Ex-Isle by Peter Clines (electronic reader TXT) 📕

“He’s out?”

“He’s down. Time to go no matter what.”

St. George turned and grabbed the shackle holding Ash to Barry’s thigh. He snapped it with a quick jerk of his hands, then broke Lily’s. “Come on,” he told them. “Let’s go to the other side of the cage.”

Ash looked between the two men. “Now?”

“Yeah, right now. Come on.”

Barry shuffled on his hands, turned around, pushed himself up against the opposite wall. He reached out and grabbed the bars of the cage.

“Hug each other tight,” St. George told the kids, “look that way, and keep your eyes closed, okay?” He put his back to Barry, shielding the children with his body, and put his arms up so his hands covered their faces. “Do it.”

Light and heat blasted across St. George. Arcs of power cracked up and raced along the struts and beams of the cage. The kids wailed.

The blazing light lasted a few seconds, then vanished. St. George looked over his shoulder. Smoke rippled off his leather jacket.

The far wall of the cage was gone, replaced by a hole almost six feet across. The edges of the bars still glowed dull red. One section fell off and clanged onto the steaming deck.

The sun had come back up, and it raced across the sky.

Zzzap did two fast circuits around the island and spotted the cages held out over the water. One on the bow of the container ship, closest to where he and St. George had been held. One on a fishing boat. One on the tanker.

Just over three seconds since he changed into his energy form.

He hoped the element of surprise meant he wouldn’t have to hurt anyone.

The container ship first. The cage hung three feet out past the ship’s railing, held up by a thick length of aircraft cable that ran along a short steel arm. The cable ran back through a series of heavy block and tackles and what looked like a winch. Maybe part of a small crane that had been part of the ship to start with.

The whole thing was mounted on a raised section of deck. The man and woman standing by the manual cranks were closest to the guards Madelyn had taken out. They’d be the first to hear anything if someone shouted. He recognized the woman with the slack face and sun-leathered skin. Alice, very clearly not through the looking glass. She was looking out at the ocean, twisting her head around. Probably still registering his trips around the island and what they meant.

The three children in the cage—two boys and a girl—looked at him with wide eyes as he placed his gleaming hands around the block and tackle. He inched his palms closer, and the heat swirled between them. The block glowed red. Hot enough to fuse, but not to melt the block or the cable.

A thunderclap echoed across the sea as Alice fired her shotgun. The kids screamed. Barry shuddered as the pellets melted inside him. He glanced at the kids to make sure they hadn’t caught any of the blast, but didn’t see any wounds.

He turned and deformed the barrel of Alice’s shotgun with a wave of his hand. He reached out and destroyed the man’s, too, just in case they decided to carry out their threat in a more direct way. He let off a growl of light and heat that made the two guards flinch back. Alice leaped off the raised deck and landed rough. She limped away, followed by the man.

The kids were safe for the moment.

Then he was across the island at the back end of the oil tanker. Same setup here, but with a smaller crane, thicker cable, and four kids in the cage. Three girls and a boy. Only one guard, a bearded man in a ragged Hawaiian shirt, also with a shotgun. He dropped the weapon and leaped back as the gleaming wraith appeared above his platform.

Zzzap applied heat and welded the block and tackle into a lump of metal. Two strands of the aircraft cable melted and curled apart. He flinched. No room for mistakes. Fast, but not rushed.

Once he was done, a quick brush of his fingers fused the shotgun to the tanker’s deck. The heat cooked off a round, and the guard flinched away from the thunder. “I never would’ve hurt ’em,” whimpered the man. He dropped to his knees and held up his hands. “I swear, man.”

The wraith sliced through the night sky and down to the fishing boat. This cage was on some kind of chain hoist, and an arm made from a steel pipe. Three kids, one of them a boy close to ten or eleven. No sign of a guard. He ran his hand along the links and fused about a yard of chain into a solid rod.

Footsteps came from behind him. A sagging man with a greasy Picard hairline and a thin pelt of chest hair inside his open shirt. He saw the glowing silhouette and fumbled with his weapon.

Zzzap rushed at the man, stopping a few feet away. QUICK, he yelled. Abandon ship before it’s too late!

The man turned and ran for the railing. He stopped himself after a few hasty steps, but when he turned back Zzzap had his hand up, and the air was shimmering with heat. He glanced down at his shotgun.

Just toss it overboard, said Zzzap. If I have to take care of it, there’s always a chance it could just blow up in your hands.

The man looked at the heat rippling off the wraith, then tossed the weapon over the railing.

Good job. Now go in after it.

The sagging man glanced after his shotgun. “It…it’s already sunk.”

Don’t kill the moment with details. Just jump off the boat.

“I can’t really….I’m not a good swimmer.”

Zzzap flitted out over the water and then back between the guard and the children. There’s a couple of ropes dragging in the water. You’ll be able to climb out or you can hold on until someone