Page 23 of The Otherworld

It’s such a strange and lonely feeling, stepping into a dark, cold house. I shiver and turn on a few lamps in a small attempt to gladden the empty living room.

Lucius sprawls out on the kitchen floor with a great sigh and waits for his supper. I feed him first, then start fixing something for myself—shoving a chunk of bread in my mouth to kill my hunger pangs. The wood stove has gone out, so I forgo cooking and instead toss a variety of fresh vegetables into a wooden bowl: sweet young peppers, chopped tomatoes, strawberries, snap peas, and a few cold potatoes baked to creamy gold perfection.

I hum every song Papa ever taught me while I prepare the food, keeping myself company as best I can. But it’s not the same as having Papa here. I never noticed how much space one soul can fill.

When I sit down at the table to feast, the silence is deafening. Lucius has already passed out, and even when he is awake, our one-sided conversations aren’t exactly satisfactory.

I take Adam’s phone out of my pocket and flip it open. As much as I hate to be the bearer of bad news to poor Jack, I know I should update him on the search. I need to let him know that I tried, and that I haven’t given up.

The phone only rings once before Jack’s voice bursts through the speaker. “Did you find him?!”

My heart flinches. “No, Jack. I’m so sorry. I did look, though! I walked around the whole island and searched the coast very thoroughly. Lucius helped me too. But we didn’t find Adam.”

There is a long, sad silence; then Jack’s voice returns. “Not even… a trace of him?”

A sharp pang of sorrow clutches me. “I’m going to look again tomorrow.”

“You already looked, Orca—”

“But I didn’t search the woods! I didn’t have time. I’m going to look there tomorrow. He may have gone to find shelter—”

“He must’ve been injured in the crash. He couldn’t have gone that far.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know that!” Jack roars. “He crashed his plane, for Christ’s sake. I saw it! It looks like it went through a goddamn war, and it’s going to be a miracle if he’s alive! It’s going to be a miracle…” His anger burns off abruptly, leaving nothing but ashes of grief in his voice.

“Don’t say if, Jack.”

He remains silent.

“I promised you last night, and I’ll promise you again: if your brother is on this island, I will find him.”

A sharp inhale. He’s crying.

“And for what it’s worth,” I add, “I believe he is alive. I have a sense about it.”

“What, do you have ESP or something?” Jack questions, his voice wobbling with tears.

“ESP?”

“Extrasensory perception. Like, you know something without hearing it or seeing it.”

“Yeah,” I say, nodding. “I do. Don’t you?”

“No.”

“You don’t ever just have a feeling about something in your heart? Like a frequency that only you can hear?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes, I guess.”

“So, in your heart… do you really feel that Adam is dead?”

There is a long silence; then Jack whispers, “No.”

A weak smile touches my lips. “There. ESP.”

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