Escape From Fear (3 page)

“Maybe the phone's in the bathroom,” Ashley suggested, pushing open the door to the tiny room. It had a stand-up shower stall, no tub, and towels about as thick as handkerchiefs.

“There's not even a phone, and I'm supposed to stay here?” Forrest blurted in disbelief.

“Bet it's better than jail,” Jack retorted. “Or on the beach. Which is where you'd have been.”

“Jack,” his mother said firmly, a signal for Jack to back off. “Steven, I noticed a pay phone in a booth in the courtyard. I guess we'll have to use that. Forrest, give me your parents' phone number.”

Forrest pulled a monogrammed leather wallet from an inside pocket of his navy-blue blazer, which he still wore buttoned up in spite of the heat in the room. “Here it is on the back of my dad's card. This is the number of the embassy in Paris.”

Steven took the thick, cream-colored business card and stared at it. “Forrest Winthrop III,” he read.

“Right. As I told you, I'm Forrest Winthrop IV.” The words sounded grim. “Mr. Landon, is calling them in the middle of the night absolutely necessary?”

Steven took a deep breath, and Jack knew he was thinking hard about waiting. In the end, he said, “Running away is a serious thing, and your parents have a right to know where you are. I think you should come with me so you can tell them yourself.”

“I'm sorry, but I can't. If you give me the phone, I won't speak to them.”

Jack heard his father say something that sounded like “I'm too old for this,” but he wasn't sure. “Anyone know what time it is right now in Paris?” Steven asked. “Four in the morning? Five?” When his family shook their heads no, Steven sighed. “You probably know, don't you, Forrest?”

Forrest shrugged.

“Well, I guess I'll have to call the operator and ask. Forrest, is there a message—a reason—you'd like me to give your parents?”

“No.”

“Then what should I tell them when they ask why you ran away?”

“Tell them…” he said, hesitating, “…that I wasn't running away. I was running
to
. Tell them
I know
. I'm sure they'll understand.”

E
rh er erh er eeeerrrr!

The noise pierced Jack's brain like a jolt of electricity. In a flash Forrest was up, peering out his window. Through half-opened eyes, Jack could see the sky had lightened to the color of silver as morning broke across the horizon of St. John. Forrest, in shorts and T-shirt, craned to glimpse the source of the noise.

Erh er erh er eeeerrrr!

“Man, what
is
that?” Forrest asked.

“Go back to bed,” Jack moaned. “It's just a rooster.”

“A rooster? What's a rooster doing outside our hotel?”

Jack yawned a gaping yawn and flung an arm over his eyes. “We're in a
motel
, not a
hotel
, remember? Haven't you ever heard a rooster crow before?”

“There aren't many animals in our dorm—unless you count the juniors and seniors,” Forrest snickered.

When the rooster crowed again, Jack wrapped his pillow firmly around his ears. “It's 5 a.m.,” he groaned. “My body clock says it's two o'clock. Go to sleep.”

Although Forrest kept muttering beneath his breath, Jack could make out every word. “My soccer league has stayed in plenty of bottom-of-the-barrel hotels, but I've never had to endure a dump like this.”

“Quit whining,” Jack retorted. “That's all you've done since we found you.”

“I'm not whining, I'm commenting.”

“Then quit commenting and go to sleep.”

Forrest slipped beneath the thin cotton sheet. Bed springs groaned as he turned on his right side, flipped to his left, then back to his right once more. Jack was just drifting off when Forrest's husky whisper pulled him back. “Jack?”

“Hmmmm?”

There was a pause, then a muffled, “Never mind.”

Closing his eyes, Jack tried to ignore Forrest, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched in the room's half-light. Forrest kept staring, watching, waiting. Jack's parents would want him to try to draw Forrest out since he wouldn't tell them anything more about his cryptic message. Running
to?
they'd asked. What did
that
mean? But even Ashley hadn't been able to get him to talk. And now, in the middle of the night, Forrest seemed to want to chat. Figured. Pulling the pillow off his face, Jack sighed. “OK. What?”

“Do you…do you think your parents will keep me? Or will they turn me over to the authorities?”

“I don't know,” Jack answered. “Why couldn't you ask me all this before we went to bed?”

“I didn't feel like talking then. I do now. So what do you think?”

“It depends on what
your
parents decide. Since my dad couldn't get through to them at the embassy last night, we don't know anything for sure.”

“The embassy will open soon. I know my parents, and they'll let me stay with your family until they come to retrieve me. But the question is, will your folks go through the hassle of keeping me till then?” He paused and added, “I really need to know.”

