The Dead Room Page 6

  They stood, not looking at each other, an uncomfortable silence settling between them.

  “Elder Mattli, why was I ever matched with Wesley?” It was a question she’d never asked, but one that had sat on her lips for years. She paused, thinking over the circumstances. “An orphan who was always in trouble? I don’t consider myself as a desirable match for an elder.”

  “You know how difficult matching has become. It’s nearly impossible to match two people who aren’t related in some way. That being said, you were matched with him because you’re intelligent and because your line has proven quite fertile.”

  “Excuse me, but that’s a cop-out answer. If those were the reasons, you’d have matched me with someone like Mason, who wasn’t so important to the island.” The mention of Mason only made her think again of what she was running from. A sharp pang of disappointment traveled through her as she remembered that he hadn’t even heard her apology. She shook her head and tried to focus on what she was running to.

  Mattli simply stared at her, not offering any answers at all.

  She sighed loudly. “Fine then.” She turned and faced the sea, watching the moonlight dance on the water. “Maybe I’ll find the answers I need out there,” she said as she walked back down the dock to the waiting canoe, beached on the shore.

  He handed her a single paddle. “Paddle on both sides of the canoe to go forward.” He demonstrated the motion on either side of his body. “One side only to turn.”

  She nodded in understanding. After a sleepless night, she hoped she had the energy for the journey ahead. For now, she was running on pure adrenaline.

  “I trust you have a compass?”

  She nodded again. “Good. Follow it to the east.”

  She hadn’t expected that. Then again, she hadn’t expected any of this. Less than thirty-six hours ago, her life had been plugging away normally. She had been getting ready to head home for the night after checking her work on a rather complex net. Now, her match was dead and she was leaving the island—something no one had ever done since before the migration, at least to her knowledge.

  “What will I find in the east?”

  “Honestly?” He looked out to the water, watching the reflection of the dim moonlight on the small waves. “I don’t know. I only know that if there’s something, it lies to the east.”

  “Helpful,” Ashley said flatly.

  He put a hand on her shoulder. “Goodbye, Ashley. Good luck.”

  Fatigue started to settle into Mattli’s bones, and he developed a hunch in his stride. He was too old for these all-night jaunts. Just one more thing to do, and then he hoped he could go to bed with a clean conscience. He felt like she was so close to knowing the truth, to finding out who she was and what she meant to the island. Shaking his head in frustration, he wondered if he should’ve said more, or less.

  As he padded along the path that would lead him to Mason’s prison, he wondered how it had come to this. He remembered being so proud and excited when he was named an elder all those years ago. He’d thought he could really make a difference on the island. Be a voice of reason. Help.

  But helping had turned to deceiving. He’d learned many things since being named second to Alkoff, things he couldn’t possibly forget if he tried. Things that had changed him, hardened him, and made him take exception to his normally rigid morals.

  He shook his head and took a deep breath as he approached Mason. Everything he’d done was in the best interests of the island. Or so he tried to convince himself.

  Mason was waiting for him. “I thought you’d changed your mind.”

  “I was seeing Ashley off. You’ll have to hurry so she doesn’t get too far ahead.”

  Mason laughed to himself. “And how exactly am I supposed to catch up to her?”

  Mattli handed him a compass from his pocket. “Just follow her east.”

  “How do you know that’s the way she’ll go?”

  “Because I told her.”

  “You what?” Mason’s eyes narrowed. “What lies to the east?”

  “I will tell you exactly what I told her—I honestly don’t know. The legends of our ancestors say that if there is anything out there, it lies to the east.”

  Mason gave him a look that told him he was less than convinced, but he also had no choice. He went with Mattli willingly enough and boarded the second canoe.

  “There’s a large skin of water in the canoe. It’s more than enough to make the journey…” Mattli hesitated, wanting to say enough, but not too much. “And anything else that should pop up.”

  Mason didn’t respond, and Mattli wondered if he were listening. He didn’t have time to ask before Mason got in the canoe and went after Ashley.

  Mattli stood on the shore and watched them paddle out—Ashley had finally gotten the hang of paddling, and was making good progress out to sea. He silently urged Mason to paddle more quietly if he was to remain unseen long enough to get away from the island.

  A hand on his shoulder wrested him from his thoughts. “You’ve done well, Mattli,” Alkoff said.

  “Why does it feel like we’ve sent them to their deaths?”

  “Because we may have.” The short, simple sentence cut to the quick. “But no one in our lifetimes has overseen a scouting mission. If one or both of them were to return, think of what we might learn.” In the moonlight, excitement gleamed in Alkoff’s eyes. “We could go home.”

  6.

  Ashley nearly toppled the canoe into the freezing Pacific waters before she was even out of the shallows. She had no idea if Elder Mattli was still watching her, but her pride kept her from turning to see. He didn’t call out any advice if he was.

  Once she found her balance in the rickety contraption, she started to try to propel herself forward, paying no mind to the compass at first. It took all her focus just to put the paddle in the water and move herself forward. She couldn’t just put it in and expect to move forward. She had to work at it.

