Locked

Chapter Five

When I wake up, it takes me a moment to remember where I am. I bolt upright. I rub my eyes to try to get a clearer picture. But then I remember. The plane crash. The beach. The tribesmen. Ed was the dream. This is reality.

“Hey.”

Noah is in the doorway. He’s cleaned up, too, and he’s dressed in loose cotton pants and a top.

He sits down on the edge of my bed, and I pull the covers up to my chest. I realize I slept with no clothes on, and I’m naked under here.

“Noah…” I start. “What’s going on?”

He puts his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry,” he says. I loop the blanket around me underneath the covers and crawl toward him. I put my hand on his shoulder. He lifts his face up to meet mine.

“Noah,” I say. “You have to tell me what you know. You have to tell me everything. I remember passing out at that river. I was sick and—”

“I couldn’t heal you,” Noah finishes. “I tried, but I couldn’t.” I see his jaw working. “Asku showed up. I know you met him. He fed you herbs, and you fell asleep. Asku asked me to go with him.” Noah’s eyes look into mine, and I see the pain there. “I didn’t have a choice. I had to trust him.”

I nod, thinking about Asku’s smile in the forest yesterday. About how readily I followed him.

“He brought us to that clearing. I laid you down—” Noah looks at my bare shoulders. I pull the covers up farther. “And then the other men were there. And—”

“Noah, you speak their language. You have powers here.”

He nods. He maneuvers himself off the bed, and I sit back against the headboard. He starts to pace. “I know it sounds crazy,” he says.

“I’m on an island in a bed with no cuts after a plane crash,” I say. “It’s going to sound crazy. I get that.”

He inhales, looks at me. “I’m just trying to figure out where to start.”

“The beginning,” I say.

He blows some air out of his lips. “My aunt had always said that my father came from somewhere else. She used to tell me these stories about an island, about his history. How he left when he was my age, and found his way to the mainland. How he met her sister and married her. My parents never said anything like this to me when I was young, but when they died and I went to live with Teresa, she said my mom used to tell her about his history. Neither one of them thought it was real.” He stops, looks at me. “You know my dad wasn’t the most reliable guy.”

I remember how Noah used to spend nights at Ed’s when we were younger. About how his mother worked and his dad would disappear for days at a time.

“What was the story?” I press on.

Noah takes a breath. “My father was a descendent of an ancient tribe of Native Americans. The Sooike. They were smart, driven by shamanism. They were the most evolved tribe in the magical arts. The legend was that they had a supreme connection to the land. That it would do things for them. It would allow them shelter where others could not find it.”

“I don’t understand,” I say. I try to read his face—I have the feeling that what isn’t in his words is written there.

“When the settlers came and forced tribes out of the Pacific Northwest, the Sooike moved to an island. They knew it was just a matter of time before their culture was forgotten, and they didn’t want that, so they called on their connection and sealed the island shut to keep out the new world. With the exception of my father’s escape—leaving, whatever—it has been sealed for over a hundred and fifty years.”