The Purgatorium

Chapter Fourteen

"What are you playing at?" Stan asked Larry.

Daphne and Pete both stepped back and stared at Stan in disbelief. Daphne's knees felt weak as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Hortense wants them brought back," Larry said.

Daphne searched Stan's eyes and was horrified by what she saw. Admission.

"Sorry, kiddo."

"How could you? Why?"

"It's not why, but what."

Pete took off running toward the beach, a wall of dust rising on the hillside. "I'll send help, Daphne!"

Larry followed but couldn't catch him. Pete reached the kayak and ran with it as far as he could before paddling to the east and out of sight.

"He won't get very far," Stan said.

Daphne pivoted and ran in the opposite direction of Pete, back toward the center of the island. Stan caught up to her before she reached the base of Sierra Blanca.

"You never hurt your ankle!" She gasped for breath and struggled to free her arm from his grip, but he held on. "It was a lie, like everything else." She hit his chest and slapped at his face, but he wouldn't let go.

"Not everything was a lie."

"I'll never believe another word you say, whoever you are!" She hit him once more before he put the gun away and pinned both arms at her sides.

"That's too bad. I hope you'll change your mind."

He pulled her back to the horse and to Larry, who stood hunched over, catching his breath.

"Please let me go." Her voice was soft. She stopped struggling. "I just want to go home."

A flock of gulls cried out above them and then disappeared beyond Sierra Blanca.

"Sorry, kiddo." He hooked his arm through hers, gripping her forearm, and walked her down the road, toward the beach, while Larry led the horse behind them. "That's not an option."

"Why? Can't you tell me what you're going to do with me?"

"I know this won't make sense to you now, but, ultimately, you'll decide."

"Whatever. Is your name even Stan?" Tears formed in her eyes.

"Yes. Yes, it is."

They hiked the serpentine trail, turning away from the beach and onto a ridge overlooking a lagoon. Daphne glanced back to see the island fox was still following them. She stuck out her tongue, not to the fox, which was as innocent as she, but to the watchers—Hortense and her lot—or whoever else might see. To make sure she was understood, she raised her free hand and shot the finger.

Larry chuckled behind her, making Daphne grit her teeth.

"I'm hungry and thirsty," she said after a while.

Stan said. "There's a little cave down at Laguna Harbor. We can rest there and eat."

"Then what?"

"It's about another half hour to the resort from there."

They followed the road down a steep incline towards a lagoon, passing an old wooden sign that read "Laguna Harbor." Here there was little sand compared to the beach at Punta Arena, mostly boulders and gravel along the shoreline, and one stretch of rock that formed jetties on the eastern side. The road then turned sharply back toward the north, up a steep hill, toward the center of the island, along a stream pouring into the lagoon from a five-foot drop. Larry led the horse to the stream above the falls for a drink, while Stan pointed the gun at Daphne and ordered her to refill the three canteens. Daphne complied, thinking only of escape.