The Purgatorium (17 page)

Daphne marched beside Brock across the sandy beach, mulling over his reaction to her confession. She was shocked outright that he hadn’t condemned her. Maybe love had blinded him. The alternative seemed so unlikely: that perhaps she
wasn’t
responsible for Kara’s death.

She took another sip from her water bottle, resisting the urge to drink it all down at once. There was only one other left in the backpack, and she had no idea how much longer it would take them to reach Scorpion Anchorage.

They followed the coastline as the hot sun blazed down on them. For the first half hour they talked about what they had each been doing over the past six months. Brock had been attending Trinity University in San Antonio with a swimming scholarship and was majoring in kinesiology. He talked about some of his classes and meets without mentioning the dream they once shared: they were going to open their own swim school together one day. She told him she’d been in a funk and hadn’t done much of anything. She didn’t add that she’d spent her time finding ways to end her life. That now seemed like such a long time ago.

I can be happy, as long as I’m away from my family.

She pushed away thoughts of Kara and Joey and tried not to imagine her mother’s wide eyes the morning they found Kara.

Daphne took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and sipped more water. She noticed Brock’s water bottle was already empty.

“Do you ever think about going back to school?” Brock asked. “You were so close to graduating.”

That had been the last thing on Daphne’s mind, but now she thought maybe she would go back, not to their old high school, but someplace else where people didn’t know her.

“Maybe. I think about moving away and starting over.”

He squeezed her hand. “Do you see me in the picture?”

She smiled. “Hmm.” Any picture would look nicer with him in it, but out loud she said, “I’m still thinking about it.”

He returned her smile, though he looked hurt, and she wished she could take it back. As they walked along the surf, trying to stay cool with their shoes in the water, she kept her eyes out toward the sea in search of boats. The only ones visible were too far away. Occasionally, she’d wave her arms at one that seemed closer than the others, but this had no effect.

“So where would you go?’ he asked after a while.

“Huh?”

“You said you think about moving away and starting over. Where?”

“Anywhere. It doesn’t matter.”

“If you had a choice, and could choose anywhere, where would it be?”

“Hmm. It used to be someplace with a beach, but not anymore.” She laughed. “Maybe Alaska?”

“That would be a pretty big change from Texas.”

“Yeah. And I don’t really like the cold.” She picked up a shell and threw it into the ocean. “I don’t know. Maybe Europe. Maybe Paris or London.”

“I’d want to go to Colorado and live in the mountains.”

“I guess our swim school would have to be indoors.” She couldn’t believe she said that.

He gave her a look of surprise and then smiled. “Yeah. It would have to be.”

After an hour or so, she let go of Brock’s hand and bent over the surf to wet her arms and legs. It was just too dang hot.

When they trudged across the sand around a bluff, Daphne couldn’t believe her eyes. Trees! These weren’t the scraggily trees she’d seen so far on the island, with the exception of the huge, ancient oak; these were tall, lush, and
multiple
trees. In fact, collectively, they could even be called a
forest
.

“Let’s get you out of this sun,” Brock said, also noticing them. “Before you turn into a lobster.”

The canopy was thick and blocked most of the sunlight. Consequently the ground consisted of dirt and rock and very little grass or undergrowth. It took a few minutes for Daphne’s eyes to adjust from the blinding sun on the beach to the near-darkness in the woods. She stopped for a moment, closed her eyes, and sighed. The drop in temperature was immediate.

“Oh, it’s so much better here,” she said as her entire body relaxed. “It’s even pleasant.”

“Let’s find a place to rest and eat.”

Brock continued through the woods, so Daphne followed, until they came upon a flat area, relatively free of rocks, next to a thick trunk, where the two of them could sit side by side on the smooth, packed dirt. They took out the leftover crackers, slices of cheese, and summer sausage, and Daphne shared her remaining water bottle with Brock, both of them agreeing to save the last bottle for as long as they could stand it. They also ate some of the grapes, but would reserve the majority of them as well. Although Daphne could have eaten three times as much as they had, the snack would do. Surely they’d manage to find their way off the island before the end of the day.

“Oh, I’m so tired, and this feels so nice,” Daphne said.

“Let’s sit here for a bit, then.”

“I guess a little break wouldn’t hurt.”

“I’m pretty sure boats come and go all day long at Scorpion Anchorage.”

“Man, it’s all catching up with me. Every muscle in my body feels sore.”

Brock put his arm across her shoulders. “Does that hurt?”

“It’s okay.” She leaned her head against his bare chest and closed her eyes.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” Brock said after a while.

“But not here, on this creepy island.”

“The island’s not creepy, it’s the people. The island is beautiful.”

“That’s true.”

“I guess I’m afraid once we get home, that…” his voice trailed off.

Daphne lifted her head and searched his face. “That what?”

“That you’ll go back to ignoring me again.”

She buried her face in his chest as a lump rose to her throat. “Why do you even love me?”

“How can you ask me that?”

“I’m so…broken. I’m no good.”

“But that’s part of it.”

She lifted her head again. “What?”

“You think it’s never crossed my mind to do exactly what you did last New Year’s?”

“You…”

“When my mother died, I had no one. You’d think my dad would step up, but he didn’t.”

“I thought he called you.”

“He called me one time to check on me, and that was it.”

