Island of Fog (Book 1) (7 page)

I’m not a freak
, he thought obstinately.

The dew in the grass began to soak into his clothing, and he sat up. Weary, he started to climb to his feet—and his mouth dropped open. He stared at his hands, first his left, then his right, turning them over and over.

The rash was gone.

Like magic. Now you see it, now you don’t.

The moonlight was weak, but just bright enough for Hal to stare in amazement and relief at his rash-free hand. He studied his milky-white skin for a long while, then sighed and rubbed his eyes, exhausted.

He thought about Abigail. She’d called him a freak, but he
wasn’t
a freak!

Lizard-boy
, the voice in his head mocked.
Abigail’s got wings and can fly, Robbie’s got enormous strength, and what has little Hal got? Lizard skin!

Hal got to his feet and trudged home. The side door to the garage was closed. He cracked it open and peered inside.

The lantern remained where he’d left it, glowing from the center of the floor. But the room was empty. Hal closed the door and stared out into the fog. Should he go after her? A crazy image of her buzzing through the air like a dragonfly sprung to mind.

Shaking his head, Hal picked up the lamp, snuck back into the house, climbed out of his clothes, crawled into bed, and eventually fell asleep.

****

He woke late the next morning. “I thought you were going to sleep the whole day,” his mom said as he wandered into the kitchen and started to make himself an omelet. “Are you all right? You look tired. Here, let me make that before you burn yourself.”

Soon after breakfast, Hal zipped along the road to Robbie’s house and rapped on the door. Mrs. Strickland answered. She was a large woman, bigger than her husband and son put together. “Morning, Hal. Sorry, but Robbie’s tidying his room this morning. No distractions until he’s done. You can come back this afternoon, if you like.”

Hal nodded. “I might. I was just wondering if . . . if he’s heard the news.”

“Simone, you mean?” Mrs. Strickland nodded. “Yes. Simone made it clear that everyone be told at once, so you kids can be prepared to meet her on Monday.” She frowned and stepped out onto the doorstep, pulling the door closed behind her. “Hal, have you noticed anything strange about Robbie lately?” she asked, lowering her voice.

“Uh,” Hal said, suddenly feeling awkward. “Strange? How do you mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know, anything at all. You’re his best friend, Hal. If anyone’s noticed anything strange, it would be you.”

Don’t tell anyone.
Abigail’s warning rang in his mind and he hesitated for a moment.

“Robbie’s always strange,” he said at last. “He studies bugs and plants. It would be strange if he stopped acting strange.”

“Hmm,” Mrs. Strickland said, not looking convinced.

Hal turned to leave. “I’ve got to go. Tell him I’ll see him tomorrow.”

He headed home, glancing along the road as he crossed to the other side. As usual the thick, musty fog prevented him from seeing much farther than a few houses, from which faint orange glows flickered in living rooms and kitchens.

To his surprise, he spotted Fenton standing on the bridge.

The big boy had drawn water from the stream using the winch, and a bucket stood at his feet, but Fenton was now leaning against the stone wall and staring out over the stream, apparently lost in thought.

As Hal watched from the middle of the road, Fenton did something strange. He leaned out farther and pursed his lips. Then a spout of water arced from his mouth, smooth and clear as if from a watering can. It didn’t last long, no more than a second, and then Fenton relaxed and eased back from the wall.
Seeing how far he can spit
, Hal thought—only the bully had spat far more water than seemed possible.

To Hal’s astonishment, Fenton leaned out again, and another jet of clear water gushed forth, exactly as before, even though he hadn’t taken a swig from any bottle that Hal could see.

Stunned, Hal stood in the middle of the road and watched as Fenton spat water two more times without once drinking from a bottle, or even the bucket, to fill his chubby cheeks. Where was it all coming from?

Then Fenton’s head whipped around to face Hal. The big boy strode toward him with a scowl plastered across his face.

Rooted to the spot, Hal was expecting a beating for somehow getting Fenton in trouble at school—or was it Robbie that would get the beating? In any case, Hal was far too curious about Fenton’s water-spitting trick to turn and head for the safety of home. So he waited, wondering if anyone was looking out the windows of the nearby houses.

