The Light (Morpheus Road) (29 page)

238

I stared at the screen, willing it to show me more. Willing
Gravedigger
to show me more. Instead I heard another sound. Another engine. My heart leaped. Was it Cooper's outboard motor? Was there enough of the blue boat left for him to fire up the engine and get to shore?

"Show me!" I shouted at the screen.

The engine sound grew louder, but the screen went dark. The show was over. Still, the sound continued to grow. What was I hearing? Another illusion? Was I going to be treated to another macabre movie that Gravedigger wanted me to see?

The screen stayed dark. Above it, a plane appeared in the sky, headed for the lake. A seaplane. It was the plane that would pick Cayden Reilly up and take him away. I couldn't let that happen. At least not before he told me where he had hit Cooper's boat. It wasn't about revenge. Or justice. It was about finding my friend and unraveling the whole story.

I had to stop running away, and start running toward the truth.

239

Chapter 19

I had to find a way to stop Cayden Reilly.

A seaplane was on the way in to swoop him up and take him away from Thistledown for good, along with everything he knew about the accident. He was out on the lake somewhere, partying it up. There was no way the State Police would arrive in time to stop him from leaving. It was going to be up to me. I needed to find a small, fast boat, and the only place I knew of to get one was the marina. The trick was to get there without running into Cayden's father because the guy was trying to kill me.

Sneaking back through the fence to the mini golf course, I stayed alert for any sound that might mean the deranged preppy dad was about to attack me again. It was total bad luck that all this was happening on the one night of the week that the tourist businesses of Thistledown were closed. Having tons of people around would have made

240

everything so much easier. Or maybe not. Who knew what damage Gravedigger would do if there were more potential victims around?

I had to move quickly but with caution because Reilly was hunting me. I ran from hiding place to hiding place, each time stopping to see if I'd been spotted. I had no idea if it was the right strategy, but that's what they did in the movies, so why not? It was like playing army when I was a little kid. It seemed like only yesterday that Cooper and I had played those games.

I made it all the way back to Main Street, where I could see the marina. Reilly was nowhere around, so I focused on what I would do once I got there. I needed Britt to find me a boat. She was definitely more experienced on the water than I was, but there was no way she was going with me. She was already too involved in this lunacy. I didn't want Gravedigger to turn his sights on her.

I snuck along Main Street until I reached the gangway that led from land to the salesroom of the marina. I sprinted along the wooden walkway and blasted into the building without breaking stride.

"Britt?" I called out.

No answer.

"Britt?" I called again, not as loud. I didn't want my voice carrying to other, less friendly ears. Still no answer. I did a quick search of the salesroom. No Britt. I jumped behind the counter to the window that looked out to the sea of floats and docked boats. From there I could see if Britt had gone back to the Reillys' cigarette boat to meet me. Gazing out over the floats, I didn't see a soul. Where was she? No way she would have gone home. She was supposed to have called the State Police to come examine the damage to the boat. The evidence. I wondered if Britt had seen what happened with Reilly. Did she know the guy nearly

241

squeezed my head off? Could she have taken off in fear? No. She had more guts than that. Under normal circumstances she probably would have called the sheriff. But Vrtiak was trapped in the wreck of his own car, drooling and babbling about walking the Morpheus Road.

My confusion was instantly replaced with worry.

The more people who know, the more will be in danger.

Britt definitely knew some stuff. Was she now on Grave-digger's hit list? Did Reilly come back looking for her? I had to fight the panic that was trying to control me. This night was getting more complicated and dangerous by the second.

Bang!

