I wanted to ask him if he was okay, but each time I looked at Stone, he was already studying me from the other side of the boat. An intense gaze under his hood flapping in the wind.
I bit my lip, tasting salt seeping into my mouth, and forced my eyes out in front of me. It was difficult to see through the fog and mist, but I kept the motor straight, hoping there was enough gas to get me to the island and back.
It wasn’t until this moment that I thought about what would happen once we arrived.
Many have talked about the abandoned island being haunted. After all these years, the lighthouse’s rotating beam still worked each night as if it were controlled by ghosts. And perhaps all towns had them, but the ghosts of Weeping Hollow were deeply rooted in all of us.
I saw the lighthouse first. Tall, black and white, and traversed through time. The tide carried us closer, and because of the rainwater and salt, the colors weren’t as sharp as they once were. The black was faded, the paint eroded—a gray compared to Stone’s eyes, but it still stood resolute and strong and the voice of danger ahead.
As we drew closer, the fog cleared, and shipwreck lay scattered among the rocks to the left of the lighthouse. I avoided the snow-capped rocks and steered the boat to shore. When the entire island came into view, Stone turned his gaze to the dreadfully enchanting landscape.
It was a winter cemetery of rotten branches hanging like black skeletons. Naked trees dashed up from shattered ground and soared high, lost in the dark, bruise-black skies. There was a quiet here, too, and I wondered if Bone Island was the birthplace of the Shadows. It seemed like the sort of place they could have been. Their home. Their womb.
The bottom of the boat hit sand, and I tossed the anchor.
Stone jumped out, soaking the pants I’d given him, and looked across the horizon. He slipped off his hood, revealing his damp hair.
I sat inside the boat for a moment longer. I wanted to look at him without him looking at me. I wanted to see him in deep thought and staring out into the horizon as he always did with quiet desperation. It was a moment between moments.
“It seems a few boats crashed into the rocks to the north,” he said.
He took a few more steps up the beach before his legs weakened and he stumbled, his arms stretched out to catch his fall.
My heart jumped into my throat as I stood to see if he was okay.
A painful groan left him, and I jumped off the side of the boat, trudging through shallow waters, over sharp rocks, and onto the shore to get to him.
“Stone!” I shouted, sand tearing at my heels as I ran across the wet beach. I collapsed at his side. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
He threw his head back with his eyes squeezed shut.
I worked fast, lifting his shirt to undress his wound to have a look.
Puss leaked from the stitches. The surrounding area was purple.
It was infected, and I felt all the color drain from my face.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He looked at me for a moment, then looked away.
“Your stubbornness is stupidity,” I mumbled under my breath, wrapping the bandage again to avoid the sand from getting in and making it worse. I peeled Stone’s hand from his side and wrapped his arm around my shoulder to help him to his feet.
Stone slowly rose, planting one boot on the sand, then the other.
Aside from the waves, there was no sound for miles.
The island was indeed abandoned.
I took his gloved hand in mine at my shoulder. “We need to get you to the lighthouse.” Stone was a slim and obstinate tower, arms braided with taut muscles, who had no choice but to lean on me. I adjusted my grip, folding our fingers together. “Only a few more steps. Just up the hill.”
Stone stayed silent at my side. He didn’t take a step, and I tried taking as much weight off him as possible.
“You don’t have a choice, Stone. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Grimacing, he lifted his gaze and peered ahead under heavy lashes. “I’m thinking that,” he began, short breaths laced with an ache between each word. “I’m ashamed of how incapable I am at the moment.” He turned his head until our eyes met. His were heavy, hooded. And when they flicked across my face, warmth rushed to my lower belly. “Not my fondest moment.”
I swallowed, needing to say something. Anything. “You’ve come this far. After everything you’ve been through, ending the story here would be a shame. You must keep going ... ‘til death.”
