Sugar & Squall Page 9

  There was no escaping the cold. It was the same on the surface as it had been down in the ocean’s icy heart.

  The row of lights along the pier finally gave me bearing. Logan was there, leaning over the rail, yelling something. He was fading, moving further and further away as the current pulled me out into the ocean infinite.

  I panicked and started to swim toward him, but all it did was fix me to the spot. Each stroke became leaden with my clothes on. I knew I would soon be exhausted. The ocean, undulating and relentless, would not.

  I focused on Logan and doubled my efforts, pushing through the pain, the cold. In the timid light I saw something spin through the air towards me, hitting the water a couple of feet out from my position. I didn’t care what it was, only that it might offer stability. I lashed out for it, but my fingers slipped on its surface and the ocean’s underbelly heaved me back. My entire body was convulsing, shivering, and spasming. The next burst would be my last.

  I kicked as hard as my legs would allow, put my head down and powered for the object. Timing could be nothing but perfect, so I threw my fourth stroke out wide and it caught hold. I pulled my other arm up and over the lifebuoy.

  I laid my head against its red and white body. I could feel myself being pulled slowly towards the pier. Pain faded to numbness. The sound of my breathing grew hollow and ragged in my ears. Finally, after what seemed like hours, my feet found footing, but I couldn’t move, simply lying limp across the buoy, waves and sand washing over me. I could see the school in the distance looking down, the arc of the shore in front of me and rocks below. Logan shouted from above.

  The next thing I knew he was lifting me up under my legs, easily. He held me out in front of him.

  My head fell back, bobbing up and down as he started running up the hill. The night was a blur around me. I shook uncontrollably. There was a hollow ‘thud, thud, thud’ next to my right ear. Only later would I realize it was his heart, pumping away with all it had to get me back to the school, to safety.

  I vaguely saw us enter a door, the aged green and yellow carpet of the dorms below, and we were walking, Logan panting omnipresent above me.

  My shoes hit something. My leg twisted slightly. I heard another door, echoes of feet, but the iciness was everywhere, bitter and bleak.

  “I’m f-f-f-free–,” I stammered, but my mouth could not form the words.

  I was being dumped into a shower stall. Logan pulled off my sweater and T-shirt, yet through the biting pain all I could think about was what bra I’d put on and how ghastly my skin must look being this white.

  He was swearing, trying to unbutton my jeans, drawing them off over my legs, which fell limply back onto the tiles. I didn’t protest until the water hit me. At first I thought it was on full cold. I cried at the pain until I realized it was warmth flooding across me. I glanced at Logan, my eyes all I could move, and his face terrified me all the more.

  He stepped into the shower, clothes and all, sat down beside me and pulled me into his body like a mother would a child.

  We sat there together with the water flowing over us, the shakes easing and our breathing synchronizing together. Up and down, up and down.

  I was too busy trying to keep warm to let my mind wander any more. I didn’t notice when Logan picked me off the floor as if a feather, cradling me down the hall.

  I was on a stranger’s bed. A blanket was thrown around me. Logan wrapped it tight. It was grey and rough, wool probably, but it was warm. That was all that mattered.

  Slowly, feeling returned. Stabbing, penetrating pain was replaced with mild pins and needles. Mental capacity restored somewhat, I began to become self-conscious, stupid considering I’d dived naked into a pool last night.

  I brought my legs together and hoisted the blanket right up to my neck so I resembled some hobo newborn wrapped up in muslin and left out in the rain. I was certain I looked as bad as I felt.

  “Are you okay?” Logan held out a cup of what smelled like hot chocolate. I hadn’t seen him leave to get it.

  I took it greedily with both hands, forgetting about the blanket, his question.

  I sipped the chocolate slowly. The heat of it on my lips was almost too much to take. I shook from time to time, but nothing serious. We both realized the worst was over.

  Logan sat on the bed opposite me, watching me drink and pushing at the joints of his right hand. We were in a room on the ground floor of the girls’ dorm. I looked around at pictures of lolcats, tweeny heartthrobs and beds overflowing with plushies. Freshman stuff.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, my voice wavering slightly and quiet, but making full words.

  “You had me worried. The current was so strong…” He trailed off.

  “What happened?” I questioned, unable to piece together how I’d ended up in the water in the first place.

  “You slipped on something, went for the rail, but it was rusted through. It just gave way. There was nothing I could do. I should have seen it earlier, though. Someone must have known about it.”

  “It’s not your fault,” I said, my teeth chattering together like Chinaware. “I didn’t see it either. You couldn’t have known. And you did save me,” I added. “That counts for plenty.”

  Logan pondered on this, trying to justify his actions as if the quick thinking he’d showed wasn’t enough. “If I’d dived in we would have both been swept out. That’s how strong the undercurrent was. You saw it yourself. Even a few seconds later, and–” He stopped, unprepared to speak the words.

  “I trust you,” I said.

  He looked at me with a vulnerability I hadn’t seen before.