Something fell down on the wooden walkway outside. Somebody was out there. The door was closed, so I couldn't see. Was it Britt? Reilly? Gravedigger? Whoever it was knew I was inside. As far as I knew, there was only one way out and that was the door that led to the walkway. I looked around for something to defend myself with and found an orange flare pistol behind the counter. It was part of a marine emergency kit and this was definitely an emergency. I pulled the orange pistol out of the display, cracked open the barrel, and inserted the single shotgun-like shell. I'd done this before as part of a Power Squadrons safety course I had taken at sailing camp back home. The instructor had fired one of the flares to show us how to use it, but also to demonstrate how dangerous it was and why it should never be aimed at anyone. The gun had fired off a burning

projectile that arced about five hundred feet into the air, trailing smoke. The instructor explained how somebody could get burned pretty badly if they were hit by the burning flare. I wondered how badly a demon would be hurt if I nailed him with it, point-blank. Part of me really wanted to find out.

I listened for any movement outside. Boards creaked and cracked. Was that the normal sound that came from the

242

movement of the floats on the water? Or was Reilly circling the small building, looking for a way to get in and corner me? I ran to the wall and turned out the lights. I didn't want anybody seeing me inside. I waited another minute, then decided I couldn't take it anymore. I crept to the door, reached for the knob, and raised the flare gun. I held my breath and with one quick move, yanked the door open.

Nobody was there. I poked my head out and looked to the right and left. Nobody. The walkway to the street was empty too. I decided I must have been hearing the natural sounds of the floats on the water. I had to get a grip and get out of there. Since Britt was nowhere around, I was going to have to find a boat on my own to get out on the lake and . . .

"Seaver!"

I spun around so fast, I nearly fell off the walkway into the water. I lifted the flare gun, but the barrel hit the railing and it was knocked out of my hand. It clattered to the walkway, out of reach. At that moment I cursed myself for being such a bumbler. A second later I realized it was the best thing that could have happened. If I had lifted the gun, I would have fired it for sure and nailed . . . Sydney. She had rounded the corner of the building and was walking toward me like nothing was wrong.

"What are you doing?" she asked, annoyed. "Why did you turn the lights out?"

For about three seconds I felt like a dumb little kid who was caught doing something embarrassing by the intimidating hot girl. I started to offer excuses, then realized she had no idea what I had been through. I clicked out of defensive mode, swept up the flare gun, and walked past Sydney toward the floating docks.

"What are you doing here?" I asked as I moved past her.

Sydney followed. "The freckle girl called to say you

243

found what you were looking for. Tell me it's Cooper."

"It isn't. But I know what happened to him. More or less."

Sydney grabbed my shoulder and stopped me. "What?" she cried. "Where is he? Is he all right?"

"The
Galileo
was smashed by a speedboat while he was out on the lake looking at stars. I don't think he even knew what hit him."

Sydney took a wobbly step backward and leaned on the rail, stunned. "But . . . how do you know?"

"A guy brought a cigarette boat here for repairs the other day ... it was the kid who was leaning on your car and flirting with you."

"The kid . . . ? Oh, right." It took a second for her to remember. Guys flirted with Sydney all the time.

I continued, "Britt and I checked out the damage. The hull is full of gouges and deep blue streaks ... the same blue as the
Galileo."

"Is that proof?"

"It's a start."

I chose not to go into all the details of what had happened with Reilly. There would be time for that later.

Sydney looked dazed. "What about Cooper?"

"Britt called the State Police, but who knows how long it'll take for them to show up. I've got to get to that kid. Now. Right now. He's the only one who knows where the accident happened. But he's out on a party boat somewhere and about to be picked up by a seaplane."

Sydney gave me a skeptical look. "Are you serious? A seaplane? On this lake?"

"If he leaves Thistledown, it'll take days to get to him and I don't think Cooper has days."

I looked around at the floats to see if there was a likely candidate of a boat to borrow. It didn't take long. I took off running onto the floats. Sydney followed right behind me.

244

"Marsh!" she called as we ran. "What are you going to do? Steal a boat?"

"Not steal, borrow. And not a boat." I stopped in front of the line of Jet Skis.

"You're kidding. Do you know how to handle one of those?" Sydney asked.

I jumped onto the nearest Jet Ski, pulled the seat up, and grabbed the key. "How hard can it be?"

I went to put the key into the ignition . . . and couldn't find it.

