at Coanda and Luke and both stared back at me. “Do you really believe that’s what happened?” I breathed. “Do you really believe I could kill Kayla and Isidor? I loved them like a brother and a sister. Do you really believe this, Luke?”
He was quiet for a moment as if contemplating his answer. Eventually he said, “I don’t know what to think anymore, Kiera. Everything seems to have changed.”
“But you can trust me,” I said, searching his eyes.
“Like I trusted you with my best friend, Potter,” he reminded me. “I honestly didn’t think you were capable of doing something like that to me.”
“Luke, you make it sound as if we were engaged to be married or something,” I gasped. “We were good friends, that was all.”
“I thought we were more than friends,” he said. “I thought we had something special. You didn’t turn me down when we were together in that underground lake.”
“Okay, so I fell in love with Potter, your best friend, but that doesn’t make me a murderer,” I insisted.
“But it’s okay for you to point the finger of blame at us?” Coanda asked. “And as far as I can see, neither of us have done thing to raise anyone’s suspicion; yet you are happy to point the finger of blame at one of us. I thought
you could see things, Kiera Hudson. Why can’t you see who this Elias Munn is?”
“I don’t know,” I said, trying to mask my own frustration.
“Maybe he has already blinded you?” Coanda said.
“How?”
“With his love,” Luke said, and I detected a note of sadness in his voice.
“You’re talking about Potter again, aren’t you?” I asked.
“Well where is he?” Luke asked. “No one has seen him since Kayla’s dead body showed up. Now Isidor is dead and there’s still no sign of him.”
“Have you seen him since he disappeared?” Coanda pushed.
“No,” I whispered.
“Is that a lie?” Coanda came at me again, and I felt as if I was being interrogated.
“No,” I said again without looking at either of them. But of course it was a lie. I had seen Potter and he had told me he was going into hiding and that he would follow us from a safe distance. But where was he now?
Coanda came towards me, and leaning in close he said, “If I were you, Kiera, I’d take a very long look at your lover, Potter before you go pointing the finger at me again.” Then turning, he growled at Luke, “Help me lay this boy to rest.”
I watched them silently carry Isidor from the cave. Taking his crossbow, I cradled it against my chest and began to cry.
I leant against the wall and slid to the floor where I rolled onto my side and closed my eyes. Taking my iPod from my pocket, I switched it on and began to listen to Wherever You Will Go by Charlene Soraia. I couldn’t help but think of Potter and that cigarette end I had found by the weeping willow. Had he put it there? He knew me well enough by now to know how I worked – how I could see things. Had my love for him blinded me just like Coanda thought? I hated thinking like this about Potter but so many roads Elias Munn had laid led to him. Would he have murdered Kayla? But then I remembered how he had suddenly been so protective of her when I’d explained Coanda’s plan to him. Why? The message my father had left for me in that book: ‘One may smile, and smile, and be a villain!’ Half-smiling to myself through my tears, I wondered if that single passage didn’t actually take Potter off the suspect list. After all, he didn’t smile that often as he always seemed so cranky and pissed off.