And I really need to sleep, but you don't care, do you, Jack groaned inwardly. Pale daylight sliced through the cheap curtains, creating a latticework of shadows on the walls. Jack raised up on his elbow and faced Forrest's outline. “We take in kids all the time. My folks are registered as temporary-care foster parents.” With a sinking feeling, he put into words what he'd hoped wouldn't be true. “I bet you'll stay.”

“Good!” Forrest sighed. “That's good. I
can't
be locked up. It would ruin everything.”

“Ruin what? Are you going to talk in riddles again? Why don't you just tell me what's going on?”

Forrest didn't answer, but Jack could see him shaking his head.

“Are you worried about what's going to happen when your folks find out you've run off? I mean, are you going to be grounded for life or something?” He figured Forrest would get in major, spectacular trouble for taking off on an airplane and making his parents fly after him all the way from Paris. If Jack ever pulled a stunt like that, his mom and dad would lock him up and throw away the key.

“Grounded?” Forrest snorted. “I've never been grounded in my life. No, I'm not worried about that. I know how to handle adults.”

That arrogant response irritated Jack, so he said, “You mean your parents won't even care?”

“Of course they'll care—my father will be livid. My mother will probably just cry and tell me how much I've disappointed her. But you know what?
They've
disappointed me. Look at my skin!” he cried, jutting out his arm as if Jack could discern something important in the dimness. “They always told me it didn't matter that I was half black because I was their
chosen
son. They said I had no past, only a future. I used to believe them. But they don't know what I found out….” His voice broke off suddenly. Jack waited as Forrest lay on his bed, unmoving, mute.

Jack pushed himself into a sitting position. The thin sheet draped like a tent between his knees as he tried to think how to keep Forrest talking, because all this evasiveness was making Jack more and more curious. “So…you won't get into much trouble when they come and get you, right? You're lucky.”

“It's not ‘they'—it's ‘she.' My father will send my mother. She does his errands. He's an important diplomat, remember?” Forrest let out a loud sigh. “Look, the fact is, I can't afford to trust you or anyone. I don't even know you—you're just somebody I met on the plane.” Rolling over, he clutched his covers and pulled them over his chest. “Just forget this whole conversation.”

“Wait a minute—back up. Saying you can't trust me,” Jack sputtered, “that's an insult.”

“No. I can't reveal anything. It could be dangerous.”

“How? Are you guarding some kind of nuclear secret or something and the spies are trying to snag you and if you tell me they'll have to kill us both?” Jack made it sound as ridiculous as possible.

“The less you know, the better.”

Even though it was too dim for Forrest to see, Jack rolled his eyes. There was no way he was going to believe that a guy like Forrest, with his preppy manners and perfect clothes, could be involved in something dangerous. Sure, Forrest had enough spare cash in his account to hop on a plane—
First Class
—and come to St. John, which meant he lived a very different life. Jack could believe “different.” But to be involved in something
dangerous?
He wondered if Forrest IV had a clue how absurd he sounded. He didn't even
talk
like a kid—more like some snooty college professor. “OK, don't tell
me
if you don't want to,” Jack said, frustrated, “but I know my parents would try to help you—”

“Do not repeat anything I told you, understand?” Forrest's voice chilled as he put a space between each word. “I mean it, Jack. I may have said too much—

OK, that's my fault. But I expect you to keep your mouth shut. Unless you're a squealer.” He paused. “Are you?”

For a moment, the question hung in the air. Finally, Jack whispered, “No.”

“I didn't think so.” With his back toward Jack, Forrest clutched his pillow and thumped it hard. “Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to try to get some more sleep.”

“Hey—maybe this time I won't let
you
sleep.”

Silence.

“I'll shut up if you tell me about this big secret you're carrying around.”

More silence. Jack watched as Forrest's sides rose and fell in sudden, rhythmic breathing. He wasn't asleep—no one could nod off in seconds like that.

But it let Jack know he'd been dismissed. As far as Forrest was concerned, the conversation was over.

Sliding back down onto his hot mattress, Jack kept his eyes focused on the slowly whirling ceiling fan overhead, forcing his mind onto other things—good things—like snorkeling in the bays around St. John. He made a mental checklist of the supplies he'd need: film, check; camera lenses and filters, check; sunscreen, check. Without that, Jack—unlike Forrest whose skin was naturally dark—would broil like a lobster. Forrest, the guy with the big mystery. What could he be running
to?

