Scar Island(55)

He climbed a few steps up. Ninety-Nine was shaking and coughing inside his shirt. He struggled weakly against the wet fabric. Jonathan unbuttoned his shirt and pulled the bedraggled rat out. Ninety-Nine coughed up some water and then slowly crawled back up to Jonathan’s shoulder, his body shaking. Jonathan gave him a reassuring scratch.

Colin’s head popped up into the stairwell, gasping for air. Jonathan helped him up the slippery stairs, pulling the lantern from the hook.

They stood panting, eyes on the dark water they’d emerged from.

“Well,” Colin gasped. “That wathn’t tho—”

His words were cut off by a wrenching, grating crack from below the water’s surface. A great rush of huge bubbles rose to the surface, and with a sickening whoosh, the water began to rise more quickly. So quickly they could see it climbing and racing up the stairs in a rapid, steady surge.

“What happened?” Colin cried, stumbling backward up the stairs.

“I don’t know! I think something else just broke open! We gotta go!”

The water rose up the stairs faster than they could climb, nearly overtaking them before they reached the top. By the time they broke out into the hallway, the water was a surging wave that came nearly to their waists.

Together they ran through the familiar hallways they both knew, winding back toward the dining room. The dark wall of water gurgled just behind them, slurping at the walls and sloshing around corners. Ninety-Nine clung to Jonathan’s shoulders with a firm grip of his claws. His tail slapped on Jonathan’s back as they ran.

They burst into the dining room just ahead of the wave.

They almost ran into Sebastian and the rest of the boys. They were all crowded around the door, holding lanterns and candles. Sebastian was at the front, his sword out in front of him and a coil of rope thrown over his shoulder, a dark look on his face.





The wave of water was slowed when it hit the narrow doorway. It crested and poured into the dining room, a frothy white head of bubbles at its top. Colin and Jonathan braced themselves as it hit their backs. Some of the boys who weren’t ready were knocked off their feet and sent tumbling head over heels in the water.

The water pouring in from the doorway leveled out as the water in the room rose, until it all stood flat, above their knees. And still slowly rising. The boys regathered themselves, coughing and rubbing the water out of their eyes.

Sebastian had never lost his footing. He still stood with his sword, eyes on Jonathan.

“We were just about to leave,” he said.

“Where were you guys going?”

Sebastian looked him in the eye.

“We were coming to find you.”

“Really?”

Sebastian shrugged and nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

Sebastian shrugged again, then squinted and looked closer at Jonathan. “Jesus! What is that thing on your shoulder?”

“It’s a rat. Don’t worry about it. We gotta go. Quick. Or we’re all gonna die.”

“Go where?”

“To the lighthouse.”

“What lighthouse?”

“I’ll explain as we go. We’ve gotta move.”

Jonathan started to brush past him, but Sebastian put a hand out and stopped him. Forcefully.

“Easy, Johnny. I didn’t want to get blamed for you dying. Doesn’t mean I want you in charge. We decided to stay here, where it’s safe.”

“It isn’t safe here, Sebastian. This whole place is going under. The water’s rising. And the island is sinking. We’ve got to go. Up.”

“Up? It’s safer down here,” Sebastian insisted.

“What if the tower blows over?” Gerald asked.

“What if lightning hits it?” Francis demanded.

“Going up is our only choice!” Jonathan insisted. “It’s the only way to save ourselves.”

“You can’t trust him!” Benny’s voice was ugly and hissing. “You know what he’s here for!”

Lightning flashed through the windows. The wind was a roar, swirling around them. Jonathan saw the boys’ faces harden at Benny’s words, saw the doubt flicker in their eyes.

“You’re wrong, Benny!” Jonathan said, his voice rising with the pounding of his heart and the raging of the storm. “You can trust me! My sister … she … she did die in a fire, and … but …” Jonathan stopped, his voice choked by tears.

“But you didn’t thtart it,” Colin finished. “Did you?”

“Stop it, Colin,” Jonathan said.

But Colin didn’t stop.

“You told me, Jonathan. You told me she took your matcheth.”

Jonathan swallowed. Took a choking breath. He looked into Colin’s face. Colin’s eyes widened.

“Oh,” he breathed. “It wath her, wathn’t it? Your thithter thtarted the fire.”

“Shut up, Colin.”

“And you took the blame. You let them think it wath you. Becauth—”

“Because it’s my fault!” Jonathan interrupted, shouting. “They were my matches! She learned from me!” Jonathan’s voice broke off, his shoulders shaking with sobs. Ninety-Nine’s claws dug in harder to stay on. Jonathan closed his eyes against his tears and lowered his head. “It’s my fault.”