I like that idea.
Nico points up ahead with the tip of his machete. “Come on. That looks like a path.”
It is a path—not a great one, and we definitely have to do more hacking through the jungle, but it’s easier now, and after just a few minutes, the greenery clears again, leaving us in a vast open space, no trees overhead, the ocean pulsing against the shore just a few yards away.
We’ve reached the other side of the island. The surf is stronger here, the waves bigger outside the protected lagoon where we’re harbored. When I step forward, my foot catches the edge of something.
I look down and see cracked asphalt, grass and vines pushing through the black cement. “Guess this is your airstrip!” I call to Nico, and he looks around, clearly a little disappointed.
“Man,” he says, reaching back to ruffle the long hair at the back of his neck, his machete still in hand. “I thought it would be … I don’t know. Not so fucked up, I guess.”
Jake pushes his sunglasses up his nose with one finger, his other arm loosely looped around Eliza’s waist. “That’s the jungle for you, mate. Takes everything back in a flash.”
He snaps his fingers in emphasis. There’s something eerie about this part of the island, something unsettling. Maybe it’s the reminder that this place has a history, a dark history, at that. That there were other people here once, and this isn’t some paradise completely free from all the bullshit of the modern world. Or maybe it’s just how loud, how violent the sea sounds here.
Suddenly, all I want to do is go back to our beach, our safe little harbor.
But Nico is already pushing at the vines along the airstrip with the tip of his machete, squatting down to take a closer look.
“You said they used this during World War II?” Amma asks, crouching down next to him.
“Yeah, it was a quick refueling station,” Nico says, then gestures with his blade. “Kept tanks over there according to some of the pictures I saw.”
“Where did you see pictures?” I call, and he squints at me.
“I looked it up before we came.”
News to me, but Amma smiles at him, laying a hand on his arm. “That’s so cool that you did some research.”
There’s nothing offside about the way she’s touching him or her words, and I like Amma now, I genuinely do, but there’s something about the way the two of them look, crouched there together, that makes my stomach twist, just the littlest bit. Maybe it’s because I remember that moment before we left Maui, seeing the two of them on the deck of the Susannah, looking like they belonged there.
Or maybe it’s because Amma looks like her, the real Susannah.
But whatever this feeling is, it’s stupid and irrational, and I push it down.
“You okay?” Brittany asks in a low voice, appearing at my side.
“Yeah, fine,” I say. “Just hot and tired and not that interested in World War II, I guess.”
She can tell it’s more than that, I think, but she just smiles and gives me a quick squeeze. Eliza walks over to me then, somehow still looking pretty and put-together despite the humidity. “Why exactly are we doing this instead of drinking on the beach?”
I shake my head. “Boys.”
“True,” she says with a nod, then puts an arm around me.
“Let’s head back and leave them to it. I put a bottle of Pinot Grigio in the chiller before we left, and it is screaming for me.”
I imagine the cold, crisp white wine sliding down my throat and almost begin salivating. I turn to tell the others that Eliza and I are heading back, when my foot bumps something hidden in the tall vegetation near the runway.
I look down, expecting to see an oversized rock.
Instead, teeth grin up at me, empty eye sockets searching the sky.
A skull.
TWELVE
“Lux?” I hear Nico call, but I’m frozen in place, staring at the skull, those cracked teeth, those gaping holes that used to be eyes. When Nico reaches me, I clutch at his shirt, my entire body shaking.
“It’s … it’s a skull,” I say, nearly panting, and Nico’s eyes widen as he looks down.
“Holy fuck.”
He lets go of me, and I nearly stumble, my knees quivering. Brittany is suddenly there on one side of me, Eliza on the other, both holding my elbows.
Nico gently lifts the skull with both hands.
“Jesus!” Brittany yelps, but Amma kneels down next to him.
“How long do you think it’s been here?”
Jake is at Nico’s other side now, his machete dangling from one hand. He lowers his sunglasses to squint at it. “Long time, I’d say. Look how weathered it is.”