As we arrived at the boat's location, a set of aluminum stairs stood before us. I glanced back to see my boot prints in the sand, slowly fading as the waves brushed over them. My eyes caught on the handrails of the stairs—rusted and in need of paint or repair.
The boat itself had a ghostly air, one that might be lifted with some remodeling. The hull, thick with barnacles, was a sight. My mother used to say barnacles were tasty if prepared right, but even if she served them up perfectly seasoned, I doubted I’d try them.
I looked up, and the clouds overhead had grown thicker, darkening ominously. The elderly woman climbed the stairs first, which surprised me—I hadn’t thought she’d make it all the way up. I’d expected her to struggle, thinking that most older people have arthritis, like both my sets of grandparents. But she moved easily, my worry unnecessary, and I smiled to myself.
As we neared the deck, a large, tall man in his forties stepped in. He was bearded, muscular, and dressed in a thick black trench coat. Without a word, he lifted the elderly woman's crate, set it down, then reached for mine.
No description available. [https://scontent.fmnl4-3.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.15752-9/467479527_1096512031827225_7918515383823101752_n.jpg?_nc_cat=109&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=9f807c&_nc_eui2=AeEhixV6rDFsb7MmvxfAiefRQ-F1JGcap1pD4XUkZxqnWmpaV6NWu4V7Zu612twlGxPatgeJmxLLpFERSHpAFore&_nc_ohc=f9Rvhoelc24Q7kNvgGDkhcH&_nc_zt=23&_nc_ht=scontent.fmnl4-3.fna&oh=03_Q7cD1QGe7f6YoKU1tZ7LeXAA25JbinrKTbG5rhP1D3Lur8LpRQ&oe=675FC04A]
As he took the veggie wooden crate from my hands, he moved toward the back of the boat. Watching him then reach for the fish crate, I figured that the rear must be where they store food. The elderly woman followed him, leaving me alone.
I drifted to the center of the deck, pausing to look up at the darkening, heavy sky. Raindrops are still falling, landing on my face, hair, eyes, and the tips of my ears. Above, birds hovered, circling the boat. I watched them for a while, then closed my eyes to let the cool wind wash over me.
I'm a little drenched now. I shudder.
Took a deep breath.
(inhale)
(exhale)
I can hear the birds making noise. I can hear the raindrops on the ship's floor. I can hear the wind blowing through my ears, the sea waves, the footsteps on the deck, and
My own heartbeat.
Minutes later, the old lady’s voice reached me, her tone warm but laced with concern.
"Young lady, if you stand there in the rain, you're going to get cold. Better find shelter inside."
She was urging me to head to the trunk cabin, but something held me here—an odd, quiet sense of peace that I needed to hold on to, despite a vague unease about my upcoming visit to Aunt Marie’s. I offered her a soft reassurance.
"I will, ma'am. I just…"
"Excuse me, is this the right boat?"
The question startled me, coming from a voice I didn’t recognize. I and the old lady turned toward the speaker: a man, maybe around 32. He wore a cream-brown polo shirt with matching shorts, and over that, a transparent raincoat, much like the old lady's. A dark forest-green fisher hat shaded his face, and his curly brown hair peeked out from under it. Black eyeglasses framed his eyes, adding to the impression of an explorer or documentarian—the kind I’d seen on TV.
No description available. [https://scontent.fmnl4-4.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.15752-9/467471900_1553916265328342_900733761605303209_n.jpg?_nc_cat=102&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=9f807c&_nc_eui2=AeGzhzKPRWyZGT7CxV71if73D2dMFZyYzwQPZ0wVnJjPBONvHE1TlhXptoX5Y8ljwhnMur3NOs3d2n2r2HizpLJd&_nc_ohc=MfpZJdrn8osQ7kNvgGxQnC5&_nc_zt=23&_nc_ht=scontent.fmnl4-4.fna&oh=03_Q7cD1QHI2r--vpLrVqlFYwg--qJ7Y9xxUCrK2nQM2d3BvVNeKw&oe=675FD9FE]
"Excuse me, ma'am, we're looking for Billy's boat. Is this it?" came a woman's voice from just behind the man.
The speaker was younger than him, with straight, golden-blonde hair tied back in a ponytail and hazel eyes that caught the light in a way that reminded me of someone else—someone with a similar glow. Her hair was almost golden, a shade lighter than Daisy’s, with a hint of near-whiteness as if it had been touched by the sun.
