The forest was silent and still, the hush almost expectant. Like the place was waiting for something to happen.
Jack River shivered as he stood there in the frigid morning air. He zipped up his blue hooded sweatshirt, and then mashed on through the spray of leaves and towering pines, their cold Christmas smell filling his head as they stood untouched by fall's orange fingers. The trees scratched at him as if they were scattered needles but that didn't stop him. He left the trail and pushed on, struggling through thick green undergrowth.
Jack suddenly stopped again. It was crazy, but he couldn't help feeling there was something in the forest, lurking just out of view, watching him. He looked all around him but everything remained still.
After a few seconds, the silence began to creep Jack out so he crashed on noisily, just so there was something to hear. What a lame idea, he thought as he struggled through a tangle of vines into a clearing. Been watching too many late-night movies. But he looked again for any trace of movement in the trees and bushes, just in case.
'What're you complaining for?' Jack asked himself, crossly. 'You wanted some space to yourself, remember?'
Snatches of conversations came back to him as he walked on.
His mom, pleading. 'I know you're Eighteen now, Jack, but you can go camping with your friends next year, honey. Just one more family vacation, okay?'
His dad was red-faced and scowling. 'One last family vacation. That was the deal, remember? You know this means a lot to your mom.'
His kid brother, Joe. 'You never want to hang out with me these days, Jack. You're just no fun anymore.'
His buddy Corey, shook his head in sympathy. 'So your parents are making you go on vacation with them? You sure flunked out there, man.'
Finally, himself. This morning. Stomping out of the family's holiday cabin in the Seattle hills. Slamming the door behind him. 'Seven days stuck here is going to drive me crazy!'
Jack felt a twinge of guilt. He knew his mom would be upset again. He knew his dad would be calming her down right now, telling her it was OK. He'd be spouting the usual garbage about Jack being at a 'difficult age'. That one ate at Jack. What was 'difficult' was having no time and space to himself! Hell, at eighteen he should have a little independence!
Right now, his friends would be camping out in Paris, having a real vacation. Jack was missing out on that for a week of being the obedient son.
A twig cracked underfoot, sounding like a rifle shot. Jack's heart thudded. He looked quickly around, half-expecting the sound to have brought something out of hiding.
But nothing moved.
The sun began to emerge from behind the billowy clouds overhead. Jack felt its warm touch on his skin. Pushing away his thoughts, he pressed on along a winding path. Somewhere ahead of him a welcome noise whispered into the silence: the rushing and gurgling of fast-running water.
'You'll love the river,' his father had promised him on the long drive from Boston. 'Your Grandpa and I used to make camp there when I was a kid. It's some sight.'
Jack had just yawned. 'Sure I will, Dad. A river. Awesome.'
Now, as Jack followed the sound, it grew louder and throatier. Finally, it led him into a leafy glade, drenched with sunshine. A sloping shelf of mud led down to the riverbank. White light sparkled in the clear waters speeding past. Jack smiled. 'Okay, Dad,' he said to himself. 'So maybe you were right.'
It was a pretty awesome sight. The chill had gone from the air, and the walk had left Jack hot and sweaty. The water looked too good to resist.
'But you can't go swimming there,' his dad had continued. 'The current's too strong. Drags you down into the rapids. You'd never escape,' he'd warned.
Jack hesitated, listening to the roar of the water. Now the river had dared break the silence in the forest, he felt more confident. He wouldn't swim. But he could try a little wading. It wouldn't be so bad in the shallows. Then he'd go back to the cabin and tell Dad about how the old river had worked its magic, just as it had on him and Gramps. Dad would be pleased and Mom would forget about all the arguing.
He kicked off his Nikes, stripped off, and scrambled down the bank. Maybe he'd bring Joe to the river later.
The water was dark up close. Jack drew a sharp breath, and then, keen to get the shock of the cold over with, he splashed quickly into the river.
When he was up to his middle he crouched down, whooping as the water closed over his shoulders. He grinned and shivered. Then he shut his eyes, held his nose, and sank his head beneath the shimmering surface.
