Lost (10 page)

She nodded. “Okay. But I'm not getting salt water in my clean hair.”

They went down to the water. Sarah sat down to remove her shoes. Marco kicked his off, peeled off his socks and stuffed them in his shoes, then pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it by the canvas bag. Running into the waves, he dove, surfacing a few yards farther out. His wet hair clung to his face as he turned to face the beach. He flipped it out of his eyes. “It feels as good as the waterfall pool! Woo!” He went under again, then popped up, bobbing there.

Wading in, Sarah seemed content to get wet up to her shorts. She leaned over to cup some water and toss it onto her face. She grinned.

Marco figured they would regret this later. The salt would dry on their skin and feel crusty and unpleasant, but he was too hot to care. Maybe they could go back and swim at the waterfall when they'd found everyone. Maybe his mom would even feel better and want to go.

Sarah jumped as a wave came in, then laughed. She started to wave at Marco, but her arm stopped midair. The smile dropped off her face, replaced by an open mouth and wide eyes.

Sarah pointed beyond Marco and screamed.

Marco didn't even look to see what it was; he just assumed something bad. He began a rapid overhand crawl, as fast as he could, trying to ignore his pounding heart and trembling limbs.

“Marco!” Sarah kept screaming his name.

Marco didn't stop kicking and stroking until his knees brushed the sand. He stood and plowed through the waves until he could run, then tripped and fell in a heap at Sarah's feet.

He rolled onto his back, panting, and looked up at her.

Sarah said, “Shark.”

He shuddered. That's what he'd been afraid of. He lay back and shut his eyes, panting, relieved to be out of the water. He was definitely only swimming at the waterfall from now on.

“Marco.”

He opened his eyes and gazed up at Sarah. She still seemed frozen.

“What?” he asked. “I made it. I'm fine.”

She shook her head and pointed at the lagoon. “Something isn't right.”

Marco sat up. About ten yards offshore, a dorsal fin paced back and forth. “He's so slow.”

Sarah nodded. “And that's a really big fin.”

Marco got to his feet. “That's too shallow there. How is he even swimming—”

As if the beast had heard them, the fin stopped moving parallel to the shore and turned. Then it stopped completely, not moving at all.

“That's not possible,” whispered Sarah.

Marco said nothing; he simply watched.

The fin began moving again, inching toward the beach, heading straight toward them.

Marco's hands trembled. “That's way too shallow.” He started to back up and Sarah stayed with him. She grabbed their shoes and Marco's shirt and stuffed them in the bag, then hooked her arm through the handle. “There's no way that—”

The fin came closer to shore, rising higher as the water grew shallower. Silvery gray flesh appeared, until the shark's monstrous pointy, cone-shaped snout emerged, dripping; the black beady eyes on each side stared, unblinking.

“It's a great white,” whispered Marco. He didn't think there were supposed to be great whites in the South Pacific.

“What is it doing?” yelled Sarah.

Marco shook his head, but took a few steps back, his heart pounding faster now than when he'd been swimming.

The shark's gigantic mouth dropped open, revealing rows of white triangular razor teeth set in a cushion of red.

Sarah shrieked. “Why isn't it stopping?”

The shark advanced toward them, until the gills appeared and then the pectoral fins; its entire front half was almost all the way out of the water, the waves continuing to ebb and flow as the creature crept closer to shore.

And to them.

“How's it doing that?” asked Sarah in a shaky voice.

Marco gasped. He grabbed Sarah's arm and pulled her back as he pointed at the bottom of the shark. “That's how!”

The shiny silver skin on the sides of the shark gave way to dull yellow-and-black-scaled reptilian legs that protruded from the bottom of the creature. Each foot had five toes, each embedded with a sharp claw.

As if to demonstrate how those powerful-looking legs and feet worked, the shark surged toward them.

“Run!” yelled Marco. They turned and sprinted up the beach.

Marco glanced back over his shoulder as he ran.

Shocked at how quickly the heavy creature moved on those small but agile feet, Marco put on a burst of speed before facing all the way forward. His legs tangled and he sprawled on the ground, smacking his right knee on a rock. Wincing, he sat up.