“Hey, squirt,” Fenton said as he approached. “What are you staring at?”

“I’m not sure,” Hal murmured. “It’s not labeled.”

Fenton stopped a few inches from Hal’s face and breathed his bad breath all over him. “I owe you a pounding, squirt. Or shall I give it to Robbie? I’ll let you decide, right here and now.”

A large fist appeared next to Hal’s left eyeball.

“How did you
do
that?” Hal asked, trying to ignore the threat. “That’s a neat trick, spitting water like that. How’d you do it?”

Fenton glowered, and his face reddened. “Spying on me now? That’s worth an extra few punches. So who’s gonna get it—you or Robbie?”

Then Hal frowned. For a second he thought he’d seen—but no, it couldn’t be. “How’s your toothache?”

Two large hands grabbed the front of Hal’s shirt and yanked upwards. Hal stood on tiptoes, feeling his shirt riding up and exposing his midriff to the cold air. A button popped off.

“Quit stalling, stumpy. You answer my question right now or I’ll go ahead and give both of you a beating. Now, who’s it gonna be?”

Hal couldn’t help but notice that the big boy’s teeth had taken on a strange animal-like quality, with sharpened incisors and fang-like canines. They weren’t particularly long, just a different shape, but easy to spot at this range, especially when Fenton bared them like a dog.

And as he stood there snarling, his eyes seemed to take on a reddish glow. Clear water suddenly dribbled from the corners of Fenton’s mouth and ran down his chin, like he’d sprung a leak.

With a gasp, Hal fought to free himself and found Fenton’s grip to be like stone. The bully had the strength of ten men.
Like Robbie
, Hal thought.
Robbie gets strong too, only he doesn’t dribble everywhere, or have glowing red eyes.

“Let go!” Hal yelled. “Get off me!”

“You gonna make me?”

Hal’s skin started to crawl and itch, and his throat burned. He felt something stirring deep inside his chest, as if something dormant was awakening, disturbed by the scuffle. If it was possible to take a large magical dose of strength and courage, this was what it would feel like. He recognized the same feeling he’d experienced on the raft when he’d stood up to the serpent, as though he could take on anything regardless of size.

Fenton suddenly frowned, looked him up and down, and released his hold. He took a few steps backward and stared down at his wet shirt, where he’d dribbled all over it. The fiery glare had gone, and now he appeared confused. “What—what’s happening to me?”

The powerful feeling within Hal’s chest dwindled in an instant, and he suddenly felt drained. He ran a hand through his hair. “Fenton, we should talk. Abi told me stuff last night, and showed me something you wouldn’t believe. I didn’t believe everything she said until now. We need to—”

“Abi told you stuff?” Fenton said, his voice dripping with scorn. “Been filling your head with trash, has she? And you want me to
listen
to it? You think I’m dumb?”

Pretty dumb, yeah
, Hal thought.

He must have looked like he was thinking such a thing because Fenton gave him a shove in the chest that sent him reeling. “Right, since you never answered my question, both you and Robbie get it. Watch your backs, because you’re gonna get it when you’re least expecting it.”

With a sudden, eerie grin filled with pointed teeth, Fenton turned and stomped away. He fetched his bucket of water from the side of the bridge and disappeared into the fog.

The sun threw a hazy glow through the fog on Monday morning as Hal wolfed down his breakfast and hurried out to his bike, his backpack heavy with books and lunch. “What books should I take?” he’d asked his mom as he dashed around. “What will Simone be teaching this morning?”

“That’s
Miss
Simone to you, young man,” his mom had said, waggling a finger at him. “And if I were you, I’d take
all
your books, just in case.”

So off he went, weighed down by the extra load. He was early, but so were others in the class judging by how many fresh wheel marks sliced through the dirt trail leading to school. Tingling with excitement, Hal almost forgot Fenton’s threat the previous day. But he couldn’t forget the bully’s bizarre spitting trick; that was something he’d have to relate to Abigail and Robbie the first chance he got. That is, if Abigail would talk to him after the way he had shouted at her last night.

