Authors: David Brookover
Strange three-clawed crabs flitted left and right, avoiding Noah’s footfalls as he navigated the island’s blunt southern tip. The wary, lobster-sized crustaceans quickly burrowed into the soft sand and vanished upon his approach. The sheer cliff to his left gradually sloped downward until it was a mere low-slung hill. It greeted the plush green jungle bordering the beach. Palm trees. Various shaped, multi-colored flowers. But what creeped Noah out was the ominous rustling.
Noah tottered forward, trying hard not to fall flat on his face. His sight was sweat blurry. His exposed flesh ruby red. But he couldn’t quit now. Giving up signified certain death for them both, and he didn’t feel like dying today.
The modest hill progressively swelled into the elevated eastern mountainous terrain as he headed north toward the cove. He would have missed the mounting craggy landscape if it hadn’t been for the roar of a jungle cataract catching his attention. Despite the rustling of unseen animals, Noah turned and entered the dense foliage. A high waterfall spilled from the mountaintop to a sparkling sapphire pool of refreshing water. The spot was surrounded by swaying palm trees and a patch of sand, and would have made the idyllic picture postcard. He collapsed to his knees in disbelief as the thundering fresh water mesmerized him.
Fresh water!
He couldn’t believe his luck.
Noah’s raw, blistered skin squawked as he waded into the icy water, but his intolerable thirst celebrated his find with a hoarse hip … hip … hooray! He floated face down in the invigorating pool before slowly rolling over and hydrating his sore back. His entire essence was revitalized … except for his testy sunburn that would tighten as it dried, like cured leather. But sore skin was a fair price to pay for his lifesaving discovery.
After an extended soaking, he climbed out of the pool and back into the island’s stifling humidity. His skin dried and tightened as he predicted, but he disregarded the pain as he leisurely dangled his feet over the pool’s edge. He cupped his hands, dipped them into the pool, and then swallowed the precious water. His belly sloshed like a bloated water balloon, but his mouth felt two thousand percent better than it did earlier.
After a quick catnap, Noah’s legs recharged enough that he could resume his trek to the cove. He figured his destination was less than a mile away.
Noah was frustrated he couldn’t take some water along with him, but he didn’t have a canteen or other receptacle. He didn’t let that minor disappointment dampen his mood. If he remembered correctly, Oracle’s boat was stuffed to the gills with bottled water, which could easily be carried back to Reese.
He kept a close eye on the surf line for emerging mermen and mermaids, but so far they left him alone. His hand gently patted his knife handle. Until he found rifles on the boat, the hunting knife was his only defense.
The sun climbed higher overhead, transforming the island atmosphere to an oven. He was besieged with dizziness once again when the cove became visible, but he shook it off and followed the sand and pebble shoal separating the cove from the Pacific. The eastern sea breeze picked up steam in the noon heat and tousled his hair, but he didn’t feel it. Noah picked up the pace and vaulted the rocky barrier sheltering the cove entrance from the ocean breakers. Oracle’s forty-foot rental nodded on the low wind-driven undulations and nudged the white dock bumpers.
From his current location, he couldn’t see whether the boat was occupied or not, but he didn’t care one way or the other. He was there to nab some antibiotics, food, and water and high-tail it back to Reese before she succumbed to her infection. He power walked between the barrier and water until he reached the dock, but he stopped there.
“Dammit!” he swore, wincing from disappointment and disgust. He sat and hugged his knees to his chest to keep from vomiting. It took quite a while for his stomach to settle down, and once it did, he could look at the disgusting sight without gagging.
The dock and the boat’s walls and deck were painted in blood.
The white exterior. The teak trim. The newly assembled dock planks.
There were no bodies in sight, so whatever caused this carnage was still alive. And possibly lurking in the neighborhood … like the jungle or shallows around the dock. That notion prompted him to jump up and walk carefully out on the dock.
Was there someone or something below decks waiting to ambush him?
He mulled over the possibility until he decided there was only one way to find out.
Board the boat.
Step by step, he tiptoed over the pressure treated planks, avoiding the scarlet stains the best he could. After several nerve-rattling steps, the dock creaked and nearly gave him a heart attack, besides betraying his presence. He gripped his knife handle and waited anxiously for a response.
There was none.
Noah’s thumping heart finally quieted, and he hurried across the gangplank to the deck before he lost his nerve. He stared down the shadowy staircase leading to the lower deck—where the medical supply room was located.
Was he walking into a trap down there?
Probably.
Terror Island didn’t earn its name for nothing.
His foot hovered above the first step before taking the plunge. One step down, and seven more to go.
Reese badly needed the antibiotics, and he couldn’t let her down.
Noah swallowed his cowardice and raced down the remaining steps into the foreboding gloom below.
Gabriella tossed and turned in her bed, whimpering from feverish nightmares. Nick kept a cold compress on her forehead to ease her symptoms, but he felt it wasn’t enough. There had to be something else he could do to bring her out of the poisonous hangover, but he didn’t have an inkling of what that might be. The two familiars parked themselves at the foot of the bed and waited patiently for her recovery. An hour later, she awoke. She was still a bit tipsy, but otherwise the painful aftermath was history.