Sarah screamed.

The creature scuttled toward him.

All he could see was that bloody-red maw—and those white jagged teeth—mere yards away and closing.

Sarah seemed frozen.

“Run!” yelled Marco. He scrambled to his feet and began to back up, limping, looking around for a weapon. He picked up a rock, ready to throw. His heart pounded as his mouth dried up.

No stupid rock was going to keep that thing from eating him. Still, with both hands he raised it above his head, ready to heave it—a last-chance shot of desperation.

But the creature paused.

“Look,” said Sarah. “The gills!”

On either side of its head, the gills trembled, almost flapping.

“It can't breathe!” said Marco. “It has to go back in the water.” He hoped he was right, and even crossed his fingers as he kept backing up.

Slowly, the creature—massive mouth still open—retreated toward the water, turning to move headfirst into the waves. There, the fin inching into the water, it slowly disappeared.

Marco dropped the rock, which landed with a thud.

“Are you okay?” asked Sarah.

“Yeah.” He leaned over, head down, resting his hands on his knees. “I need a sec.”

Sarah came up beside him. “I thought you were…” She didn't finish.

Marco figured he knew what she was thinking. That he had been about to become fish food. He turned his head and looked up at her. “Yeah. Me too.” He straightened back up and blew out a deep breath.

“That, that … shark
odile
.” Sarah's voice was low and solemn as she stared down at the ground. “It can't have been real.”

“Any more than the rhinocorn. Or those birds, or…” He shook his head.

Sarah stood up and gasped. “Look!”

Marco whirled around, expecting some new and dangerous creature.

Instead, the mouth of a cave yawned, dark and bleak in the bright sunlight. Was it the one they'd been looking for? The one Cash escaped from?

Despite the sweat still drying on his body, Marco shivered.

 

15

Sarah watched Marco limp toward the cave. She pulled on his arm to stop him. “Are you sure you're okay?”

He nodded. “Hurt my knee.” He flexed it a couple of times. “Not that bad. Only bruised, I think.”

She held up the bag. “We should put our shoes back on.”

Marco also donned his shirt. When they were ready, Sarah said, “Well, I'll go first.” She walked ahead of Marco and stepped into the cave. For the tiniest of moments as she passed through the mouth, a shock—more like a ripple—ran through her body. She gasped, but before she could say anything, or warn Marco, he was right behind her.

His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.

“Did you feel that?” Sarah asked.

Marco nodded. He looked past Sarah, deeper into the blackness that lay ahead of them.

Sarah reached into the bag for the flashlight, but jerked back at the touch of something ice cold. “What in the—” She reached in the bag again and pulled out the water bottle. The cold of it burned her hand and she dropped it, where it rolled next to Marco's foot. He nudged it with his toe and the bottle rolled, no water sloshing inside.

Sarah crouched beside it. “It's ice. The water is ice.”

“That's impossible,” said Marco. But he leaned over to touch the bottle. The water in the bottle was solid ice. “But it was warm. Not even half an hour ago it was
warm
.”

Sarah said, “I'm getting out of here. Come on.” She turned to walk out, but suddenly a blue film covered the mouth of the cave and sent her flying backward, screaming. She landed on her back, and her head bounced off the floor of the cave.

Marco knelt beside her. “Are you hurt?”

Sarah scrunched up her face and put a hand at the back of her head. “I don't think so. What was that?”

Marco turned to look at the mouth of the cave, clear once again. He stood up.

“Don't try it!” called Sarah.

“I won't,” said Marco. With his foot, he rolled the water bottle to position it. Then he gave it a hard swipe with the side of his foot, sending it careening toward the mouth of the cave.

Instantly, the space turned blue and the water bottle exploded, sending shards of cold plastic and ice everywhere. Sarah shrieked as they both put up their hands to shield their faces.

When it stopped, Marco lowered his arms and looked at Sarah. “Well, I guess we're not going out that way.” He looked at the dark passageway looming ahead. “Ready?”