With the cool, fresh air in his nostrils, Hal cycled at top speed along the trail and up the rise to the top. When he sailed over the crest and started down the other side, the school building came into sight, for once looking bright and cheerful in the sunny haze. Even the peak of the tower was fully visible today, a rare occurrence. Across the meadow the fog hung in patches against a backdrop of pure white sky.

Despite the lightness of the fog, that morning Hal’s dad had stood outside with a frown on his face, sniffing the air. “Storm’s coming,” he’d said, nodding. “It’ll hit us by nightfall.”

He’d seemed so sure that Hal had no doubt it was so. Still, it hardly seemed possible that such bright weather could turn bad.

Hal inserted his front wheel into the rack alongside the other bikes—seven of them, meaning Abigail had brought hers too—and paused a moment at the door that led into the back of the classroom. He peered through the small glass pane.

Fenton threw a balled up piece of paper at Dewey. It bounced off his face and he jumped in surprise as Fenton burst into laughter. Emily, on her feet, was waving her arms excitedly as she talked to Lauren and Darcy, while Robbie eavesdropped from his desk by the window on the far side. Hal took one look at Robbie’s face and chuckled; Robbie wasn’t interested in the conversation—he was watching Lauren with a faraway look on his face.

Abigail sat at her desk directly behind Robbie, staring out the window on the far side. It seemed everyone was a few minutes earlier than normal this morning, and Hal, despite his haste to get there, was the last to arrive. Miss Simone had not yet shown up.

He threw open the door and strolled in. The instant Emily saw him she abandoned whatever story she was telling. “Hal! Have you heard the news? We have a new teacher this morning!”

Hal nodded and turned to Lauren. “So what’s the deal, Lauren? Isn’t your mom going to be teaching us anymore? She must have told you something about this Miss Simone person.”

Lauren shook her head. “I don’t know much more than anyone else,” she said quietly, “except that Mom said she doesn’t know how things will go from here on. Apparently it’s up to Miss Simone.”

Everyone was silent. Then Emily frowned and glanced out the window as if to check that it was safe to talk. “I think we should investigate this,” she said. “I think we should form a club or something, and make plans to find out what’s going on around here.”

Robbie snorted a laugh. “Form a club? Make plans? And I suppose you’ll be in charge, bossing everyone around as usual,
organizing
things.”

Emily’s face reddened and she drew herself up. “I’m a
good
organizer, and you know it. I organize most things, don’t I? Games, hikes, even class field trips! I’m the best person suited for—”

“Can it, Emily,” Fenton retorted. “And you, Robbie, you skinny moron. Don’t forget what I told you. You’re gonna get it.”

“Is your toothache better, Fenton?” Abigail said, turning to him and smiling. “Shame. I liked it when you were quiet, especially when you went home early.”

Fenton reddened and he scowled. “Watch it, freckle-face.”

Abigail feigned a look of horror. “Fenton Bridges! Ooh, what you said!” She rolled her eyes. “My mom said you cried like a girl when you went to see her with your toothache. ‘Oh, they hurt soooo much!’ you whined. Mom said you nearly fainted.”

“Liar!” Fenton shouted, kicking a nearby chair. He was trembling with rage. He started toward her. “If you weren’t a girl, I’d punch your face in
right now
. But I’ll still get you, girl or no girl. You wait—”

Hal stepped in front of Fenton, blocking the way. For a second it seemed nobody breathed, although Hal was sure the thumping of his heart was booming around the walls. “Leave her alone,” he said evenly. “If you want to hit someone, hit me instead. See what you get.”

Fenton’s mouth worked up and down but no words came out. His face turned a curious shade of purple and a vein in his forehead started throbbing. He seemed to be boiling up inside, like a volcano about to blow its top. At last he erupted and let loose with a torrent of bellowed curses. Everyone flinched, but Hal got the brunt of it as Fenton advanced on him until their faces were mere inches apart.

