Gray Wolf Island Page 17

  Ronnie stops his thunderous approach. Spreads his arms out to his sides. “What treasure, Anne? Me and Ash followed the map. We checked that pointless hole. We’ve been all over this cave—and yes, we knew the poem was talking about someplace underground because I overheard Mr. Rollins telling Great-Grandma about it years ago—and found nothing. It’s time to head home.”

  Elliot rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I don’t think so. You lied to your sister and stole our map. Also, you’re a colossal douchebag.”

  Ronnie’s mouth cuts a harsh line across his face. He runs for Elliot, feet pounding anger into the ground. I half expect the earth to quake from the force of it. Elliot rises, fists at his side and ready to swing. And that’s when Ronnie screams.

  Time goes topsy-turvy. It’s slow enough for me to note the puff of dirt Elliot kicks up in a run, the look of horror on Anne’s face, the burn of my muscles as I launch off the ground. But it’s fast, too. So fast that Ronnie goes from there to gone with nothing in between.

  We stop at the foot of the staircase. There’s no time to gape at the hole in the ground. No time to discuss the fact that Ronnie’s dangling by his fingertips. No time to mention the stakes studding the base of the pit. I wrap an arm around Anne, and she collapses into my side.

  “You can have the treasure,” Ronnie pants. Beads of sweat dot his hairline. “I don’t give a shit about this cave. Just pull me up.”

  The boys drop to their knees and help Ash haul Ronnie out of the hole. They grunt and groan and curse like a shipful of sailors, but they drag him onto the ground. His eyes are wide, his body trembling. It’s a Ronnie Lansing that I’m certain didn’t exist before this very moment.

  “I was positive you were going to fall,” Anne says, flinging herself at her brother and squeezing tight. His whole body sags at her touch, and for the briefest second he soaks up her comfort. But only for a second. Only until Gabe speaks.

  “You all right?”

  Ronnie disentangles from Anne. “You crying for me, Gabriella?” His hands run through his hair, adding height to the spikes. “That’s adorable.”

  “Careful,” Anne says. “Venomous words have a way of poisoning more lives than you intend.”

  Ronnie ignores her.

  Ash steps between the boys. “Let’s just go, man. I’m not killing myself for a treasure we both know isn’t here.”

  Ronnie’s gaze flits to the hole that nearly swallowed him. “Yeah, okay. At least as a consolation prize Gabriella won’t be walking out of here any richer, either. C’mon, Anne.”

  Her hands flutter at her sides. “Oh. I think I’ll stay with my friends.”

  “Friends?” Ronnie grins with teeth that could cut diamonds. “You think they look at you and see a friend? They see free hours. ’Cept Gabriella. He sees free hours and someone to giggle about boys with.”

  Elliot shoots to his feet. Charlie is right behind him. I wish they’d hurry up and put a fist in Ronnie’s face, but they seem to be waiting for Gabe’s go-ahead.

  “I don’t have a father,” Gabe says, rising. “But you know what?” Gabe’s less than a foot from Ronnie. He leans in and whispers, “I’m still twice the man you are.”

  There’s a moment when I’m sure Ronnie’s going to lurch forward and pummel Gabe. His knuckles go white as he squeezes his fist. But then he’s backing away. Laughing like he’s in on a joke we’re all too stupid to catch. “You losers have fun searching for something that doesn’t exist.”

  Ronnie picks his way toward the staircase, Ash following behind like a bleached shadow. My heart’s still hammering a wild beat when Ronnie whirls around. Hurls Treasure Island at Gabe. “Enjoy the story, Gabriella. There’ll be one about you circling Wildewell by the time you get home.”

  “Honestly, Ronnie,” Gabe says with a sigh. “Who the hell cares?”

  While Ronnie and Ash climb out of the cave, we inspect the hole. It’s cut from the stone ground, a gaping mouth opening to sharp metal teeth. A catch on the side seems to have broken beneath Ronnie’s weight. With a firm push, the time-rotted wood hinged to the top swings down to reveal the fifteen-foot pit. Only luck saved us from plummeting through when we stepped off the stairs.