  She found herself wishing she had more upper body strength. Sewing fishing nets hadn’t prepared her for this kind of hard, physical labor.

  Proud when she finally found an effective stride, she sat up a little straighter and checked the compass. Pointing herself toward the east, she continued to paddle with urgency and energy.

  Though she knew what was behind her, there was nothing ahead but water as far as the eye could see. She never once looked back. That was her old life. The only way she would get anywhere was by keeping her eye on the prize.

  The next hour, her mind was filled with daydreams. What was the mainland like? Of course, that question assumed the mainland still existed. If there’s something, it lies to the east, Mattli had said.

  What exactly did that mean? All along, she had known the elders had some idea of what had happened to the mainland, of what had caused Bennett Ashby to be their savior. But for some reason, they’d chosen to keep it a secret—a decision she couldn’t understand. Wouldn’t it build trust and even more compliance among the islanders if they knew the truth?

  Or was the truth so horrific that the elders thought the islanders couldn’t handle it? Her imagination ran wild with scenarios of man-made monsters eating every living being, zombies, flesh-eating bacteria run amok, and natural disasters like massive tsunamis that somehow missed the island. She frowned at that explanation. If that were true, why not return to the mainland to rebuild once the waters receded? But monsters and zombies were even more unlikely.

  After hours of paddling and keeping her mind busy, her sleepless night and events of the previous days started to catch up to her. Self-doubt settled in like a spoiled meal, making her feel queasy. What if there really wasn’t anywhere else to live but the island, and they really were the only survivors?

  She sighed as she looked out at the expanse of ocean ahead of her. Maybe she should have stayed home and been compliant. If she hadn’t provoked Wesley and the other elders, she wouldn’t be here right now. Mason always chided her for her ques
tions—his instinct for self-preservation had always been better than hers.

  She lay back in the canoe and let her mind wander to her friend. They’d met at school, where all the island kids met and chose their friends for life. School was different than it had been in the time before, or so it seemed from what was written in the books she read in Alkoff’s library. They had some traditional subjects like history—which mostly covered the time before, and only briefly delved into the apocalypse, since not much was known about what happened, and mostly used the event as a warning to make sure everyone did their part to contribute and keep the island running. They studied math, reading, and writing, but they also had practical subjects like farming, sewing, medicine, and more that helped pass down a basic knowledge of how the island ran. Students’ performances in these subjects also helped decide where they would be most useful once they could start working.

  Plus, there weren’t many kids who were the same age, which created an odd dynamic of preteens and kids who were barely older than toddlers. No student was older than thirteen, though. Once an islander got their work assignment, they no longer had time for school. The time to contribute had come.

  Mason and Ashley had been outcasts together, although she never fully understood why Mason was excluded by the other students. She was too inquisitive, curious to a fault, and always getting in trouble for it. The other kids stayed away, afraid to be associated with such a troublemaker.

  But Mason was funny, good at sports, and a good listener. Maybe the other kids at school had sensed his anger and thought it a flaw, but it had never bothered her. It wasn’t violent—at least not toward others. Mason internalized his rage, which made him quiet, and maybe a little brooding, in his teenage years. Once they got to know each other, she barely noticed it. He seemed to appreciate the unbridled joy she took in spending time with him, and he always showed her that he valued her, even in her darkest moments.

  After her dad died, Ashley had a hard time finding her way. They moved her to the orphanage, and despite the fact that she shared a room with two other girls, she’d never felt so alone.

  Mason tried his best to lift her spirits in the weeks that followed her dad’s funeral. He took her fishing, walking through the woods, and when that didn’t work, he spent hours with her in the library. But not even Alkoff’s books gave her comfort. She just stared out of the window, tears rolling down her cheek.

  One day, they were sitting on the end of the longest dock, staring out at the water, dangling their feet over the edge. Their toes didn’t touch the sea, so they swung their legs absently as they watched the seagulls floating on the calm waters.

  “Enough,” Mason said. It was all the warning he gave her before shoving her, fully clothed, into the cool Pacific waters.

  She came up sputtering and brushing her hair out of her face. “What was that for, you loony fish-dipper?”

  “I thought you needed some refreshment,” he said, then pulled off his shirt and did a huge cannonball right next to her. When he came up for air, he said, “And I resent the implication that I’m crazy.”

  Though she wasn’t sure why, that cannonball and his follow-up statement pushed her over the edge. She started to laugh, quietly at first, no more than a chuckle. When Mason heard it, he splashed her, and she splashed back. Soon, it was an all-out splashing war in the deep waters twenty yards offshore. Before she knew it, she was laughing so hard, she couldn’t keep her head above water, laugh, and splash all at the same time.

  She swam to the dock and hung on to the supports. “You’re an idiot.”

  He just smiled back at her, not needing to say anything at all.

  The memory made her sigh out loud. Mason had always been there for her. Always. But out on the open water, she was alone. Fatigue set in as she lay in the canoe, rising and falling with the gentle waves.

  I could fall asleep right here, she thought. The idea was so intoxicating.

  She took a mental stock of her rations. She hadn’t even drunk much of her water yet. Really, she’d only been gone a few hours, but it felt like an eternity. The only thing that kept her from dozing was the thought of drifting too far off course.

