His voice trailed off, and he turned to face Jack. “They’re rotting down here, and they know it. Their life is slipping away from them, and there’s nothing they can do to stop it.”
“How many have you saved over the years?”
“Thirteen. I’ve lost four.”
The sadness in Mal’s eyes eased Jack’s remaining distrust of the man. He wasn’t about to tell Mal all his secrets, but this was not a bad man. The look on his face said he’d taken each of those deaths personally.
“Two were killed while they were above. One tried to make a swim for it and drowned, and the other slit her wrists.”
Jack winced at the image. “And Charlie?”
“What about her?”
Jack didn’t know how to respond or what he’d been trying to ask. And Charlie what? Is she okay? Does she do well down here? Where is Dylan’s father? Is there something between you?
But he couldn’t ask any of those questions. They were none of his business.
“She’s a fighter,” he finally said, though it didn’t fit with his opening question.
“She is,” Mal agreed, but Jack could tell he didn’t buy Jack’s piss-poor cover-up as Mal’s eyes were far more assessing when they ran over him again.
“Is the calendar accurate?” Jack asked and waved at the markings behind Mal.
“Yes.” Mal stepped to the side to allow Jack a better view of it. “I’ve been extremely diligent about marking time over the years. We need to know when the hunt is going to start, even if it didn’t matter this year.”
“How long have I been down here?”
“Almost a day.”
“Shit.” He must have been in worse shape than he realized if he slept that long. “I have to find my friends and see those boats.”
“Going above now is dangerous, and you don’t know the island well.”
“I’ll take him.”
Jack turned to find Charlie standing in the doorway. How had he not heard her approach? Because the woman moved like a ghost. He detected her lavender scent now, but the aroma of the earth muted it.
Charlie had no idea why she’d volunteered to spend more time with Jack when she should be avoiding him, but his determination to get off this island was something she admired. Everyone here talked about getting away, but as the years passed, they seemed more resigned to being trapped here until they died, even Mal.
She refused to let that happen to Dylan. Spending more time with Jack might prove disastrous, but her son dying here would be far worse. She didn’t care what she had to do; she would get Dylan off this island, and Jack was willing to take the risks that might break them free.
“It’s not a good idea,” Mal said. “What if they catch you?”
“I would never reveal anything about any of this,” she said, insulted he believed she might.
“I know,” Mal said. “But what about Dylan?”
Charlie’s heart lurched; it would destroy Dylan if he lost her. Some of her certainty about going with Jack dwindled as her eyes fell to her boots. This was a damned if she did, damned if she didn’t situation. If she went above and they caught her, she would die, and she would leave her son alone on this island to rot. If she remained hidden, then her son would eventually die here, but at least he wouldn’t do it alone.
Tears clogged her throat as she imagined Dylan here without her to protect and love him. The others loved him too, but not like she did.
But then she imagined him continuing to waste away down here. His education would never progress; he would never have the friends he deserved or marry and have children. She would be with him, but he wouldneverhave the life he deserved.
And what was she going to do; stay on this island and watch him turn into an old man and die without ever getting the chance to live?
The possibility of that made up her mind for her. Dylan would be devastated and lost without her, but shehadto give him a chance at the life he deserved. Spending more time with Jack was probably a bad idea, but she’d walk through the fires of Hell for Dylan. She could andwouldkeep her libido in check.
“I can’t let Dylan die here, Mal. I just can’t,” she said.