The question dimmed in Jack's mind as he drifted back to sleep, dreaming of Forrest IV being chased into the Caribbean Sea by an enormous, crowing rooster.

 

Knocking reverberated through the room. Jack heard the door open and close, and then his father's voice said, “Time to get up. Your mother has a meeting at Park Headquarters. Forrest, good for you.”

Forrest, good for you—what did that mean? Jack struggled to open his eyes. The clock next to him read 8:00. Forrest stood there, already dressed, looking as pressed and as perfect as he had on the plane, his shampooed hair still damp and curling in tight ringlets. “Good morning, Mr. Landon,” he said. “Were you able to get in touch with my parents this morning?”

“I tried to contact the embassy again, but I'm having a lot of trouble getting an international line on that pay phone down in the courtyard.”

Since Steven had left the door wide open, the sounds and smells of St. John tumbled inside: The low rumble of trucks, the chattering of birds, the air tinged with lemon. As Jack swung his legs over the side of the bed, he rubbed his belly sleepily.

“Forrest and I will meet you in the courtyard. Move it, son. We need to plan our day.”

S
teven and Olivia, Ashley and Forrest were seated at a white plastic table. Ashley waved when she saw Jack and then took a bite out of a slice of cantaloupe. A fountain bubbled nearby, its surface littered with brown flower petals. From behind a counter a waitress emerged. Carrying a large tray laden with fruit and coffee mugs, she wove her way between the eight other tables. Jack slipped into a plastic chair and said, “Hey, Forrest, thanks for leaving me a towel.”

“Weren't there any more? I'll need to tell the maid to bring an extra set for this afternoon. I always like to take a second shower when it's hot like this.”

“I can go to the front desk and get extras, Forrest,” Ashley volunteered.

“Forrest can get his own towels,” Jack grumbled.

Setting down a piece of lemon bread, Steven stared at Jack. “Did you sleep all right, son?” he asked. Jack knew what the question really meant. It translated into, ‘Why are you so cranky?'

“Uh—I'm kind of tired. Forrest woke me up when it was still dark, and then we started talking.”

“Talking?” Olivia looked at Forrest expectantly.

Forrest shot Jack a look, which Jack returned straight on. No, he wouldn't say anything about their conversation—what was there to tell, anyway? Now that the sun was beating down on the top of his head, warming a spot on his scalp, everything Forrest had said about dangerous secrets seemed nothing more than a dreamlike, middle-of-the-night fantasy.

“He just woke up because of that stupid rooster, that's all,” Jack told them.

Relieved, Forrest slid some butter on his poppy-seed muffin and took a careful bite, making sure no crumbs fell on his Tommy Hilfiger knit shirt.

“Well, he's remaining mysterious with us, too,” Olivia said. “We can't seem to get a straight answer out of him. I was hoping he'd explain everything this morning, but he's not cooperating. Are you, Forrest?”

“I already told you, I have my reasons.”

“Mmm.” Olivia didn't sound convinced. “Well, the first and biggest problem we've got right now is contacting his parents. We can't seem to get through to the embassy on that pay phone—it keeps disconnecting us. So here's the plan. I've already called Park Headquarters and explained what's happened, and they offered the use of their phones. Your dad needs to stay with me at headquarters so he can track down Forrest's parents while I'm in my meeting.”

“Wait a minute—Dad's taking us snorkeling!” Jack protested, but Olivia held up her hand, cutting him off.

“I know, I know, but things have changed. Luckily for you, the park has an interpretative ranger named Denise Georges who volunteered to help us out. She said she'd take you kids around the island while I'm in my meeting and your dad is making arrangements for Forrest. We'll reconvene at two o'clock.”

“But, Mom, I've already got everything packed for snorkeling! So does Ashley!”

“I realize that, but right now we have to compromise.” She looked directly at Jack. “Understand?”

“I'm sorry to put you out like this,” Forrest apologized. “Another option would be for you to let me leave now. You were right last night—I really was unprepared for some of the—” he seemed to choose his word carefully—“
details
in spending the night here. But surely there's
one
room on the island that I can book. Let me find that room, and I'll stay there. I promise I'll call my parents and tell them everything, and then I can get on with my business, and you can get on with yours.”

“Not a chance,” Steven told him firmly.

“But there are things I need to do here!”

“Can you tell us about it?” Olivia asked. “We'd like to help you, if we could. Tell us what it is you're running to. What is it your parents will ‘understand'?”

Forrest shook his head. He kept his eyes on his napkin, rubbing his fingertips against its folded surface.

