Isle Royale Part 7

Fearing to venture into this bizarre landscape, the two crouched together at the edge of the clearing. Using a large boulder as partial shelter against the wind, they took a moment to catch their breath. Ian stared at the steel beams, pondering them. Finally, something clicked in his mind.

"The old lighthouse," he declared. "We're at Sandy Point. Or what's left of it."

A wave crashed down on the craggy sh.o.r.e, showering the two teenagers with cold spray. They huddled closer, trying to shield each other from the wind.

"Think we lost him?" asked Sally, nodding back toward the black woods. They held their breath and listened for a minute, but heard only the wind and waves fighting each other; no crashing noises could be heard from the forest behind them.

"Maybe," Ian said at last. "I think we can rest a while, anyway. Then we should try to double back home."

Shivering from fright and fatigue, Sally tried taking her mind off her aching feet by surveying the clearing in front of them. She found it hard to believe that a lighthouse once stood on this spot. "There's nothing left but support beams," she said with awe. "How on earth did the lightkeeper survive that storm that day?"

"He left his post," Ian said, contempt edging into his voice. "He was drinking up in the woods when the wave hit. Wiped the rock clean. It took the lighthouse, his family, everything."

"Must be why he killed himself."

"They say his ghost still haunts the sh.o.r.e, looking for his lost family."

Sally hesitated a moment, as if deciding whether or not to divulge a secret. She bit her lower lip, then whispered, "I saw the green lights once, from offsh.o.r.e on my boat."

"Me, too!" Ian exclaimed. On clear days, when Ian repelled down the cliffs at Wolf Point, he could see the remains of the old lighthouse, which was situated farther north up the coast of Isle Royale. One evening, at dusk, Ian saw tiny green lights darting through the woods. They had flickered in and out like fireflies, or elves running along the forest floor with little green lamps. "How come you never said anything before?"

"I didn't want you to think I was crazy."

"I already know you're crazy, Sal. That's why I like you."

Sally grinned and punched him on the arm.

"Ouch!" he said, rubbing his muscle. "I don't think the lights are ghosts, though. I think somebody's roaming around here, scaring people off."

"Baloney. Why would anyone do that?"

"Maybe they've got hidden treasure or something." Ian shivered against the cold. The clearing was a barren, windswept place. Nothing moved on the granite sh.o.r.e except leaves blowing madly about.

Ian thought a moment, then said, "But whoever's out here, maybe they can help us."

Sally thought a moment, considering this. "Could be," she said carefully. "But we have to find them first."

"Right." Ian squeezed Sally's hand, then stood up. "Stay here a minute, Sal. I just want a closer look. Then we'll go."

Sally immediately stood up. "You're not leaving me here alone," she said, pointing back the way they came. "Not with that thing in the woods."

"Okay. Come on, then."

They cautiously moved into the clearing, with Ian leading the way. They'd taken no more than a few steps when the heavens finally opened up. Sheets of stinging rain fell on them, and the wind increased in ferocity.

Ian pulled up the collar of his mackintosh, then walked to the middle of the roughly circular array of steel beams. He grabbed a beam with both hands and tried bending the twisted metal, but it was as solid as the granite from which it emerged. "Imagine the force that ripped this down," Ian called out.

Sally, who was busy picking around the compound, looking for artifacts, looked up in alarm. "Don't touch those beams," she warned.

"Why not?" As if in answer, a lightning bolt crackled across the sky, lighting up the clearing again. Ian jumped back away from the beam, his eyes wide with realization.

Sally frowned, then continued her scavenger hunt. She noticed something sticking up out of the thin soil and bent down. She sc.r.a.ped away the dirt with her fingers, then pried loose the remains of a child's doll. She inspected the unfortunate toy. It was torn to ribbons, its ceramic head crushed and hanging by a thread. "Let's get out of here," she said, tossing the doll aside. "This place gives me the creeps."

Ian began picking his way back toward her. Suddenly, as lightning crashed overhead, the thug Tiny emerged from behind a steel beam. An evil grin was spread over his stupid, gargantuan face. Ian jumped back and twisted away, trying to scramble back into the woods. As he spun, his shoe slipped on the slick granite. He lost his balance only for a moment, but that was enough for Tiny to strike. With surprising speed for such a behemoth, the thug reached out and snared Ian, then put him in a giant bear hug, lifting him completely off his feet.

