We follow the stream for what seems like hours. Although I walk as far from its edge as possible, practically hugging the cave walls, my muscles remain tight, ready to flee at the first sign of crocodile. The openings in the cave over our heads disappear once more, and we plunge back into darkness.
I start counting my steps, and once I start, I can’t seem to stop. Multiples of eleven. It doesn’t matter how many sets, so long as my steps fall into neat, precise groups of eleven.
This was my very first ritual, when I was eight years old. The first indication that something was off about me. Since then, my OCD has graduated to different, more complex compulsions. But the numbers remain, like a basic foundation, surfacing in times of stress.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11.
1, 2, 3, 4—
Uh oh. Bodin has halted in front of me, giving me plenty of room to stop. Steps five through eight take me right up to his body. There’s nowhere else to go, so I continue stepping in place.
9, 10, 11.
Only when my steps are complete do I look up. Holy crap—Bodin is encased in a brilliant glow. When did that happen?
Cautiously, I step around him, and my mouth drops open.
The ground gives way to a sheer cliff that falls two stories to a pit of crocodiles. More reptiles than I can count swarm over one another. In the center of the pit, a particularly tall stalagmite holds a golden glass orb. The orb emits a warm radiance that brightens the cave like daylight. Even from where I stand, the glass ball seems to beckon me, to pull me into its powerful and mysterious aura.
I blink. And then blink again. Even after all the impossible phenomena that I’ve witnessed, I still can’t believe my eyes.
“It’s part of the legend,” Rae says, awed. “This sacred crystal, guarded at all times by a pit of crocodiles, is the source of all magic. Or at least magic on this island.”
“Holy crap!” Mateo exclaims. “You mean all we have to do is get our hands on that orb, and we’d bring Xander to his knees?”
“Unlikely,” Rae retorts. “First, you’d have to get past a pit of crocodiles. And second, if the folktales are correct, that crystal is damn near indestructible.”
Sylvie sighs dreamily. “Still, it’s a thing of beauty. Can you imagine having that on your nightstand?”
“Crocodiles,” Bodin reminds her. “They’d rip you to shreds before you get within a foot of their treasure.”
I give the crystal one last longing look. As awe-inspiring as its very presence is, the orb’s not helping us with our mission, at least at the moment. “We still have to find a way across the chasm,” I say, redirecting my friends’ attention.
Forty feet across the pit, the trail picks up again. Too far to jump across, and unlike the previous drop-offs we’ve encountered, there are no gradual slopes leading to the bottom. There’s nothing but sheer rock walls to my left and right, curving around until they meet again on the opposite side of the pit.
“Should we turn back?” I ask reluctantly.
“And go where?” Bodin inquires. “We’re not getting your mother her medicine by giving up. Our only hope is getting to the other side.”
He has a point. But that doesn’t make a pathway across the pit materialize.
“So, what do we do? Walk on the invisible bridge to the other side?” Mateo takes off his glasses and cleans them ferociously on his not-so-clean shirt.
Before Bodin can respond, Sylvie points across the chasm. “Everyone, look.”
I squint. The trail disappears into a tunnel, but that’s not what’s caught Sylvie’s attention. She’s pointing at…could it be?…a ray of natural light. And not just any ray of light. Judging from the angle, it originates not from a skylight in the ceiling but from an opening that leads to the outside world.
I suck in a breath. “We made it. On the other side of this monstrous pit is our ticket to freedom.”
“If we can get there,” Sylvie says.
“Your birds,” I say. “They managed to deliver you safely to the ground. Do you think they’ll transport us?”
Sylvie chews on her lip. “I’ll ask.” She shoots a look at Mateo. “No scaring me this time. It’s possible I’ll jump so far that I’ll fall into the crocodile pit—and take you with me.”
Mateo nods sheepishly.
Sylvie closes her eyes and breathes deeply. She’s barely into her second breath when winged creatures begin to appear on the other side of the chasm. The big black birds from before, along with their smaller cousins: birds with iridescent blue feathers. Pigeon-like creatures with white feathers and a black underbelly. Large-billed crows whose ombré feathers start at midnight blue and fade to violet purple.
Rae’s eyes widen. “Wow. You’re getting really good at this summoning business.”
“I don’t feel like I’m any better,” Sylvie mutters. But the proof is right there across the pit, staring at us with their beady eyes.
The birds hop around, jostling for dominance. One of the black ones spreads its wings, showing off its enormous wingspan. Others just peck at the ground and look at us, as though awaiting further instruction.
“Um, Sylvie?” Bodin says. “You might want to tell the birds to come over to us.”
“I’m trying.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “They’re not listening.”
“They’re not listening…or they can’t cross the chasm?” I ask.
We study the birds once more. They aren’t knocking into an invisible wall, but they seem to be afraid of something…or someone.
“Smart birds,” Mateo comments. “I wouldn’t want to fly over a pit of snarling crocodiles, either.” He pantomimes rolling up his nonexistent sleeves. “All right, all right. You don’t need to keep begging. I’ll climb across the rock wall.”
“Are you kidding?” I burst out. The cave wall isn’t entirely smooth. There are more indentations and protrusions than the polished vertical wall we encountered outside the cave. But still, the course looks treacherous at best. I wouldn’t send my worst enemy across that obstacle. “Even if you survive the twenty-foot drop, you’ll get eaten alive by crocs.”
“Simple solution: don’t fall,” Mateo replies calmly. Finished with his sleeves, he now moves to straighten his nonexistent bowtie.
“You just said you wouldn’t want to fly over the pit,” Sylvie protests.