She hadn’t thought about how lonely he would have been without her, or how lonely he must have become when they broke up. “We helped each other, didn’t we,” she said without inflection.

“We understood each other. We were
both
broken.”

Had
he understood her? Maybe better than she had realized. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Until you checked out.”

That was true, she thought. “But it felt wrong.”

He stopped breathing and stiffened beneath her. “Oh. I thought…”

“No. I don’t mean it felt wrong being with you. I mean it felt wrong to allow myself to be happy.”

“If it hadn’t been for you….” He fought tears welling up in his eyes, and she wanted to throw her arms around him, but she resisted. He cleared his throat and clenched his jaw, and when he could, he said, “You saved my life, Daph. Have you ever thought of that? You’re so busy blaming yourself for Kara’s death. It never once occurred to you that you saved me.”

Her mouth dropped open. She didn’t know what to say.

The tears escaped his eyes and fell down his cheeks, and before she could wipe them away, he fiercely pressed his mouth to hers.

She felt her own tears slide down her cheeks and mix with his at their mouths, leaving a salty taste on his lips. She grabbed fistfuls of his hair and straddled his lap. She loved him. She wanted to be with him. Forever.

Then a cold shiver crawled down her spine when she heard her name whispered behind her. “Daphne.”

She and Brock stopped kissing and looked around.

“Did you hear that?” Daphne asked.

Brock moved her aside and jumped to his feet. “Yes.” He took her hand and pulled her up.

They looked around, holding tightly to one another, but saw no one.

Then the whisper came again. “Daphne.”

“Let’s get out of here.” Brock grabbed the backpack and the two of them ran.

Daphne snatched glances behind her, in the direction they had heard the whisper, and saw a dark figure, maybe a man, dart behind a tree.

“Keep running,” she said. “There’s someone back there.”

She could no longer tell which direction was east because the sun was almost completely blocked, and the woods seemed endless. It was possible they were running the wrong way or that they were running in circles. Daphne glanced back again, but saw no one. Then, Brock stopped, and Daphne saw someone up ahead. It was one of the ghost girls.

Daphne
grabbed Brock’s hand and led him to their right, unable to believe the games reached this far.

I don’t believe in ghosts.

After a few more yards, Brock stopped again. Two more ghost girls walked toward them with their arms outstretched.

“Leave us alone!” Daphne screamed.

Brock grabbed her hand and led them in the opposite direction. The man from before was bearing on them at their left.

“Faster!” Daphne said.

“We’re being herded!” Brock said. “It’s a trap!”

He grabbed her arm and ran toward the first ghost girl.

“What are you doing?” Daphne asked. “There might be more of them. She might have a gun.”

“Stay close.”

Daphne’s heart slammed against her ribcage as they ran by the ghost girl, who shrieked at her as they past, “You’re one of the dead, Daphne Janus!”

Up ahead, the canopy thinned, and huge rocks jutted from the ground. Brock led her into one of many caves that cut through the rock, but she pulled back on his hand.

“No. Don’t go in there. We’ll be trapped.”

“Shh. There are at least ten other crevices like this one. They’ll pass by.”

“How do you know?” she whispered.

“I’m too exhausted to keep running,” he whispered back. “Come on.”

“But…”

He pulled her by the hand and led her into one of the caves. It was narrow, maybe three feet wide, but tall enough for them to stand. The rocky ground was uneven. A dim light shone in from a crack above and from another opening about ten feet away.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, panting and afraid. “I can’t do this. You know I’m claustrophobic.”

“Shh. Just close your eyes and let me hold you. Forget the cave.”

Brock put both arms around her, but she couldn’t breathe.

Her heart thudded in her ears. She opened her mouth, trying to catch her breath. “They could easily trap us in here.”

“Be quiet, will you?”

He found a ledge and pulled her into his lap. “Shh,” he warned before she could say another word.

They could hear rustling outside, the sound of shoes moving over rocks. Daphne froze, moving only her eyes from side to side, to the two openings on each end of the cave.

“They went this way!” a girl shouted.

They heard her run past the cave.

Then a face peered in through the side which Daphne and Brock had entered.

“Daphne?” It was Stan! “Are you in here?”

Daphne glanced back at Brock, who held his finger to his lips.

They remained like that, waiting and listening. Daphne didn’t breathe.

After a few minutes, the rustling moved past the cave, and another shout further away indicated the group had moved on. Daphne scrambled from Brock’s lap, but he grabbed her hand before she could exit the cave.

Softly he whispered. “Wait. Make sure it’s not a trick.”

She went into his open arms and laid her cheek against his chest, eyes closed, trying to forget the feeling of the cave walls closing in on her. He was right to wait. One of the group might have stayed behind to catch them coming out.

Brock kissed her hair and then took her face in his hands. She could barely see him in the dark. He pressed his lips to hers and then swept his mouth across her chin to her ear, and then down her throat. She sighed with pleasure and ran her hands through his hair. If he was trying to distract her, it was working. He pulled her body hard against his so that every part of her pressed against every part of him. She ran her hands along the muscles in his back, his shoulders, his arms.

His hands moved from her waist to her back, and she gasped with pain.

“My sunburn,” she whispered.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. We should probably get out of here anyway.”

He took the lead, heading the same way they had entered. She waited while he looked around, and then, when he beckoned her, she followed him into the light.