Steven sighed. “All right then, we'll go with the plan as it is. We'll call your parents and get instructions from them. Jack, we'll go snorkeling later. Got it?”

“Sure,” Jack muttered. He sipped his orange juice, surprised at how bitter it tasted. Ashley didn't seem to mind the intrusion—in fact, she kept smiling at Forrest as if he were a rock star. For some reason, that got under Jack's skin worse than the change of plans.

After breakfast they walked to Park Headquarters, down uneven streets that wound lazily toward the sea as if they couldn't be troubled to get there in a straight line. Trees hung over cracked sidewalks, providing pools of shade that already felt good at nine in the morning. Old cars rattled by, kids ambled toward their elementary school, and young men moved along the street in packs, while middle-aged ladies walked past in dresses the color of jewels. The buildings in the city of Cruz Bay were small and painted in pastels, but tired-looking, as if they'd stayed out too late at a party.

“Forrest, look at those flowers!” Ashley exclaimed, pointing to a bush exploding with orange and pink blossoms. “I've never seen anything like that before.”

When Forrest didn't reply, Olivia answered for him. “Yes, they are lovely! They look as if they're growing wild. Imagine having blossoms like that come up in your yard without having to plant them. This really is an amazing place. Oh, I think I see Park Headquarters, right up ahead, by the dock.”

A tall flagpole with an American flag identified the low-slung building. Small boats bobbed nearby, like white corks. In the distance, majestic cruise liners pushed through the water, big as castles. Sleek boats with tall masts and full sails glided past, propelled by the soft breeze. There seemed to be as many different kinds of boats as people on St. John—an entire world jumbled together on one island.

“You must be the Landon family,” a black woman beamed as they entered the headquarters building. “Hello to you all. I'm Denise Georges. You're Forrest. Welcome,” she said, shaking Forrest's hand firmly. “And you're Ashley?” she asked, as she moved down the line.

“Uh-huh.”

“And Jack?”

“Hi,” Jack said, shaking her hand.

When Denise turned her attention on Olivia, her forehead furrowed deep. “One thing confuses me in all of this, Dr. Landon. Your husband said you had a meeting this morning, but that was rescheduled for one o'clock two weeks ago. Didn't you get the message?”

Olivia's eyes widened. “I—no.”

“Oh, man, we could have gone snorkeling after all,” Jack moaned.

“Jack—enough with the snorkeling!” Steven said.

Denise turned her warm eyes on Jack. “So, you like to dive beneath the waves?”

“Like it? I love it. That's all I thought about coming over, but now….” He left his sentence dangling. Now Forrest had entered the picture, and everything was different, like a room that had tilted and everything in it was running downhill.

“Well then, if I might make a suggestion,” Denise began. “Take my Jeep and go snorkeling this morning. Forrest can use my snorkel gear—it's in the back of the Jeep. While your dad's trying to get through to Paris, your mother can drive you to a wonderful snorkeling spot called Jumbie Bay. When you get back, I'll take you three kids on a tour while your mother is in her meeting. How does that sound?”

Olivia hesitated, but Jack could tell she looked pleased. “I don't know. Steven?”

“Fine with me. That's very generous of you, Denise.”

Please, Mom?
Jack asked her without saying a word. Smiling, Olivia finally nodded. Only Forrest, who stood off to the side, didn't smile.

 

Eighteen inches of Atlantic Ocean covered Jack's feet, but he could see his toes as clearly as if he were looking through glass. The gentle waves at Jumbie Bay were the most transparent he'd ever seen.

“Jumbie!” Ashley had exclaimed. “That's weird. I've heard of Jumbo—like Jumbo the Clown or jumbo hot dogs—but I've never heard of Jumbie.”

Forrest frowned. “I think I've heard that word…,” he began. “Once, maybe. A long time ago.” Then, looking puzzled, he added, “I can't remember.”

Ashley seemed pleased that Forrest was talking again. “Have you been snorkeling before?” she asked.

“Twice, once in California and once in the Bahamas. We're not going to stay here too long, are we?”

“Why are you in such a hurry?” Jack asked him. “Does it have something to do with the big secret and the danger and all of that?”

“What danger?” Ashley asked.

“Nothing.” Dropping onto the sandy bottom, Jack struggled to pull on long, black swim fins, while the waves tried just as hard to wash them away. The fins were tight on his feet, but that was better than loose, because loose ones might slip off when he started swimming. Forrest had donned his fins back on the beach, which was not a very smart idea. Jack had to admit to feeling a certain satisfaction when he saw Forrest waddling awkwardly across the sand like a duck with big, webbed feet, flopping toward the water.

