Dark Waters - Page 26
“Where are you?” breathed a voice on the radio.
“I’m sorry?” said Ms. Zintner. “This is—” She stopped, because Coco had taken her arm very suddenly.
“Bill?” whispered the radio. “Bill, are you there? I’m waiting for you, Billy . . . We’re all waiting.”
“Beg pardon?” said Ms. Zintner.
“Leave,” whispered the radio. Static drowned the next words, and then, “. . . never get off.”
“Who is this?” demanded Ms. Zintner sternly. “Are you on the island?”
There was only the sound of breathing, crackling over the radio. Then, “Yes,” whispered the radio. “Forever forever forever . . .” The voice faded away.
Brian took a breath to say something, although he didn’t know what.
Then there was a sudden, enormously loud burst of static. “Listen to the chimes!” it roared, loud enough to make them all jump back. “She sees in the dark,” it whispered, almost too softly to hear. And then the radio cut out once more. The machine was silent.
“Well,” said Ms. Zintner, after a pause. She was pale. “I guess there must be people on this island—some awful practical jokers. But at least they’re somewhere. Maybe, now that they’ve had their joke, we can—”
“I don’t think it was a joke, Mom,” Coco said.
“We need to make a fire,” added Brian, trying for calm. There was no boat at all visible on the water, despite the smoke signal still spewing orange into the sky.
“Yeah,” said Ollie, jaw set. “We really do.” She glanced at her watch.
“Anything?” he asked her. Ollie, frowning, held it up so that Brian could see the screen. tell, it said, flashing. Then it went back to the countdown. 4:56:53.
Brian didn’t get it. “Tell what?” he said.
Ollie just shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes. “No idea,” she said.
“Well,” Brian said, “we’ll just get some firewood, then. Ollie—” He looked from the radio, to her watch, and back to her face. “If you need us, we’ll come running.”
She nodded, not speaking.
He picked up one of the emergency whistles from the kit and handed it to Coco. “You’re the most likely to get lost,” he told her, and Coco didn’t argue. She looked scared.
Brian glanced back at Ollie, just before he went into the woods. She was staring down at her watch. Brian had the strangest feeling. As though Ollie knew perfectly well what her watch was trying to say.
As though she knew, but she hadn’t told them.
That was ridiculous, he reminded himself. Ollie trusted them. They were her friends.
9
THE FOREST WAS thick, and all sound seemed muffled when they passed the first pine trees and the lake dropped out of sight behind them. Fresh growth capped the winter-dark needles of the spruce trees, and Brian snagged some of the spruce tips and stuffed them in his mouth. Coco watched him doubtfully.
“Are those—good to eat?” she asked.
“Yup,” said Brian. “Well, they aren’t White Rock Pizza, but they’re okay. Piney. They have vitamin C, I think?” Coco tried one herself, made a face, chewing. He grinned at her and ate another handful.
The space under the trees was chilly, as though the pines had enclosed the remains of winter, safe under their branches. Here and there, the snow lay in patches, and the mud was glassy smooth and deep. They all slipped and slid in it. No birds sang. Brian saw, with annoyance, that a lot of the deadfall was damp. It would be harder to make a fire. But he bent down anyway and started picking up sticks.
Coco came up beside him. “What do you think it meant—listen to the chimes?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said.
Phil said, breaking a dry branch over his knee, “That radio was just a practical joke. Just a stupid joke. Someone on the island is playing jokes. We just need to find that person and tell them that—that this is serious and—”
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