Haunted Island (8 page)

“It’s getting darker,” Amy said.

“Because you’re in the woods.”

“I’m hungry, Chris. What time do you think it is?”

“I don’t know. Don’t think about food. It won’t help.”

Chris wished that he had a wristwatch. His stomach rumbled, and he also wished he had thought of bringing something to eat.

The trees seemed to close around them, and Chris got the uncomfortable feeling that they were being wrapped in a damp, musty blanket.

“I don’t like this,” Amy murmured. “Chris, something’s all wrong!”

“Don’t get panicky,” Chris said. “Don’t let your imagination get out of hand.”

“Chris!” Amy’s words came in short gasps. “Something’s following us! It’s behind us!”

Chris could feel the back of his neck begin to prickle, but he tried to remain calm. “We’ll be all right as long as we stick together,” he said. He stopped and turned around.

But they weren’t together. Amy was running as fast as she could away from Chris and up the hill.

A
MY CRASHED THROUGH THE
underbrush, not caring about the noise she was making. Chris stumbled after her. The ground was slick with damp needles, and running was difficult.

“Amy!” he yelled. “Wait!”

One moment she was ahead of him. The next moment she had disappeared.

“Amy?”

He came to a rise and stopped. Below him the ground sloped steeply downward, ending in cliffs high above the water. To his left was a bank of rough limestone rocks.

“Amy?” he called again. “Where are you?”

Surely she hadn’t fallen down that slope! He would have heard her call out, and the carpet of moss and pine needles that blanketed the slope would have been disturbed. She hadn’t run back past him. But how could she have gone farther? Chris heard his own heart pounding again. What if something terrible had happened to Amy?

He edged closer to the jagged limestone bank and saw that the ground was level in front of the rocks for a width of about two feet and a distance of about twenty feet. He couldn’t go down the steep slope, but on his left was the wall of limestone. Had Amy, in some mysterious way, managed to climb the rocks?

Chris edged along the level strip, facing the steep drop, his back to the rough bank. He had traveled about ten feet when suddenly someone grabbed his arm and pulled.

He was yanked off balance, staggering against the rock, which seemed to open up and swallow him.

“Hey!” he shouted.

“Be quiet, Chris! Don’t make so much noise!” Amy said.

She let him go, and he saw they were standing inside a narrow opening to a cave. From what he could see, the cave was deep. The light from outside illuminated part of a high, wide room. One side was littered with dirt and clumps of grasses and pine boughs, as though it had caved in. A trickle of water ran down the other side and disappeared into the floor of the cave.

Amy frowned at him. “It’s no good hiding here if you’re going to make so much noise.”

“If you didn’t want me to make any noise, you shouldn’t have grabbed me like that! What did you do that for?” Chris snapped.

“Because you were going right past the opening to the cave, that’s why!”

“I was scared to death, anyway. Why did you run away?”

“I didn’t run away. I just did what you told me to do.”

“I told you we’d be all right as long as we stayed together.”

Amy backed up against the rough rock wall and stared at Chris. “No you didn’t. You told me to run to the cave as fast as I could.”

“I couldn’t have.”

“But you did. I heard you clearly.”

Chris held Amy’s shoulders and looked at her carefully. “Are you trying to kid me? Because if you are, it isn’t funny.”

“I’m not kidding,” she said. Her eyes opened wider. “Chris! Are you telling me that you weren’t the one who said it?”

Chris shook his head. “How would I know there was a cave here to run to?”

“Oh. Well, because—uh—I guess you wouldn’t.” Amy gave a shiver and looked toward the entrance of the cave. “Then who said it?”

“What did the voice sound like?”

“I don’t know. It was just—a voice.”

“A man’s voice?”

Amy shrugged. “No.” She slid to the floor of the cave and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Chris, I just don’t know.”

Chris glanced around the cave. “Someone wanted us to come into the cave. I wonder why.”

“It’s cold in here.” Amy shivered.

“Where’s your sweater?”

“Back on the beach, I think.”

Chris glanced at the slide at one side of the cave. “Look at that,” he said. “There are some good, dry pine branches with lots of pitch in them. Why don’t we light one?”

“Good idea!” Amy scrambled to her feet. “It will make us feel warmer, at least.”