It was a shame Joe wasn't here, Jack thought. He felt a pang of guilt. Joe was right: Jack hadn't had much time for him lately. He and Joe had always played this game whenever they went to the swimming pool. Sinking in the water like stones. Enjoying the weird way sound filtered through the water. Feeling the pressure in their heads. Seeing how long they could hold their breath.
Suddenly Jack heard something. A kind of muffled roaring sound, carried to him by the murky ripples of the river. At first, he thought it was just the pressure of his lungs wanting air; the dizzying rush of blood thundering in his temples. But the noise got louder – somehow angry, even threatening.
The clear water began to churn rhythmically around him. Something was approaching.
Jack burst up choking from the surface of the river. He wiped his dark hair back from his eyes, blinking rapidly as he tried to get his bearings.
The roar came again, low and guttural. Terrified, Jack groped blindly for the riverbank, tumbling forward through the water.
Something was wrong – the river was getting deeper, not shallower. At last, his eyes cleared. He was looking into the center of the river. He twisted his body around to face the bank.
Big mistake.
Towering above him on its hind legs, barring his way back to safety, was the massive bulk of a full-grown grizzly bear. Its dark fur was sleek and wet. Heavy brows were knitted over black beady eyes. Its jaws gaped wide open as it bellowed in anger. Huge arms reached out for him. Dagger-like claws scythed the air.
Jack stared around wildly for some kind of escape route. There was none. The bear roared again, powering its heavy frame through the water toward him. Jack panicked and backed away. He must've disturbed the thing digging its den ready for the winter. Wasn't that the kind of thing bears did? He tried to focus, and clear his rush of thoughts, but the water was up to his chin now. Only one fact about bears came to mind.
They eat anything.
The creature lunged forward, its huge body bearing down on him. Jack fell backward at the same moment, as the riverbed gave way beneath him. He launched into an awkward backstroke, splashing his feet up at the bear and shouting to try and scare it off.
The animal watched and snarled, but it didn't try to follow Jack out into the water.
Jack felt relief surge through his shivering body. Then he froze mid-stroke as he felt the current coiling around his arms and legs, dragging him away.
'The current's too strong,' Dad had told him. 'You would never escape.'
Jack cursed himself. The bear had only let him go because it knew these waters better than he did. Bracing himself, Jack launched into a powerful crawl, aiming for the far side of the bank. It was only fifty meters or so.
His arms windmilled until they cramped, but Jack found the bank was getting further away, not nearer. He was being tugged downriver.
'Drags you down into the rapids.'
Jack saw the huge form of the bear dwindle to a dark speck, and the glade vanish from view entirely. Then his head dipped underwater as the river picked up speed. Frantically, he kicked his legs, trying to keep afloat, but it was impossible to keep upright now. Tree branches dangled temptingly overhead. He bobbed up with arms outstretched, desperately grabbing for one. Wooden needles grazed his fingers but slipped from his grip. The sky spun crazily above him as the water whirled and foamed, dragging him under again and again. Each time Jack's head reached above water he gulped for air.
Then all the breath was slammed from his body as the current swept him into a massive rock. Choking on water, Jack realized the rapids were just getting started. He tumbled past one more huge rock, worn smooth and round. He reached for it clumsily but was going too quickly now to hold on. He was still reaching out for the boulder when he smashed his head against another. The world turned red as blood washed into his eyes. The current was dizzying, he was like a rag doll helpless in the grip of a whirlpool. Head pounding, too weak to resist any longer, Jack felt himself going down for what he was sure would be the last time …
For a few moments, Jack was sure he must be dead. The sensation began to creep cruelly back into his body. It felt like someone was holding a blowtorch to his freezing skin. His legs cramped up as if his muscles had been slammed into a vice, and he cried out. He was alive all right. Death could never hurt as much as this. A trickle of blood ran down his cheek from a cut above his eye.
