Jake Morrison's Arc

Chapter 23 of 54

The wire pen stood ready on the east dock by morning. Nine strangers were coming, and nine more mouths needed food the island didn't have. Jake walked the shore with Marcus and Sofia, planning a supply run. Then Sofia stopped at the water's edge and pointed. "That's our problem," she said. "The only dock deep enough for the boat is the broken one. Where the creature came ashore." Jake stared at the splintered planks. He remembered the thing that climbed those boards at night, and the boots he'd needed to stomp its grip loose. "We can't moor there," he said. "It came up that dock once. It'll come again." Marcus crouched and ran his hand along a cracked post. "Then we don't fix it. We arm it." He looked up. "I string wire under the waterline. Sharpen the pilings. Anything that grabs on gets cut." Sofia was already sketching on her clipboard. "We keep the boat off the deep side until it ties up," she said. "Short window. In, moor, out." They worked through the day. Marcus lashed sharpened stakes below the dock line and ran barbed wire along the pilings. Jake hauled lumber and drove nails until his arms shook. By dusk the broken dock had teeth. Sofia mapped the route: a straight run to the mainland shelter, load food and the nine survivors, back before the third night. Marcus would pilot the skiff with two others to help gather supplies. Frank came down to the dock as they finished. He'd been the one who mapped the island's weak points, and he knew this water. "You'll want to run wide of the north rocks," he said. "Then there's a wreck near the shelter shore. A yacht ran aground there a month back. Big one. Three families could sleep in that hull." Jake stopped coiling rope. A second shelter, floating and empty. "We tow it back," he said. "If it holds." Frank nodded. "It holds." Before dawn the skiff sat loaded at the armored dock. Marcus checked the motor one last time. "In and out," he said. "Nothing grabs a boat that ties up here now." Jake tested the wire under the planks with his boot. It held firm. The route was clear. The mooring was safe. The creature could come, but the dock would bite back. Marisol walked out to see him off. She held the radio against her hip. Jake pulled her close and kissed her. "Few days," he said. "We bring back food. Maybe a second home." She gripped his collar. "Be careful," she said. "Come back to me." Jake climbed into the skiff. Marcus started the motor. They pushed off the armored dock and swung toward open water, the broken dock now a weapon instead of a wound, the route to the shelter finally clear ahead.