“How long have you been here?” Claire asked, more gently. She had an idea of the answer. She knew it was equally likely she was wrong, but she tried her idea anyway: “Arthur?”
He began to tremble. “How do you know that name?”
“Is that you?” she asked softly. “Are you Arthur?”
“Once I was, and then I wasn’t for a very long time.” He sankonto the ground next to Jack. Picking up Jack’s hand, he stroked it like it was a kitten. Claire shuddered.
“Arthur?” Reyva whispered. “The boy who was lost in the woods like twenty years ago? Presumed dead? Subject of ghost stories? That Arthur?”
Claire nodded.
“We can’t leave Jack with him,” Mariana whispered back.
“We call for rescue, and they’ll come for us all,” Reyva whispered. “But none of us are getting saved without that phone.”
Loudly, Claire asked, “Arthur, why did you bring Jack here?”
“So it won’t take me,” Arthur said. “It doesn’t want me. Not anymore. Not if it can have better. Younger. It wants a young body, you see.”
It? What was he talking about?
He’s lost his grip, Claire thought.Lived too long alone here. But why? Why was he still here? He could have signaled for help years ago. Or built himself a raft. Or swam and hiked. In all this time, why did he never leave?
“Keep him talking,” Mariana murmured. She slid sideways, walking casually. His eyes darted toward her—she froze—and then back to Claire—and Mariana moved again.
“What do you mean?” Claire asked Arthur.
“I’m not a bad man. I don’twantto give it this boy, but you have to see I have no choice. Ican’tlet it take me again. Look at what it’s done to me!” He held up a bony arm and shook it. The flesh jiggled around his bone. “All I want is to be free. Free before I die. Free before the end.” He hummed to himself,tunelessly, as if the repetition in the phrases led into a half-forgotten song.
Free, she thought. Jack and his father had used that same word.
Claire’s eyes flickered to Mariana. She’d managed to work her way around to Arthur’s side, and he didn’t seem to be paying any attention to her. Her eyes were fixed on Jack’s bag. She’d have to roll Jack over to pull it off him, and Claire wasn’t sure Mariana could do that silently. Louder, Claire asked, “Free of what, Arthur?”
“You know. You were down there, in its cave.” He shuddered.
She didn’t know what he was talking about, but maybe she could draw his attention toward the cave and away from Mariana. Claire took a step toward the hole. “What’s in the cave, Arthur?”
“Don’t!” He darted toward her.
She stopped. “Why not? What’s down there?”
Reyva spoke up. “We were in that cave. We didn’t see anything.”
“Because it wasn’t therethen,” Arthur said. “It was in the man with the gun. But then it wasn’t.” He shouted at the mouth of the cave. “Why did you leave him? You had him! I was free!”
Behind him, Reyva said, “The man with the gun isn’t here. He killed himself out on the lake. We heard the shot.”
Eyes wide, Arthur looked at her. “Ahh... Ahh, yes, that would do it. I never could. I was never strong enough.”
She didn’t understand any of this conversation, but she didknow that Mariana almost had the backpack. Claire searched for another question to keep the wild man’s attention on them while Mariana worked on quietly wiggling one of the backpack straps off Jack’s shoulder. “Free of who?” Claire tried. “Who are you afraid of?”
But Arthur had noticed Mariana.
He snarled, pivoted, and charged at her on hands and feet.
Abandoning subtlety, Mariana yanked at the backpack. Jack rolled, pinning the other strap beneath him. Releasing the bag, she grabbed a stick, brandishing it like a weapon at Arthur. “Stop!”
He blocked Jack with his body. Spit pooled in the corners of his mouth. “What do you want?” he howled at Mariana, Reyva, and Claire. “Why do you torment me?”