  It takes forever for Ronnie and Ash to leave the cave, so long that guilt drops from Anne’s face and pride lulls Gabe to sleep. After a half hour, Elliot gets antsy for the hunt. “Recite the directions, will you, Ruby?”

  “ ‘Night descends quickly and dark is made near. It cloaks you in shadows, but strangle your fear.’ ”

  “Right. We’re in a dark cave. What’s next?”

  “ ‘And in the black you’ll find the star to guide your way, to take you far,’ ” I say. “Seems like we have to wait out the night here. Maybe see a star through the crack in the ceiling.”

  “And then?”

  “ ‘Take caution, dear friend. Do not be misled. If trickle turns torrent, you’ll soon end up dead.’ ”

  “There has to be a river down here,” Elliot says. “What else could trickle and become a torrent?”

  “Blood,” Charlie says.

  Elliot screws up his face. “Way to be morbid.”

  “I am going to die here.”

  “Stop saying that or I’ll punch you in the face.”

  Charlie grins. “I’d like to see you try.”

  “I really will, Charlie. I mean it.”

  Anne kicks my foot. “Let’s search this cave for a treasure. If we wait for these boys, we’ll never get anything done.”

  We heave ourselves off the cool earth, leaving our packs behind.

  “Wait,” Elliot says, tugging on the hem of my shorts. “You shouldn’t go by yourselves.”

  “Elliot,” I say through clenched teeth. “We’re girls, not toddlers. We will be no worse at spotting trapdoors in the floor than you.”

  I stomp away, Anne at my heels. “He’s such a Thorne. Can’t let anyone else make the discovery.”

  “I think he wanted to spend time with you,” Anne says, panting to catch up.

  “Oh.”

  “It’s okay. Your speech was still very good.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh yeah,” she says. “I’ll probably save it for later.”

  Neither of us wants to explore the cave behind the staircase yet, so we head for the far reaches of this cavern. It seems entirely possible that we could walk in this direction for miles and miles. That the cave might extend all the way to the bottom of the pit.

  “I had a thought,” Anne announces as if her head’s not full of them. “Whoever wrote the poem wanted the treasure found, even if the island doesn’t. So we can’t possibly be waiting for the stars.”

  “The next clue?”

  She nods. “Though it would be romantic, holding our breath for a special star.”

  It takes me some time to untangle that. To realize each of our clues came with tangible markers—rough-carved symbols, wolves howling on hot metal, the cool rush of a waterfall. Anne’s right: The night sky’s too changeable to signal our next step. “The slashed square is our star. We should be looking for that.”

  “Precisely.” She smiles. “Aren’t we a fantastic team?”

  I like the sound of that, and as I swing my flashlight in search of the symbol, I say it again. “A fantastic team.”

  We pick our way around pointed pillars, over a ground littered with cracked rocks. The air’s at least twenty degrees cooler than at the surface, and I wish I’d tugged on a sweatshirt before venturing farther into the cave.

  “Ruby?” Anne says after a short while. “Do you remember that day in fifth grade when the park ranger spoke to our class about wilderness safety?”

  “No.” I wish I did, considering we’re in the mouth of a cave that, if we’re not careful, might swallow us whole.

  “He asked the class what we’d need to survive. He called on this girl who said food and water. And he called on this boy who said fire and shelter. When he called on me, I said hope and love.” She
pauses, flicks her eyes to me. “I told him hope gives you the will to survive and love makes survival worth it. He said I was too dreamy.”

  Shadows swallow the sunlight as we move farther into the cave, and my body’s almost tired enough to believe we’ve walked our way into nighttime. Something cracks underfoot, brittle like old bones.

  “I had friends back then. This was right before I started charging for my hours and they stopped asking me to hang out because they only ever wanted my time. That day, I overheard them saying the ranger was right. I was too happy. Too short and wispy and dreamy. They found that hilarious because I don’t dream.” Anne stumbles over a rock, grips my hand to steady herself. I squeeze it, hard. Even when she’s steady, I hold tight. “I remember sitting behind these two girls with the same face, and the shorter one leaning into the tall one. She said, ‘Imagine being stuck in the wilderness with Anne Lansing.’ I remember the taller one leaning into the short one. I remember this because she said the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me. She said, ‘I’d rather be stranded with her and her hope than the rest of them.’ ”

  “Proof I was a smart kid,” I say, but I mean the opposite. I should have talked to her, should have been her friend. Shouldn’t have let Sadie’s words mean so, so much.

