CHAPTER 30

They ran back to the house. Kana immediately locked both the front and the back doors, sealing them shut with sturdy iron bolts. Apparently, no one told the hermit to remove his locks—or perhaps he just didn’t care. Line walked to the washing basin in the little kitchen and began rinsing his hands, then scrubbing them with a small piece of soapstone. The blood came off fairly easily, but Line continued to scrub for several minutes.

As he ran the stone over his skin, Line tried to force the image of the dead hermit out of his mind. He couldn’t dwell on this. It was not useful information. It would not help him get off the island. That’s it. That’s the key. Every piece of information, every fact, every thought—it all needs to be sorted into two simple categories. I should’ve realized this before, in the pit. There are thoughts that will help us escape and thoughts that will not. And all thoughts about dead dogs, dead hermits, dead relatives, and missing brothers have to be placed squarely in the unhelpful category. Those unhelpful thoughts have to be blocked out. They don’t exist.

Marin walked over to Line and put a hand on his shoulder. He was hunched over, concentrating fiercely on his hands. “Are you all right?”

“Of course,” said Line, still scrubbing.

“I’m serious,” said Marin. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” said Line flatly.

“You don’t sound fine,” said Marin. She glanced worriedly at Kana, who was beside her.

“How would you like me to sound?” asked Line without looking up. “The dead hermit has holes in his body. That dead dog in town probably had holes as well.”

Marin looked grim. Line was right—being confronted with this was horrific. But there was no time to think about it. Whoever, whatever had done this was likely nearby. She needed Line to see the urgency. Finally, several minutes later, Line finished washing his hands, dried them, and then stood quietly, staring into the fire.

“We should go,” said Marin.

“Yes,” said Line. “That’s a good—”

“Shh—what was that?” asked Kana.

This time they all heard it—a faint rattling—metal jiggling against metal. They glanced around the house quickly. It was the doorknob to the back door, twisting back and forth. Moments later, the front door started rattling, too.

“What do we do?” whispered Marin.

Line was one step ahead of her. And a thought had formed in his mind. A good thought. A useful one. The trapdoor. The garbage chute. Line put his finger to his lips, walked back to the kitchen, and gestured for the others to follow. He knelt next to the chute, pulled it open, and slid inside. Marin hesitated; now the rattling on the doors had become a pounding.

“Come on!” hissed Kana.

Marin dropped to the floor, dangled her legs through the trapdoor, and followed Line into the pit. Moments later, Kana came through, then lowered the door, plunging them into complete darkness. They tried to remain as still as possible, which was difficult because they were crouching in piles of rotting fish heads and prickly fish skeletons. There was also a steady flow of something beneath them—water, ooze, sludge, it was impossible to tell.

Overhead, they could hear the telltale sounds of wood splintering. Line began pawing through the trash. What we need is a way out. Everything else is a distraction. Ignore the things smashing down the doors overhead. That’s irrelevant. In fact, it isn’t happening. There’s only one good fact. Water on the ground is going somewhere.

“Help me!” whispered Line. “There’s water trickling here. It means there’s an opening.”

There was an explosion of noise above them. Two heavy thuds, one after another, like rifle shots. The front and back doors landed heavily on the floor. A mist of dirt and soot fell from the floorboards, and Kana had to stifle a coughing attack. Line was still digging, faster now, as if he’d found something. Moments later, they heard the sound of footsteps above them—heavy, plodding footsteps. Marin squeezed Line’s leg to stop him from digging. The footsteps passed directly above. They could hear the floorboards groaning under the weight. For a moment, the footsteps stopped. Marin, Kana, and Line all held their breath. Then the footsteps resumed again and began ascending the steps to the second floor of the house.

“The water goes into a tunnel,” whispered Line. “It’s narrow, but I think we can squeeze through. I’ll go first—follow quickly.”

Marin grabbed his sweater. “Wait—where does it lead?”

“I don’t know, but I can feel fresh air coming out.” Line slithered his way into the tunnel. The entrance was narrow, and the rock scraped him at the knees and along his back, but he got through. Kana went next. Finally it was Marin’s turn. As she crawled toward the opening, the sound of the footsteps overhead grew louder. Whoever it was had returned to the first floor. She crawled quickly, and in her haste she felt something slice into her leg. She cried out. Above, the reaction was immediate. Footsteps thundered and the entire house seemed to shake.

“Marin!” called Kana, poking his head back into the garbage pit from the tunnel. “Hurry!”

Marin moved toward Kana’s voice. Kana reached out, grabbed his sister’s hand, and pulled her toward him. There was a loud creak overhead, the trapdoor opened, and a shaft of murky light illuminated the garbage pit. Marin lunged into the tunnel entrance and pushed herself forward. After several feet, she emerged in a cave barely large enough to sit upright. There was a faint glow at the opening, though, and she could smell the brine of the sea and hear the distant chirping of bats.

She and Line crawled toward the opening, but Kana remained in place. Despite his impulse to flee, he wanted a glimpse of what was behind them. The thing, whatever it was, was thrashing around—trying to pass through the trapdoor and enter the garbage pit below. But it was too big to get in.

For a split second, Kana thought he saw a foot, although that wasn’t the right word at all, because it wasn’t really a foot. It was a gnarled, greenish claw with five hooked talons—and just a glimpse was enough to send him chasing after Marin and Line.