The Missing

by Kiersten Modglin

  “What are you two talking about?” James’s voice boomed, stepping out from the tree line, the shotgun slung over his shoulder. His smile was almost antagonistic.

  “Nothing,” I said, standing up. “Just trying to cool off.”

  He waited, as if he expected us to say more.

  “We ready?” Noah asked, clasping his hands in front of him.

  “Let’s go,” James said as Ava reappeared from the forest too, the pistol held firmly in her palm. I swallowed, a chill running over me as I picked up both machetes.

  “Let’s go.” I hoped they hadn’t heard the tremble in my voice.

  Chapter Twenty

  It was late afternoon before we arrived at the cliff house. We’d come across a dirt path that led straight to the door, and I had to wonder how often the path was traveled. There was no grass growing up through the dirt, so I had to believe it was at least frequented occasionally.

  The T-shirt I was wearing had been drenched through with sweat, its dingy cotton clinging to my body with a vengeance. Ava kept a distance from me, so different than before, and James seemed to play the buffer, holding her hand and keeping her close, but occasionally casting a glance back toward Noah and me to make sure we hadn’t wandered off.

  Something had changed—between them, and between us. Perhaps it was just the loss of Harry. Maybe he had been the glue holding us all together. Maybe we were all just trying to recover, trying to hang on however we could.

  But that wasn’t it. There was more, at least.

  I felt it in my bones. Ava wasn’t herself. The bubbly girl I’d gotten to know, who I’d cared about, who I’d considered a friend…

  I looked to Noah, wondering if he felt the tension as strongly as I did. If he still believed it would be us versus them. I didn’t want it to be. When he’d said it, I thought he was being ridiculous, but now, I just didn’t know.

  Up close, the door was larger than I’d expected. It was made of a solid, rusty metal with a wheel in the center that looked as if it might not have been turned in decades. I wondered, briefly, if we’d been wrong. The smoke wasn’t going anymore, and the door could’ve led to anything. There was no guarantee it was even inhabitable, let alone actually housed someone.

  But I hadn’t imagined the woman. Of that, I was sure. She was real, and she was somewhere on the island. Maybe just steps from me.

  “What do we do now?” I asked, waiting for James to tell us his master plan.

  He looked around, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun. He wiped the sweat from his brow and dried his hand on the side of his shorts. When he moved toward the door, his hands outstretched, I gasped. He connected with the wheel, attempting to turn it.

  “Wait—” I tried to stop him, but it was too late. He shoved it with a heavy groan, but the wheel didn’t budge.

  He grunted, stepping away and dusting his hands, the palms now painted burnt orange from the rust. “It’s locked anyway.” He sniffled, dusting his hands again. “Here, you knock on the door, and we’ll all be ready,” he said, staring at me.

  “Wha—”

  “Whoa, hey, no,” Noah said quickly, interrupting my own protest. “Like hell are we letting her knock on the door.”

  If we were back home, I would’ve said I didn’t need him to let me do anything, thankyouverymuch, but for once, I was thankful for him speaking for me.

  “She’s the only one who doesn’t have a gun.” James lifted his gun, pointing it at the door. “Whenever they answer, we’ll have our guns on them.”

  “Whoever is in there, they gave us these guns, James. Do you honestly believe they gave us their entire supply of weapons? That they don’t have just as many, if not more? This place is elaborate. It’s well hidden. They’re watching us somehow… There’s no way whoever lives here isn’t protected.”

  “We’ll just have to take our chances. This is the only way in.” He tipped his gun toward the door again. “Come on, we’re wasting time.”

  “What are we going to say when they answer?” I asked, begging him to see reason. “We can’t just barge in. Please think this through.”

  “They haven’t hurt us yet, okay? If they wanted to kill us, they would’ve done it already. They have to be willing to see reason. They have to agree to a sit down and…a discussion.” He was thinking on his feet, something I didn’t think he was particularly good at. “We can make them see reason. Negotiate.”