“I don’t want to. Doesn’t mean I won’t.” Mateo drops his hands, finished with his pantomime, looking at each of us in turn. “Look, if I can get to the other side, I’ll build a ladder so that the rest of you can cross. We don’t have another choice. We either fall in line with Xander’s demands, or we forge our escape. Besides, I’m good at this. Maybe not a champion like Sylvie, but I’m at the climbing gym every week. Gotta maintain the few wee muscles I do have.” He flexes jokingly—but he’s right. His arms may be thin, but they’re hard with strength.
Sylvie straightens to her full six-foot height. “You said it yourself. I’m a better climber than you. So if anyone’s climbing across, it’s me.”
“Do you see how precarious those holds are?” Even as Mateo speaks, one of the pigeons pecks at the edge of the opposite cliff, and chunks of rock break off and fall into the pit. “I’m four, five inches shorter than you. And no offense, but these scrawny limbs probably weigh a whole lot less.”
Sylvie stares as the blue bird joins his friend and more rocks tumble into the pit. “None taken.”
“It’s still too big a risk,” Bodin interjects.
“Nah, it’s a calculated risk,” Mateo says. “One that we’re going to have to take.”
“You,” I correct, tears building behind my eyes. “It’s a risk that you and you alone will take.”
“Someone has to do it.” Mateo sets his shoulders. “And I’d rather it be me than any of you.”
Still thinking of others, until the very last minute.
I nod, although I don’t want to because the gesture means that I’m okay with this course of action. And I most certainly am not. I’m not okay with allowing Mateo to endanger himself. I’m not okay with being held hostage on this prison of an island. I’m not okay with Mama dying.
But this is my life, damn it. And I have to live it, even while others are risking theirs.
Bodin claps his hand on Mateo’s shoulder. Whatever tension had existed between them has evaporated. “Climb steady, my friend.”
First Sylvie, and then Rae, rush forward to hug him.
“Give my love to Lola?” he asks, his eyes misting.
“If you make it to the other side, you have my full blessing to pursue my sister,” Rae responds in a rare display of softness.
And then, it’s my turn. “Hold on really, really tight,” I say.
He smiles, the worry gone from his clear brown eyes. “If there was ever a time for me to be confident, it’s right about now.”
And then, it happens so fast, I barely have time to process. Mateo grabs ahold of a rock protrusion and swings to the first ledge. His hands are steady; his feet are firmly lodged. He looks over his shoulder and winks at us. “Told ya I’m good.”
The knot in my throat eases just the tiniest bit. Of course he’s good. He’s Mateo. He’s going to be all right. He has to be.
With practiced ease, his fingers find the next handhold, and his feet move onto the next grooves. Just like that, he’s a couple feet farther along.
It’s actually a joy to watch him as he moves expertly across the wall. His movements are economical but effective, his hold steady and unwavering. When he reaches the halfway point, my chest starts to lose the feeling that it’s being squeezed by a metal band.
He’s gonna make it. He’s gonna be all right. He’ll build a ladder, and we’ll climb to the other side. We’ll get help. We’ll save Mama.
He’s three-quarters of the way across now.
“You can do it, you can do it,” I chant under my breath, so as not to distract him. “You can do it, you can—”
Mateo yelps as his hand falls from the wall, clutching a crumbling piece of rock.
I go numb. Oh dear god, the handhold broke. It broke. And then, the ledge Mateo stands on also disintegrates, and he’s scrabbling up the wall, trying to find purchase with his feet.
“Mateo!” I or maybe someone else screams. I can no longer tell the difference between the panic inside and outside my brain.
“Hold on, brother.” Bodin frantically dumps his backpack. “I’m coming. I’m coming.”
Whatever qualms he had about climbing earlier have disappeared. But as Bodin reaches out to grab the first handhold, to my surprise, it’s my hand that grabs his arm and stops him.
“You can’t,” I say, my tears brimming over. “It’s too dangerous. If that rock broke, another one might—and probably will under your weight. We can’t lose you both.”
He looks at me with a mixture of emotions I don’t have time to decipher.
“Help!” Mateo yells. “I’m losing my grip.”
He’s hanging from the wall with a single hand now, both feet dangling. Even from here, I can tell his muscles are shaking. He won’t be able to hold on for much longer.
I look around wildly. Rock, rock, more rock…and birds.
“Sylvie!” I screech.
“On it,” Sylvie says, hands slapped over her ears.
But if the birds were curious about us before, they’re plain indifferent now, pecking at nothing on the ground.
I scan the wall. There’s got to be another handhold, another groove. Something for his feet to rest on, to give his hand a break.
There! A small but promising notch in the rock.
“Mateo! On your right, about thirty degrees, there’s a handhold,” I say. “If you can reach it, you can pull yourself up.”
He instinctively looks at exactly the right spot. He swings once, misses. He swings again—and manages to grab onto the notch.
As he does, the original protrusion breaks away, leaving him with the much smaller, much more difficult hold.
“Help!” Mateo hollers. “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die!”
We are out of options. There is nothing left to be done. No holds left to be held, no lifelines to be thrown. Any moment now, Mateo will lose his grip. The hold will break, or he will let go, and he will die. And there’s not a damn thing we can do about it.
It’s funny how time slows during the most crucial moments in your life. I could be reading a book or playing the piano, and the hours pass in an instant. But now, as I stare at Mateo, waiting for his imminent death, every heartbeat feels like an eternity.
His hand flexes in the notch, and his body rises a few inches. But it’s not because he’s pulled himself up. No, his arms seem…shorter than before. What?
My mind must be playing tricks on me, because a moment later, Mateo plummets into the pit of crocodiles.