He reached for his calves, trying to rub the muscles into easing off. Where was he? How long had he been lying there? Many hours. It was growing dark. The moon was full and heavy in the greying sky, like a huge boulder about to drop and crush him.
Thick mud slurped at his shoulders. He was lying in shallow waters. Further out, Jack could hear the foaming rapids.
How far down the river had he drifted? Jack surveyed the rushing water. A little way upstream, a line of stones sticking out of the water like a row of bald heads. They acted as a kind of breakwater. If he'd knocked into one and then been pushed behind the line … Yeah, that was it. The gentler current had then carried him here to the river's edge.
Jack took a deep, shuddering breath. He'd made it. He'd had an unbelievable adventure, but he'd made it. Through the pain, through the shock – or maybe because of it – Jack found himself laughing.
Until something growled behind him.
His first thought was that the bear had somehow found him again. But the growl seemed somehow … different. Too exhausted to turn around, Jack let his head fall back. He had a crazy upturned view of the gloomy riverbank, and his weary brain fought to make sense of it.
A stretch of slimy mud. A tangle of vegetation. Weird, misshapen tree roots reaching out deformed fingers. Two narrowed yellow eyes, glinting, low down in the shadows.
The eyes came closer and the shadows seemed to swallow him whole. 'How're you doing?'
Jack could barely hear the voice. He was back in the freezing water, deep down and drowning.
'C'mon, wake up, huh? Hey, what's your name?'
Why should he wake up? He knew he would start hurting all over again if he woke up; if he let himself be dragged back to life. But the water was growing warmer already, and thickening, until it felt more like blood.
Jack shook his head and moaned softly. As his body began to thaw out, he felt the pain creeping back into his muscles.
'You've been asleep for ages.'
The blackness was melting into blues and purples, a swelling bruise over his vision. Jack's body started to thud, like the echoes of a giant's footsteps were hammering on him. He felt sick. He wanted to go back into the cold, numb darkness.
Except now he knew. In the darkness, something was waiting for him …
He jolted fully awake, feeling the urge to scream – and glimpsed anxious faces he didn't recognize, watching him.
Then the darkness reached out for him again.
Jack was dimly aware of time passing. Of the moon and the sun switching places in his view outside. Of hands that spooned a bitter-tasting liquid into his dry mouth and rubbed a pungent lotion into his stinging skin.
Maybe he was in a hospital. That must be it, he decided. He had a fever and he was in the hospital.
Eventually, Jack grew bold enough to open his eyes and look around him. An almost-full moon glowed in the dark square of a window opposite him. It seemed like an accusing eye, looking in at him. Unable to meet its gaze, Jack turned away.
Through the gloom, Jack saw he was lying in a narrow bed in a narrow room. An open door led to a tiny ensuite bathroom. The only other furniture was the dark bulk of a dressing table and mirror lurking in the shadows against the wall.
The rattle of a key turning in a lock made Jack look up. He blinked as three figures entered the room: a man, a woman, and a boy around Jack's age.
'You're awake!' remarked the woman with satisfaction. 'I mean, really awake!'
Jack took in her gaunt face, framed by straight, dark hair. He didn't think he recognized her – or the others.
She came closer, out of the shadows. Her eyes were a cool blue, but her broad smile seemed warm. 'We've been worried about you, young man. Very worried.'
'Are you a nurse?' Jack croaked.
'Used to be,' the woman said briskly, peering at Jack's bandages. 'Used to be a senior nurse, at that.'
'So I'm not in a hospital?' Jack asked nervously.
'Better than that,' the woman assured him. 'You're with friends.' She fluffed up his pillow. 'Hospitals are such unhealthy places, anyway. The bigger they are, the less they care. That's not the kind of nursing I like.' She smiled at him again. 'Marcie Dane. How do you do.' She held out a hand.
'My name's Jack.' He tried to raise his hand but found it wrapped heavily in bandages. He stared at it in confusion.
'Jack,' echoed Marcie, as if she was trying the name on for size. Then she clicked her tongue sympathetically and lowered her hand. 'I'm sorry, Jack. I was only fooling with you. No handshakes for you for a while. Not for a long while.'