  I didn’t know if I should say any more, so I stayed silent. I wanted so much to reach out and touch him, even if just to place a solitary hand on his knee, his arm and let him know I was okay. Yet the blanket bound me tight. Reaching out would throw it off, exaggerate the movement, make it awkward. If something happened, if I dropped the blanket or couldn’t quite reach him, I’d look like an idiot. I remained still.

  “Would your dad be worried if he was here?” Logan asked.

  “Probably,” I answered, “he’s massively over-protective.”

  “He’s just got your best interests at heart. Do you miss him?”

  “Sometimes,” I replied. “But I know I’m going to see him again. Someone will find us eventually. The ferry will be here come the weekend.”

  “You think?”

  I attempted to break up the serious mood. “I doubt little green men are coming to pop down and probe us, though I’d probably take that over being thrown back into the water again.”

  It didn’t work. The way I’d worded it implied that Logan was somehow to blame. I could see a sliver of guilt slide its way over his face.

  “Not that it’s your fault or anything. I should watch where I’m walking. I get distracted.”

  He lit up ever so slightly. “By me?”

  Go for it. “Yeah, by you.”

  It could have come across comical, a touch sarcastic, but it didn’t. He flashed me a smile. It wasn’t fake or pretentious. There was a definite sincerity about it. I smiled back. I couldn’t help it, and when it all became too much, I laughed.

  Logan let out a little snigger as well, tilting his head down and rubbing the area above his right eye, still fixated on me. I let my head fall down to my chest as well, my soggy hair fanning out in front of me and obscuring my gaze. I peeked out through the wet dregs and saw he was doing the same.

  This cat-and-mouse courting ritual turned from seconds to minutes. When Logan’s voice finally broke it, I was so nervous, so twittery, I felt as if I’d shatter into tiny teenage pieces right there on the bed.

  “Thanks for trusting me.”

  “Thanks for saving me. I owe you one.” I stared right into his eyes, which wasn’t hard to do. I wanted to somehow transmit the incredible comfort I felt when I was around him, that feeling of calm. I could stay in that state, safe in his arms, forever.

 
“I guess we better get some sleep,” he said, breaking the trance.

  “I guess.”

  I stood up, the blanket swooshing out around me, and started to walk out before he called me back.

  “Kat.”

  I turned around. He almost looked upset.

  “There’s something else. I wasn’t going to tell you about it, but I think it’s best you know.”

  “What is it?” I asked, growing concerned.

  “It was near the railing, where you fell, but not yours.”

  “What?” I repeated.

  Logan breathed in and out before answering.

  “Blood, I think. A lot of it.”

  7. DENIAL

  “It was close to where you fell, hard to see in the light, but I’m pretty sure. It looked dried, there a few days maybe.”

  “How much?”

  “Put it this way, no one could lose that much blood and survive.”

  I shivered. “How do you know it’s human?”

  Logan shrugged. “I don’t.”

  “Why didn’t we see it before?”

  “The hill’s in the way. You can only really see the full length of the pier from up here, and it’s too hard to make out details. Down there it’s flat, and we’ve never walked up it that far.”

  I tightened the blanket in some instinctive act against the foreboding that had crept into the room along with this news.

  When Logan looked up at me there was something I still couldn’t fathom, something I was missing.

  “I didn’t want to freak you out,” he continued.

  “I’m not freaked out.” I sounded confident, but there was no truth in it.

  Logan straightened up. “I thought about it, and really, there’s probably some explanation. It might just be paint or something.”

  We both knew that was unlikely. I was thankful for his attempt to console me, nonetheless.

  “You’re right,” I agreed. “There’s no use doing our sanity in worrying about it. If it’s blood, it’s blood. There’s nothing we can do about it.”

  Logan nodded his head. I could see he too was resigning himself to the fact.

  “We’ll go down to the pier tomorrow and have a good look around,” I continued “That’s the best we can do.”

  It seemed a sensible enough suggestion.

  “We’ve only got another two or three days until the ferry comes,” Logan said. “I can’t see why it wouldn’t unless the weather goes sour, and it was fine today. We should enjoy this small slice of freedom while we can, make the most of it.”

  There was that cryptic edge again. Neither one of us looked prepared to step over it. I still couldn’t be sure of his feelings. I assumed like most guys he was keeping them well guarded. If only he knew whatever he said could only draw me closer.

  But by the same token why couldn’t I express how I felt? Was I too walled up, fearing rejection? It was meant to be easier being alone with him, but it magnified everything. Every insufferable syllable out of my mouth boomed in the silence of it.

  “Do you think we’re dead?” he said. “I know it sounds creepy, but it’s all I can come up with.”

  For once I knew exactly what to say. “I don’t know about you,” I started, “but I’ve never felt more alive. Yes, I’m still sort of scared shitless, but I don’t know, at least I’m feeling something, really feeling it.”

  Logan smiled before standing. “We’ll get some sleep. It’s been a long night.”

  I nodded. It was enough.

  Logan stood but turned back. “Oh wait, I found something else, between the boards. I stopped to pick it up when the railing broke.”

  “What is it?”

  He held up a cell-phone, some anime character swinging off the receiver.

  “Is there anything on it?”

  “I had a quick look. Everything’s from before the disappearance except for one photo and video.”

