“Yes,” Sarah said. Robby only finished her sentences when he was preoccupied or stressed. He knew she hated it when he did that. She’d only needed to tell him a couple of times—it made her feel transparent.
When Robby was smaller, Sarah thought he was psychic. He always knew what she and Sam were thinking. Eventually, they came to believe Robby was just good at deduction, and Robby learned when he finished too many sentences he made people uncomfortable.
This time, Robby guessed Sarah and Sam had discussed going to the school to see if they could find any other people. It would be a tough trip to get over the hill without a plow, and it was in the opposite direction from the docks, but it was a common gathering place during emergencies and power outages. The three deckhands might have made their way up to the school. Even though the main entrance would be locked, all the islanders knew you could get in through the attached Lion’s Club banquet hall, as long as none of the Lion’s were there to question you.
“Do you think we’ll find anyone there?” Sarah asked Robby.
Robby turned his sandwich around, so he could take a bite out of the side that was starting to bust apart. “No,” he said.
“Why not?” she asked.
“We’ve lost half our people, and we were pretty sure something bad was going on, so we were pretty careful. They probably never guessed anything was happening, so I bet they’re all gone,” he said. “Some of the people would have panicked and tried to run, too.”
Sarah wondered if Robby was right. When he didn’t have enough information to form an opinion, Robby always kept his mouth shut. A thorough answer from him usually meant a correct answer.
“So you don’t think we should bother going over there?” she asked.
“No, I understand why we have to,” he said. “Like you said—some things you do just because they’re the right thing to do.”
Sarah couldn’t remember when or why she’d said that, but she was pleased Robby remembered. Robby finished off his sandwich and Sarah gathered the last supplies. They switched on their flashlights and blew out the candles.
“Put your plate in the dishwasher,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because I’m not coming back to find a house full of mice,” she said.
“Oh,” Robby said. He put his plate in the empty dishwasher and closed the door until it clicked.
“Do you want anything from upstairs before we go? Any of your things? If you do, I’ll go with you,” Sarah said.
Robby thought for a second. He knew his mom packed some of his clothes, and all his winter gear was in the mudroom. He could fill his pockets with his things, but that was almost like admitting he didn’t think they’d ever come back to this house.
“No, I’m okay,” Robby said. He wanted to be like his mom. He wanted to believe they would all return some day to their normal island life, with all their possessions intact. All they would need to do is run the dishwasher, and everything would be back to normal.
His mom took the driver’s seat and Robby got in the back of the Jeep. She started it up to get it warm, but they sat in the dim garage—lit only by the running lights of the Jeep. Their house had been in Sam’s family for three generations, and was one of few with an attached garage. Most of the islanders barely needed a vehicle, let alone a taxed addition to store it in. Sam was proud of his garage, and he kept it neat. Looking through his window, Robby studied the rows of orderly tools hung up on the wall. Sarah scanned through the dial—the radio wouldn’t lock on any stations. When she manually tuned into some of the local stations, they only heard static.
When they saw lights dancing through the windows on the garage door, Sarah hit the button to make the door go up. Nothing moved.
“Shit,” she said. “Power’s out. We have to raise it up manually. You stay here.”
Sarah left her door open and went around back. She stood on the bumper to reach the orange pull-cord. Robby pressed his face against the glass to watch her. The door wouldn’t open—the snow pressing against it on the outside stuck it in its tracks.
“You need help?” Robby yelled.
“Nope,” Sarah said. She climbed into the driver’s seat and shut her door. “Your dad can open it when he gets back.”
Robby slid over to the other side, the rear passenger’s seat, and opened the door. He flipped the little switch to turn on the child safety lock. With that switch turned on and the doors locked, the door couldn’t be opened from the inside.
“What are you doing?" Sarah asked.
“Nothing,” Robby said, “just checking on something.” He slid back to his own seat, behind his mother.
Sarah jumped when the door from the house swung open. They caught a glimpse of Brandon coming through the door and then he pointed his flashlight right at the Jeep and Sarah and Robby couldn’t see anything but the bright light. When the second flashlight appeared, Sarah let out her breath.
Sam and Brandon came around the front of the Jeep. Sam untied his knot by the time he reached the passenger’s door. Brandon piled in the back with Robby.
“I couldn’t get the door open,” Sarah said.
Sam just nodded and turned around. He kicked the door first, delivering a good blow to the bottom panel, and then flung it upwards. When he closed his car door, he immediately hit the button to lock all the doors.
Robby wanted to ask about his friend Jim and Mrs. Norton, but he held his tongue. No news was bad news, he figured.
“To the school?" Sarah asked.
“Got to,” Sam said.
Sarah gunned the engine to hit the snow bank with as much speed as possible. The Jeep wobbled a bit in the fresh powder, but Sarah backed it out with confidence. Her hands fluttered over the wheel to correct any loss of traction before it led them astray. She used the wide part of the driveway to whip the front end of the Jeep around and put in drive.
The Jeep’s big wheels pointed up the hill, and Sarah counter-steered the slight skid. A light snow fell now. Sarah put the windshield wipers on low.
Robby looked over—Brandon was staring out the window into the dark. The snow looked blue in the soft pre-dawn light, almost like it gave off its own glow. Down at the library they displayed black and white photos of the island; that’s what it looked like to Robby. Everything looked still and dead. None of the houses had any lights on, or their walks shoveled. No smoke rose from the chimneys.
Sarah took a right on Church street.
“Easy now,” Sam said.
A rusty old Toyota blocked the right side of the street.
“I see it,” Sarah said.
“Not that,” Sam pointed to the car, “that!”
To the left of the Toyota a snow-covered lump sat in the road. Sarah pulled the wheel to the left and skipped the left wheels onto the soft shoulder, but their right wheels still bounced over the lump. Robby and Sarah just bounced a couple of inches. Sam and Brandon, on the passenger’s side, flew up out of their seats. Sam bounced the top of his head off the Jeep’s roof. He reached around and pulled on his seat belt.
“Sorry,” Sarah said.
“So’s Tom, I bet,” Sam mumbled.
Robby twisted in his seat. The Toyota belonged to Tom Willard, any islander would have recognized it. The tired old vehicle only had one seat, and could only be registered for island use. Tom used it to carry supplies from the dock up to his restaurant. There wasn’t enough light out to be sure—Robby guessed the lump might have been Tom. Robby wondered if his father knew for sure the lump was Tom.
“Dad, do you think it was him?” Robby asked.
“Not now, Robby,” Sam said. “We’ve got bigger fish to fry.”
“It’s just that… Wouldn’t he be the first we’ve seen?” Robby asked.
Sarah took a left on Pepper Lane.