Paulie tugged on Robby’s hood, pulling the zipper into the boy’s throat. Robby reached up with his free hand and tried to pull the jacket forward to release the pressure, but Paulie was pulling too hard. He tried to look around to see what was wrong, but suddenly the zipper was being pulled up into the underside of his chin, making Robby gag.
He sucked in a ragged breath through his compressed windpipe. He squeezed his dad’s hand, afraid to let go, and flailed with his free hand at his dad’s back.
Robby’s feet lifted off the ground as Paulie’s tug on his hood lifted him off the ground. He tried to yell, but he couldn’t get enough breath to make a sound. Robby’s eyes bugged out, and the world started to fade out as the pressure built up in his head. He was now pulling his dad’s arm upward, but his dad still trudged forward, intent on getting home.
Robby’s grip on his dad’s hand started to fail. He felt his glove starting to pull from his hand. Robby now dangled almost a foot off the ground, pulled up by the zipper and under his armpits. With the last of his grip on his fathers hand, he yanked upward.
Sam turned and immediately leapt for Robby. He nearly climbed his son, pulling the boy’s arm, and then pushing down on Robby’s shoulder to get to Paulie’s hand. He managed to grab Paulie’s glove, but it came off in Sam’s hand and he collapsed to the ground next to Robby.
Sam didn’t waste any time to figure out Robby’s condition. He looped his arm under Robby’s shoulder and jumped to his feet. He drove his feet through the snow, sprinting across the street towards their house. At first Robby just flopped alongside his dad, still struggling for breath. He pawed at the zipper with the hand that still had a glove hanging half-off. When it gave way it tore a chunk of skin from Robby’s neck. It burned, but the relief of a deep breath more than made up for cut. He got his feet to the ground and ran alongside his dad as they found the driveway. Sam ducked and ran the last twenty yards in a low crouch. Robby ducked too, but couldn’t see what they were ducking from.
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The only finished room in their basement was the laundry room. Haddie Norton put her boys down there on an inflatable bed. Robby stayed upstairs in the kitchen with the adults. Sam closed all the blinds and even moved the rocking chair so they could close the door to the living room. The lantern burned so low that a candle would have given off more light.
When Sam and Robby had burst through the back door, Sam immediately called out orders. Sarah and Haddie didn’t raise any questions—they heard the urgency in his voice. After securing the house the best they could, they wanted to know the details. Sam insisted Robby join the conversation, even though Sarah pushed for him to go downstairs with the other boys.
They sat at the small kitchen table.
Sam took a deep breath and lowered his shoulders. “Paulie’s gone,” he said.
“Where?” asked Sarah.
Sam raised his eyebrows. A look of surprise dawned on her face, but Sam repeated anyway—“He’s gone.”
“Oh no," Haddie said. Everyone knew Haddie loved tragedies, and especially seemed to enjoy the misfortune of others, but she made a good show of looking shocked and saddened.
“What happened, Sam?” asked Sarah. She touched her husband’s hand.
“I can’t say for sure," Sam said. “It’s beyond my understanding or experience. That’s the best way I can put it.”
Robby rubbed the cut on his throat. His mom slapped a bandage on it before he had his coat all the way off.
“By the time I turned around," Sam said, “the only thing I could see of him was his hand holding on to Robby’s hood. I tried to grab his hand, but I only got the glove.”
“He didn’t make a sound,” Robby said.
“What about the rest of him?” asked Sarah.
“I couldn’t see him," Sam said. “Just his hand. It wasn’t even very dark, or snowing very hard, I can’t explain it. It’s beyond my understanding.”
“I didn’t hear anything either,” Robby said. “Except the wind.”
“That’s true. It was completely silent," Sam said.
“Should we go look for him?” asked Sarah.
“It’s not safe," Sam said. “I think something was stalking us. You could feel it on the back of your neck, and Robby saw something on top of the cottage.”
“We can’t go out there," Haddie said. “It’s not safe.”
Sarah didn’t acknowledge Haddie’s comment with even a glance. Instead, she addressed her husband again. "So what do you figure we do?”
“I think we pack up the Jeep, wait until morning, and then head for the docks," Sam said.
