Experiment in Terror 03 Dead Sky Morning (15 page)

“I’ve seen a lot of dolphins out here but never a pod of killer whales. I’m so glad I got that on film. That was amazing. What great fucking luck.”

“Hoping to make this episode part nature documentary?”

“Nah. Hoping to lull people in with something beautiful so they’ll be shocked when everything starts going horribly wrong later.”

I shivered again, this time from what he said. “I don’t think we should plan on things going horribly wrong.”

“They always do, don’t they?” he commented.

“I guess.” Though we always did make it out alive, so I guess it never really went
that
wrong. That said, there was no way I would ever want to experience what happened to me in the lighthouse when Old Roddy had his kelp hands around my throat, nor when I thought I was going to be raped by local rednecks slash human hawks while in Red Fox.

“I’m just kidding you know.” He was staring at me with a frown of concern. I must have looked worried.

I gave him a weak smile. “I didn’t know but that helps. I don’t want to push our luck out here. And not on the Island of Death.”

“You’ve been doing some reading?”

“Yes. I really wish you had told me more about what went on back then…”

“Why? Would you have changed your mind about it?”

It was a possibility. Had I known I was going to an isolated island where 40 forgotten, miserable, rotted souls had died, I might have said no.

“I don’t know. Guess it doesn’t matter, does it? Too late now.”

“You’re right about that. There she is.”

I looked up and followed his gaze. A rather flat looking island comprised of rocky shoreline and dense forest was fast approaching the bow of the ship.

This was it. I knew it. There seemed to be an invisible wall of angry fog washing over the boat. Dex and I both shivered simultaneously.

I turned and looked behind me. The landmass of Vancouver Island seemed so close yet oh so far.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Now that D’Arcy Island was close enough to make out the little details, the nausea I was feeling down below was starting to creep up my throat again.

It looked like any other island that you’d see in the Pacific Northwest. But the strange part was, you knew it wasn’t. Even if no one had told me what had gone on there, the feeling of dread that washed over me, the animosity that just reeked out of the island’s pores, was unmistakable.

“I’m getting a bad feeling about this place,” I said to Dex while pulling my coat in closer. “You?”

“I will if you can’t keep your mouth shut for the next few minutes,” he answered, peering off the bow with intensity. I opened my mouth to say something back but decided not to. Dex was only that rude when he really had something to be worried about and I could see this was one of those times. So I shut my mouth, stepped away from the wheel by a few inches and followed his gaze.

From what I could see it didn’t look like much was out there. We were close to the island but not close enough to be hitting any rocks. But the water was rippling like a few opposing currents were working the surface.

“Hand me the maps,” he said, pointing at a bench where the charts that were flapping in the breeze were anchored under a couple of sailing books.

I leaned over and pulled them out, asking, “Want me to look at them?”

“Would you know what you were looking at?” he scoffed, eyes still on the water.

I brushed his attitude off my shoulders and picked up the first book, which was Cruising Guide. I flipped to the index and quickly looked up D’Arcy Island before Dex had the chance to bark at me to do so.

I found the passage on it and looked over at him. He put the boat into the lowest gear and we slowed down considerably. He squinted at the spread–out maps, which glared white in the sunshine, then examined the water between us and the island.

“What does the book say?” he asked.

“It says there are no good anchorages, only acceptable ones in the right weather. It recommends the cove south of the light, on the west side, and that we should use a stern anchor or something to restrict swing. It also says to be on the lookout for the kelp reefs and submerged rocks.”

“Yeah, got that right here,” he said, jabbing at the sonar. It looked like a bunch of dark spots on the screen but I trusted that Dex was reading it properly.

“So what, we can’t get to the island?” I asked. Maybe a bit too hopefully.

He eyed me carefully before saying, “Oh, we can get there. Just a few things to be mindful of, that’s all. Don’t get your panties all in a bunch.”

I glared at him and looked back at the book. It showed a happy photo of bright kayaks on a beach. It couldn’t be that bad, could it?

I looked up at the island again as we started heading further west and rounding a point. The lighthouse slowly but surely came into view.

Thankfully it wasn’t a lighthouse like the one me and Dex had met in, the one with Old Roddy on my uncle’s farm. It was just a tall white post with a light at the top. Below it, the cliffs sloped to the churning waters. Bill was certainly right about the riptides. Aside from the currents I could see squirming in the water around us, the ocean’s swell seemed to build around the island, creating frothy breaks and sprays as they met against rocks and pebbly beaches.

“Well, I’m just going to sit over here,” I said, gesturing to the bench. “If you need help, you know where to find me.”

I sat down and tried not to watch the progress of the boat with an eagle eye. I was freaked that we were going to run into some hidden reefs or get tangled in a kelp forest. I looked behind me at the Zodiac we were towing and thought if anything was going to get stuck, it was going to be that thing.

Dex was absorbed into complete concentration and rightfully so. As he watched for rocks on the radar and spied telltale currents up ahead, I looked over at the island. We were pretty much in the slight cove and the shore wasn’t too far away. I could make out the individual branches of the fir trees, the glowing green of the ferns nestled at the bottom sparkling in golden rays of sunlight, the smooth shapes of the rocks that made up the shoreline. Seagulls darted to and fro and with the sound of the motor at a minimum, I could hear the waves rolling the rocks in a rhythmic manner. It seemed so peaceful, so idyllic but…

Someone was watching us.

A face hidden in the leafy foliage. The grotesque rotting face of a leper, with rough, lesioned skin that matched the bark of the pine next to it. The eyes were narrow and black, the mouth open and fathomless. It was an expression frozen in terror.

