Apr 3, 2018 6 min read

The story so far: Aaron and his father and their friends finally find the missing Lisa, but is she dead or alive? And what about the human skull that appears on the sand?

• Chapter 12

Burial Island

Istepped over the fallen skull and looked into the carved face of Killer Whale. A weathered, ancient mortuary totem leaned toward me from the trees. Bear Mother and Raven, eaten by salt and time, stared out.

“She’s alive!” Roger called. “Help me here!”

I scrambled over slippery rocks. Roger and Cassidy knelt over Lisa. Roger was gently feeling her neck and sliding his fingers through her hair. The burning cold water lapped up against her. Her blue shorts were wet, and so were one arm, half her tank top, and most of her hair.

“We have to get her back to camp,” Roger said. “There’s a big knot on her head, but there’s no blood, and I don’t think anything’s broken. What I’m worried about is hypothermia. We have to get her back to a fire and a warm sleeping bag, or we could lose her.”

Lose her? Tears seared my eyes, but I forced them back and helped Cassidy lift her while Roger cradled her head and back, keeping her spine straight.

We had no choice but to seat her in the forward cockpit of Roger’s kayak. He carefully wrestled her into a Gortex raincoat, then adjusted her life jacket so it rode up in back and supported her head. He secured her by stuffing half-filled dry bags from the rear and forward hatches all around her in the cockpit.

Then he kissed her on her cheek and said, “You’ll be all right, sweetheart.” She looked like she was sleeping-and yet, She could be dying, I thought.

Cassidy pushed them off, and we climbed into the remaining two kayaks and followed them, paddling hard.

Roger had made compass bearings, and though we’d paddled most of the day looking for Lisa, our camp was probably only about two miles away.

Along the horizon to the west spread a thin stain, the color of blood.

Dad and Willie met us in the cove. Lisa was still unconscious, and Willie-who was built like a barge-squatted down, lifted her dead weight out of the kayak, and carried her up to the fire.

Roger ran to his tent and came back with their sleeping bags.

“I’ll have to warm her up with my body heat so she doesn’t go into hypothermia,” Roger said, zipping their bags together. Lines I never noticed before creased his face.

The stars came out, one by one, as if from hiding. The fire crackled. We could hear Roger cooing, “You’ll be okay, sweetheart, you’ll be okay.”

Lisa woke in the middle of the night, moaning. It woke me up. Willie, still tending the fire, had rigged up a lean-to to keep the heat in. He crawled into his tent. I brought Roger a bottle of water for Lisa, and he nursed her through the rest of the night while I lay rolled in my sleeping bag on the other side of the fire. From then on I drifted between islands of sleep, sleep filled with smugglers and immigrants and Lisa-all jumbled together in a chowder of dreams.

In the morning Lisa had bags beneath her eyes, but otherwise she was almost like new. Roger scolded her for taking off like that, then smothered her with a hug. When he asked her what had happened, she said that she couldn’t sleep and wanted to go exploring before we woke up. She got lost, and later slipped on a wet boulder, hit her head, and apparently passed out.

She was leaning against a log now, wrapped in her sleeping bag. I handed her a cup of hot cocoa, and she greeted me with a smile that flew right through me, like a laughing eagle or a loon.

“Thanks for saving my life,” she said. She rubbed the bump on her head, which was buried in a mess of hair as shiny and black as raven’s feathers.

My heart swelled with pride. “Better thank your dad and…and Cassidy, too.” I swallowed hard on his name.

“Cassidy’s the reason why I wanted to be on my own.” A kingfisher darted by, on a date with a fish.

“Why? What happened?”

But before she could answer, Cassidy crawled out of his tent and said, “Dude! Did I hear you say my name?”

“Yeah. I said you’re a jerk. Drop dead.”

“Ouch!” He mock died, then sprung up and walked on his hands-which isn’t easy on uneven ground that’s littered with branches.

Lisa couldn’t help laughing, and though I was stung again by jealousy, I had to laugh, too, which only made it worse.

Now that Lisa had gone exploring on a burial island, I wanted to do it, too. But Willie said we’d have to hide out all day, then paddle north up Hunter Channel, under cover of dusk, and find another hidden cove.

We munched gorp, read, and played cards, but the Sea Wolf was always on our minds. When it wasn’t Dad’s turn to stand lookout, we fished in the cove and I hooked a big rock cod, which felt like a boot filled with mud.

Finally we set out, just as the sun dropped off the edge of the world. An eagle screamed, and I might have heard the call of the loon again-but behind it all was the hum and throb of a motor.

It was coming our way.

NEXT WEEK: Cat and mouse