“Wouldn’t it be safer to hole up here?” asked Sarah. She glanced around their kitchen, as if she’d misplaced something important.
“I don’t think so," Sam said. “For one, if there’s something here taking people, I don’t think we could hole up good enough to stave it off. Second, if this is a local problem, our best chance is to try to get away from it. Irwin Dyer’s place was empty—it’s like he just decided to wander off. I don’t know what got him, but I don’t think being inside helped protect him at all.”
“I’d just as soon get to my husband," Haddie said. “He’ll know what to do.”
“What boat will we take?” asked Sarah.
“We’ll take Carl’s old boat," Sam said. “He’s always said I can use it any time, and I think he’ll understand. It will take a few of us to handle that thing properly. She’s a beast. Brandon’s got some experience, doesn’t he?” Sam asked Haddie. “He can help get us launched and landed?”
“Certainly," Haddie said.
Robby kept his face still, but inside he flinched because his father immediately thought of Brandon. Boating terrified Robby—not because he thought he would drown, but because he got so sick every time they went on the water. They’d tried every remedy, from drugs to ginseng root, but nothing could stop Robby from vomiting if he even set foot on a boat smaller than the ferry.
Sarah took charge. "You guys pack some rations and plenty of water. I’ll get all the first aid stuff together. Who knows what we’ll need once we’re underway.”
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Robby went downstairs to the laundry room after his parents gathered everything together for the trip. His only contribution was to suggest they take along a few household chemicals—bleach, baking soda, rubbing alcohol. He didn’t have anything specific in mind, but he wanted to have some basic supplies along in case of a crisis. Robby also liked that he’d been consulted, and was happy to have an answer.
He found the Norton brothers—his friend Jim, and Jim’s jerky brother Brandon—sitting on the air mattress with a flashlight between them. Brandon was playing a game on his phone, and Jim was playing with an iPod.
“Nice job letting go of Paulie Carver," Brandon said.
“I didn’t let go,” Robby said. He realized too late he should have just let the comment roll past him.
“Remind me not to trust my life to you," Brandon said. “Your friend is going to get us all killed,” he said to his brother.
“Shut up," Jim said, under his breath.
Brandon hauled back and punched Jim in the shoulder. The action bounced a blanket on top of the flashlight and the room was lit only by the game screens.
“Move over,” Robby said to Jim. “We gotta get up early.” He slid past Jim to claim the edge of the air mattress closest to the dryer. He kept on all his clothes but kicked off his shoes. Brandon bunched all the pillows on his side of the mattress. Robby’s mom had also put out a few blankets for the boys, so Robby bunched one up to use as a pillow. He couldn’t sleep. He could barely keep his eyes shut. Upstairs, the adults were still talking. Robby knew there must be more to the story—stuff his dad didn’t want to say with him around. It probably regarded Mr. Dyer’s cellar.
Robby thought about the cellar. His father had insisted he not look behind him. Robby wondered what his father had been protecting him from. It must be something violent, he figured. That would be the only thing his dad would want to protect him from seeing—he wouldn’t want Robby to be disturbed by seeing some gruesome result of violence. Robby had already seen a dead person. He’d seen his own dead grandmother at her wake. So this would have to be a gory death.
Robby closed his eyes and thought of the strange symbols on the foundation wall in Mr. Dyer’s cellar. He remembered as many as he could and made sure to recall them in their exact sequence. He’d already written them down twice.
Behind Robby, Jim and Brandon fought over a pillow. They both seemed younger to Robby since the crisis started. Brandon was fourteen-almost-fifteen, and normally didn’t even bother to talk to his little brother. But that day he was acting like a ten year old. Robby thought back to his own behavior. He recognized moments of immaturity. Being scared of the dark and not being able to control your bladder were certainly not appropriate for a teenager. Robby took a deep breath and let it out slowly, letting his body sink into the mattress as he exhaled.
The basement was cooler than the rest of the house, but Robby still wore his pants and sweatshirt, so he was comfortable enough. He tried to forget about everything from that day. His hand moved up to his throat and held the spot where his zipper had drawn blood. He drifted off to sleep while Jim and Brandon were still fighting about their sleeping arrangements.