Jack realized that his legs and face were also swathed in bandages and dressings. He groaned, trying to panic. They had to have a very good reason for binding him.
The man stepped forward now, a faint smile on his lips. He was about forty, with close-cropped greying hair and a well-groomed beard. 'How're you feeling, son?'
'OK,' Jack said, swallowing thickly.
'Good,' said the boy. He sat on the end of the bed and grinned, running a hand through his spiky red hair. 'You've been out of it for ages.'
'Oh … was it you who was calling to me?' Jack asked.
The boy nodded. 'I'm Wes,' he informed Jack.
'And I'm Henry, Wesley's father,' the man added. 'You can call me Hal.'
'So,' asked Wes, still smiling. 'Jack what?'
'Rivers. Jack Rivers,' Jack replied and the Wes chuckled.
'Now isn't that just ironic,' he said and tapped his lap in amazement.
Marcie Dane unwrapped some fresh bandages. 'Well, Jack Rivers, you must be some swimmer to get through those rapids.
Jack winced as Marcie eased the stained dressings away from his sore knuckles. 'What happened to me? How did I get here?' He frowned. 'Where is here?'
Hal was still watching him intently. 'You're on our island.'
Jack stared back, eyes wide. 'You have your island?'
'Uh-huh,' said Wes. 'Great place to live – but it can be a drag when the causeway is flooded and you're stuck here.' He grinned, then shot a glance at his mother, as if wondering what to say next.
Marcie nodded encouragingly. 'It was lucky I found you,' Wes went on. 'You were unconscious and bleeding on the bank.'
Everyone looked at Jack solemnly, as if this had somehow been his fault.
'I think I remember … ' Jack croaked. 'There was a bear, or … ' The creature had rushed for him, jaws snapping—
Jack shuddered, unable to continue. He shook his head to try to clear it.
Wes's pale grey eyes were wide. 'We went out hunting for whatever it was,' he said. 'But there was no sign. Must have headed back to the mainland before the floods.'
'Floods?' Jack looked at him blankly.
'It's been raining heavily these past three days,' Marcie told him as she wrapped clean dressings around his arms.
Jack shut his eyes and felt his head throb as he tried to process all this information. 'I've been here three days?' he asked incredulously. 'What about my mom and dad? They must be freaking out.'
'Sorry, honey.' Marcie gave him a small, sympathetic smile. 'As Wes said, the island's cut off when the causeway is flooded. And we have no phone line here. We haven't been able to get in touch with anyone.'
'But … ' Jack struggled up in bed. 'Don't you have a cellphone?'
Hal Dane shook his head. 'Sorry, Jack. We chose this place as a retreat from the outside world. A total retreat.'
Marcie patted Jack's arm reassuringly. 'Don't worry, honey. As soon as those floods clear, we'll get you right back to your family. Promise.' She smiled again. 'And in the meantime, I'm here to make sure you get well again.'
Jack looked at his bandaged hands and wrists. 'Did an animal do this to me?'
'No,' Marcie replied. 'That was just bad luck. You got tangled up in some Belladonna.'
Jack frowned. 'I did what?'
'Deadly Nightshade,' Hal explained. 'You must've hauled yourself out of the water, pulling on the roots. Pretty toxic stuff; got in through the cuts on your hands.'
Jack let his head sink back on the pillow. 'I just don't remember,' he sighed.
Marcie placed a cool hand on his burning forehead. 'Just relax, dear. My herbal cures have been fixing you up. Better than any fancy drugs a hospital can give you.' She nodded decisively. 'And I should know, right?'
'Right,' Jack replied wearily. 'Thanks,' he added. 'Really. Thank you for looking after me.'
'The pleasure's all ours,' Marcie assured him. She looked at the others. 'Right, boys?'
Hal and Wes both smiled at him.
Jack tried to smile back, but he felt his eyelids drooping. As he gave up and let the blackness come for him again, he could feel Marcie Dane still close by, almost like a shifting shadow.