  We curve around a low-hanging shower of stalactites. Water drips off the ends and puddles on the ground. On the other side of the formation, the air is stale with the faint whiff of death. “Ruby!”

  I follow Anne’s voice to the left. My headlamp shines on her hunched form in front of a flat rock. She leans back, and the slashed square symbol is startlingly black in the bright beam. In my mind, I use its point to draw our star.

  We’ve found the next clue.

  TAKE CAUTION, DEAR FRIEND.

  Do not be misled.

  If trickle turns torrent,

  you’ll soon end up dead.

  We return to find Elliot standing on a stone slab, lit up like a god. The beam of light spilling from the crack in the ceiling is dust-specked and murky, like a veil that separates Elliot from the rest of us. Just like a Thorne, I think, though I think it mostly affectionately.

  “Catch a star yet, Elliot?”

  His eyes find mine, but his gaze quickly returns to the gap in the stones above. The hollows of his cheeks are pink going red. “Won’t know till night.”

  Anne gives me a look that says End his embarrassment, so I do. I climb the stone, legs quaking as I push myself up. He pretends not to see me, but his swallows are hard to miss with his neck arched back. I slide my hand into his. “I thought you wanted to be the one who discovered the star. That’s why…before.”

  “Is that an apology?”

  “Yes?”

  He bites back a smile. “It was really awful.”

  I groan. “I’ve never had to apologize to anyone but Sadie before!”

  Elliot shifts closer. Our shoulders kiss. “That’s because you didn’t ever talk to anyone.”

  “I bet you’re good at apologies,” I say.

  “Because authority figures are constantly asking me to make reparations?”

  I roll my eyes. “People who use terms like authority figures and reparations generally aren’t the kinds of people authority figures ask to make reparations. Just so you know.”

  “Oh my God,” Charlie groans. “This is going to go on forever. Either kiss or let’s explore the cave.”

  My face feels as red as Elliot’s looks. He jumps off the stone, wallops Charlie in the bicep. “You’re a good friend.”

  Charlie holds his arm out to Anne. “Massage me, Anna Banana. I need full strength if I’m going to find the star thing before my enemy, Elliot.”

  “Nobody needs any strength to find it. Ruby and I already did.”

  “You should have led with that,” Elliot says, shouldering his pack. “It’s better than your apology.”

  “Send Anne, she’s pocket-sized.”

  “I’m five feet, Gabriel. And I’m standing right here.” She glares at him, then drops to the ground. The crevice between the cave wall and the stone with the slashed square looks even smaller next to her hulking backpack. She inches between the rock, making it as far as her shoulders before she’s stuck. She tries to back out so we can take off the pack she forgot to ditch, but she barely budges. “Gimme a push, boys.”

  Gabe’s eyes flit to Anne’s butt. He jerks around to face me. “What’s the point if Ruby won’t tell the truth?”

  Charlie kneels behind Anne. “The point is we get to explore a cool tunnel.”

  “Take your time.” Anne’s voice is muffled from inside the cave. “I’m sure there are no snakes or other creatures hiding in this pitch-black tunnel.”

  “Snakes?” Charlie’s eyes go wide. “You didn’t mention snakes, Elliot.”

  Anne kicks wildly. “Push me through or I’ll be the one killing you, Charles Kim.”

  It’s slow going. Charlie pushes while Elliot and I smash down the top of her pack. Anne worms forward on her stomach, and Gabe alternates between ogling Anne’s legs and staring at the cave floor with a guilt-ridden expression. Anne’s pack disappears through the hole, and the rest of her follows behind it.

  The boys and I crowd around the opening. “Anne?” Gabe sticks his head through the hole. “You still alive in there?”

  A small hand reaches through the crack. Pokes Gabe in the eye. “Headlamp.”

  I toss her mine. It disappears through the hole.

  “Getting in is the hardest part!” she says from inside the tunnel. “It opens after a few feet. It’s tight, but I can stand.”