“What happened to me, Nick?” She tried to sit up against the headboard, but a sudden bout of dizziness forced her back down.
“Whoa, take it easy, Honey,” he said, positioning the blanket beneath her chin. “You’ve been through a lot today.”
“It looks like I don’t have a choice.”
Nick smiled sympathetically. “You were drugged by a second-rate sorcerer named Addison Grimoult.”
“Drugged? How?”
“He put it in the iced tea you drank in the library.”
“What a dirty trick,” she fumed. “I’ve heard of that sorcerer, and what I’ve heard wasn’t good. He’s a two-bit thief, too.”
“I checked, and he didn’t steal anything here,” Nick said.
“Then he was working for someone who wanted me kidnapped.”
“That’s the way I figure it, too.” He briefly described Honora and Hefe’s basement imprisonment, the sorcerer and demon assuming their identities, her kidnapping and rescue. The last thing he wanted was his narration to put her to sleep again.
Honora appeared with a bowl of chicken and rice soup. Nick helped Gabriella into a sitting position with her back against the headboard and handed her the bowl. Thankfully, the soup wasn’t steaming hot, so she could eat it right away. She thanked Honora, and the old Spanish woman smiled, curtsied, and backed out of the bedroom.
“There’s one thing I don’t understand about all this,” she said between spoonfuls.
“What’s that?”
“When we first learned about Noah being among the missing on Terror Island, you were gung-ho to rush out there and rescue him,” she reminded him. “But four days later, you’re still in the states and he’s thousands of miles away. What gives?”
Nick glanced out the front window at the sprawling front yard. “My eagerness to jump right in was a knee-jerk reaction. I didn’t think it through. I decided to find out who or what was behind Oracle’s severed communications with the
Final Scream
folks. And now I’m glad I waited. According to the evidence, there seems to be something on that island that is more valuable than human life. And now that we’re aware magic’s involved, we have to tread more lightly than before. If I’d been reckless and rushed out to the South Pacific, I most likely would’ve walked right into a trap.”
“But aren’t you concerned about Noah?”
“You’re goddamned right I am, but if he’s managed to stay alive this long, he should last another day or so.”
“That’s wishful thinking.”
He turned from the window. “I know. Let’s just say I hope he’s alive.”
“You want me to visit Terror Island while you nose around here for more evidence?”
“Thanks, but no. I wouldn’t want you walking into a trap either. When the time comes, we’ll proceed to the island with a plan.” He bent and kissed her pale lips.
Gabriella was still worried about Noah, but nothing Nick said could change that. She diplomatically changed the subject. “So tell me about your secret meeting with Rance,” she said frostily. She still hadn’t gotten over the FBI director’s uncharacteristic rudeness. If his late wife Carolyn was still alive, she would’ve read Rance the riot act.
Nick grimaced as he summarized Jonathon Foster’s threats.
“So why is Foster involved in this
Final Scream
business? Doesn’t the NSA have anything better to do these days?”
Nick nodded. “I guess not.”
“Are they nuts then?”
He sat on the edge of their bed. “Foster’s a nutcase, that’s for sure, but our covert government security agencies lie a lot to conceal their illegal activities.”
Gabriella shifted topics again. “Let’s focus on your Aunt Sue for a minute. Don’t you think she’d be safer here at
Old Mother Hubbard’s
?”
He shook his head. “Not on your life. She’s as nervous as a cat on a hot tin roof. She needs to stay where the action is so she can rush to her children if and when they’re found.”
“Gotcha. I think you should go back to California and nail down what’s really happening out there so you can teleport to Terror Island with confidence.”
“Good idea.”
“I’ll stay here for a day and rest up.” She handed him the empty soup bowl.
He was about to object but changed his mind. Gabriella could be stubborn.
She read the concern in his expression. “You don’t have to worry about me, dear. I’ve got two loyal familiars to watch over me,” she chuckled, feeling more robust every minute. The soup definitely helped speed up her recovery.
Nick used his satellite phone to dial headquarters, and then looked up at Gabriella. “I’m checking in with Crow to see if he’s got any updates on our case.”
She nodded this time, sans headache.
Crow picked up on the fifth ring.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?” Nick asked.
“Yeah, sorta. I was double checking
Geronimo’s
test numbers, but they’re sound as usual,” he explained.
“So, feed me some data, Chief.”
“Hold on a minute, Impatient One!”
“I’m in a hurry. Noah’s life may be on the line as we speak.”
“I forgot. Sorry.”
Nick brought Crow up to speed on Gabriella’s rescue.
“I’m glad she’s safe, but I’m glad I wasn’t there. Too dangerous.”
“Yeah, I hear you.”
“All right, let’s get back to business. There’s no word on Natalie yet or any further outbreak of the wicker contagion, but we do have preliminary results on the chemical compound in Maggie Wentworth’s syringe.”
“And?”
“The stuff was cooked with alien DNA, but we can’t determine its purpose.
Geronimo’s
working full-time to isolate the strange ingredients and identify how each one reacts with the human body,” Crow replied. “But I have a strong feeling he’s not going to find anything. Too much alien matter.”