"I just rode one with Britt," I explained as I searched for a place to put the key. "It's simple. Like riding a motorcycle."

"You know how to ride a motorcycle?" Sydney asked skeptically.

"Well . . . no. But that's like riding a bike. And I know how to ride a bike, in case you were wondering. If I can just find the . . . the . . . where the hell is the stupid ignition?"

Sydney leaned over and yanked the key out of my hand. "Back up," she commanded.

I slid back. Sydney lifted her long leg over the seat, sat down in front of me, and had no trouble finding the ignition. A second later she powered the engine to life.

"Thank you," I said sheepishly. "Now go away."

"What are you going to do?"

"Find Cayden and stop him from leaving."

"How?"

"I don't know. One thing at a time. Go home!"

"I'm going with you."

"No, you're not."

Sydney turned around to face me. "I'm sorry I bailed on you, Marsh. I was scared. You can't blame me for that."

"I don't, but--"

"I realized if there was any chance of finding Cooper

245

alive and we didn't take it, I'd hate myself for the rest of my life."

"It's not about you."

"But it is. It's about me, and Cooper and everybody else that's been touched by this madness . . . especially you. I don't know why you're in the middle of this, Marsh, but what you've done to find Cooper has been amazing. I can't let you face this on your own anymore."

I leaned forward and hugged her. "Are you sure?" I asked. Sydney nodded. For the first time since the nightmare began, I felt as if I wasn't alone.

"He's alive, Sydney. I know it."

She pulled away from me, gave me a dazzling smile, and said, "Then let's go get him."

I wanted to cheer, but that wouldn't have been cool. Sydney turned back around to the Jet Ski controls.

"Besides," she said, all business, "you have no idea how to drive this. You need me."

The ice queen was back. Didn't bother me at all. We kicked away from the dock and drifted backward. Once we cleared the other Jet Skis, Sydney grabbed the handles and let out a simple command.

"Hang on."

She didn't wait for me to obey. Sydney gunned the throttle and we rocketed forward. If I hadn't grabbed her, I would have somersaulted off the back. Sydney wasn't concerned about safe boating rules and I was right there with her. If anything, I hoped somebody saw us flying out of the marina and called the State Police. Or the Coast Guard. Or the Marines. Or anybody else who would show up and help bring this nightmare to a close.

"Where's the party boat?" she called back.

"Keep heading north," I yelled above the whine of the powerful engine. "It'll be hard to miss."

246

Sydney made sure to put on the headlight. The last thing we wanted to do was run into anything, or have something run into us. The lake was glassy. With no boat traffic and little wind, it made skimming over the water like sailing on ice. Sydney kept the throttle wide open. I looked at the speedometer and saw that we were hovering around fifty-five miles an hour. That may not be all that fast in a car, but when you're on top of a hurtling projectile with no seat belts, it was like flying. I didn't complain. If anything, I wanted to go faster.

We were traveling for maybe ten minutes when I looked ahead to see an odd, bright light flickering in the distance. The closer we got, the bigger it grew. The one light became two, then four, then many.

"That's it!" I yelled.

The
Nellie Bell
was the only party boat that size on the lake. If there was any doubt that we had found it, we knew for sure when fireworks started shooting from the stern. They weren't your basic home-style bottle rockets either. These were full bust-out boomers that flew into the sky and exploded into huge, cascading colorful displays.

"It's good to be rich," Sydney called back.

It looked like it was a heck of a party. Too bad we were going to have to spoil it.

"Don't slow down," I called. "If they're shooting off fireworks, the party is probably going to end soon. We've got to get there before he boards the plane."

"Are you sure about this plane thing?" Sydney asked.

I looked ahead, scanning the waterline.

"Look," I said, pointing.

Sure enough, there was a dark silhouette of a seaplane floating on the surface about fifty yards off the
Nellie Bell's
port bow. It looked to be a four-seater ... the same plane I had seen flying over the drive-in theater. Its tail and wing