Page 43 of The Island

“Tomorrow, if I decide that way, we can take the car over to the mainland and have Jamie crash it up the Red Hill Road. The rest of us can get to bed now. My legs hurt. I forgot me good ciggies,” Ma continued.

“What about me?” Danny said.

“Bugger you, Danny!” Jacko snarled.

“All right, we’ll let Danny take a look at the girl. Someone go get her!” Ma said.

“So the plan is we kill this one and the boy?” Kate asked, gesturing toward Heather.

Heather shook her head no. This was unreal. They couldn’t mean that. This was all some kind of mistake. A nightmare. A—

“Maybe,” Ma said. “Where’s those ciggies?”

A little girl handed Ma a pack of cigarettes. She lit one up and passed the box around.

“Where are the Krauts now?”

“They’re still up at the house,” Jacko said. “I told them we were getting the ferry repaired and they bought it, but then the geezer said something stupid.”

“What did he say?” Matt groaned.

“He noticed the snorkel on the Porsche was bent and asked if someone had had an accident.”

“Shite!” Ma said. “You’ve really screwed things up for us, haven’t you, Daniel?”

“Ellen’s dead. I want me rights.”

“You’re getting your rights, Danny,” Kate said. “But, mate, because of you we’re going to have to kill two more people to be on the safe side.”

Heather got to her feet. “You cannot be serious about this! Have you all lost your minds?” she cried.

“I warned you! I bloody warned you. Didn’t I warn her? Take out her tongue, Lenny,” Ma said.

A large, tanned, lean bald man began moving through the crowd. He was wearing a leather apron and a singlet coated with filth. His eyes were black; his expression was dull. He reeked of dried blood and offal.

He grabbed Heather violently by the head and locked his arm around her neck.

She punched and scraped at his arm as he shoved two enormous fingers into her mouth. She bit the fingers, but it was like biting into blocks of wood.

“Yeah, I can do this. Jodie, go get me scissors, I’ll take care of her,” he said. Heather tried to scream but she couldn’t breathe or make a sound.

11

Olivia was listening to the yelling. She was very scared. She didn’t know what was happening out there. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do next. They had taken her phone, but the phone wasn’t her go-to source. Most kids her age asked Google or Siri or Alexa when they wanted to know stuff, but she had always gone to her dad. Her dad knew everything. Her dad knew everything about the world, and her mom had known the answers to any problem she’d ever had at school with friends or teachers or body image. Her mom had been as smart as her dad but she hadn’t liked to show off about it so much. One of her parents had always known what was going on and what she should do next.

But her mom was dead and her father had been taken away from her.

She was left entirely to her own devices, without her dad or her comfy blanket or her Lexapro.

Owen was no help.

Owen was buried deep in his hood, saying nothing. Not even sniffling. In the rush to get out Heather had forgotten to give them their medications today. She was always doing stuff like that. Heather was too young to be a real mom. Moms made lists and checked them and didn’t forget things. Moms looked after you. The transition between ADHD Owen and OCD-panicky Owen was always tricky to navigate. She could handle things but Owen hadn’t had any of his medicines for a day and a half, so he was going to be a pretty big mess soon. It was probably better to leave him alone.

It was so hot.

Olivia’s throat ached.

She was terribly thirsty.