part0041

“He did do it,” Lucy said. “He locked us in here. And he was going to kill us. Just like he killed the others.”

Blake looked at the lifeless body that laid at his feet. He tried to wrap his brain around what Lucy was telling him. Maybe she was mistaken. Maybe the shock of everything that happened had messed with their minds.

Zoe stood in a daze. Her entire body quivered.

“Lucy, listen to me. Both of you. This is Lucas. The mentally handicapped man who lives—lived—next door to you. He’s not the person who abducted you.”

“I know who Lucas is,” Lucy said. “Only, it’s not really him. I mean, he was different. He wasn’t, you know, slow. He was acting crazy. Pretending to be other people and making us call him different names. Sometimes he wanted us to call him Doctor and then, if he was angry, he said he was the Captain.”

“Yeah. He put on this hat, like boat captains wear, and his voice would get all, I don’t know, rough, I guess. We knew when we saw the Captain it was gonna be real bad. Like, if we talked to each other, he got really, really angry. He was evil. You’ve gotta believe me.”

The man he chased wore the hat she described. He was Lucas’s build. He had Lucas’s profile. Blake could have kicked himself for not making the connection sooner. But there was no way his mind would have made that leap on its own. How could he ever have considered that the imposing man who threw a teenage girl over his shoulder and ran like the wind was the same man who shuffled around town, waving joyfully at strangers.

Then there was the Doctor. Yes. It was all starting to come together.

“I believe you,” Blake said. “Zoe. Listen to me. You did what you had to do to protect yourself. To protect all of us. You’re a strong young lady.”

Blake knew his words wouldn’t make much of a dent in the guilt she must have felt. And he knew it would only get worse as the horror of what she did set in. Taking a life is never easy, even for him. But at the moment, they needed to move, and he needed her to snap out of it.

“We’ve gotta get you two out of here. Is there anyone else besides Lucas?”

“No,” Lucy said.

“Okay, we’re going to walk. Stay behind me and stay close. Can you do that?”

Zoe looked at Blake with wide eyes. She rocked her head up and down.

“Good. Let’s go. And don’t touch anything.” Blake started around the corner.

As he walked, he held the bloody knife out in front of him, ready to defend his cargo at all costs. After a few steps, he paused and checked behind him. Both girls were there.

Ahead, daylight streamed in from the top of an L shaped, concrete staircase. They continued toward it.

On the left, there was an opening to another room. Blake visually cleared the interior. It was like the room they had come from. This one had the same iron bars, except the door section was missing. Otherwise, it was empty.

There were four more openings along the left wall before they would reach the stairs. Each room was closer to the source of the light, making each brighter and easier to clear with a quick glance.

As Blake peeked into the last room, he stopped and spun around toward his two shadows.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

Blake guided them the last few feet to the base of the stairs.

“Stay right here for a minute.”

Blake returned to the last opening. He peered in from the hallway to avoid contaminating the scene.

A large splotch of crimson covered the floor, obscuring the graffiti. It was as if someone had spilled a gallon of lumpy red paint and then tried to wipe it up. Only it wasn’t paint. Blake knew blood when he saw it. The way it congealed. The color it turned as it dried. And then there was the telltale metallic smell. So potent he could taste it in the air. Blake assumed it was Misty’s. But, one thing was for certain. Whoever it once belonged to hadn’t survived.

This room was different from the others. There were no bars. A number of rusted iron rings were embedded in the concrete along the walls and the perimeter of the floor. A few of them had ropes attached, the ends of which had soaked up the blood where they laid.

And then there were the tools.

In a pile by the corner was an assortment of old hand tools. A few saws. Pliers. Snippers. A hammer. A hand-cranked drill. Blake winced at the thought of what the tools were used for. Misty’s fingers and Zoe’s tongue, for starters.

It was hard to imagine that Lucas was capable of using such instruments of torture. Both philosophically and literally.

Blake rejoined the girls and started up the stairs. When they reached the top, they emerged at ground level, in a dirt clearing surrounded by dense trees and brush.

The crumbling concrete steps continued upward toward the top of the monolithic structure. Blake had the girls wait once more while he bound up the steps to take a quick look.

Along the flat roof were three enormous circular pits, each with huge bolts protruding from their bases.

This was an old military installation. One of the forts that Christa had spoken about.

Blake looked eastward. Through the trees he could see the shimmer of water. It was a bearing, at least. Somewhere to start.

He scuttled down the stairs, hopping from left to right to avoid the sections that had broken away.

“Do you have any idea where we are?” he asked as he reached the bottom.

“I think it’s Fort Wetherill,” Lucy said. “I’ve never seen this part. It looks the same, except it’s not buried. And there’s a lot more trees.”

“I could see water over this way,” Blake said, “follow me.”

As they pushed through heavy growth, Blake used the knife to help him break off the smaller branches to make it easier for the girls to follow.

As they reached the edge of the wood line, all three emerged onto the rocky shore. At that moment, it became obvious where they were.

A low-lying fog lingered over the water, not yet burnt off by the advancing sun. Across the water, and less than a mile away, a structure poked through the haze. A big tan building with big block letters affixed along its top. They read, “Dutch Harbor.”

“That’s the West Ferry,” Blake said.

“We’re on Dutch Island.” Lucy gave a nervous laugh. “We’re not at Fort Wetherill, we’re on Dutch Island.”

Blake felt a tugging on the back of his shirt. It was Zoe, trying to get his attention. She pointed toward the north, along the shoreline.

“What is it?” With a glance, Blake was able to answer his own question.

A hundred feet away, tucked along what looked like an old sea wall or the remains of a dock, was Lucas’s boat.

Blake started toward it, hopping from rock to rock. One of the boulders was covered in a green slime. His foot slipped, but he recovered before losing his balance. He looked back. The girls were expertly traversing the terrain. “Careful, the seaweed’s slippery over here.”

Blake reached the boat first. He waded into the water and climbed on board. There, sitting on the pilot’s seat, was the naval cap.

Before helping the girls on, he checked the cabin to be sure no one was lying in wait. No one was.

He picked up the cap by pinching the fabric along the top, avoiding the parts that would have come in contact with Lucas’s head. He tossed it down into the cabin.

Zoe dropped down to the deck and crossed her legs, Indian style. Lucy sat down next to her.

The key was not in the ignition.

Blake popped open the glove compartment. Inside was the key, and his cell phone.

He picked it up and tapped the screen. It didn’t respond. He pushed the power button. It came to life.