“Malin, you were a surfer in your former life, right?” she said. “Take a look at the guy in the water and tell me what the weird wetsuit is all about? Something strange is going on here. I don’t think this is just some random encounter on the road.”
Malin looked through the telescope again. “You’re talking about the stripes? Yeah, I’ve seen them before. As I recall, the pattern is supposed to ward off shark attacks. I met a guy with a similar wetsuit design on the Gold Coast of Australia once. I don’t know if the pattern works or not.”
“So clearly this guy came here intending to swim the bay,” Elna said, worried now. “He knows the area. He knows the water is shark infested, and he planned accordingly. Malin, who are these people?”
“Former guests of Pasqualee Vineyard,” Malin suggested, “looking to take a break and get away from all the roaming gangs and horror?”
“I’m being serious,” Elna said.
“If they’re in uniforms,” Norman said, “these are military people. Probably on a mission.”
“Not just any military people,” Malin said. “They’re also pretty skilled. The swimmer made it. He’s reached the other side, and he’s climbing up into the drawbridge mechanism.”
Elna grabbed the telescope again and took a look, but the swimmer was already gone. Apparently, he’d crawled up into the underbelly of the service building, where the drawbridge motor was mounted. Meanwhile, across the gap, the two groups were still squaring off against each other, as if waiting for someone to make a move.
“Is there any chance they can actually get the drawbridge down?” Norman asked.
“I highly doubt it,” Elna said. “Malin and I jammed the motor during our escape from Rod’s camp.”
But then, as if to defy her words, she saw the drawbridge shudder and begin to drop.
This whole thing seems coordinated, she thought. This group came here intending to reach the island, and Rod’s men tried to stop them. But what could they possibly want that would be worth the risk to their lives?
The only thing she could think of that might be of military interest was the old abandoned base on the southwest corner of the island, but that place was little more than a dusty lighthouse and a bunch of crumbling, empty buildings. Surely there was nothing of interest there.
Elna felt a crawling unease as the bridge descended, as if she were being slowly, unavoidably exposed. There was still another drawbridge, but what would stop them from lowering that one as well?
“We can’t handle all of these people coming onto the island,” she said.
“I’m not sure we can stop them,” Malin replied. “A coordinated military operation? What are we going to do about it?”
“We’d better figure it out. They’re on their way,” she said, still peering through the telescope.
The drawbridge settled into place, and the Army group turned suddenly and fled west. One of the women scooped up the small child in passing. Others aimed handguns back in the direction of Rod’s men and fired off a few shots. The man in the striped wetsuit emerged from the belly of the drawbridge like an ejected parasite and dropped into the water. As soon as he surfaced, he began swimming fast along the base of the causeway in the direction of the next drawbridge.
“This swimmer is like an Olympian,” she said. “He’s incredibly fast in the water.”
“What do we do?” Norman said. “Should we help them? They’re being attacked. You know those folks from the militia camp are bad news.”
Elna didn’t have an answer, so she said nothing. Movement farther to the east caught her eye, and she tracked in that direction with the telescope. Just beyond the range of seeing, where the causeway disappeared into the mist, she spotted bodies moving through the haze. Soon, they emerged, and she realized it was a much bigger group of men from Rod’s camp. Many of them had rifles slung over their shoulders.
I’m not going to let Rod bring his fight to my island, Elna thought.
One of the militiamen from the new group raised a gun and pointed it at the fleeing military group. Elna saw a brief flash as he fired a shot. The sound came a split-second later, echoing out over the water.
“Are they going to come over here shooting?” Raymond Cabello said, approaching them from the end of the fishing dock. He had been quiet thus far, but when he finally spoke, Elna heard the tremor in his voice. She understood his concern. His son, Daniel, had a rare genetic disorder. The last thing the poor kid needed was a bunch of gun-wielding lunatics flooding the island.
Elna finally rose from the telescope and turned to Malin and Norman. They were staring at her fixedly, eyebrows raised.
Waiting for me to tell them what to do, she thought. Like usual. Guys, this is a little out of my depth here. I don’t have an easy answer.
Both of the men were rough and rugged these days, fully bearded. Elna thought they both looked nice with facial hair, and Malin was looking particularly handsome. He’d trimmed his beard enough to avoid the mountain man look, but the sandy-colored beard complemented his blue eyes well.
“They’re coming this way,” Malin said. “Rod’s weirdos might shoot them in the back before they reach the next drawbridge, but they’re giving it their all. It’s hard not to root for them.”
“They’re going to kill those people,” Norman said. “Even that little kid. Can’t we help them somehow?”
They’re not waiting for me to tell them what to do, Elna realized. They’ve already made up their minds. They’re waiting for my approval.
She felt a sudden surge of anxiety. It went through her whole body like a trembling heat, and she pressed a hand to her belly.
“Okay, Norman, would you go back to the guesthouse and get Dr. Ruzka?” she said, finally. “I think one of the Army