Ian cried out in pain. He felt his ribs compressing inward, nearly snapping, as they pressed on his lungs. He felt the breath being squeezed right out of him. His legs thrashed and kicked uselessly. He managed to wriggle an arm free, made a fist and hurled it up and back, smashing Tiny's face. But the attempt was futile; it was like hitting a brick wall.

From the other side of the clearing, Sally couldn't see the attack. The wind and rain obscured her vision, and the constant crashing of the nearby surf drowned out all other noise. Finally, another lightning strike lit up the compound. In horror, Sally saw Ian in the grasp of the giant thug, kicking and fighting for his life.

"Ian!" she screamed, then took three steps forward. That was as far as she got.

At that moment, the lake threw up a colossal wave. It crashed onto sh.o.r.e, foaming and slithering up the granite like the tentacles of some huge sea creature. Sally lost sight of Ian and Tiny behind a sheet of white, blistering cold water. "No!" she screamed, as the water swirled up to her knees.

When the wave slammed into them, Tiny instantly lost his grip on Ian. They both went underwater a moment, then popped back up, sputtering and gasping for breath. When the wave receded, it pulled them out toward the open lake with a terrible force. Ian threw his arms out and flailed, desperately searching for anything to hold onto. As he was swept along the rocks, his right arm b.u.mped into one of the steel beams sticking out of the ground. He gripped it hard, then hung on with all his might.

The wave rushed past Ian, roaring in his ears like a freight train. Then he felt Tiny gripping his left shoulder, desperately trying to stop his descent into the water. Ian craned his neck and bit Tiny's hand hard. The big man jerked back and was instantly swept away. Ian looked back and saw a look of amazement on the thug's face just before he tumbled away, screaming, as the wave swept him over the granite and out into the lake.

Sally staggered forward through the now-ankle-deep water, which still foamed and boiled on the rocks. She found Ian clinging to the beam, completely drenched and quaking with fear. She rushed over and put an arm around him, then pried him from the beam and helped him to his feet.

"Too close," Ian gasped as he tried straightening his gnarled fingers.

"You need dry clothes or you'll catch your death."

Already, Ian was shivering uncontrollably. Sally kept her arm around him, trying to shield him from the wind. As they stumbled away toward the woods, she craned her neck back, searching the sh.o.r.e. Waves smashed against the rocks, but there was no sign of the unlucky thug. It was as if the lake had swallowed him whole, like he'd never existed. Sally turned back and then saw a look of shock on Ian's face.

"Sal, look!" Ian pointed toward the woods not far from the clearing. An eerie green light moved through the trees, darting this way and that.

Sally's eyes went wide. "The ghost!"

"That's no ghost. Come on!"

They rushed for the woods in pursuit. Ian slipped on the wet granite and sc.r.a.ped his already raw knees. "Hurry," he shouted, scrambling to his feet. "We'll lose him!"

"Like h.e.l.l!" Sally shouted.

The pair dashed headlong into the forest in pursuit of the green light, which now moved rapidly away from them. Sally led the way, stumbling and tripping through the dark, dense foliage. With teeth gritted and a snarl on her lips, she held an arm in front of her to protect against whipping branches and bushes.

As the woods rushed by on either side of her, Sally had a vague, uneasy feeling that she was running through a funnel that got narrower and narrower with each step she took, as if she was running into a tightening snare. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the thrill of the chase drowning out all thoughts of caution. A tiny voice inside her head told her to slow down, but she disregarded it, instead redoubling her effort to catch whoever it was that had been spying on them.

Just when she was on the verge of catching up to the light, and whatever dark shape had hold of it, a gust of wind tugged at her, nearly stopping her in her tracks. She heard trees overhead groaning and snapping from the blast. The noise shocked her out of her single-minded frenzy, and she stopped. It was then she realized she was all alone.

"Ian?" she called out. The green light rushed on ahead of her, then vanished. Sally backed up slowly, scanning the darkness surrounding her. Her wet hair fell in her face, obscuring her vision. She brushed it aside, trying to get her bearings.