  “With what?” Noah asked, pleading with him now rather than his usual sarcastic tone. “Sticks and coconuts? We have nothing to offer them. We need to think about this before we act. We’re not just sending her to knock on the door without a plan. We’re here. We made it. We found it. What’s next?” He looked at Ava, then at me. “Anyone have any ideas?”

  “Ahhh, we don’t have time for this,” James groaned, rushing toward the door with his hand outstretched. His fist connected with the heavy metal with a loud thwomp, thwomp, thwomp.

  “What the fuck, man?” Noah asked as James darted backward, never turning away from the door, his gun held awkwardly but at the ready nonetheless.

  Everyone brought their weapons up, and I dropped one of the machetes, trying to dry my sweaty palms so I wouldn’t lose the one that remained. My heart thundered in my chest, making my ears hot and my vision tunnel.

  This was it.

  We were going to meet the woman.

  We were going to find out why we were there.

  Seconds passed, feeling like hours, and we waited, our weapons unwavering. I watched the wheel on the door for the slightest movement, knowing that when it began to turn, I’d need to be at my best. Prepared to duck or run or hide at a moment’s notice.

  Noah shifted a half step, so he was in front of me only slightly. The movement was barely noticeable, but I felt warmth fill me as he did it. I knew then that even if I’d never agreed to our pact, it was in place. Noah would protect me, and I would do the same for him.

  No matter what.

  What we’d gone through, all of us, but particularly the two of us, had cemented the deal, even without my intention.

  After another long, drawn-out pause, James’s weapon dropped slightly. He took a step toward the door, preparing to knock again. All at once, the door opened, only slightly, and I watched something small and silver scurry across the forest floor before it shut again with a loud thud.

  A mouse?

  A can.

  As it registered, foggy, pressurized air began spewing out into the air with a steady pstttttttttttt.

  “What the—”

  “Get back!”

  “Run!”

  Our response was immediate and identical, the four of us darting for safety. I heard the creak of the door being opened again just as shots rang out, and I braced myself for the blow. This couldn’t be how it ended. It just couldn’t.

  “Get down!” a man shouted, and I fell to the ground at his command, my face pressed into the dirt as I panted, trying to make sense of what was happening. “Hands flat on the ground. Don’t touch your weapons. No sudden moves.”

  I couldn’t see anything for the fog from the can. It hadn’t burned like I’d expected, so it wasn’t tear gas, but it was still potent enough to fill the small area with a dense fog so thick I could hardly see where my machete landed, several feet in front of me. I looked to my left, at Ava, and my right, at Noah. We were all in similar positions, faces crushed to the ground, waiting for what would come.

  “Now, I want you all to listen to me, and listen well…” This was a new man. I tried to place their accents. They weren’t Southern. Midwestern, maybe? Then again, I supposed they could’ve been faking it. They sounded older than I was, but not by much, and confident. In control.

  “You shouldn’t have come here,” he went on. “You don’t belong here.”

  Did he mean we didn’t belong on the island? Or here, at their door? I opened my mouth, wanting to explain.

  “You need to go back to the beach,” the other said
, shutting me up before I’d begun. “You got the notes. You know the rules. You have your weapons… You have your orders. Get it done.”

  Noah met my eyes, our cheeks still resting on the ground, and I had the sudden urge to reach out and touch his hand, but I knew I couldn’t. No sudden moves.

  “Why are you doing this to us?” James asked, his tone high-pitched and fearful. “Who are you people?”

  “No one you need to worry about,” came the first man’s reply. “Now, we’re going to go back inside. Only one of you can leave, that’s the rule. So, if you want to ever get off this island, ever see your families again…” He cleared his throat. “You’ll do what we say. And if you ever come back here again, none of you will leave. Not ever.”

  We stayed silent as their words sank in for all of us. When I heard their footsteps descending, James called out, “What if we all agree on one of us to leave? What if the rest of us will stay? We don’t have to die, but we have to stay.”