There was something striking about her, an air of quiet strength and adventure. She reminded me of Lara Croft, the famous archaeologist from *Tomb Raider*, known for her intelligence and resilience. Her fitted white jacket, paired with a black umbrella held firmly in her right hand, added to the sense that she was someone both refined and ready for whatever came next.
No description available. [https://scontent.fmnl4-3.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.15752-9/467471223_3800716646844054_5933820123915514755_n.jpg?_nc_cat=109&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=9f807c&_nc_eui2=AeFVpefatxvWueqqPhmdHsVnmG6VkcoA2yaYbpWRygDbJrgU4EfvmZvygbZSDo7SrmW8vnaUHh3mbACT3_p2Ws83&_nc_ohc=L_r6LPqnANgQ7kNvgGbbxKa&_nc_zt=23&_nc_ht=scontent.fmnl4-3.fna&oh=03_Q7cD1QE5hlNMfXltvioIlCrcnnuEG06jVWxUQOYtjgqgpDncxg&oe=675FD486]
The blonde woman handed the old lady a quarter-sheet paper from her jacket pocket as she moved past the man in the cream-brown polo. It looked just like the ticket Aunt Marie had given me.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Out of curiosity, I glanced at my wristwatch. It was already 10:20 a.m. I pulled my ticket and read the indicated time —10:00 a.m. was printed clearly across it. I was twenty minutes late. A small, triumphant smirk spread across my face. *Guess I'll have to tell Mom I missed the boat,* I thought with a hint of satisfaction.
I turned my back against the people talking and was about ready to get off the boat when I heard the old lady replied,
"Yes, this is the boat. Come inside the trunk cabin and make yourselves comfortable."
I froze, processing what she said. *Wait—what?* I glanced back, caught off guard. I watched as the two newcomers went inside, the blonde woman leaving her umbrella outside the trunk cabin’s door.
The elderly woman turned back toward me, her face warm and inviting.
"Aren't you coming in, young lady? You're already drenched—I’m sure you must be cold. Come have a cup of tea. I’d like to thank you for your help. Do you have a change of clothes?"
Her kindness softened something in me, and despite myself, I hesitated, still processing.
Open photo [https://scontent.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.15752-9/462569778_1111619310531165_6581968645758781318_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_p480x480&_nc_cat=107&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=0024fc&_nc_eui2=AeFLowY220iWHdr_3Z7JCHXwihqMFOIjmjOKGowU4iOaM1mLwpsu0alswIhz8wV0QPrbEexQ3IRabxKRcxuDbAmC&_nc_ohc=J52R7ntQ89UQ7kNvgFkTRI1&_nc_ad=z-m&_nc_cid=0&_nc_zt=23&_nc_ht=scontent.xx&oh=03_Q7cD1QF6HkVyPWP0wzAVTz9o7vrw6f_dZO2xf2gDSNv-ZmOtUQ&oe=675E6548]
What a huge coincidence this all was; I could hardly believe it. I took a moment to answer the old lady, finally smiling and saying, "Yes. A cup of tea would be lovely."
Suddenly, a chill settled over me, the kind that seeps through even the calmest composure. I knew where I was now—Billy’s boat—and there was no turning back. My trip to see Aunt Marie was actually happening. Bracing myself, I took slow steps toward the trunk cabin when my phone buzzed.
*Bzzt... Bzzt...*
It was Kyle, my brother. I glanced back at the elderly woman and said, “Um, I’ll just answer my phone, ma’am, if you’ll excuse me.” She smiled kindly, nodding as she headed inside.
I answered the phone as my brother eagerly and obnoxiously began by stating,
"Hello, Aria? Are you there, sis?
Hello~? Aria~?""
Sometimes I find my brother draining. I rolled my eyes and replied,
"Yeah, yeah I'm here. I'm listening. Took you time to call back."
"Hey, hey. Be grateful little sis, I called you back. So what's wrong?"
I scoffed at his response.
"Ha, where are you and dad? Mom said you two are bonding in some place."
" Oh yeah right we are in K___a right now. I have this swim team practice, something like that, and dad has some business to take care of here, whatever. And yes, before you ask, we're okay, so thank you for asking."