  “Which is like sitting to the rest of us,” Gabe says.

  “I heard that!” Her head appears at the mouth of the tunnel, blinding us with her lamp. “It’d be easiest if you didn’t squeeze through with your packs.”

  Gabe scowls. “We can’t leave my bag behind. It has all the food.”

  “God must have made you so beautiful to atone for making you so stupid,” Anne says. “Shove your backpack through before you.”

  Gabe shrugs off his pack. Kicks it through the opening. He shimmies through the crack, twisting at the waist to fit his broad shoulders. His words are muffled by a wall of rock when he says, “You really think I’m beautiful?”

  Charlie, Elliot, and I follow, slithering through the tight crevice and emerging into blackness broken by halos of light. Even with all our headlamps on, the tunnel is dark, gray-brown walls painted with our inky shadows. It’s high enough for Anne to stand, but just barely. I try hunching, but my heavy pack pitches me forward, so I get into a crawl instead.

  Anne moves at a quick pace until Charlie whines about his knees and Elliot yells at her to slow down. She retaliates by telling Charlie there’s a bat colony ahead, which only makes the next hour more excruciating for everyone else.

  The tunnel winds northwest toward the ocean, gaining a few feet of height as it goes. It comes to a stop before two entryways: a stone slab and a rusted metal door connected to a pulley.

  “We’ll try the door first,” Elliot says, then turns to me. “If that’s okay with you.”

  “Thank you,” I say like the words could light the cave. “And yes, it’s okay with me.”

  “I feel like I’ve entered a Hallmark movie. Can we get back to the adventure now?” Charlie tugs on the rusted chain, but the door doesn’t budge. “I think it’s broken.”

  “I think you’re weak.” Gabe elbows him out of the way. His muscles bulge as he tugs on the rusted chain. The door creaks but doesn’t lift.

  “Ha. Told you it was broken.”

  Gabe whips off his shirt, wraps it around his hands, and tries again. His voice is more groan than words when he yells, “Come on!”

  The door rises, a slow yawn that rattles the metal. The chug of metal rollers on their tracks starts to echo once the door hits the halfway mark. And then it’s not an echo but a high-pitched screech.

  I point my headlamp at the opening. It’s black as deat
h in there, but light glints against metal a few feet back. “It’s lifting a second door,” I say. “They must be attached to the same pulley system.”

  “Feels like I’m lifting fifty doors,” Gabe says. Sweat trickles from beneath his headlamp and into his eye. He repositions his hunched form—there are only so many ways to grip the chain in the cramped tunnel—and heaves again. The door gives one last shudder, then slides all the way open.

  This time, a rumble swims beneath the rattle and squeal. The musty cave fills with the scent of salt and fish.

  We don’t say what we all know. The sea is coming.

  WHEN NARROW OPENS

  up to wide,

  take a deep breath

  and step inside.

  Gabe springs for the metal chains. Tugs and tugs and tugs. Elliot and Charlie pull with him, putting their body weight behind the movement. The doors don’t move.

  Elliot punches the wall. “It’s a trap.”

  Water rushes from the new tunnel. Flows over our feet. Climbs to our ankles.

  Gabe darts toward the stone slab. His hands flatten against the rock, and it’s as if time stills. I see the swell of his back muscles as he pushes. Hear the splash of Charlie and Elliot racing to his sides. Feel the cold water inch up my calves and to my knees.

  I glance behind us. Miles of tunnel. A ready grave.

  Anne and I join the boys, pleading, cursing, grunting with effort. Our words weave a spell, and the stone inches forward. Water soaks our shorts and makes it hard to stand, but panic grows our muscles and we move the stone again.

  Inch by inch by excruciating inch.

  There’s a two-foot-wide gap when the water hits my hips. I taste salt, and I’m not sure if it’s from my sweat or the sea. Anne slips through. I follow.

  This tunnel is larger than the last, and I stand with ease. I back up, making room for Charlie and Elliot.

  “Hurry!” Charlie shouts as water spills through the cracked doorway. In response, a backpack squeezes through.

  “Screw that,” Elliot says, tossing the bag behind him. “Get in here, Gabe. Right now!”