  He hit a button and held the screen out.

  I couldn’t make out anything at first. The picture was dark and blurry, clearly taken at night, but there was text in white, a sign maybe.

  “I think it says something. Lotus, maybe?” Logan added.

  “Where’s it from?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ve never seen a sign like this on the island, not anywhere.”

  “Are you sure it’s a sign?”

  “I’m not sure of anything.”

  “When was the photo taken?”

  “Just after midnight, the night of the disappearance. There’s a video, too, taken about ten minutes earlier.”

  Logan moved through the cell’s menus, finding the video in question.

  It was even blurrier, and grainy, also shot in the dark. The picture was shaking, or the hand that was holding the phone rather. Somebody was breathing heavily in the background.

  “I can’t see anything,” I said, frustrated. The picture suddenly grew brighter, a rectangular shape and then a figure. There was screaming and then the video ended, turning to black.

  “What – the – fuck? Play it back again, pause it.”

  Logan ran back through the footage, pausing in the section where the video became lighter. “It looks like a doorway,” he said, “with something standing in it. I think it’s one of the dorm rooms.”

  “But what’s that?” I was pointing to the ‘something’. It filled almost the whole doorway, so it was tall, with what appeared to be two shiny green discs for eyes, and it was holding something.

  “Any ideas?” I asked, but Logan looked as puzzled as I did.

  “Whatever it is, they’re terrified of it.”

  He put the cell down. “And there was this, in your jeans’ pocket.”

  He reached into his own and pulled out wet pieces of paper, none bigger than a stamp. “It fell apart. Sorry,” he breathed. “Was it anything special?”

  I walked over and took the pieces from him. The ink had been washed away completely. Only a few stray lines and letters were visible.

  “It was a page from a diary I found in one of the girls’ rooms,” I confessed. “This page was dated the day of the disappearance.”

  “What did it say?”

  I breathed in before starting. “It said something about Mom and Dad at the top, but that’s as far as I got, and all I can make out now are two words.”

  I paused, staring at the paper, trying to pull out the lines and angles of letters.

  Logan came closer, inquisitive. “What does it say?”

  The letters become clear.

  ‘They’re coming’.

  #

  Everything together sounded majorly fucking foreboding. We both agreed on that. And the blood didn’t make it any better. That had to have come from someone, or something. But then we put it back into context. ‘They’re coming’ could have meant anyone, the teachers, security, senior guys. And the blood? Well, who was to say that’s what it was? Even if it was, we couldn’t exactly dial up Horatio and send it off to the lab. There was nothing we could do but stick together and wait for the ferry.

  However, as we walked back to my room I couldn’t rid myself of the contradictory feelings that had set up inside me. Damn blood. Damn cell. Damn diary page. Sinister or not, they had penetrated our bubble, and nothing good could come of it.

  “I’m right here,” Logan whispered, as he slid into Jemma’s bed, and with those three simple words I worried no more.

  #

  Come mid-morning and melancholy clouds were dangling over the ocean. The sun bore through strong and vibrant. We both squinted as we examined the pier.

  Logan squatted, running his hands over the wooden boards as if by touch alone he might be able to glean some insight into last night. He moved to the railing.

  “It’s broken clean off at the joint here, see? Rusted through. It’s a god-damn deathtrap. Obviously maintenance was never high on Carver’s list of priorities. And here, see the blood?”

  There was a dark oval of maroon that had soaked into the boar
ds, sticky in the sun like dank molasses.

  “It stinks,” I commented. “Bad.”

  “Did you cut yourself last night?” Logan questioned.

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “It wouldn’t leave this much blood anyhow.” He had stooped down to the boards and was trying to pull something out from between them. “I think I found what you slipped on.”

  He held up a lipstick.

  “Killed by a bit of Berry Red. That would’ve looked great on a tombstone.”

  Neither of us laughed.

  “It hasn’t been here long.”

  “Maybe someone dropped it coming off the boat?”

  “Probably,” Logan resigned. “I’m just going to check under the pier and then we’ll go back, okay?”

  “No problem.”

  Logan walked off down the beach, examining the area under the pier. I perched myself on the railing – the solid section of railing – and watched him work. It was peaceful.

  “Kat!”

  I pushed myself off the railing and ran down to Logan. He was crouched under the pier, standing in the water. He turned and put his hand out before I came closer. “Wait. Don’t come any closer.”

  He was being stupid. I stepped into the water and approached. The light shifted and I saw it there, tangled up around the pier’s pylon – the body.

  #

  It was the security guard. That was clear from what clothing there was left and the plastic nametag still pinned to his shirt. But the body wasn’t whole. It’d been battered by the sea into a fleshy pulp.

  We stood a few feet away, examining, the ocean washing around our ankles.

  I pinched my nose. “Do you think the blood is his?”

  Logan looked to me. “Could be, but it’s hard to tell. His head’s missing, most of his torso, but I’d say that’s because it’s been eaten away. See there,” he pointed to the remnants of the guard’s chest. “The surrounding tissue is torn, like it’s been sawn through. A shark, probably.”