  She cursed herself for not fashioning an anchor of some type, then wondered if she could make one from the supplies she had. She shook her head after a moment. Even if she could, she had no idea how deep the water was, and there was no telling if she had enough rope.

  She watched the sky above her turn from black to deep blue to purple and resolved that she should sit up and continue on… in a few moments.

  Mason worked against the ocean currents to catch up with her. He could see her in the distance when he first launched his canoe. He fought hard to keep himself afloat as he pushed to get out past the breakers, wondering how Ashley had gotten the knack of it so quickly.

  The sweet way she’d come back to say a proper goodbye to him spurred him on. He felt bad for ignoring her apology, but he hadn’t been able to talk to her in that moment. Feeling like he’d tell her everything if he opened his mouth—the elders’ plot, the gun, his plan—he’d decided it was best to pretend he was sleeping.

  He didn’t intend to sneak up on her, so he wasn’t even trying to keep quiet as he paddled forward. Mattli and the other elders were behind them. Mason’s future—however long or short it might be—lay ahead of him, and that was what mattered.

  The moon was starting to sink in the sky, and Mason knew daylight would be upon them soon. He debated calling out to her, but she was probably still too far ahead of him to hear. When he did reach her, what would he say?

  Oh, hey, funny running into you out here. Let me explain. He shook his head as he huffed and puffed behind her. Then she did something surprising.

  She disappeared into her canoe.

  Mason looked down to make sure his paddle had good purchase, and when he looked back up, her canoe was there, but he couldn’t see her silhouette anymore. He glanced again at the sinking moon, wondering if it was a trick of the light, but her canoe wasn’t moving anymore either. It floated gently along with the current.

  Now that she wasn’t paddling, he closed the ten-minute gap between them easily. He pulled up next to her canoe, nearly crashing into her, scanning the water for her as he approached, hoping she hadn’t fallen in.

  He smiled when he saw her lying in the bottom, eyes closed, absently fiddling with the pendant he’d given her so long ago. He didn’t even know she still had it. “I know it’s way past your bedtime, but this hardly seems like a good place to rest.”

  Ashley’s reaction was disappointingly calm. Mason wanted her to explode out of her canoe, maybe topple it into the freezing water. Then they’d have a good laugh. It had been a long time since they’d done that.

  But she didn’t. She simply opened her eyes and stared at him.

  “Mason?”

  Was he really there, or had she dreamed him into existence? She hadn’t been out on the water long enough for that, or at least, she didn’t think so. Had they executed Mason early? Was this his ghost come to haunt her?

  Finally, she decided to speak to her dream or ghost. “What are you doing here?”

  “Well, I’m happy to see you too.”

  “Did they execute you early?”

  “I—” He stopped short. “What? No, they offered me amnesty to come after you.”

  “For what?”

  “Well, to kill you, but I have no intention of doing that.” He pulled the gun from his waistband and tossed it into her canoe. She tried to get away from it, as though he’d just tossed a snake into her boat. She’d never seen a gun up close, and had only read about the damage they could do. Wesley hadn’t been issued his gun yet, since he wasn’t officially an elder, and that was fine with Ashley. Thinking about Wesley with one of those things made her shudder. Having no desire to be near the object, she kicked it to the other side of the canoe with her toe.

  “What the hell?” she yelled, her voice echoing into the night. Finally,
she was able to get herself back onto the bench, though not without some wobbling and flailing to avoid the gun.

  “Well, they didn’t intend for me to jump into your boat and strangle you. I think they expected me to take more of a quick and painless approach.”

  Ashley didn’t know how to process all of this. “Okay, so they said they’d let you live if you came after me and killed me? Why?”

  “That’s not a question Mattli was willing to answer.”

  She was hurt. Mattli was an elder she actually trusted. “Mattli put you up to this?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “I don’t believe it,” she whispered. He’d saved her skin. Why send an assassin after her now? Unless Mattli had specifically selected Mason because he knew he wouldn’t go through with it…

  “But why are they so desperate for me not to come back? What do they think I’ll find out here?” She looked around, scanning the horizon, not seeing much of anything, except… She squinted into the darkness.

  “What is that?” she asked Mason.

  He followed her gaze as she pointed at a shadow to the southeast. “I don’t know.”

  Without speaking, they paddled toward the shadow, and their fate.

  7.

  Mattli struggled to rouse himself before the dawn. There were things to do. But the night had been far too long, with far too little sleep. His body protested as he tried to hoist himself out of bed. The floor was cold, and his feet recoiled from it. His bones creaked and groaned as he made his way to the bathroom.

  He spied himself in the mirror while washing his face and hands. He looked haggard. Once upon a time, he’d been a handsome man by most accounts. But his dark hair had grayed in the last few years, and his unusually dark skin had started to wrinkle with age. At least his blue eyes still held their sparkle.

  He sighed heavily while peering at his exhausted reflection. Once this was all over, he could get things back to normal again. All he had to do was help Alkoff figure out what to tell the islanders, and then they could move on.