  “Don’t try to negotiate with us. That’s not how it works. We make the rules. Was that James? Man the fuck up, James,” came the sour, aggressive response. “You’ve got the gun, so use it. Don’t get distracted by—” The man’s voice cut out, and I heard a grumble.

  The other man took over. “It’s against the rules. Don’t try to play us. We’re watching you. We’ll know if you try to trick us, and then none of you are going to get off this island. Ever.” He made a hmph sound and added, “Now, once you hear the door close, you’re to count to thirty, then stand up, gather your weapons, and make your way back to the beach. Do not return here.” There was no room for negotiation. I heard the wheel creak and the door squeal as it opened, and then I heard the thud that told us we were alone.

  Or, at least the most alone we’d ever been or ever would be on this island with the strangers watching us.

  I let out a heavy breath, tears I’d been holding in flooding my eyes. I let my body relax, my limbs flat and limp on the ground. Noah reached out, clutching my hand carefully. On my other side, I heard Ava crying and James trying to console her, despite the tremble in his own voice.

  “I’m so sorry,” he told her softly.

  Noah stood, tugging me to my feet. “We should go,” he said, leaving no room for argument as he pulled me away from the house.

  “We can’t just leave,” James tried to argue.

  “We’ve shown you where the house is.” Noah didn’t bother looking back. “If you want to stay here, be my guest. We’re going back to the beach.” He gripped my hand tighter, pulling me in front of him, his hands resting on either side of my waist. He was protecting me once again, but I didn’t need it. Eventually, I heard James’s and Ava’s footsteps following behind.

  The trip hadn’t given us any answers, but had managed to steal away any remaining hope we’d held on to. I couldn’t help thinking of my promise to Harry, that I’d someday tell Daisy about his bravery. I knew then I’d almost certainly never see that promise through.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Maybe we could build a raft.” The idea came weeks after Harry had died. I couldn’t be sure of the exact time because I’d given up trying to keep track of it. The sun rose, we hunted and gathered, boiled fresh water, and slept.

  We’d crafted three shelters since our last one, none that came anywhere near as sturdy as Harry’s had, and none that had survived more than a few nights. Eventually, we just gave up, choosing to sleep unsheltered and take cover under the boulder whenever a storm got too bad.

  By that point, we’d all developed deep tans, no longer burned by the sun even on its hottest day. We had bumps and scars and bruises from our time in the wilderness. We knew how to crack a coconut, clean a boar, catch a fish, and start a fire. We’d become experts on which coconut might hold the most juice, spotting fish darting beneath the ocean’s surface, and which wild animal made which sounds.

  We knew our surroundings, the small amount of ground we’d allowed ourselves to turn into a home. We were surviving, taking on roles and tasks, and finding our way in our new normal.

  But nothing was okay. James and Ava hadn’t stopped being cold to us, even if they slipped up occasionally and made a joke or laughed at one of ours, even if they passed us the food in the evening without a stony gaze or handed us a coconut without a locked jaw. Nothing was the same, and I suspected nothing ever would be again.

  They disappeared constantly, telling us that Ava’s stomach was upset again, though it was rare that I actually saw her get sick. They said certain foods, especially on hot days, seem to upset her, but from where I was sitting, it seemed more like they needed excuses to sneak off together.

  Noah kept me close to him, and I no longer refused to oblige him. He was the closest thing I had to a friend with Harry gone, and that was a commodity I couldn’t deny I needed.

  Once every few days, the four of us would make our way to Harry’s grave, placing fresh flowers on the mound of dirt that had begun to sprout fresh grass. It was probably the only thing we did together where I could forget about the tension and let the sadness take over, let my grief over our friend be the only thing I felt.

  “We have plenty of logs. We could find a way to tie them together. Something big enough for one or two people to float on,” James said, when no one responded to his comment about building a raft.

  “And let me guess who those lucky two would be,” Noah said dryly.