Chris had already picked out three of the limbs. He put one aside, took the tinder box from his pocket, and squatted next to the branch. He worked until sparks flew out and one end of the branch flared up.

He stood, picking up the branch carefully, holding it aloft. The roof, with its jagged stalactites, glittered in the light. The floor was uneven, pockmarked with small holes. Here and there a stalagmite grew under a steady drip from the roof of the cave. As he moved with the light, the wall seemed to move, too, leaping into brightness or shadow.

“Amy,” Chris said, “the cave goes way back here.”

“Don’t leave me,” Amy said.

“I’m not. Don’t you want to explore a little, as long as we’re here?”

Back in the shadows Chris saw something shine, then wriggle away in the darkness. Another snake? Chris didn’t want to know, and he hoped Amy hadn’t seen it.

“Not yet,” Amy said. “For one thing, we don’t know why we’re supposed to be here. And for another, I think it’s time to read some of Amelia’s journal.”

Chris walked back to where Amy was seated on a rock near the entrance, the journal unwrapped and open on her lap.

“Another voice telling you what to do?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. Just something I want to do.”

“We can’t stay here, Amy.”

“I know. But I have the feeling there’s an answer for us in this journal. I only want a few minutes to look. Okay?”

“Well,” Chris agreed grudgingly, “I’d rather look for answers in the cave.”

“Ten minutes,” Amy said. “That’s all I want.”

“You know I haven’t got a watch.”

“Then I’ll tell you when ten minutes is up.”

“You haven’t got a watch, either.”

“But I’ll know,” Amy said. “Now, hold the light over this way a little, so I can read.”

Chris held the limb close to Amy, but not close enough so that a drop of pitch might hurt her. Now and then a bubble of the pitch sizzled as the wood burned, and occasionally a spark flew from the branch. Chris was glad he knew so much about surviving in the wilderness. He never thought his knowledge would come in so useful. “Are you starting at the beginning?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “At the part where Amelia came to Missouri to marry Joshua Hanover.” She paused. “Amelia didn’t spell very well, and her handwriting is kind of spidery with curls on the letters. It’s hard to read.”

“Then why don’t you give it up and come with me to see what’s in the rest of the cave?”

Amy held up a hand to hush him. “Listen to this, Chris. She’s writing here about the property. ‘The pasture is wide and thick with grasses, which makes good grazing for the horse. The river beyond the house and woods is a valuable source of fish, and the woods provide fuel for the stove and fireplace. All is plentiful and good.

“ ‘I have discovered a quiet place, unknown to Joshua and Shadow. It is here I sometimes come when I have a few free minutes during the afternoon, when work is not too pressing. It is here I come when I want to think my own thoughts and to write them in this little book. It is my cave. My very own place. I am secure here.’ ”

Amy rested the book on her lap. “This cave must be the one Amelia wrote about,” she said.

Chris found he was eager to hear more. “What else does she say about the cave?”

Amy silently read a few paragraphs ahead and thumbed through the rest of the pages, reading a bit here and there. She closed the book. “She doesn’t mention the cave again.”

Chris sat next to Amy. “Amos brought us to the island. He said he would do anything to help Amelia. And someone led us to this cave.” He began to get excited. “When I walked into the Hanovers’ house I stumbled on the box that held this journal, and I think now it was deliberately put in my path. It was part of the whole thing.”

“Why?” Amy asked.

“Hasn’t it occurred to you, Amy?” Chris asked. “It’s our reason for being on this island. Amos told us to put the ghosts to rest. I think we can do it by finding Amelia.”

Amy’s voice was barely a whisper, and she moved closer to Chris. “How can we find Amelia?”

“By looking in this cave,” Chris said. “I think she’s in here with us!”

A
MY JUMPED UP SO
suddenly she dropped the journal. “Don’t talk like that, Chris! You’re scaring me!”

Chris got to his feet. A drop of bubbling pitch landed on one finger. “Ouch!” he yelled, and popped his finger into his mouth.

“I mean it!” Amy said. “We aren’t even sure that Amelia stayed on the island. Maybe Joshua was right. Maybe she did get into the boat with the bag of money. Maybe she was glad to escape. Maybe she drowned. We don’t know.”

The flames at the end of the pine torch wavered and almost went out, as though a breeze had blown through the cave.

