Shy stumbled to his feet, watching Shoeshine check Bill for a pulse. “Is he dead?” he asked.
“He’s dead.” Shoeshine peeled the gun out of Bill’s right hand and shoved it into the back of his waistband. He picked up the green backpack and then looked out over the ocean.
Shy knew he was in shock, because he couldn’t process what had just happened. But seeing Bill with a bullet wound in his back made him kneel down like he was about to be sick. He’d almost gotten shot in the head. After hearing that Addie’s dad’s company planted the disease to sell their drugs. He spit and looked up at Shoeshine, told him: “You saved my life. Twice now. Who are you?”
The guy shook his head, still looking over the water. “Just a guy who shines shoes, young fella.”
“No way, you have to be something else, too.” Shy wanted to do something for the guy, to show how grateful he was. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring, thrust it forward in his palm. “Here, you should have this,” he said.
Shoeshine looked down at the ring and shook his head. “No thanks. Never been big into jewelry.”
“But you could sell it or something. When we get back to California.”
“Not interested,” Shoeshine said, unzipping Bill’s green backpack and sifting through it.
Shy shoved the ring back into his pocket, watching. He thought of all the things Bill had just told him about the disease and Addie’s dad and everyone’s role. It disgusted him that anyone could make people sick on purpose. How would he explain it to Carmen? And what about Addie?
He turned toward the flooded lab, where it had all started. “How’d you even know we were here?” he asked Shoeshine.
“Been watching that man watch you since back on the ship,” Shoeshine said. “I could sense something wasn’t right.” He turned to face Shy for the first time. “Felt the same way about this whole island, soon as we landed here. It ain’t done with yet, young fella.”
Shy nodded. He wasn’t sure what Shoeshine was talking about, but he knew he agreed. The man hadn’t been wrong yet. Shy stood up and moved closer to Bill’s limp body, studied the bloody bullet wound in his back.
Shoeshine pulled a clear spray bottle out of the green backpack and held it up to the sun, which was much lower in the sky. The bottle was filled with a yellow liquid. Shoeshine sprayed a little onto the back of his hand and smelled it. Then he tasted it and spit.
“What is it?” Shy asked.
Shoeshine shook his head and looked back toward the island.
“What is it, Shoe?”
Shoeshine turned suddenly and tossed Shy the duffel bag. “Make sure everything in there stays safe,” he said. “It’s very important, you hear? There’s something else I gotta see about.” He started hurrying down the hill.
“Where you going?” Shy called after him.
Shoeshine didn’t answer.
“Everyone in the penthouse is sick!” Shy shouted. “They have the disease, too!”
“Stay off that ship!” the man shouted over his shoulder. “Long as you can! You hear me?” Then he ducked around a corner, out of sight.
Shy started down the hill a few minutes later, obsessively running through everything he’d just learned from Bill and replaying the sound of the shot he thought had ended his life. When he heard two people talking in the distance he stopped cold and ducked out of sight. It was two of the researchers coming down from the other path, toward the Y.
Once they passed, he looked around, trying to figure out what to do with the duffel bag. He didn’t want to take any chances, since it was the one job Shoeshine had trusted him with. To be safe, he climbed partway up a tree and stashed the bag in the elbow of a high branch that was covered by a dense layer of leaves. He’d come back for it, he decided, just before he lined up to get on the ship.
Shy hurried down the rest of the path, past the gazebo and into the hotel lobby. A few passengers were leaving just as he got there. “Where you going?” Shy asked.
“A bunch of us are heading down early,” one of the women said. “We’re just so excited.”
“Come down when you can,” the guy next to her said. He held up a deck of cards. “Might play a little poker to pass the time.”
“I’ll be down there soon,” Shy told them, trying to maintain his smile. He didn’t understand why Shoeshine wanted him to stall getting on the ship. Everyone else was going early. And it wasn’t like Shy was gonna let the thing leave without Shoeshine. He owed the guy his life.
Shy watched the group leave, then started down the hall toward Addie’s room. He needed to ask her some serious questions about her dad, who was still alive.
He knocked and waited.
No answer.
“Addie!” he shouted. “Open the door, I need to talk to you!”
When there was no response again, he looked up and down the halls to make sure no one was around. Then he kicked at the door, hard as he could. It barely budged. He backed up and kicked again, right next to the doorknob. On the third try the door swung open and he went inside.
The room was empty.
The bed was made up perfectly, like nobody had ever been in it. Where was she? Down on the beach already? Shy sat on the couch in the corner to try and think. He was mad as hell. And he was scared. Addie’s family had killed his own. It made him hate her. But he’d looked into her eyes on the lifeboat. She wasn’t like her dad. Or maybe he’d read her wrong the whole time.
And then he remembered the helicopter leaving the island. He punched the wall. What if Addie had been on it with her dad? But that didn’t make sense either. She didn’t even know he was still alive.
Shy left Addie’s room and hurried down the hall. Another group of passengers was cutting through the lobby toward the exit. “We figured we might as well go line up now,” the woman in the Raiders jersey said.
One of the men looked at his watch. “Only about twenty-five minutes before we’re supposed to be down there. We’ll see you soon, I hope.”
Shy promised he’d hurry.