  “The girls could go, if you don’t trust me to send help back for you,” he said, his brows furrowed.

  “Do logs float?” Ava asked, wide-eyed. “Like…really float?”

  “There’d be no way to steer. The tide would end up pushing you right back up to shore,” Noah said.

  “You don’t know that. If it could get out far enough, maybe we could catch the attention of a boat, and—”

  “It doesn’t matter. You know the rules. We can’t do that. We shouldn’t even be talking about this,” I snarled, keeping my voice low. In the weeks since that day, there’d been no talk of escape. We’d followed the rules of the mysterious men behind the mysterious door. Why was he suddenly interested in disrupting the safety we seemed to have?

  For a while, no one said anything. I picked at the meat in my hands—fish, again. It had been days since we’d managed to catch a boar or goat, and I was growing tired of fish. I stared at the fire. Next to it, we’d built a stack of our now-useless items: our phones, my Kindle, and Harry’s novel, which none of us could bear to open. The pile was almost a shrine to who we’d once been.

  James threw the remainder of his food down with force, a huffed breath released at my expense. “You’re really just okay with this? After all this time? None of you are going to try and find us a way out of here?”

  “There is no way out,” I said, sighing as I leaned back a bit. “Don’t you get that, James? This is it. This is our life—”

  “Easy—” Noah began, but I cut him off.

  “No. You were right, Noah. You told me that I needed to accept it, but I couldn’t. I wanted to believe we’d find a way. There’s always a way, I thought. But there’s not a way out of this. There wasn’t for Harry, and there’s not for us.” Ava scoffed, drawing the group's attention to her. “Do you have something you’d like to say?” I demanded, the heat contributing to my frustration.

  She rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her coconut water and refusing to answer.

  “Do you?” I asked again. “Because I would really like to know what exactly it is that I’ve done to piss you both off so badly. If you want to build a raft, build a damn raft, but count me out.”

  “Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Ava asked, finally looking at me. It felt as if it was the first time we were making meaningful eye contact in so long.

  “I’d like what?”

  “Drop it, Ava,” James warned, putting a hand on her knee.

  “No. Please.” I held out a hand to stop him from talking, my tone clipped. “I’d like to hear it. What is
it you think I’d like?”

  She appeared to be contemplating whether or not to say whatever was clearly on her mind, her nostrils flaring, eyes darting between mine. “If we build a raft and get caught, and they kill us…then the two of you are left to decide what to do next. It would make it easy on you, wouldn’t it? You wouldn’t have to take us out like you did Ha—”

  “Ava!” James cried, cutting her off, but I’d heard enough to know what she was going to say.

  I stared at her, my eyes wide, jaw slack. Every ounce of anger had deflated from my body, replaced only with utter devastation. “Do you think that we…” I could hardly say the words. “That we killed Harry?”

  She didn’t answer, but she didn’t deny it, a challenge in her eyes. The silence was a blow. I felt the weight of it in my chest, crushing my lungs as I inhaled deeply.

  Beside me, Noah scrambled to his feet, stepping toward her. “How the fuck can you say that? You know how much Harry meant to her…”

  I wanted to stop him, to calm him down, but I wanted to know the answer, too.

  James stood up, facing off with him. “Ease up, bro. She didn’t even say anything.”

  “She didn’t not say anything,” he said, looking James up and down aggressively. “Is that what you think, too? Is that what you’ve both been whispering about during all the times you sneak away?”

  “It’s not like that—”

  Ava stood up, touching James’s arm gently and narrowing her gaze at Noah. “We don’t owe you an explanation for the way we feel.”

  “And how exactly do you feel?” I asked, still feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of me. I couldn’t bring myself to stand up. “That’s what changed, isn’t it? When we came back, you were different… It’s because you think we did this on purpose.” It wasn’t a question, but as she broke eye contact, she confirmed it.

  “We weren’t with you,” James said. “And we got the note that said ‘nice work.’ When we found out Harry died, well…”