After a long and treacherous crossing, Grace found herself at the end of the breakwater. Crouching low and placing her free hand on the boulder to balance herself, she gently hopped to the stoney shore. Rocks crunched underfoot as she trudged up to the cliff face before her. Craning her neck, she estimated it to be about a twenty foot climb.
The shore on this side of Breakwater Point was small compared to the size of the island at large. A tiny, rocky beach was what the breakwater terminated at, but this side of the island was dominated by an almost sheer cliff. The slope on the opposite side of the island was far gentler, but was inaccessible by foot.
Aaron marched up behind her, basket in tow, with Cliff a short distance behind. Together they stared at the cliff ahead of them. There was no sign of the rope ladder they’d expected.
As was his custom, Aaron was the first to speak up. “Cliff,” he addressed his friend, “You’ve been here before, right?”
“Yeah, a couple of times,” Cliff nodded in the affirmative.
“Me too,” Aaron remarked, “But when I was here there was a ladder left behind so that people could get up here.”
“There should be one,” Cliff agreed, “But I don’t see it anywhere.”
Grace squinted up at the summit of the cliff. “I think I see it,” she declared.
Following her gaze, Aaron and Cliff looked up the cliff. Sure enough, they could make out an object above them. It was hard to tell exactly, but it may well have been a part of the rope ladder. It also could have been an overturned stone for all they could tell from this angle.
“Last bunch of partygoers must have taken it up after them,” Cliff assessed.
“And then what? How did they get back down?” Aaron asked.
“I don’t know,” Cliff shrugged, “Maybe one of their friends picked them up in a boat. It’s a lot easier to get up and down the other side.”
“No kidding,” Grace agreed despite never having set foot on the island before, “There’s no way we’re getting up there with our guns and food without the ladder.”
Aaron scratched his head, “So what are we supposed to do? Try the other side?”
“Yeah, okay,” Cliff laughed sarcastically, “I’ll hold your stuff while you swim around.”
Eyeballing the icy water gave Aaron the shivers. The conditions were positively stormy now, and he wasn’t sure he was physically capable of swimming around if the water wasn’t frigid.
“No thanks,” he told Cliff meekly.
Cliff looked over his shoulder. “Maybe we should go back to the shore,” he thought aloud, “Come up with a new plan, find a new place to hide out.”
“And become zombie chow? No thanks,” Grace disagreed as she offered her rifle to Cliff, “Hold my gun. I’m going to climb up there.”
Taking the gun, Cliff gave the cliff face another look, “Are you sure you want to do that? It doesn’t look totally safe, maybe I can go up ahead.”
Grace glared at Cliff and spat, “You don’t think I can do it because I’m a woman, is that it?”
“You think I must be sexist because I’m black,” Cliff retorted.
“Touché,” Grace smiled and any animosity vanished in an instant. “I’m still going to climb up there though. My gym has a rock wall.”
Cliff nodded and watched Grace approach the rock face. He didn’t know the first thing about rock climbing, but he was glad somebody did. The last thing he needed was to fall and break his legs. Looking back at the half obscured object on top of the cliff, he desperately wished it was the ladder they were looking for. If it wasn’t there, he wasn’t sure what they’d do.
Feigning nonchalance, Grace cracked her knuckles before looking for her first handhold. The idea of climbing without a rope made her uncomfortable. Gym rules strictly forbade it, so she’d never attempted it before. Come to think of it, this was also the first time she’d tried to climb a natural face as well. She wouldn’t have the bright coloured fake stone outcroppings to guide her up.
Shaking her head, she tried to clear her mind. Reaching up, she seized her first handhold. The rock was freezing cold, but she ignored it. She’d simply hurry up the face before the numbness set in and it wouldn’t be a problem. Reaching out for another hold, she slowly crawled up the cliff.
Grace was well on her way up the cliff when Aaron thought he might do well to encourage her. “Don’t fall,” he shouted after her.
Careful not to lose her grip, Grace turned in place to glare at Aaron. Even from a considerable distance, her gaze was potent. Aaron gulped and stared at his shoes.
Hand over hand she climbed. The stone was slippery, and she was careful to test her grip with each handhold and foothold. Twice she slipped after reaching for a crag, but she held firm to the cliff. Finally, panting from the exertion, she pulled herself up over the edge.