Hal stood his ground and allowed the fury to ride over him like a blast of strong wind. A few days ago he never would have blocked Fenton’s way, certainly not for Abigail. But things had changed.
He’d
changed, at least on the inside. He’d felt something stirring from deep within when he’d stood up to Fenton by the bridge yesterday, and had felt the same stirring on the raft when facing the serpent. Something was
in
him, something strong and powerful, and it seemed ready to emerge only when he faced danger.

Now he wondered if it would happen again.

Fenton finally ended his tirade and stood panting and trembling, his face twisted with rage. “And you’re gonna get twice as much—no,
three
times as much of a beating as Robbie. You just wait.”

“I’ll wait,” Hal said, nodding. “Whenever you’re ready, bring it on.”

Fenton turned, lashed out at Hal’s chair, sent it flying, and stomped back to his desk.

Hal picked up his chair and sat down, trying to act nonchalant. But his heart was still thumping hard and he felt quite shaky. Hopefully no one would notice if he sat for a moment and waited for his nerves to settle.

“Well,” Emily said in a small voice, “anyway, where were we? Oh yes, we were talking about starting a club.”

“
You
were,” Robbie mumbled.

“Maybe we’ll find out everything we want to know when Miss Simone arrives,” Darcy said, playing with her wavy blond locks. “Maybe that’s why she’s here—to tell us why we live on this dismal island, cut off from the rest of the world. Maybe she’ll explain what happened to Mr. and Mrs. Patten when little Thomas was killed six years ago.”

“Let’s hope we get some answers,” Lauren said. “We’re nearly in our teens now. I think we have a right to know the truth!”

Everyone nodded and murmured agreement. Dewey Morgan, quiet as a mouse as usual, tapped his pencil on his desk as a somber silence fell across the room once more. After a moment, Dewey realized his tapping sounded very loud, and he stopped.

“Tell them what you and Robbie did on Saturday,” Abigail said, looking at Hal. She had that teasing twinkle back in her eye.

At once everyone glanced at Hal, then at Robbie. “What?” Emily demanded. “What did you do? Tell us!”

Hal caught Robbie’s eye and threw him a questioning look that said,
Do you want to tell them, or shall I?

Robbie cleared his throat and launched into the tale with gusto, explaining how he and Hal had built a raft and set out across the water into the fog. There were many gasps at this, and even Fenton stopped sulking when Robbie started embellishing the story a little. “So there we were, being pounded by waves, seawater spraying in our faces, and clinging on for dear life to our raft. We rowed as hard as we could, but the current took us miles away from the island. We thought we were going to get flipped over.”

Dewey, Emily, Darcy and Lauren had sidled closer, edging between the desks, eyes wide. “Then what?” Lauren asked, wringing her hands.

As Robbie went on to tell of the huge slithery body below the surface, Hal glanced at Abigail. She was listening to Robbie’s tale with the faintest of smiles. Every now and then she’d shake her head.

“. . . And I whacked it with my shovel,” Robbie said, standing up and swinging his arms dramatically. “Blood sprayed from a gash in its chin, all over me, but I didn’t care—all I could think about was saving Hal and me, and the raft. But then the monster sank below the surface, and guess what? It started to carry us across the water . . .”

Just then Dewey whispered, “Someone’s coming!”

Emily interrupted Robbie and changed the subject. “. . .Yes, so it would be nice to have bacon for a change, but I’d hate to think of those poor pigs being slaughtered . . .”

The door at the front of the class was thrown open and a woman stood framed in the doorway. She had shiny golden hair and was wrapped in a flowing cloak of dark green silky material that came down low enough to drape on the floor. Her eyes were a startling blue, and her skin a golden tan just like the sunbathers Hal had seen in his dad’s treasured collection of postcards from Out There.

Hal gasped. Had the room brightened suddenly?

“Good morning, children!” the stranger said in a high, clear voice. Hal couldn’t tell how old she was—clearly an adult, but much younger than his parents. “My name is Simone. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

She walked to the desk at the front of the class, her feet making no sound beneath the robe. “Those of you still standing, please take your seats and we’ll get started.”