“You don’t believe that,” Chris said as he tried to shelter the torch.

Amy sighed. “I guess not.”

Chris picked up another limb and lit the end of it from the one he was holding. “Here,” he said, handing it to Amy. “Hold this away from your body. If that hot pitch drops on your hand it hurts.”

Amy held it out as she turned slowly in a circle, examining what they could see of the cave. “Where do we start to look for Amelia?” she asked.

“At the far end of the cave,” Chris answered.

This time Amy led the way. The room they were in became gradually narrower and lower.

“It’s ending in a tunnel,” Amy said. “We’ll have to crawl to get into it.”

“How far back does it go?” Chris asked. Amy got on her knees and held her torch out in front of her. “Dead end,” she said. She got up and brushed off the knees of her jeans.

“Did it look like a landslide had closed off this room?”

“No. It’s only three or four feet deep and ends in a solid rock wall.”

Chris had to look, too, just to make sure that Amy was right. The wall seemed to be an original part of the cave.

“So that’s that,” Amy said. She sounded relieved.

Chris glanced at the pile of rock and dirt and limbs that must have cascaded into the cave long ago. “Think about the earthquake, Amy,” he said. “Amelia was terrified. She ran to a place where she had always felt protected and safe—this cave that was all her own. But she wasn’t protected and safe here. The earth moved so violently that part of the roof of the cave was torn apart, and rocks and dirt and trees poured in.”

Amy stared at the side of the cave. “Do you think Amelia’s body is under all that?”

“Yes,” Chris said. “Don’t you?”

“How will we find her?”

“I wish we had a couple of shovels,” Chris said, “but we don’t, so we’ll use our hands.”

“Do we really have to look for her?” Amy asked. Then she answered her own question. “I guess we do.”

“You take that side. I’ll take the other,” Chris said. “Find a place nearby that will hold your torch.”

“This might take days and days!” Amy complained.

“I don’t think so,” Chris said. He propped his torch into a hole in the cave floor and got on his knees. The earth in the slide was still soft and loose, so he was able to scoop away handfuls.

Amy set to work on the other side, after she had found a place to prop her torch.

Finally Chris touched something hard. He brushed the earth away from one end of it. “Amy,” he whispered. “Over here! Quick!”

Amy hurried to join him, but kept her eyes on Chris. “I’m afraid to look,” she said. “Did you find—? Is it—?”

“It’s canvas,” he said. “I think it’s Joshua’s bag of coins. Help me get it out of here.”

They scooped back the dirt until most of the bag was uncovered. Then Chris tugged it from its place. The leather strap across the top was in shreds and fell apart as they pulled at the sack. But the canvas, though worn and yellowed, seemed to hold.

Chris opened the flap on the sack, and they peered inside, almost bumping heads in their eagerness to see. The silver coins were black with tarnish, but they almost filled the sack.

“Joshua Hanover’s money,” Amy murmured. “We found it.” Chris put a hand into the sack and scooped up some of the coins. “If we cleaned these we could read the dates,” he said. “They’ve got to be valuable.”

Amy took a small one and turned, trying to hold it up to the light. “Is this a dime?” she asked. “Did they have dimes in 1811?”

“A coin collector could tell us all about them,” Chris said.

Amy dropped the coin into the sack. “This is exciting! Just think! Now this money belongs to Aunt Jennie!” She glanced at the opening to the cave where the afternoon light was still strong. “Let’s hurry and take the sack down to the beach and get our bonfire ready. We don’t want to be in this cave when it gets dark.”

She got to her knees, but before she could stand Chris put out a hand and stopped her. “Not so fast,” he said. “There’s something we have to do first. There’s something else in the hole where the sack of coins had been.”

Amy bent to look. She yelped and scooted back behind Chris.

There at the back of the hole was a hand without flesh. Skeleton fingers. And through those fingers was twined a narrow, twisted chain of gold.

“We found Amelia,” Chris said quietly.

“Poor Amelia,” Amy said. “She really was here all along, probably killed instantly in that landslide, and for all these years mean old Joshua thought she had run away with his precious hoard of coins.” She stretched around Chris’s shoulder to take another look at the bony fingers, then hugged her knees and shivered. “What should we do, Chris? Do we have to do any more digging?”