Read Online Chasing Xaris by Samantha Bennett - Free Book Online
Authors: Samantha Bennett
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of annoying beeps. I turned the alarm off and rubbed my stinging eyes.
I pushed the memories of nightmares aside and threw my sheets back. The morning had come, and I was about to kayak to those coordinates.
I slipped into my swimsuit, covering it with a lo ng-sleeve shirt, running shorts. After a quick visit to the bathroom, I slipped on flip flops, grabbed the baggie with the xaris, and tucked it into my pocket. Then I stuffed my phone, sealed in its waterproof case, in my other pocket.
Downstairs, I scribbled Gran a note about my day-long beach trip and left it on the kitchen counter. I had planned tell her in person, but since Gran was avoiding me, I could conveniently write down my cover story instead. I debated signing “ Chandler” or “Love, Chandler.” I opted for “Chandler.”
In the shed out back, Grandpa’s orange kayak and paddle waited on the wall. Like Mom and Dad’s old bicycles—and everything else out there—the kayak and paddle were covered in dust and cobwebs. I hefted them over my head, out of the shed, and into the yellow light of dawn.
Early mornings usually soothed me, but not today. Every few steps, I glanced over my shoulder but no one was there. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. I picked up my pace. Once I was in the ocean I’d feel better.
On the shore, I glided the kayak into the water and jumped in. Since the waves were knee-high, I only passed a couple of surfers in the lineup. I keyed the coordinates into my phone and saw I needed to head east-ish for a mile and a half.
I paddled forward, and my muscles hummed in time with each stroke. A cool breeze met my face and legs, an d I was thankful for the long tee shirt. I kept wondering if Ari paddled this whole way to surf every morning.
Just fifteen yards from the coordinates, I still couldn’t see anything but water. A humming sound rumbled somewhere near, and I glanced to my right. A white speedboat zoomed towards me.
I could see the silhouettes of two men, one taller than the other. They were heading right for me.
I tightened my grip on my paddle . I was in a kayak—they were in a speedboat. I so couldn’t outrun them.
It could be a coincidence they were heading my way. But what if they were after me? Why would they be after me?
The boat zoomed closer.
I peered at my phone. I had nearly reached the island, but I still couldn’t see anything.
The growl of the speedboat’s engine grew louder.
Heat coursed through me. I tucked my phone into my pocket and grabbed the xaris from the baggie. One blink later, a wall of red stood just before the kayak.
I screamed and thrust the xaris in front of me, pinching it between my fingers. I squeezed my eyes shut. A roar ripped through my ears. The pressure of thick, heavy waves barreled down on my shoulders, my arms, my knees.
Then the pressure released me.
I opened my eyes and saw a shore about three hundred yards away. An actual shore.
I didn’t paddle. I couldn’t. I stayed motionless in the kayak. Feeling the thump of my heart. Listening for the speedboat’s growl. But all I heard was the sound of waves slapping against that impossible shore.
I glanced over my shoulder. The speedboat had disappeared, but the translucent red wall was still there. It stretched straight up into the sky, as high as I could see, and hugged the island’s coastline, leaving a stretch of water between the wall and the shore.
Aletheia Island. That was seriously Aletheia Island.
A new sensation rushed through me. A wave of joy. Everything Santiago had said was true. I had found Ari’s island.
I tucked xaris back into my pocket and paddled straight for the pale sand ahead. The beach looked so natural and untamed. Way different than the Fort Lauderdale beaches. Only a faded clump of kayaks disrupted the sands and palms. They rested in a mound of beach grass that had nearly grown over them.
My kayak slid onto the sand and I jumped to my
I pushed the memories of nightmares aside and threw my sheets back. The morning had come, and I was about to kayak to those coordinates.
I slipped into my swimsuit, covering it with a lo ng-sleeve shirt, running shorts. After a quick visit to the bathroom, I slipped on flip flops, grabbed the baggie with the xaris, and tucked it into my pocket. Then I stuffed my phone, sealed in its waterproof case, in my other pocket.
Downstairs, I scribbled Gran a note about my day-long beach trip and left it on the kitchen counter. I had planned tell her in person, but since Gran was avoiding me, I could conveniently write down my cover story instead. I debated signing “ Chandler” or “Love, Chandler.” I opted for “Chandler.”
In the shed out back, Grandpa’s orange kayak and paddle waited on the wall. Like Mom and Dad’s old bicycles—and everything else out there—the kayak and paddle were covered in dust and cobwebs. I hefted them over my head, out of the shed, and into the yellow light of dawn.
Early mornings usually soothed me, but not today. Every few steps, I glanced over my shoulder but no one was there. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. I picked up my pace. Once I was in the ocean I’d feel better.
On the shore, I glided the kayak into the water and jumped in. Since the waves were knee-high, I only passed a couple of surfers in the lineup. I keyed the coordinates into my phone and saw I needed to head east-ish for a mile and a half.
I paddled forward, and my muscles hummed in time with each stroke. A cool breeze met my face and legs, an d I was thankful for the long tee shirt. I kept wondering if Ari paddled this whole way to surf every morning.
Just fifteen yards from the coordinates, I still couldn’t see anything but water. A humming sound rumbled somewhere near, and I glanced to my right. A white speedboat zoomed towards me.
I could see the silhouettes of two men, one taller than the other. They were heading right for me.
I tightened my grip on my paddle . I was in a kayak—they were in a speedboat. I so couldn’t outrun them.
It could be a coincidence they were heading my way. But what if they were after me? Why would they be after me?
The boat zoomed closer.
I peered at my phone. I had nearly reached the island, but I still couldn’t see anything.
The growl of the speedboat’s engine grew louder.
Heat coursed through me. I tucked my phone into my pocket and grabbed the xaris from the baggie. One blink later, a wall of red stood just before the kayak.
I screamed and thrust the xaris in front of me, pinching it between my fingers. I squeezed my eyes shut. A roar ripped through my ears. The pressure of thick, heavy waves barreled down on my shoulders, my arms, my knees.
Then the pressure released me.
I opened my eyes and saw a shore about three hundred yards away. An actual shore.
I didn’t paddle. I couldn’t. I stayed motionless in the kayak. Feeling the thump of my heart. Listening for the speedboat’s growl. But all I heard was the sound of waves slapping against that impossible shore.
I glanced over my shoulder. The speedboat had disappeared, but the translucent red wall was still there. It stretched straight up into the sky, as high as I could see, and hugged the island’s coastline, leaving a stretch of water between the wall and the shore.
Aletheia Island. That was seriously Aletheia Island.
A new sensation rushed through me. A wave of joy. Everything Santiago had said was true. I had found Ari’s island.
I tucked xaris back into my pocket and paddled straight for the pale sand ahead. The beach looked so natural and untamed. Way different than the Fort Lauderdale beaches. Only a faded clump of kayaks disrupted the sands and palms. They rested in a mound of beach grass that had nearly grown over them.
My kayak slid onto the sand and I jumped to my
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