But a part of him doubted it very much. If Sophie’s mother trusted Nicholas enough to send him for her daughter, then surely Jim could trust him too. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something sinister moving beneath the surface, that Nicholas’s sharp eyes hid purposes of his own.
He tried to tell if the voices were getting closer, but the trees and wind played with the sounds around him, twisting and morphing them. He’d thought they were ahead of him, but now they sounded as if they were off to his right, closer inland. He looked all around, flinching at every little noise. There wasn’t much animal life on these islands, mostly just birds and insects, but as he listened even they began to sound more and more human.
Maybe the kids were only trying help, but still, he decided it would be best to avoid them.
The voices grew louder. Jim finally pinned down their direction—north, headed back from the airstrip, perhaps— and he hurried east, toward the center of the island, hoping they’d pass him by.
He was moving too slowly, encumbered by the girl in his arms. They were getting closer. If he was going to get away, he’d have to sacrifice either speed or silence. He went with silence, and began hurrying through the trees more quickly, his steps snapping branches and rattling the bamboo. Maybe he should have just ducked for cover, but it was too late now. If they’d heard him, they’d already be on his trail. He weaved through the tall green stalks and then burst out of the bamboo forest and onto higher ground, where the grass was high as his waist and twisted and bristly pines rose out of the ground like bent old warriors. They didn’t provide much cover, but he spotted a cluster of rocks at the crest of the slope, and he made for it.
The wind pushed at his back and slithered over the grass, which bent as if some giant invisible hand were running its palm over the hill. The grass hid the steepness of the incline, and he nearly lost his footing when it took a sharp upward ascent. Sophie jostled in his arms and made a sound halfway between a sigh and a groan.
He was nearly at the rocks when he chanced a backward look. He thought he could see someone moving in the bamboo, but it might have been a bird or the wind. Calling on the last of his energy, he broke into a run up the hill, his calves burning, and reached the rocks just as he heard a shout from the bottom. He spun and saw the three kids emerge from the bamboo, and he dove behind the rocks, unceremoniously dumping Sophie onto the ground. She moaned but lay still.
Jim gripped the rock with sweaty hands and watched the trio. The sun had finally risen over the trees to the east, its light washing over the hill like fire. But where his pursuers were, there was still shadow of the night, and he could not tell if they had spotted him or not.
He turned away and looked in the other direction. The land sloped downward into a narrow gulch before rising again into a green mountain supported by ribbonlike buttresses, their hollows purple shadows. There was no going back the way he’d come, so he scooped Sophie up and started down the gulch. The going was so steep that the grass couldn’t grow there; it was bare dirt and loose rocks. He skidded and slid more than he walked, and it was all he could do to keep her in his arms. If he dropped her, she’d tumble and fall onto a bed of jumbled stones at the bottom of the gulch. I won’t drop her. But his body protested every movement now, his muscles seizing and spasming mutinously.
I won’t drop you.
He reached the bottom and stepped quickly but carefully from rock to rock, working his way ever north. If the trio had seen him, they would likely know where he was going and try to cut him off further along. Still, he had no choice. He couldn’t go south; that only lead to the resort and now that he’d stolen Sophie back, they would know he was there and they would be looking for him. He felt like a fish in a net, slowly being drawn out of the water.
But he wouldn’t give up, not yet.
The gulch emptied into a bowl-shaped meadow of flowers and golden grass. Halfway through it, he came upon a narrow, almost imperceptible path, likely left over from the resort’s tourist days, some sort of nature trail. It led northeast, and he followed it.
Half a mile on, his legs gave out. He dropped to his knees and nearly dropped Sophie, but at the last minute managed to turn himself over so he fell onto his back with her on top of him. For a moment he lay there, gasping for air, his vision swirling with black spots. He was dehydrated, hungry, exhausted, and ready to give up.
Sophie stirred, her hand pawing vaguely at his chest. Her eyes remained shut, but a long, high whimper slipped from her lips, a pitiful, animalistic sound. He winced and sat up, holding the back of her head with his hand.
“Sophie? Hey. Hey, look here. C’mon, just open your eyes.”
“Over here!”
His head whipped up; it wasn’t Sophie who’d spoken. She murmured wordlessly, but was still unconscious. Across the meadow, Jim saw them—and they saw him.
He was up and running before he even had a chance to wonder where he’d found the strength. Instead of carrying her in his arms, he had Sophie draped over his shoulder—not a comfortable position for either of them, but at least this way he could run a bit faster. Not faster than the ones pursuing them, however.
A quiet, exhausted voice in the back of his mind whispered, You could just stop, you know. They don’t have guns— they might be here to help you.
But Jim’s instincts told him otherwise. He actively ignored the fact that it had been his instincts, more often than not, that got him in trouble.
He pressed on, not bothering to turn from the path to hide. They were too close now. He was fairly certain he couldn’t outrun them, either, but he was too stubborn to give up. Trust all my bad points to come up at once, he thought. If things go wrong out here, I have only myself to blame. But who was he kidding? Things have gone about as wrong as they can go.
Or maybe not.
The trail led directly into a steep ravine, its sides sheer rock faces to which only the most obdurate pines clung with spiderlike roots. An old rope bridge spanned the thirty-yard opening, and at the bottom of the ravine he could see a narrow but stony stream, about forty feet down. A fall at that height would more than likely break his neck.
He turned to see that he was trapped. The girl led the group, a thin smile slitting her face. Her curls bounced in the perpetual wind, giving her a Medusa-like quality.
“Hello,” she said lightly. “I’m Mary. This is Jay,” she threw a thumb toward a boy with close-shaven brown hair, and then at the red-head, “and this is Wyatt.”
“What do you want?” He took a step back, nearly stumbling when his foot came down on the edge of the cliff.
She scuffed a rock with her shoe. “Oh. You know. Just wanted to . . . chat.”
He narrowed his eyes, glanced at Jay and Wyatt. They stared back with twin looks of amusement.
“Lovely,” Jim said tonelessly. “But I really haven’t got the time.”
“The girl.” Mary jerked her chin at Sophie. “What do you want with her?”
“Who, her?” He shrugged, then winced as the movement made Sophie’s head knock against his back. “We’re running away together. Gonna get married, buy a beach house, have a whole bunch of kids. So if you don’t mind, I’m gonna go— preacher’s waiting for us.”
“Ha ha.” It was a statement, not a laugh, and unlike her friends, Mary didn’t look the least bit amused. “We were to make sure you get a proper welcome.”
He didn’t like the sound of that. “Sweet of you. Really. But we’re all good here, so just run on home, why don’t you?”
“You should stay a while. We love guests, don’t we, boys? But it’s so hard to make new friends out here, in the middle of nowhere.”