She got to her feet, still rubbing her head. “Do I have a choice?”

Marco shook his head.

She took the flashlight and walked just in front of Marco. She had to admit, she was happy he was with her. He seemed almost protective of her since he'd saved her on the cliff. And she didn't know what she'd have done if he'd gotten eaten up on the beach. She was beginning to feel like she could trust him. And, to be honest, she liked him as much as she liked Nacho. As stepbrothers went, they weren't all that bad.

The rock ceiling was only a few feet above their heads. Sarah stretched her arms out to the side, and there were barely a few inches to spare. She sighed.

“Better than the last time,” said Marco.

“
Oh
yeah,” said Sarah. She was relieved that this time, instead of everything closing in as they moved forward, the ceiling gradually drifted higher, until it was way over their heads. The walls widened, expanding enough so that they could walk side by side.

Sarah realized that the blackness of the cave had lightened considerably. She stopped walking and flicked off the flashlight. Although the way in front of them was dim, they could still see. She flicked the flashlight back on. “Why is it so light?” she asked.

Marco pointed ahead of them. “It gets even lighter up there.”

A few more yards, and Sarah shut off the flashlight and stowed it in the bag. Marco stepped forward and the place suddenly brightened, so much that it seemed like they were outside in the sun.

Sarah tilted her head back and gasped. The ceiling seemed like it was miles overhead. The sides and straight in front of them were lit only a few yards in, so she couldn't tell how big the space was.

Marco took a step forward.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

The noises continued as lights flipped on, bank by bank, illuminating the space beyond.

Sarah took in the sight in front of them. Not believing at first, she shut her eyes, and then opened them again.

“Whoa.”

They stood in a cavern so humongous she couldn't even see the end.

“This thing must be like six or seven soccer fields long,” said Marco. “Longer maybe.”

“What are those?” asked Sarah.

Rows of white modules lined both sides of the cavern. Their fronts made of glass, but too frosty to see inside. She stood in front of the closest one, which only reached as high as her waist. She turned her head and looked down the rows, where the modules gradually grew bigger and wider, some as tall as houses. She focused on the one in front of her and set a hand on the glass. “Ow!” She snatched it back.

Marco touched it lightly with his fingertips. “Cold,” he said. But he set his hand on the frost, holding it there a moment. When he took it away, a little of the frost had melted. He did it again, until he had a clear patch the size of a dollar bill. He leaned down.

“Careful!” said Sarah.

“I'm just taking a look,” he said. He peered inside, then stood back up. “It's a goat.”

“It's a what?” asked Sarah.

Marco shrugged. “A goat. A billy goat.”

“Let me see.” Sarah held her face up to the clear patch of glass. A white billy goat, with a great scruff of a beard, stood motionless inside. But as she watched, his chest moved slightly and the tiniest bit of steam came out his nostrils.

She stood back up. “He's frozen.”

Sarah looked on the front of the nodule.

“What are you looking for?” asked Marco.

“A handle. Or something to open it.” Sarah ran her hands down the front of the frost-covered nodule and felt some lumps. She blew on the frost, which wasn't as heavy as that on the glass, and it melted fairly quickly. “Look!”

A keypad about the size of a cell phone, with symbols, lay about halfway down the side of the nodule. Sarah reached out to touch one, but Marco grabbed her wrist. “Hey! I don't think you should do that.”

She shot him a defiant look, but realized he was right. “I won't.” Her eyes narrowed. “Hey, I've seen these letters before. Or symbols, whatever they are.”

Marco leaned in to see them better. “Yeah. Where have I…” His eyes widened and he turned to meet Sarah's gaze. “The symbols. They're the same ones.”

“The same ones what?” asked Sarah.

“The same ones that are on the trunk,” said Marco. “The mermaid trunk.”

 

16

Marco peered in disbelief at the symbols, the same ones that curved around the top of the trunk that he'd dragged off the ruined HMS
Moonflight.
He scratched his head. “I don't get it.” He asked Sarah, “They're the same, right? I'm not just imagining things?”