In the night he heard someone climbing the stairs. He looked up to see Jim going upstairs, using his iPod as a flashlight. On the far side of the mattress, Brandon snored into his own armpit.
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“Robby, Brandon, wake up,” Robby’s dad said. He was holding the lantern above the mattress. Sam stomped on the edge to shake them awake. “Get up.”
Robby pushed himself up and then climbed to his feet. Brandon moved slower, blinking hard against the lantern light.
“What time did Jim leave?” asked Sam.
“I don’t know,” Robby said. “Where is he?”
“Did he say anything? Did you see him?” asked Sam.
Brandon didn’t respond. He slid to the end of the mattress and started pulling on his shoes.
“Dad, what’s going on?” Robby asked.
“We don’t know where Mrs. Norton and Jim are," Sam said. “The door to the garage is open.”
“I don’t know what time,” Robby said. “I don’t have a clock or anything down here. Did you notice?” he asked Brandon.
“I didn’t even know he left," Brandon said. He got up and headed for the stairs. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he yelled back to Robby as he started up.
“I didn’t…” Robby started. “I just thought he was going to use the bathroom or something. I didn’t think anything of it.”
“It’s okay," Sam said. “Get your shoes on, we’ve got to figure out what we’re doing.”
“How long have they been gone?” Robby asked.
“We don’t know," Sam said.
“Mom’s still here, right?” Robby asked.
“Yeah, she’s upstairs.”
Robby grabbed his shoes and ran for the stairs without putting them on. When Robby got to the kitchen he found his mother trying to calm Brandon down. The two were lit only by a set of candles set on the microwave.
Brandon yelled into Sarah’s face, “Where is she? Where did she go?”
Sam came into the room holding two jackets. He stepped between Brandon and his wife and shoved one of the jackets at the boy. “Put this on," Sam said. “You and me are gonna do some scouting.”
“Sam?” asked Sarah.
“We’ll stay right near the house,” he said, “and we’ll have this.” Sam held up a length of rope. He knelt down and fed it through Brandon’s belt loops and then tied a sturdy knot. He repeated the process, tying himself to the other end of the rope.
“We’ll finish getting the Jeep ready," Sarah said. She moved back towards the sink, and leaned back against it, folding her arms.
Sam took a couple of steps and closed the distance to his wife. He nearly pulled Brandon off his feet when the rope pulled him by the waist. Sam kissed Sarah on the cheek and said, “We’ll be right back.”
“You better,” Sarah said. She smiled.
Sam led Brandon out through the back door, leaving Sarah and Robby in the kitchen.
“What time is it?” Robby asked.
“About five," his mom said.
“Can I get something to eat?” Robby asked.
“Oh, yeah, of course,” she said. “I made you a turkey sandwich.”
“For breakfast?” Robby asked.
“It won’t kill you," Sarah said. “Jeez, you think I’d just offered you rat poison or something.”
Robby smiled. He sat down at his place at the table and his mom got his sandwich out of the refrigerator. He took a big bite. “So we’re going on Mr. Deemer’s boat?” he asked through a mouthful of food.
“Well, depends on…” Sarah started.
“On whether we find the hands at the school? We’re going to check the school first, right?” Robby asked. He was referring to the deckhands for the ferry. The ferry usually ran with a captain, mate, and three hands.
“Yes," Sarah said. Robby only finished her sentences when he was preoccupied or stressed. He knew she hated it when he did that. She’d only needed to tell him a couple of times—it made her feel transparent.
When Robby was smaller, Sarah thought he was psychic. He always knew what she and Sam were thinking. Eventually, they came to believe Robby was just good at deduction, and Robby learned when he finished too many sentences he made people uncomfortable.
This time, Robby guessed Sarah and Sam had discussed going to the school to see if they could find any other people. It would be a tough trip to get over the hill without a plow, and it was in the opposite direction from the docks, but it was a common gathering place during emergencies and power outages. The three deckhands might have made their way up to the school. Even though the main entrance would be locked, all the islanders knew you could get in through the attached Lion’s Club banquet hall, as long as none of the Lions were there to question you.