Page 118 of The Island

She didn’t know whether to answer now or not.

“Heather…still there?”

She let the static be her reply.

“Heather…must have found one of our walkie…don’t know if you can hear me…only a half-watt rechargeable from Bunnings…range is on the back,” Matt said, his voice fragmentary in the blizzard of static.

“So?” she said.

“…bad news for you is that a half-watt radio transmitter only…range of a kilometer at most in the…no one coming to help you.”

“I’ll try anyway,” she said.

“…need to talk…serious conversation about Tom,” Matt said before his voice disappeared into the static.

She pressed Talk. “What about Tom?” she asked. Static. “Matt?” Static. “Matt?”

No answer.

She listened and listened but it was only hiss now on every channel.

The battery light began to waver, so she turned off the walkie-talkie and climbed down out of the tree. They must realize now that she had killed Jacko. How else could she have gotten his walkie-talkie and why hadn’t he shown up at the farm?

“I’ve broadcast our message and hopefully someone heard it,” she told the kids.

“I’m not feeling so good,” Owen said.

They were both starving. The kids had water but they hadn’t eaten anything for nearly three days. Food. She had to get them food. She looked west. Black clouds were heading in their direction.

She handed Owen the pamphlet she’d taken from the prison, which had been squashed in her back pocket. “This can help with our kindling. Let’s get leaves and wood to rebuild the fire,” she said. “I think a storm’s coming.”

33

The rain was hammering on the corrugated-iron roof so hard, it woke her. Carolyn shivered. She had fallen asleep in the recliner under the blanket. The big-screen TV was frozen in front of her. She forgot what episode she’d been watching. Janeway was taking the mood of the senior officers of the Voyager about some problem they had encountered. Heather would probably know which episode it was just from the pause screen. Her knowledge of Trek lore was encyclopedic.

Carolyn wondered if Heather’s new husband knew about that side of her. The geeky, fun, sci-fi side. Heather had not responded to Carolyn’s previous text about Voyager. Maybe she was trying to downplay that part of herself and become the perfect doctor’s wife. Perhaps all the Goose Island bits of her would start drifting away until the old Heather was gone forever.

Carolyn fumbled on the carpet until she found her coffee and vape pen. She pushed the button and the light blinked, and she sucked organic marijuana oil grown right here by her own fair hands on Goose Island. She sold it to medical-marijuana dispensaries for two hundred dollars an ounce. It had a very high THC content. She coughed for a few seconds and then sipped the cold coffee.

She noticed that there was a new voice message on her iPhone.

She played it.

“Hi, this is a message for Carolyn Moore,” an Australian woman said. “Carolyn, this is Jenny Brook, I’m one of the ICOM reps here in Melbourne. One of our speakers is Dr. Thomas Baxter. He’s got his wife down as his emergency contact and she’s got you down as her emergency contact. The Baxters aren’t answering their phones and I wondered if they’d gone to country Victoria or somewhere where there’s no Wi-Fi. We’ve got a couple of things we need Dr. Baxter to do and we’d like him to give us a call. Thank you.”

No doubt they were still at that fancy winery.

She dialed Heather’s number and it went straight to voice mail.

Could Heather be in any kind of trouble?

She didn’t think so.

But still…

It was dark outside. Melbourne was seventeen hours ahead of Seattle, if you could wrap your head around that idea.

Carolyn decided that she would sleep on it, maybe try to reach her in the morning.