I gasped, afraid to blink in case I lost sight of the monstrosity. I wanted to look away from the creepy, mask–like face but I couldn’t for fear of losing it.

“Dex,” I slowly squeaked out, not taking my eyes away.

He grunted, not wanting to be bothered. “Kinda busy right now.”

“There’s a creepy face in the woods, staring at us.”

He looked at me and then looked in the direction of my gaze. For the amount of time he stared at it, I was sure he could pick it out.

But he eventually turned back to me and said, “I don’t see anything.”

That was impossible. I could still see it.

“No, there’s someone there. Right in the ferns, where the trees start to come down further to the beach. Straight ahead, then to the right a bit.”

He looked again and I could see him shaking his head out of the corner of my eye. Annoyed and scared at the idea that it was only something I could see, I narrowed my eyes and tried to make sure that I was really seeing what I thought I was. It was a face wasn’t it? I looked below it and saw the outline of dark shoulders fading into the forest shade. It had to be a person. But it wasn’t moving either.

Dex put his hand on my shoulder and I jumped in my seat, eyeing him wildly.

“Hey, kiddo, there’s nothing there,” he said calmly, looking down at me. He removed his hand and went back to navigating. My eyes flitted over to the forest and now I couldn’t see it anymore. The face was gone and only the trees remained.

“OK! This spot should work, hopefully,” Dex announced loudly and thrust the boat into neutral. He poked me in the shoulder to make sure I was paying attention to him. “Can you hold the wheel steady and press this button here when I tell you to? It will be stop and go and you’ll have to hold your finger down to make it run.”

I nodded and got up, scooching over behind the wheel and making sure I could reach the black button that stuck out on a low panel on the boat’s side. The creepy feeling hadn’t left me yet but I was glad to be concentrating on something else.

Dex made his way to the front of the boat. I quickly stole a glance at the forest. It was entirely plausible that I imagined the whole thing. After all, it didn’t move even once and the lines and shadows of the forest could be molded into any figure of your imagination, like a Magic Eye painting.

“OK go,” Dex cried out from the bow, amongst the sound of clanking chains. I pressed the button, holding it down while the anchor lowered into the water. It didn’t seem like that hard of a job until the current began to tug at the wheel, making it shake underneath my hands. I tightened my grip and held it steady, while holding the button down with my other hand.

The wheel began to move even more under my hands, almost violently, like someone down below was pulling the rudder left and right. I put the weight of my boobs against the wheel for extra leverage, not able to let go of the button yet. But it was getting tedious. I was close to having to take my hand away.

“Let go!” Dex yelled, and I gladly did so, putting my other hand on the wheel to steady it. He ran along the deck towards me, not even bothering to hold onto the lifelines as he did so.

“The wheel is going crazy,” I explained.

“The currents are fucked here.” He put his hand on the anchor button.

“Are you getting hold of anything?”

He frowned. “I should be. It’s a really sharp slope so I have to be sure.”

After a few moments of hearing the anchor motor purr, he let go with satisfaction and turned the boat off. He looked at my white knuckles at the wheel and smiled wryly.

“You can let go now,” he said. “We aren’t going anywhere.”

I did so. And the boat swung quickly to the left, away from the island. It was almost as if the island was giving it one huge push to stay away.

I almost fell over but Dex grabbed my arm quickly.

“You were saying?” I glared.

He sucked in his lip and looked back at the shore while the boat continued to spin like the second hand on a clock. He grabbed hold of the wheel and kept it steady. He glanced down behind him.

“There’s no stern anchor to keep us from swinging all weekend.”

“Does it matter if we aren’t on the boat?”

“Hell yes it does. The anchor is barely holding up front and this is a fucking calm day, for this place anyway. Another hour of this and the boat will wiggle itself free. If we left, it wouldn’t be here when we return.”

So what he was saying is that we were fucked. Oh well, time to call it day and go back to the marina. Nice try but not in the cards. I understood.

Oh, but no.

“Doesn’t matter, there’s an easy fix,” he said while my shoulders deflated. “Here, take the wheel.”

I did so, shoving my weight against it. It was even harder now to keep steady than before. Just what the hell was going on in the water? It looked like a lot of commotion on the surface, but not enough to make steering as difficult as it was.

The image of sunken coffins slowly rising to the surface entered my head. I pictured fingerless hands coming out of the rotted caskets, skin peeling, bloated white flesh, reaching for the rudder underneath in the dark, green depths.

“Perry!” Dex barked. I snapped out of it and gave him my attention. He had lifted up one of the benches and was pulling out a long yellow rope out of a hidden storage area. “You hear me? Keep that wheel as still as you can, we’re in a good position now.”

The boat had done a 180 around the anchor and the bow was facing the way we had come in. I nodded and did as he said.

He came beside me and tied the rope around a metal hook thing, finishing it off in a fancy sailor knot, then opened the lifelines behind me and started to pull in the Zodiac.

“Where are you going?” I asked anxiously. I didn’t want him to leave me on this thing.

He kicked over a metal ladder and stepped down towards the Zodiac, jumping the rest of the way. He landed with a thud, the boat shuddering beneath him, but managed to stay upright and inside. He pointed to the cliff area. There was a lone arbutus tree that was jutting out of one of the rocks.

“I’ve got to tie us to that tree there,” he said, starting the small engine on the Zodiac like a finicky lawnmower. After a few attempts it roared, blueish smoke emanating from the tank, the propellers whirring violently.

“Do you have enough rope?” I asked. He nodded and adjusted himself on one of the pontoons.

He looked up at me. “Just hold it as steady as you can; otherwise, you’ll be leading me around. Make sure the rope doesn’t tangle. I’ll be right back.”