Except for the Landons and Forrest, Jumbie Bay was deserted. It had an ideal beach: smooth, pale sand with enough trees along the edges for shade; a shallow, gradual descent into the clear water; schools of tiny fish visible less than ten feet from shore.

“Don't go too far out,” Olivia warned them. “I want to be able to see all three of you at all times. Try to stay close together. And whatever you do, don't stand on the coral reefs. That will damage them. If you need to stand, make sure you're on the ocean bottom. If it's too deep there, just tread water.”

They all nodded and moved farther out into the bay. Ashley'd been a great swimmer from as far back as Jack could remember, always gliding through water like a sleek, skinny seal. Now, resembling an aquatic astronaut with her mask over her eyes and nose and the snorkel tube in her mouth, she took the lead.

Deliberately, she kicked a splash of water at Jack, who was right behind her; he grabbed her ankle and gave it a hard tug. A minute later he noticed Forrest was swimming hard to get ahead of him. Let him! Why compete when the day was so perfect, the ocean so warm, the sun hot on his back, the fish so colorful?

Olivia swam up to them and bobbed in the water, taking the tube out of her mouth to say, “Have you seen all these fish? They're fantastic! Thousands of those little silversides, and the trumpetfish—I love trumpetfish. And those really bright ones are called parrotfish. But we should swim over toward the cliff, because that's where the reef is. Come on, follow me.”

They did, paddling in a row after Olivia. Again the image of ducks flashed into Jack's mind: Olivia, the mamma duck, leading three baby ducks, but Jack and Forrest were both bigger than Olivia. Only Ashley was still smaller than her mother.

Olivia had been right. When they came close to the cliff and peered down through the water, they saw coral, all kinds of coral. And lots more fish—one poking its face out from a little cave in the bottom of some brain coral; one with a gold stripe running from its eye to its tail like the racing stripes on a car; and three that had white stripes on black, like zebras. Others darting in front of Jack's face seemed close enough to touch but were always farther away than they looked.

Forrest grabbed Jack's arm, jerking him up out of the water. “Did you see them?” he yelled.

Ashley raised her head, too, and asked, “See what?”

“Squid. Two squid down there.”

“You mean like giant octopuses with suckers on their tentacles that grab you and pull you down until you drown?” Ashley looked ready to swim back to shore.

“No, just squid. The kind they cut up for calamari in restaurants.”

Jack didn't know what Forrest was talking about. Calamari? What was that? But he lowered his face mask to follow the direction where Forrest was pointing. He saw them, then, funny looking things like flying saucers with tails, only the tails were actually their arms and tentacles, all squeezed together. Eyes peered out from where the saucer part ended and the arms began. The squid shot through the water like little torpedoes.

The coral caught his attention next. He knew the name of at least one species—elkhorn coral. It looked just like the horns of the stag elks that wintered on the refuge where his mother worked. Brain coral was also easy to spot. It really did resemble a brain lifted out of someone's skull and dumped on the ocean floor. Other corals waved in the gentle current like fans.

When Jack raised his head out of the water to search for Ashley, he saw her far ahead, a good 50 feet away. She was waving wildly, beckoning them, mouthing the word “Hurry!” but not shouting it.

Jack and Forrest and Olivia swam toward her, wondering what she'd found. When they reached her, Ashley whispered, “There's a sea turtle swimming around down here. Not like the one we saw in Hawaii, Jack.

This is a different kind. Different colors.”

It was as if the turtle had been waiting for them to arrive to admire it. Moving leisurely through the clear water, it waved its long front legs effortlessly, while the Landons and Forrest glided behind. For what must have been ten minutes, they played follow-the-leader with the turtle. Then it disappeared into a haze of algae.

“Wasn't that fantastic?” Ashley sputtered, trying to get the words out before she removed her mouthpiece. Jack and Forrest agreed, but Olivia frowned.

“Didn't you like it, Mom?” Ashley asked.

“Of course. Seeing the turtle was wonderful, Ashley. Thanks for calling us. That one was a hawksbill, and as I've told you, they're becoming rare. But I'm really upset about the condition of the reef right beneath us. Didn't you notice? It's all broken up.”

No, Jack hadn't noticed. He'd been too intent on following the turtle.

“That's from boat groundings—boats pulling up here where they're not supposed to,” Olivia told them. “And then they cause even more damage when they lower their anchors. From the amount of destruction to the reef right here, I'd say a lot of anchors have been dropped, and I don't know why. This isn't a place where any boat owner would want to tie up.”