Struggling to stand on shaky legs, Grace rose to her feet. Looking about, she quickly found the object they had seen from the stoney shore below. Sure enough, it was a rope ladder. Constructed from a thick, braided rope, the ladder had wooden rungs spaced every foot or so apart. The last person up the cliff must have pulled it up after them and left it in a neat bundle. It was anchored in place with a piece of rebar driven into the ground. Grace reached down to the piece of steel and shook it to test its integrity. It wouldn’t budge, and she was hopeful it would hold her friends’ weight. Scooping up the ladder, she unbundled it and threw it over the precipice.
Cliff regarded the rope ladder. “I don’t know if it can hold our weight together. We should do this one at a time,” he assessed.
Aaron nodded, and hoisted the basket of goods over his shoulder. Reaching out for the ladder, he began to climb awkwardly with his one free hand. He was forced to let go of the rope each time he reached for a higher rung. He was only three feet off the ground when his burden unbalanced him. Dropping the basket as he fell backwards, Aaron flailed wildly with both arms as he tried to claw his way to a handhold. He fell heavily on his behind.
“Fuck,” he complained as he rubbed his butt, “That hurt.”
“Are you okay, buddy?” Cliff checked after his friend’s well being.
“Yeah,” Aaron decided as he climbed to his feet, “It’s going to be one hell of a bruise though.”
Grace peered over the side. “Did somebody fall? Are you guys okay?” she hollered down below.
“We’re fine,” Cliff shouted an explanation, “Aaron fell on his ass is all.”
Above them, they could hear Grace’s laughter. She was making no attempt to hide her amusement. Aaron reddened and looked away.
“Try climbing up again,” Cliff suggested, “But leave the food with me.”
Aaron was confused, and told his friend so, “But if we leave the food here, it won’t do us any good.”
“We’re not leaving it here,” Cliff explained, “We’ll tie it to the ladder and pull it up after us.”
“Oh,” Aaron noted as he rubbed his sore backside, “That would’ve been the clever thing to do.”
Once more, Aaron attempted to scale the cliff. This time, being unburdened, he climbed hand over hand with the agility of a monkey. He was standing with Grace after a few short moments.
“What gives?” she asked as he climbed to his feet, “Where’s all the food?”
“We’re going to pull it up with the ladder,” he let Grace in on the plan, “So I don’t fall off the cliff and die.”
“Okay,” Grace had to admit, “That’s a good idea.”
Down below, Cliff laid down the shotgun and rifle to get his hands free. He tied off the basket with the tail end of the rope ladder. Then, taking up Grace’s rifle under his arm, he climbed the ladder. It was difficult to keep hold of the gun, but at least he had both of his hands relatively free. He’d reach up with his free arm, then step up until his pinned arm was in line with the rung he’d reached to. It let him climb at a slow, halting pace, but it only took a few minutes to scale the rock face. When he made it to the top, he handed the rifle to its owner.
“Thanks,” Grace said as she took up the offered firearm, “Don’t forget your shotgun now.”
Cliff threw his hands up and exclaimed, “Geez, leave your weapon behind three times, and suddenly everybody’s making a fuss!”
While Cliff returned down to the beach, Grace and Aaron decided to explore the island. They were on the side nearer the lighthouse, which was a vast structure that stretched high above their heads. It was a wooden construction, which had once been painted mostly white with a red flourish at the summit. The paint had long since begin to peel, and great flakes and chips had been gouged out by the elements.
Apart from a lonely apple tree, the only other feature that dominated the island was the lighthouse keeper’s home. Like the lighthouse itself, the home had been abandoned, although more recently than the lighthouse itself was shut down. The keeper had stubbornly refused to leave the island, where his family had lived for many generations since the lighthouse was first constructed. After his death in the early 2000’s, the place had finally been given up.
The house was a small wooden bungalow. At one point, it had been green, although like the lighthouse itself, the paint had long since begun to peel. The windows had wooden shutters pulled over them and bolted fast. A brick chimney held fast to the side of the home, and had miraculously not crumbled to the elements. On the opposite side, a store of firewood was sheltered from the weather by a squat wooden lean-to. A stump for splitting wood was nearby, but there was no sign of an axe.
