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Daniel looked over the rim of his cocoa mug at the friend who hadn’t aged a day since he went missing. It was utterly unreal that Noah Fischer was sitting here at his kitchen table.
He had showered and changed into some of Daniel’s clothes. Now, as dusk fell over Bannimor, he sipped cocoa just like he had many times before – in this room, at this table – as if he had never gone missing. Not just not gone missing; as if the twenty-three years in between had not touched him. Nausea churned in Daniel’s gut, goosebumps racing over his arms. He put his cup down and his arms out of sight on his lap.
Everyone had looked for Noah. Then looked for his body. Then mourned him, another loss to the undertow, to sharks, to the tides. They’d nearly lost him once just before that, when his board had cracked him on the head, knocking him unconscious. Daniel had got to him in time, sure he’d seen a flicker of shark’s shadow in the waves near his floating friend. He’d got him onto his board and back to shore. Despite his stitches, Noah was out surfing again the next day, addicted to the sea.
Daniel cleared his throat. “Another cup, Noah?”
“Thanks Dan. You make good cocoa.” The shell ring on Noah’s finger clinked against his mug as he handed it to Daniel, and Daniel’s stomach lurched again.
Daniel got up from the table, put milk into the saucepan and fired the gas hob. He rinsed Noah’s mug at the sink, glad to have his back to his guest for a while. He swallowed and gripped the edge of the kitchen bench to stop his hands shaking.
“Where are you staying, Noah?”
“Staying? Oh. I’ve been bunking in at the Salvation Army. A few of us have.”
Daniel turned to look at him. “Us... Do you mean...”
“Others like me.” Noah met his eye. He looked haunted. “I don’t know what happened. I hardly know who I am. Neither do any of the others. I get snatches of it – like this, now with you. And snatches of...there. I’ve done this before. Had cocoa here with you. Right?”
Daniel nodded.
“Good. So, I remember you...some. But almost everything else is a blur. Especially...there. I think there was lots of colour. Shifting colour and light. So yeah, maybe I was held captive on a ship like they’re saying, all drugged up. Or in a city? Except I remember flying. And being...happy.” The last word was a miserable whisper.
He sat staring at the table for a while, then squinted into the distance, trying to pull threads of memory together. At last, he shook his head and blew out a shaky breath. “So my family left Bannimor when I didn’t come back. Who knows where they are now. Twenty-three years you reckon, Dan?”
Daniel nodded.
“Twenty-three years.” Noah’s eyes filled with tears.
“I know,” Daniel’s voice was husky. “I’m sorry for what happened to you.”
Noah blew out a breath, mastering himself. “And that’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? What happened to me?”
They heard footsteps on the stairs. Skye was back. There were more than one pair of feet. No doubt Hunter was with her. Daniel’s first instinct was to hide Noah somehow, hustle him out of the kitchen and upstairs until Skye was in her own room and Hunter had gone. But a thought came to him. If this was part of what Skye was mixed up with, maybe it would do her good to see the results? And Hunter too. This could be...enlightening.
