Impact

beer and took a pull. She held it toward Abbey. 'Little hair of the dog?'

Abbey shook her head, still staring at the radar. 'There's that boat again.'

'Boat? What boat?'

'There.' She pointed to a green blob on the radar screen, about half a nautical mile behind them.

'What kind of boat?'

'I dunno. A smallish one. I think it's been following us.'

'How do you know it's not some lobsterman?'

'Who'd be lobstering in this fog?' Abbey fiddled with the gain on the radar. 'I can't see shit.'

'Cut the engine,' said Jackie.

She did and they drifted, listening. 'You hear that?'

'Yeah,' Jackie said.

'That boat's been hanging on our ass for a couple of hours now.'

'Why would someone be following us?'

Abbey restarted the engine. 'To steal our treasure?'

Jackie laughed. 'Maybe your cover story was too good.'

Abbey throttled up, keeping an eye on the little green blob of the boat, waiting for it to move. But it didn't. It just stayed where it was.

She made a course for the lee end of Shark Island, going slow. It wouldn't take long to explore. It was basically a treeless hump in the middle of the ocean, with a gradual slope at one end and a steep bluff at the other, which, from a distance, gave it the appearance of a shark fin. She had never been on the island and didn't know anyone who had. The fog was so thick Abbey could barely see the bow rail.

'Damn, Abbey, you really think we'll find that meteorite?'

Abbey shrugged.

'When in doubt,' said Jackie, 'smoke some reefer.'

'No thanks.'

She went to roll one.

'We have work to do,' Abbey said in irritation. 'Can't you wait?'

'All work and no play makes Jackie a dull girl.'

Abbey sighed while Jackie scratched away at the lighter, which refused to operate in the damp air. 'I'm going below.'

They were now about half a mile from Shark. Abbey throttled down, keeping her eye on the chartplotter and sonar. There were reefs and ledges all around the island and, with a falling tide, Abbey didn't want to risk getting too close. She throttled into neutral.

'Jackie, drop anchor.'

Jackie came up, joint in hand, and looked around. 'Thickafog, as my grandfather would say.' She stuffed the roach into her pot tin, went forward, and pulled the anchor pin. 'Ready?'

'Let 'er go.'

Jackie shoved the anchor over and let it run out to the bottom. Abbey reversed the boat while Jackie played out the rode, set the anchor, and cleated it off.

Jackie came back. 'So where's the island?'

'Due south about two hundred yards. I didn't dare go in closer.'

'Two hundred yards? I ain't rowing.'

'I'll row.'

Abbey tossed into the dinghy a pick, shovel, bucket, coil of rope, a backpack with sandwiches and Cokes, as well as the usual matches, Mace, flashlights, and a canteen of water.

'What's with the pick and shovel?' asked Jackie.

'Because the meteorite's got to be here.' She tried to put some conviction into her voice. Who was she fooling? This was the story of her life, one dumb-ass idea after another.

Balancing on the gunwale, Abbey scrambled into the dinghy and set the oars in the oarlocks, while Jackie settled herself in the stern. 'You hold the compass and point,' Abbey said.

Jackie cast off and Abbey began to row. The Marea vanished in the mist. Pretty soon they passed a rock sticking above the water like a black tooth, ringed with seaweed. Another rock and another. The sea rose and fell in an oily swell. There wasn't a breath of wind. Abbey could feel the wetness of the fog collecting in her hair, on her face, running down into her clothes.

'I can see why you didn't want to bring the boat in here,' Jackie said, peering around at the rocks looming out of the fog, some standing six feet high, looking almost like human figures rising from the water. 'Creepy.'

Abbey pulled.

'We could be the first people to land on Shark Island ever,' said Jackie. 'We should plant a flag.'

Abbey kept pulling. Her heart was sinking. It was pretty much over. There wasn't going to be any meteorite.

'Hey, Abbey, I'm sorry I bitched at you back there. Even if we don't find a meteorite, we had an adventure.'

Abbey shook her head. 'I just keep thinking about what you said, how I've fucked up my life, dropping out of college. My father saved up for years to pay my tuition. Here I am, twenty years old, living at home and waitressing in Damariscotta. Loser.'

'Cut it out, Abbey.'

'I owe eight thousand dollars, and my father still has to pay.'

'Eight thousand? Wow. I didn't know that.'

'My father gets up at three thirty to set his traps, works like a dog. He raised me himself after Mom died. And here I am, stealing his boat. Why am I such a despicable daughter?'

'Parents are supposed to work their fingers to the bone for their kids. That's their job.' Jackie tried to laugh. 'Whoops, here we are.'

Abbey looked over her shoulder. The dark shape of the island rose up behind them. There was no beach, just seaweed-covered rocks in the mist.

'Prepare to get wet,' said Abbey.

The boat bumped into the closest flat rock and Abbey maneuvered it around sideways, got out, and held the painter. The swell swirled up around her legs and fell while she braced herself. Jackie tossed out the pick, shovel, and backpack and climbed out. They pulled the boat up and looked around.

It was a wild scene of desolation. A massive jumble of split granite boulders rose up before them, jammed with shattered tree trunks, wrecked fishing gear, broken buoys, and frayed rope. The rocks were white with seagull guano and above them, invisible birds wheeled and cried in angry protest.

Abbey shouldered the pack. They scrambled over the fringing scree of flotsam and climbed up the sloping rocks, finally reaching the edge of a saw grass meadow. The island angled upward toward the tip of the bluff, capped by a giant wedge of broken granite like a dolmen, deposited by the glaciers. The saw grass gave way to gooseberry bushes and wind-screwed bayberry. They reached the granite slab and walked past it, toward the bluff end of the island.

On the far side of the slab, Abbey halted, staring. 'Oh my God.'

In front of her was a fresh crater, five feet in diameter.

28

Ford followed the soldiers down the trail and found the mining camp a scene of chaos, the dust rising, soldiers fleeing and miners milling about, shocked and confused, unable to comprehend what was happening.