Page 33
“I’m called Five,” the man whispered.
“Five,” Kurt said. “Like the number?”
The man nodded. Kurt noticed that it matched the last number in the sequence on his neck. He reached for the bottle again.
Kurt let him have another sip. “What are you doing here?”
“We came to find NUMA,” the young man said. “Is this NUMA?” He looked up at Kurt’s head. “You have silver hair? Are you NUMA?”
“I’m part of NUMA,” Kurt replied. “My name is Austin. Kurt Austin.”
“Austin,” the man said. “Silver hair. You’re NUMA. We were sent to find you.”
Kurt let it go. “Who sent you to find me? Who made the beacon for you?”
“Bee…kon…?” He didn’t understand.
Joe held it up. “The necklace. Who made it for you?”
The man looked at Joe and then came back to Kurt. “The Gray Witch. She whispered in our ears. She left this for us. ‘Take it. Go to NUMA. Austin will find you. Silver hair. NUMA.’ ”
Kurt suddenly felt as if he were talking to a child. There was no language barrier. The man spoke English with an American accent that would have been at home anywhere on the West Coast. But the words he used and the way he struggled to put a full sentence together made him seem like a five-year-old.
The children, Kurt thought, remembering the text.
Kurt gave him another sip of water as Joe moved closer and checked the other men for any signs of life. He looked at Kurt and shook his head. They were gone. Only Five remained.
“How did you survive?” Joe asked.
Five pointed to the funnel-like arrangement that extended through the porthole. “Rainwater. It comes in. They gave it all to me.”
As Joe and Kurt considered what that meant, an almost silent chirping sounded on Joe’s wrist. He checked his watch, silencing the alarm. “King tide in fifteen minutes. If we’re going to go out while that tanker is coming in, we need to get moving.”
“Can you swim?” Kurt asked Five.
“Swim?” he asked.
“In the water.”
Five frowned. “We don’t go in the water. To touch the water is death.”
“Maybe around here,” Joe muttered.
Even if the waters weren’t quite that deadly, they were cold, and the current was strong. Considering the young man’s condition, Kurt knew there was little chance they’d be able to get him to the boat without causing hypothermia or bringing on shock from exhaustion. “We need to find another way off the beach.”
“Sounds like a backup plan might be forming,” Joe said.
“It’s in the beginning stages,” Kurt said. “In the meantime, let’s get him up and walking.”
Leaning on Kurt, Five managed to stand up and remain vertical, but his legs were numb. Joe tucked himself under the man’s other shoulder so that he was supported on both sides as they began to move. The three of them stepped out of the compartment and into the corridor. They made it back to the stairwell, and halfway up the first flight, only to stop in their tracks at the unmistakable screech of the rusted door above them swinging wide open.
Chapter 20
The sound of boots pounding the metal steps confirmed the bad news from above. Lights dancing on the walls suggested at least three or four men.
“Back down,” Kurt whispered.
That was easier said than done. Just changing direction with the weakened survivor was awkward. Going down the stairs proved even more difficult than going up.
“Five,” Kurt said. “Like the number?”
The man nodded. Kurt noticed that it matched the last number in the sequence on his neck. He reached for the bottle again.
Kurt let him have another sip. “What are you doing here?”
“We came to find NUMA,” the young man said. “Is this NUMA?” He looked up at Kurt’s head. “You have silver hair? Are you NUMA?”
“I’m part of NUMA,” Kurt replied. “My name is Austin. Kurt Austin.”
“Austin,” the man said. “Silver hair. You’re NUMA. We were sent to find you.”
Kurt let it go. “Who sent you to find me? Who made the beacon for you?”
“Bee…kon…?” He didn’t understand.
Joe held it up. “The necklace. Who made it for you?”
The man looked at Joe and then came back to Kurt. “The Gray Witch. She whispered in our ears. She left this for us. ‘Take it. Go to NUMA. Austin will find you. Silver hair. NUMA.’ ”
Kurt suddenly felt as if he were talking to a child. There was no language barrier. The man spoke English with an American accent that would have been at home anywhere on the West Coast. But the words he used and the way he struggled to put a full sentence together made him seem like a five-year-old.
The children, Kurt thought, remembering the text.
Kurt gave him another sip of water as Joe moved closer and checked the other men for any signs of life. He looked at Kurt and shook his head. They were gone. Only Five remained.
“How did you survive?” Joe asked.
Five pointed to the funnel-like arrangement that extended through the porthole. “Rainwater. It comes in. They gave it all to me.”
As Joe and Kurt considered what that meant, an almost silent chirping sounded on Joe’s wrist. He checked his watch, silencing the alarm. “King tide in fifteen minutes. If we’re going to go out while that tanker is coming in, we need to get moving.”
“Can you swim?” Kurt asked Five.
“Swim?” he asked.
“In the water.”
Five frowned. “We don’t go in the water. To touch the water is death.”
“Maybe around here,” Joe muttered.
Even if the waters weren’t quite that deadly, they were cold, and the current was strong. Considering the young man’s condition, Kurt knew there was little chance they’d be able to get him to the boat without causing hypothermia or bringing on shock from exhaustion. “We need to find another way off the beach.”
“Sounds like a backup plan might be forming,” Joe said.
“It’s in the beginning stages,” Kurt said. “In the meantime, let’s get him up and walking.”
Leaning on Kurt, Five managed to stand up and remain vertical, but his legs were numb. Joe tucked himself under the man’s other shoulder so that he was supported on both sides as they began to move. The three of them stepped out of the compartment and into the corridor. They made it back to the stairwell, and halfway up the first flight, only to stop in their tracks at the unmistakable screech of the rusted door above them swinging wide open.
Chapter 20
The sound of boots pounding the metal steps confirmed the bad news from above. Lights dancing on the walls suggested at least three or four men.
“Back down,” Kurt whispered.
That was easier said than done. Just changing direction with the weakened survivor was awkward. Going down the stairs proved even more difficult than going up.
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