Suddenly, something caught hold of her arm. A surge of adrenaline-fueled panic rushed through her like a jolt of electricity. She jerked around, still held tight. Lightning flared overhead, revealing a large, dark shape looming over her. Sally screamed, nearly as loud as the thunder clapping overhead.

"Sal, it's alright!" came a voice. Sally thrashed and screamed again, trying desperately to free herself. "It's alright!" the voice repeated.

Ian was suddenly at her side, freeing her arm from a tree branch that had snagged her coat. "It's alright," he said yet again. "It's just a tree branch. Jeez."

Sally stepped back away from the tree, staring first at it, then back to Ian, who looked at her with a worried expression on his face. "You okay?" he said.

Trembling from the cold and excitement, Sally put her head against Ian's shoulder. "I thought..." she stammered, "the ghost." She sighed. "I'm so stupid."

Ian put his arm around her. "It's okay, Sal. These woods can give anyone the creeps."

Ian opened his coat and hunched down, forming a makeshift tent, shelter from the wind and rain. They huddled there a moment, catching their breath. The wind roared through the trees overhead.

After a few minutes, Ian said, "Whoever was carrying that light is long gone. Let's try to get back home."

"Okay," said Sally, rising to her feet. "No more ghost hunting."

They fled in the storm, heading back for the lighthouse.

In a thicket of dense foliage, a pair of aged hands sheltered a green lantern. Nearby, through the trees, the figures of Ian and Sally pa.s.sed by, then receded in the distance. A soft chuckle mingled with the sound of rain pelting the trees.

The hands gripped the lamp, then rose up and away, leaving only the wind and surf to pound the island mercilessly.

Chapter Fourteen.

The storm that had lashed Isle Royale with such fury backed off, like a predator retreating to a.s.sess its prey. The wind grew weaker, but blew steady. The rains let up, reduced now to a drizzle. But the storm was far from over; on the horizon, lightning flashed across the sky, foretelling more violence to come.

The lighthouse at Wolf Point stood sentinel, its revolving beacon shining brilliantly, cutting through the low-flying clouds like a bright sword. Under its protective gaze, LeBeck and Collene walked alone across the compound, ignoring the light rain that fell over them.

After Clarence had fled back to his post, LeBeck ordered his men to clear the compound, threatening severe punishment to any man who dared break the mood of his planned reunion with Collene. When he'd seen her there, standing on the porch in her shimmering white dress, everything came flooding back to him, all the memories and emotions of a love affair stopped cold before its time. He nearly lost control; he felt his lower lip tremble, his eyes filling with tears. Only the knowledge that his men were watching forced him to keep his composure. To LeBeck, control was everything. Control meant power. His men looked to him for leadership, and he gave it to them with a mixture of greed, brutality, and most of all, fear. To see their leader weeping like a child definitely would not instill fear and loathing.

But there she was now, the only woman he'd ever loved, the one that should have been his, but was someone else's because of his own stupidity and weakness. It was as if a veil had been lifted from his eyes. Suddenly, he knew what was important in his life, and his past mistakes became crystal clear, monumental in their extent. Any hesitation he'd had about coming to the island was cast aside-he had to win her back, at any cost.

They walked quietly up the lawn, not saying a word. Collene's white dress fluttered in the wind. Just feeling her there at his side, LeBeck knew he'd finally found a missing piece of the puzzle that was his life, like he'd returned to his true home after all these years. He felt victorious already. LeBeck smiled inwardly.

Collene spoke first, her voice quiet and tentative, her Scottish lilt music to LeBeck's ears. "No one was more surprised than me when you went off to the war, Jean."

LeBeck winced. He didn't want to talk about why he'd left her without saying good-bye, why he hadn't resisted the draft, or perhaps even fled Canada and hidden out in the northwoods of Minnesota until after the war. But most of all, he didn't want to talk about abandoning her after the war, running around Europe with his smuggler friends and leaving her, even encouraging her, to marry Clarence instead of him. He was younger then, more foolish. And the war had changed him, too, teaching him how cheap and disposable life could be. To make it in this world, LeBeck knew, you had to take what you wanted and not look back. And right now, all LeBeck wanted was Collene.

He hesitated, calculating the proper response. "The war," he said softly, "opened my eyes to the world, Collene. It made me realize what's really important."