“So,” Grace asked, “Is it better to hole up in the tower, or the house?”
“The house,” Aaron explained as he pointed up at the chimney, “It’s got a fireplace, and I don’t know about you, but I’m colder than tits.”
Cliff had just climbed back up to their level. “Why don’t you guys see if you can find a way inside,” he suggested as he set down his shotgun and started pulling in the ladder, “I’m going to have the food up here in a minute or so.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Aaron agreed, thankful that he didn’t have to carry the heavy basket of food anymore.
Together Grace and Aaron walked up to the front door. Marching up a few short steps, Grace tried the door. To their disappointment, it was locked.
“That’s weird,” Aaron remarked, “I’ve never been here before and found the place locked up.”
“Maybe the last time there was a party here, one of their people locked the door?” she suggested.
“But then how did they get out?” Aaron retorted.
Grace shrugged. “Is there a back door?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah, there is,” Aaron reflected sheepishly, “That’d make sense.”
They hopped off the step and went around the building. A modest porch was on the back of the house, and they climbed up the steps to try this door. To their surprise, this one was locked too.
“What the hell?” Aaron asked, “How can this place be locked up? It’s been abandoned for years.”
“So it’s safe to say nobody has a key still,” Grace thought aloud.
“It just doesn’t make sense,” Aaron puzzled.
“Maybe the last people here wanted this to be their private hangout,” Grace reasoned, “Locked up after themselves, then climbed out a window. How about we split up and try all the windows. There’s got to be one that’s open.”
Aaron nodded, and they set off in opposite directions around the house. Each window was shuttered, and locked fast. Disappointed, the two met by the front door again. Grace looked up and saw one more window. There must have been a bedroom on the second floor, or maybe it was just the attic. Regardless, the shutter was closed, but it was impossible to tell if it was locked or not.
Following Grace’s gaze, Aaron put two and two together. “Oh no,” he insisted, “I’m not climbing up there. Last time I climbed in through a window, there was a zombie in my face.”
“So we’ll break in the front door,” Grace decided.
“Oh yeah? How are we going to manage that?” Aaron asked.
Without a word, Grace reached into her coat pocket and retrieved her wallet. She pulled a small case from within. Opening it up, Aaron saw it was a lockpicking set.
“Holy shit,” he remarked, “You have a lockpick? Are you a burglar and never told us?”
Grace laughed, “No, just a hobby. You know how some people juggle? I thought I’d take this up.”
“Oh,” Aaron fought to hide his disappointment, “But you do know how to pick a lock?”
“Not exactly,” Grace admitted, “I just bought these yesterday and haven’t had a chance to try them out yet.”
Kneeling in front of the lock, Grace set to work. She selected a pair of tools from her case and inserted these in the lock. Wiggling and probing, she tried to get the lock to turn.
“So what’s the appeal?” Aaron asked.
“Huh?” Grace was focused on the lock before her, and had already tuned Aaron out.
“Why do you want to pick locks? I don’t get it.”
“Oh, well, it’s like a puzzle I guess. You try to get the tumblers into position and then open the thing up. It’s a challenge, and some people find that soothing.”
“I see,” Aaron still didn’t get it, “Well, as long as you’re having fun I guess.”
A few minutes later, Grace was not having fun. She’d started cursing at the lock, which refused to turn for her.
“So much for soothing,” Aaron said to himself.
Cliff walked up to the house, gun in hand and food in tow. “What’s going on here? Why aren’t we inside?” he asked.
“The whole place is locked up,” Aaron explained.
“Weird,” remarked Cliff.
“No kidding,” Aaron agreed, “Grace is picking the lock open.”
Cliff was surprised, “Really? Grace knows how to pick locks?”
“Fucking piece of shit!” Grace shouted at the door.
“I don’t think so,” Aaron answered.
“Get away from the door,” Cliff instructed.
Reluctantly, Grace gave up and stepped back. Aaron got behind Cliff as he let go of their provisions and levelled the shotgun at the door. Aiming for the lock, he squeezed the trigger. Thunder erupted from the shotgun, and the sheer force of the buckshot punched the lock through the door. On noisy hinges the door creaked open.
“I’ve got your lockpick right here,” Cliff remarked as he ejected the spent shell casing from his gun, “I call it a shotgun.”
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