With the children following at a safe distance, Suzie’s father turned right onto the path that circled the island and headed toward Mrs. Langley’s house. But before he reached it, he turned left and headed down a path that Suzie was never allowed to walk on. Her father said it was off-limits because it only led to a large grove of trees that was full of ticks.
“Uh, oh. Aren’t we going toward the tick trees?” Oliver said. “I’m not supposed to go near them.”
“Me either, dummy,” Suzie said. "And we’re not supposed to be following my dad no matter where he goes, so hush! I’m sure he’s not going in there. He doesn’t want to get ticks, either.”
Sure enough, just before the trees, her father turned right and began heading up a small hill.
“Wait, stop,” Suzie said, reaching out her arm to block Oliver though he had already stopped dead still. “There’s nowhere to hide. Let’s stay here.”
The children waited, holding their breath, until her father disappeared from view. Then they scrambled up the hill as quickly and quietly as they could, crawling like lizards up the side and reaching the top just in time to see a door closing and lying flat again.
Suzie ran to the spot, but when she got there she could see nothing but ground.
“Now what?” Oliver whispered as Suzie knelt down, feeling along the ground for the door.
“Help me find it,” Suzie snapped. “It’s got to be here somewhere.” Then just as she moved left, the door flopped open. Oliver squealed and jumped back while Suzie froze, waiting.
“H-how did you do that?” Oliver said.
“I don’t know,” she whispered, crawling over and slowly peeking her head over the hole. Oliver hissed in protest and tried to pull her back, but she ignored him and peered inside.
“C’mon, there’s stairs!” she said, swinging her legs over and heading down.
It was cold and very dark along the stairs, so Oliver kept one hand on the wall to feel his way down, not sure how far Suzie was ahead of him. “Suzie, wait! Where are you?”
“Hush! I’m right here, dummy,” she said, reaching the end of the stairs and the beginning of a long hallway. “There’s light coming from somewhere down there. Let’s go see.”
They walked as quietly as they could toward the light, but stopped as soon as they heard voices.
“Yes, but won’t we need more zuckers?” Suzie’s father was saying.
“Of course. But first, I will need you to get me his urine,” said a strange voice, which sounded much older than her father’s.
“You’re in? What’s he mean?” Oliver whispered, peeking over Suzie’s shoulder. “Can – ow!” he stopped, feeling Suzie’s elbow in his ribs as she ordered him once again to be quiet.
“As soon as possible and as fresh as possible,” the older man was saying, and soon the children heard someone heading down the hall toward them.
“He’s coming – hide!” Suzie hissed, pulling Oliver backward down the hall. “Here, in here,” she said, crawling through a doorway.
They made it inside just in time, for suddenly the hall was bathed in soft light and seconds later they saw her father’s legs go striding by. They waited, but the other man did not follow, and soon the hall was quiet again. They waited for the light to go out again, but it didn’t. Finally sure the other man wasn’t coming down the hall, they began to glance around the room, which was now dimly lit from the hallway.
“Are these all books?” Suzie said, seeing that they were crouched in front of shelves and shelves of them. She stood up, walking closer to the books. The shelves covered the walls from floor to ceiling with only small spaces in the corners. “This is like ten times as many books as my dad has. How could you ever read all these? What are they for?”
As she got closer, Suzie was disappointed to see they all looked like the thick books her father kept that were full of boring facts and no pictures, like encyclopedias and dictionaries. But then at the end of the shelf just above her head, one caught her eye. Much shorter than the others, it also looked exactly like the diaries her father kept on a special shelf.
“Oliver, look,” she said. “Can you reach that red book there?”
Sure enough, when Oliver pulled it down and gave it to her, the handwriting on front looked very familiar.
“What’s it say?” Oliver said.
“Abigail’s log,” Suzie answered, her voice strangely soft.
“Who’s Abigail?”
Suzie traced her fingers over the letters several times until she finally answered. “My mother.”
“Wow,” Oliver said, as Suzie sat down in front of the bookshelf. Suzie never talked about her mother. All Oliver knew was that she died soon after Suzie was born.
Suzie opened the book, and Oliver sat down next to her, asking, “What’s a log?”
“I don’t know,” she said, turning the pages and struggling to read in the low light. “It looks like a diary. Listen to this: ‘Day one. As soon as I got near the island I could smell it. It is horrid.”
“What’s horrid mean?” Oliver whispered.
“I don’t know,” Suzie said, annoyed again. “It probably means extra gross, your favorite word. Shush!”
She continued reading: “At first I could not tell what the smell was coming from, because when I approached I could see nothing but dust — no trees, no buildings, no plants or animals or even people. Just dust.”
"Hey, I think she’s talking about that other island!” Suzie said, excited. “If my father won’t tell me about it, at least I can read about it!”
“Then I noticed the seagulls, the only animals I ever saw near the place. They were off to the side in one big group, circling and calling and diving. My task was to keep an eye on the people, but I couldn’t help it. I paddled closer and saw they were diving into piles of garbage. Plastic, bottle, cans, boxes … there was so much garbage you couldn’t see the sand anymore. It was so awful, I started crying — I mean, over the smell, of course.
“I think the people just drove to the edge of the cliffs and dumped their garbage over. The beach was ruined. It seemed like hours before I could paddle back.
“What does ‘drove’ mean? And where did all that stuff come from? Why did they just throw it on the beach?” Oliver said, thinking of how he walked with his mother on the beach every morning. The only thing they ever found on the sand were shells, seaweed, and crabs. “My mother says we shouldn’t take or leave anything.”
Suzie skipped forward. “Here we go: ’Day Two: I forced myself to forget about the seagulls and concentrate on my mission. After much searching I found a place that was any way hidden and could allow me to tie up my boat, and luckily I brought a stake because there was nothing at all to use otherwise. I snuck onshore and learned that the rest of the island is in as bad a shape as the beaches, except it doesn’t really smell. It’s just loud, hot and dusty…’
“Mission? She was on a mission?” Suzie said, skipping ahead several pages. “Here — ‘Day Four: Mission accomplished — I found the cornfields. And they don’t look good. There are too many plants on too little land, and it looks as if the ears are picked as soon as they grow. I don’t think it will be very long at all until they need help.’
“You know what? I think my mom was a spy!” Suzie announced proudly, gripping the sides of the book as she looked up at Oliver, her eyes shining. “I think she was spying on the people on the other island.”
“She was indeed!” said the strange voice the children heard earlier, only this time it was much louder and coming from a tall man standing over them.
“Oh, no, run!” Oliver yelled, scrambling to his feet and streaking past the man’s legs. He had barely disappeared behind them when Suzie heard a loud bonk and a smack before the top of Oliver’s head appeared on the floor near the man’s legs. Instead of into the hall, Oliver had run straight into the opposite bookshelf.
“Ah, well, that’s no good,” said the man calmly, and as he turned to look down at the boy, Suzie began to crawl toward the door. “And that’s no good, either.” he said, grabbing her shirt and pulling her to her feet. “You’re staying right here.”
The man bent down slowly until his eyes met hers and she could see he had what looked like pieces of glass perched on his nose. She could feel the warmth from his breath when he said, “You should be ashamed of yourself, Miss Suzanne. Were you really planning to leave your friend here to fend for himself?”
Suzie’s mouth dropped open. “H-how do you know my name? Wh-ho are you?”
“Your father didn’t tell you?” he said, releasing her shirt and turning to kneel next to Oliver, who was still out cold. “I am Frederick Trihuger, but you are to call me Mr. Trihuger. And I know you, and everyone else on this island, because it is mine.”
Chapter Four
Chapter Four
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