Darcy and Lauren returned to their seats, and Emily turned to face front.

Miss Simone looked around and nodded. “Good. You’re all here.” Her gaze fell on the ninth desk, where Thomas Patten had once sat, but her blank expression gave nothing away.

She seemed to glide across to the coat stand in the corner. There she untied the sash around her throat, swept off her dark green silky cloak, and hung it carefully on a hook. Hal was captivated by the strange, knee-length dress she wore beneath; a patchwork of green and gray cloth woven together and embellished with hundreds of tiny pearls. The dress pinched in snug around her waist and hung in petal-shaped segments around her legs. Without her long cloak, Hal could see that her feet were bare.

Hal wasn’t sure if it was the dress, or her golden hair tumbling around her shoulders, or her startling blue eyes that he found so entrancing. He glanced around and noted that Robbie, Dewey and Fenton were watching the newcomer with wide eyes. He couldn’t see the expressions of the girls in the front row, but Abigail was frowning, her bottom lip stuck out. Was she envious? Suspicious?

“Now,” Miss Simone said as she took her seat, “we’ll start by introducing ourselves. Perhaps you could give me your names in turn. You start, my dear.”

Emily beamed, obviously delighted at being chosen to start. She cleared her throat. “Emily Stanton, Miss. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Miss Simone smiled and nodded, then shifted her gaze to the girl in the middle, who said in a small voice, “Lauren Hunter.”

“Darcy O’Tanner,” said the next.

Then onto the second row. “Er, Robbie Strickland.”

Miss Simone’s gaze came to rest on Hal. “H-Hal Franklin,” he said, and mentally kicked himself for stuttering.

“Fenton Bridges,” came the bully’s defiant tone, almost as though he was sizing up the newcomer and wondering how far he could push her. But Miss Simone moved on without pause to Abigail.

“Abigail Porter,” she said in a monotone.

And, finally, “Dewey Morgan,” the small boy behind Hal said.

Miss Simone smiled and nodded. “Thank you. I shall try hard to remember which name goes with which face.” She took a breath. “I know all your parents, of course—met them a long time ago, before you were born. Abigail, I was sorry to hear about your father.”

Hal froze, and he sensed that all his classmates had frozen too. No one
ever
talked about Abigail’s dad. It was one thing to mention Thomas Patten and his parents because they’d all vanished without a trace, but Mr. Porter had left behind a distraught wife and a daughter he’d never had a chance to meet.

“You should all be very proud of your parents,” Miss Simone went on, apparently not sensing that she had touched on a taboo subject. “They’re very resourceful. It hasn’t been easy adapting to life on this island without the amenities they’d grown accustomed to in the old world.”

“Amenities?” Dewey asked. Hal guessed he was more puzzled by the word itself than by which particular amenities Miss Simone was referring to.

Miss Simone nodded and smiled. “Running tap water. Motorized vehicles for transport. Electricity.”

Hal had heard that last word many times before. His parents had mentioned it in the past, but he had never quite fathomed exactly what it was. It had something to do with wires. “What exactly is electricity?” he asked.

“Think of it as a life force,” the visitor said softly. “In the old world, it provided life to machines. Your parents used to have all sorts of machines around the house—such things as cookers, refrigerators, microwave ovens, televisions, music systems . . . the list is endless.”

She paused. The only sound was Dewey gently tapping his pencil on the desk.

“Sadly, since the demise of the old world and their seclusion on this island, your parents have had to do without electricity. This has necessitated an enormous shift in their lifestyle, because of course the old world had enjoyed the power of electricity for a hundred years or so.”

“What
happened
Out There?” Emily asked.

Miss Simone shook her head and rested her elbows on the desk. “A catastrophe.
A deadly virus created by man.
Most people died, and those that survived . . . well, they’re sick in other ways.”

“A virus!” Lauren said with a gasp.

“Created by a man?” Darcy added. “Which man?”