Sometimes my brother can be annoying and funny at the same time. I bet this is one of his talent.
My brother and I were close like that—sometimes we’d tease each other, but when it came to important things, we could talk.
"But really, Aria, is there something wrong?" I can tell from his voice that he's worried.
I shared all the details with him—the mysterious box, the events at home, Aunt Marie's odd behaviour in the video, and the messages she had sent. I told him everything.
"Do you think she's faking it, brother?" I asked him, and he said,
"There's something definitely going on with Aunt Marie, Aria. I don't think she's faking it. Too much effort, time, and energy would be wasted to make this all just a joke. If she does that, for me, it's senseless."
He had a point. Still, I argued, "Brother, what if she's just doing it to gain attention because she's lonely on the island?"
He then replied, "If so, then why didn't she just take the ticket for herself and be the one to get off the island and visit us? Wouldn't it be more convenient for everyone?"
I shot back sarcastically, “Maybe she’s a sadist?”
Kyle said seriously, "Oh my goodness, Aria, you're a genius! That's it—she's a sadist!"
I blinked in surprise. *Wait, what?* That had been a joke to lighten the mood. I quickly clarified, “Really? It’s because Aunt Marie is a sadist?”
I heard him burst into laughter on the other end. “Lol, are you really my sister? Of course not! I was playing along. Hahaha!”
I couldn’t help but grin, rolling my eyes at his teasing. “You’re impossible, Kyle.”
Still smiling, I asked more earnestly, “But really, do you think she needs help?”
There was a brief delay, likely from the signal, before he replied. “" Yeah, I think she needs help Aria. I think there's something holding her back that she can't leave the Island. Look, if she left you that letter with the code and a warning, then I’d take it seriously. It doesn’t hurt to be cautious, right?”
I smiled weakly, shivering. I needed to end this call soon, get out of my wet clothes, and warm up. “You’re right, brother. Thanks. I’d better go change before I catch a cold. Tell Dad I love him, okay? Take care.”
Just as I was about to hang up, Kyle said,
“Wait, Aria. I’m not sure if this helps,” Kyle said, his voice tinged with thought, “but I remember spending some time with Aunt Marie when I was really young, maybe around six. I don’t know why things suddenly changed, why she stopped reaching out—at least not in the ‘normal way’—but I do remember her mentioning something about a ‘boy’ and a ‘system’ of some kind. It’s pretty vague, but maybe the code you mentioned has to do with this boy—or boys. Maybe there are 16 of them?”
That's an interesting idea.
I wish I had Kyle’s sharpness, but I doubted it. There were just so many possibilities for what it could be.
"But that’s just your guess, right?" I asked, seeking clarification.
“Yeah, just a hunch,” Kyle replied. Based on what you said about ‘Guy16’ and some hazy memories of mine. It could mean anything, though. Maybe it’s even some kind of password to some device/s."
His words triggered a memory, and I quickly pointed out, “Brother, your name was also in the paper. What do you think that means?"
He chuckled lightly, responding in his usual teasing tone, “Maybe it means I’m the one who’s supposed to be there, taking action instead of you?”
In the background, I caught the sound of a whistle—probably his coach signalling for practice.
“Man, I wish I were there, sis,” he added wistfully. “I’d gladly trade places with you in a heartbeat."
A small smile formed on my face as I wrapped my arms around myself to fend off the chill of the sea breeze. “Same here,” I said warmly. “You’d probably love this kind of adventure.” Just then, I sneezed, breaking the moment.
Kyle burst into laughter. “See, only fools catch colds!”He teased.
I chuckled softly. “Good luck at practice.”
“Thanks, sis. I’ll call whenever I can, okay? And you take care.”
“Okay,” I replied softly. Smiling, I ended the call. Even as the rain continued to fall and the cold crept in, the conversation with my brother gave me a sense of comfort.
I glanced at my phone and noticed the battery was at 28 percent. Dang it, I forgot to charge it last night. A sudden wave of concern hit me. Wait... Is my charger even in my backpack?
The rain and wind picked up, sweeping across the deck relentlessly. As I lingered in the doorway, a black bird landed beside me, seeking temporary shelter. It shook off the rain, feathers ruffling against the cold, then met my gaze for a moment with its dark, beady eyes before taking off into the grey sky.
I watched it disappear, then turned and stepped inside the cabin.