Nick didn’t respond for several moments.
He
was born with alien DNA, too. “Alien, huh? Where did those people get a hold of
alien
material? Is it a strain we’re familiar with?”
“Nope. It’s a completely new animal, if you catch my drift.”
“Nothing’s ever easy, is it, pal?”
Crow chuffed. “Not in this lifetime. Anyway,
Geronimo
developed a theory the DNA might have come from a Terror Island being, but there’s no proof to back it up.”
Nick mulled over the supercomputer’s hypothesis. “I could believe it if the stuff in the syringe was related to a singular event like Wentworth’s transformation, but it isn’t the main event in light of the other strange occurrences. Gabriella’s kidnapping. Natalie turning into a Wicker person. I can’t figure out how all these dots connect. Wentworth’s boss told her to inject herself when investigators got too close to the truth,
but what truth?
I hate to admit it, but I’m still in the dark on that.”
Crow cleared his throat. “
Geronimo
and I don’t know how those events tie together, either.”
Nick gritted his teeth. “I have to find the big boss behind this operation and shut it down.”
“Oh, the head asshole’ll show up sooner than you think if you keep disrupting his plans.”
“Well, I’m going to keep upsetting the applecart until I get some pertinent answers. And I’d better find Noah alive, or there’s going to be hell to pay!”
“That seems a bit vigilante—not something a former FBI agent would condone.”
Nick spoke low into his phone. “Vigilante or not, nobody messes with my family and lives.”
Nick changed into khaki slacks, an umber Polo shirt, and light tan loafers before teleporting to his Aunt Sue’s hacienda style house in La Jolla. He materialized in her backyard garden, landscaped with tall New Zealand Flax, waxy Japanese Boxwoods, and stunning blue Lily-of-the-Nile blooms, to minimize his chance of being seen.
As he crept past the windows to the plywood covered patio door, he noticed Aunt Sue arguing on the phone. Since he couldn’t make out her rants, he went around to the front door, pressed the doorbell, and waited. When she appeared, he pretended he hadn’t witnessed her quarrelling.
Sue Wright was stunned by his presence. It was obvious she wasn’t to see him so soon after the hospital episode involving Natalie.
“May I come in?” he finally asked.
Why was she so upset at his arrival?
“I suppose—yes, of course,” she sputtered, blinking away her stupor. She slammed and locked the door behind them and coolly led him to the family room.
“Is everything all right, Aunt Sue?”
“Not really. I’m a nervous wreck these days, so Scripps firmly suggested I take an extended leave from work. I agreed. I wasn’t worth a damn at my job with Noah and Natalie missing.” She flopped into her recliner and huffed. “And today the cops began badgering me. They show up every day and ask me the same questions over and over!”
“Huh? What questions?” he asked.
“Well, there’s really just the one. They want to know what happened to the first two detectives who showed up here after Natalie was shot. I told them point blank that it’s not my responsibility to babysit the police department.”
“Good answer.” He rubbed his chin to mask his slight grin. He hoped the blue boys were enjoying Alaska.
She bent forward. “Do you have any more information about Noah and Natalie?”
“I’m afraid there’s nothing more to report,” he replied apologetically, “but I should have something for you soon. My team is close to making major breakthroughs.”
Sue Wright scowled. “I expected you to go to Terror Island and bring my son back to me!” she said hostilely.
“I would have, but the
Final Scream
investigation is more complicated
and
dangerous than it appears to be.”
“Really,” she snapped irritably. “How?”
“I can’t tell you until I have all my ducks in a row, because there are a lot of red herrings being thrown my way. Understand?” he replied evenly.
“Frankly, I don’t understand. I’m very disappointed in you, Nick. You have a good reputation for being one of the cleverest investigators in the business, but it turns out that you’re no better than those do-nothing politicians in Washington. You’re all excuses and no results,” she snapped. “So, you forced me to hire a private detective to look into my children’s disappearances. As of this minute, you’re fired.”
His face flushed apple red. “That was unwise of you. Your detective has no idea what he’s up against.”
“No matter. What’s done is done.” She stood abruptly and ushered him to the front door. “Goodbye, Nick.”
Nick grunted a response as he stepped off the porch and headed down the street. He knew arguing with her was a waste of breath. The intense sunlight penetrated his cotton shirt and continued his retreat. He wasn’t ready to teleport back to Ohio. He pondered his aunt’s unexpected hostility toward him.
Why the change of heart?
He sensed her hostility when she answered the door,
but why was he suddenly public enemy number one in her eyes?
What had he done to deserve her wrath?
His aunt’s loss of faith in his professional prowess really hurt. He was a firm believer family should stick together through thick and thin.
But his family chose to forsake him.
And now Aunt Sue hired a for-profit investigator who had no idea he was dealing with desperate sorcerers. Nick would be surprised if the private eye was alive next week.
He sadly glanced back at his aunt’s house before turning the corner. As Rance so succinctly wrote in his earlier note, “Something’s rotten in Denmark”—or in this case—La Jolla, California.
But what was the cause of this surprising rot?
Nick was completely baffled.
But he
did
have a good idea where to troll for answers.