The fishhooks swayed softly in the breeze, needle-sharp at the tips. They chimed together, like they were alive and talking. Brian didn’t like it.
“The radio,” Brian said, remembering. “Listen to the chimes . . .”
“But why?” said Phil. “Who would hang up all those fishhooks?”
“I don’t know,” said Brian. He was listening hard. Coco hadn’t whistled again. Which way?
Why would someone hang fishhooks from trees?
He heard a chiming off to their right as more fishhooks swung together.
“Brian,” whispered Phil. “Brian, I thought I saw something moving.”
“Do you think it was Coco?” Brian whispered back.
Phil was shaking. “I—I don’t know . . .”
Just then, Coco herself popped out from between the trees. Phil and Brian both yelped.
Brian sucked in a relieved breath. “Geez, you scared us.” He listened for the fishhooks again, but they’d gone still.
> “Sorry,” said Coco. “I didn’t mean to.” She looked excited.
“What is it?” said Brian. He shot a suspicious look around. But now nothing moved.
“Here,” said Coco, with the air of a successful magician. She disappeared between two trees. Brian and Phil, still nervous, followed.
Coco scraped through some bushes and pointed. What was that? A boulder? No, a weathered building, nearly hidden in the trees and the late-afternoon shadows. Coco looked proud of herself. “A cabin,” she said. “That’s why I whistled. If I actually tried to go get you, I’d have never found this place again.”
“Coco, this is amazing, but we’re not safe. We need to get back to the beach,” said Brian. Phil was still shooting the forest nervous glances. Brian told Coco about the snakeskin.
She shot a scared look out into the trees. “What if we go and get the others and bring them back here?” she asked. “Safer than being out in the open, if—if the snake is around. Maybe warmer too.”
“Yeah, but whose cabin is this?” asked Brian. The grayish, weathered cabin door hung slightly crooked.
“I don’t know,” said Coco. “But—I mean—does it matter? Who would mind us using their cabin? We’re shipwrecked.”
“Truth,” said Brian. He stared again into the silent trees. All the fishhooks hung still. They were probably okay. Just because they’d found a snakeskin didn’t mean the snake came onshore often. It didn’t mean it was hunting. It had probably tired itself out sinking the Cassandra.
But he still hesitated at the threshold of the cabin. They didn’t have a good history with old, weird buildings. “Coco, have you been inside?”
She shook her head. “I saw it and whistled and then waited for you. I didn’t think it was safe to go in alone.” Coco also seemed to be thinking about their history with old buildings. She added, “But pretty much any building is better than spending the night out, right? It’s going to be awfully cold, and Mr. Adler will need to be warm. And this cabin looks abandoned.”
“Who cares if it’s abandoned or not?” asked Phil. “Better if it’s not! Anyone living here would have a boat, remember? Come on, let’s check it out!”
He pushed through the door before Coco or Brian could say anything else. After another moment’s indecision, Brian and Coco followed.
The inside of the cabin was dim. Almost dark. There were no windows, just the narrow, crooked door. The walls were strangely thick, reinforced with pieces of wood nailed on everywhere. And why were there no windows?
“Hang on,” said Brian, and dug out the emergency flashlight that he’d stashed in a pocket. He shined it around the room.
Phil screamed.
Coco didn’t, but he heard her breath catch in a small, horrified gasp. There was a skeleton on the bed.
Or a skull at least. Probably more than just a skull, Brian thought, swallowing hard. The rest of the skeleton was covered by a blanket, except for one arm. The skull lay on a moldy pillow, fallen sideways, turned toward them. The empty sockets seemed to stare. Its yellowed teeth smiled. Its arm bones lay along the grimy wool blanket. On its chest, under one bony hand, lay a black book bound in leather.
“Oh geez,” Phil whispered.