Scar Island

The boys looked back and forth among each other.

“Don’t you see?” Sebastian demanded. “How long have we all been here, besides Jonathan? Four weeks? Six weeks? Ten? And all that time, we’ve been crapped on. Cleaning. Working. Eating garbage. Kneeling on that stupid Sinner’s whatever. Sleeping with rats. All ’cause of those jerks. And now …” His eyes wandered out to the bodies behind them. “And now they’re gone. And we can enjoy this. Eat whatever we want. Whenever we want. Eat the Admiral’s chocolate. Watch his TV.”

“Use his bathroom,” Tony added thoughtfully. “I hear he’s got actual toilet paper.”

“Sleep in his big, fancy bed,” Miguel said.

“Go to bed whenever we want,” Walter chipped in.

“With a light on,” Jason squeaked.

“Thith ith crathy,” Colin interjected. “You’re all nuth.”

“Don’t be such a wussy, Colin,” Sebastian said.

“Just for a couple days,” Jonathan argued. “Like a little … vacation. A vacation from grown-ups. No punishment. No problems.”

The tall redhead, Gerald, looked up at the building around them.

“God,” he said quietly. “This place would be amazing to play hide-and-seek in.”

“There’s plenty of food,” Jonathan said.

They stood quietly, each boy wrestling with his own thoughts.

Colin shook his head and opened his mouth to speak, but Sebastian cut him off.

“We’re doing it,” he said, his voice hard and decisive. “Just for a little while.”

“But … the boat’s coming,” Francis pointed out.

Sebastian scowled and looked out at the ocean.

“We’ve still got like five minutes,” he said. “All he’s coming for is mail. Benny … do you know where the mailbag is?”

“Sure. In the staff room.”

“What about the guy, though? Won’t he notice … something?”

Jonathan shook his head. “When I got dropped off, Mr. Vander didn’t even talk to him. He stood in the shadows the whole time.”

Sebastian rubbed his chin roughly with his hand.

“But still …”

“We have Mr. Vander’s jacket and hat,” Jonathan said. “Well, we could get his jacket and hat.” Some kid in the shadows gasped, but Jonathan kept going. “And if Gerald stood on a stool or something, he’d be just as tall. Wearing that hat and jacket, back here in the shadows …”

“Let’s do it.” Sebastian’s voice was quick and bossy. “Benny, run and grab the mailbag. Gerald, stay here. Everyone else get around the corner out of sight. New kid, come with me.”

There was only a momentary pause and then everyone scrambled. Colin was the only one who stayed where he was.

“Thith ith tho thtupid,” he said to no one in particular. Sebastian grabbed him roughly by his shirt and jerked him around the corner so hard his head snapped back on his neck. He slammed him up against the stone wall. He pressed his forearm hard into Colin’s chest and leaned in close to his face.

“Don’t mess this up for the rest of us, you little jerk,” Sebastian growled. “You do, you’re dead.”

“Hey,” Jonathan said. “Take it easy, man. He’s cool.”

Sebastian snorted. “There’s nothing cool about this little dweeb,” he said.

“Come on,” Jonathan said. “Let him go. We gotta hurry.”

Sebastian gave Colin one last glare, then followed Jonathan out toward the heap of bodies. They stood together for a second, looking at the corpse of Mr. Vander lying in the middle of the pile.

“You really think we can do this, Johnny?”

“Jonathan. And it’s worth a try.”

There was no time to be queasy or delicate. Sebastian knelt down next to the tall, still form and started pulling at his long, blue coat.

“Damn! It’s buttoned! Help me, will you?”

Together they frantically yanked the buttons through their holes. Jonathan kept his eyes on his fingers and away from the dead man’s face. They did wander once, though—he saw the mouth half-open, a bit of dry gray tongue poking out, saw a raindrop roll off the forehead, saw the swirling storm above reflected in the cloudy, unfocused eyes—and he almost lost it. His breath caught, his fingers fumbled … but he blinked and looked away and kept going.

With the buttons undone, the boys started pulling the arms out of the sleeves. Mr. Vander’s arms were incredibly heavy and stiff. Sebastian and Jonathan tugged and wiggled and jerked. Mr. Vander’s head lolled and rocked from side to side, loose and floppy. Jonathan clenched his stomach and kept his eyes on his work.

“God,” Sebastian panted. “And I thought I hated this guy when he was alive!”

They got one arm loose and, with a grunting heave, they rolled Mr. Vander over onto his stomach to work on the other. His face smacked against the stone ground with a sickening thud. Sebastian grabbed the cuff of the second sleeve and gave it a swift yank like a magician whipping the tablecloth off a table full of dishes. The jacket pulled free and Sebastian fell back onto his butt in a puddle.

“Grab his hat, Johnny.”

They raced back toward the gate, Jonathan holding the hat, and the coat stuffed under Sebastian’s arm.

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