"And what would that be?"

"You, of course."

They stopped on the wet lawn. Collene tenderly grasped LeBeck's hook hand and held it up, examining it sadly. "Your beautiful hand," she whispered. "I'm so sorry, Jean."

LeBeck s.n.a.t.c.hed his hook back, embarra.s.sed. "I almost died that day. Should have died."

The rains began falling again. Caught by surprise, the pair ran laughing toward a toolshed at edge of the clearing, halfway between the houses and the lighthouse. They found shelter under the roof's overhang, blending into the shadows.

So far so good, thought LeBeck. By the end of the evening, she'll be mine.

Chapter Fifteen.

Ian and Sally crept through the forest, their bodies tugging against the wind. Ian shivered uncontrollably, his clothes still soaking wet under the mackintosh. He knew he had to find something dry to wear, and soon.

After leaving the ruins at Sandy Point, Sally had pointed out that it would be better for them to get home by sneaking up from behind, rather than risk the coastal route and the narrow path in back of the cliff. So they went inland, climbing a narrow ridge that afforded them a good view of the surrounding area. They rested a few minutes after the steep climb, got their bearings, then headed south, following the top of the ridge, which they knew would eventually take them almost directly to the lighthouse. Occasionally they were able to follow old moose trails, which made the going a little easier, even if they did meander a bit.

Still, it was rough going. After an hour of walking steadily through the forest, the bottoms of Ian and Sally's feet were bruised and sore from stepping on tree roots and exposed rocks. The thick foliage was constantly slapping at their faces and hands. And even though the rains had let up, the ground cover was still laden with moisture, which never gave their soaked pants and shoes a chance to dry out.

Just when he thought they'd never get out of the woods, Ian saw the lighthouse compound just ahead. They approached at a half trot, eager to be home, but knowing full well that danger would most likely be there to greet them. They paused at the edge of the clearing.

"Look there," said Sally, pointing across the lawn. The rains were coming down hard again, but through the deluge Ian could make out his mother and Jean LeBeck moving together into the shadows near the toolshed.

"Mom!" he cried. He started to dart away, but Sally grabbed his arm and pulled him down, gesturing. Ian looked where she was pointing and saw a thug with a Tommy gun standing near the porch of his house.

"We should sneak around back to the lighthouse," he said. "We need my dad."

"How do you know he's there?"

"If he's not up there on a night like this, then I don't want to think about what happened to him."

They crept quietly through the woods, parallel to the compound, trying to reach the lighthouse at the edge of the cliff without being seen. They managed to avoid several thugs stationed on the lawn's perimeter. Most were idly standing around, huddled against the storm. One man, amazingly, sat snoring in a chair, totally oblivious to the rain pelting his face.

As Ian and Sally moved just behind the tool shed, they heard LeBeck and Collene in m.u.f.fled conversation. Then Ian heard something that curdled his blood: the sound of LeBeck and his mother laughing. He felt Sally grip his arm. He looked over at her and saw a worried expression on her face. She pursed her lips and shook her head.

Under the eaves of the toolshed, LeBeck stood sheltering Collene from the wind. Collene, her back to the wall of the locked-up shed, struggled to keep LeBeck from getting too close, too intimate.

"Jean," she said, "remember when we went to the beach together on Sunday afternoons, the three of us?"

LeBeck cracked a smile. "Of course. Those were good days. A long, long time ago."

"You were always going on about becoming a sea captain, seeing the world. What happened to your dream, Jean?"

LeBeck blinked, surprised at this line of questioning. "Dreams have a way of thinning out, like the fog. Of all people, you must know that, Collene."

"But I'm livin' my dream, Jean," she said, as if this must have been incredibly obvious to anyone remotely observant. "I'm happy here. I really am. Clarence is a good man. And I love my boy." She looked up into his eyes, her stare boring directly into his soul. "It's wonderful to see you again, Jean, but I really wish you hadn't come."

LeBeck blinked once, then stood there, silent. He was stunned, as if an artillery sh.e.l.l had landed directly on his head. His eye started twitching, a nervous tick that hadn't plagued him since the war. He took a step back, into the downpour, and saw raindrops falling and splashing off his gleaming hook.