Read Online Sacrifice Island by Kristin Dearborn - Free Book Online
Authors: Kristin Dearborn
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light.
“Are you all right?” Karen asked.
Alex knew what she’d really want. “Come down. Do you feel anything down here?”
“No, nothing. Just like the rest of the island.”
Jemma scuffed down the stairs. She shivered, but Alex couldn’t do anything to warm her.
Karen shone her light in the little room. It smelled like the rest of the basement, yes, but with a thicker, muskier smell. And underneath hovered a sweet perfume Alex didn’t recognize.
The next room yielded more surprises. A bloody sweatshirt with the Gap logo lay crumpled in the corner.
Jemma took a few steps forward, as if to pick it up, but Alex stopped her.
“I wouldn’t.”
Alex no longer wanted to be down here. He didn’t want to be here when the inhabitant of this basement came home.
Upstairs, they saw the storm had stopped, and patches of blue peeked through the clouds.
“This will blow off soon. It’s going to be beautiful later,” Karen said. She resumed her spot near the dormitory’s back door with her e-book while Alex and Jemma set up the rest of the tripods and microphones. He pulled the memory cards from the storm and stuck them in his pocket. It was unlikely they’d picked up anything other than the sound of rain and the leaves, but it didn’t hurt to check it out. He went tripod to tripod and calibrated the sensitive machines to the sound of the trees. Anything else—bird call, thunder, heavy wind, would trigger them. Also any spiritual noises. Or human noises, for that matter. They took a winding path back to the beach where Mr. Lucky dropped them on the first day.
11
Soaked to the skin, Jemma slogged along the back trail. Alex carried the remaining cases behind her on the path. She wanted to turn to him, and ask him why he wasn’t off with his new girlfriend.
Jemma saw something in the jungle during the rainstorm. She didn’t know what she saw, but finding the room in the dormitory made her think. They weren’t alone on this island. She sucked in a deep breath of the clean air. No ghosts, no nothing. So empty. Peaceful. Maybe it wasn’t a someone. The being who’d been living in the basement had something to do with the aura of the island, she knew it.
Jemma came out of the jungle and onto the white beach, watched over by the Virgin Mary. Up past the tidal line the sand looked disturbed. What kinds of animals lived on the island? What was big enough to disturb the sand like that? Could it be rain? Little pock marks covered the sand, but the passing squall didn’t have the energy to wipe out these scuff marks.
“There.” Jemma pointed at the sand. “It looks like something was dragged down the path.” She racked her brain…what animal lived on the island and could leave a trail like that? The big trail headed toward the gazebo.
“There are monkeys,” she said, “though I didn’t think they lived this far north on the island. A monitor lizard?”
“Maybe a seal or something? A sea turtle? Are there even seals down here?”
They set the Pelican cases down out of the reach of the green, foamy waves. Jemma pulled her camera to her eye and started to snap pictures.
“You okay?” Alex asked.
“I’m fine. I promise. Focus.” She pointed the camera around at the island, taking photos. You never knew what would show up on a photo. Orbs, sometimes, though 99.99% of the time those were just dust. But the camera could catch things that the naked eye didn’t. She hoped the rain hadn’t damaged it.
Like that footprint. A sneaker, the print protected under a palm frond. She moved her face away from the viewfinder. Someone else had been here, that was all. On her island. Trespassers.
“I bet it’s nothing,” she said, her voice tight. She snapped more pictures. “What’s Karen wear for shoes?”
“Boots. It’s not nothing,” Alex said.
Jemma took more photos. Maybe these were their footprints, from the day before yesterday. A handprint, but the smeared,
“Are you all right?” Karen asked.
Alex knew what she’d really want. “Come down. Do you feel anything down here?”
“No, nothing. Just like the rest of the island.”
Jemma scuffed down the stairs. She shivered, but Alex couldn’t do anything to warm her.
Karen shone her light in the little room. It smelled like the rest of the basement, yes, but with a thicker, muskier smell. And underneath hovered a sweet perfume Alex didn’t recognize.
The next room yielded more surprises. A bloody sweatshirt with the Gap logo lay crumpled in the corner.
Jemma took a few steps forward, as if to pick it up, but Alex stopped her.
“I wouldn’t.”
Alex no longer wanted to be down here. He didn’t want to be here when the inhabitant of this basement came home.
Upstairs, they saw the storm had stopped, and patches of blue peeked through the clouds.
“This will blow off soon. It’s going to be beautiful later,” Karen said. She resumed her spot near the dormitory’s back door with her e-book while Alex and Jemma set up the rest of the tripods and microphones. He pulled the memory cards from the storm and stuck them in his pocket. It was unlikely they’d picked up anything other than the sound of rain and the leaves, but it didn’t hurt to check it out. He went tripod to tripod and calibrated the sensitive machines to the sound of the trees. Anything else—bird call, thunder, heavy wind, would trigger them. Also any spiritual noises. Or human noises, for that matter. They took a winding path back to the beach where Mr. Lucky dropped them on the first day.
11
Soaked to the skin, Jemma slogged along the back trail. Alex carried the remaining cases behind her on the path. She wanted to turn to him, and ask him why he wasn’t off with his new girlfriend.
Jemma saw something in the jungle during the rainstorm. She didn’t know what she saw, but finding the room in the dormitory made her think. They weren’t alone on this island. She sucked in a deep breath of the clean air. No ghosts, no nothing. So empty. Peaceful. Maybe it wasn’t a someone. The being who’d been living in the basement had something to do with the aura of the island, she knew it.
Jemma came out of the jungle and onto the white beach, watched over by the Virgin Mary. Up past the tidal line the sand looked disturbed. What kinds of animals lived on the island? What was big enough to disturb the sand like that? Could it be rain? Little pock marks covered the sand, but the passing squall didn’t have the energy to wipe out these scuff marks.
“There.” Jemma pointed at the sand. “It looks like something was dragged down the path.” She racked her brain…what animal lived on the island and could leave a trail like that? The big trail headed toward the gazebo.
“There are monkeys,” she said, “though I didn’t think they lived this far north on the island. A monitor lizard?”
“Maybe a seal or something? A sea turtle? Are there even seals down here?”
They set the Pelican cases down out of the reach of the green, foamy waves. Jemma pulled her camera to her eye and started to snap pictures.
“You okay?” Alex asked.
“I’m fine. I promise. Focus.” She pointed the camera around at the island, taking photos. You never knew what would show up on a photo. Orbs, sometimes, though 99.99% of the time those were just dust. But the camera could catch things that the naked eye didn’t. She hoped the rain hadn’t damaged it.
Like that footprint. A sneaker, the print protected under a palm frond. She moved her face away from the viewfinder. Someone else had been here, that was all. On her island. Trespassers.
“I bet it’s nothing,” she said, her voice tight. She snapped more pictures. “What’s Karen wear for shoes?”
“Boots. It’s not nothing,” Alex said.
Jemma took more photos. Maybe these were their footprints, from the day before yesterday. A handprint, but the smeared,
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