Easter Island by Jennifer Vanderbes Page A

and Edward row the dinghy ashore. Alice insists on bringing Pudding. Once the dinghy is pulled onto the beach, they hike through a winding path of dripping vegetation.
    “Elsa!” Edward calls from ahead. Pulling aside a cluster of wet vines, he peers into the dark mouth of a cave. “Shall we have a look?”
    “Oh, let’s!” says Elsa, breaking into a run. The exertion delights her. How wonderful to be moving! Alice, slowed by Pudding’s cage, lags behind.
    From his pack Edward pulls a revolver and a small lantern, which he lights beneath the shelter of his body. “Ready?”
    But as he steps forward, Alice darts ahead. “Hullo in there! Hullo!” she shouts into the cave.
    “Allie dear, careful.” Elsa gently pulls her backward. “You can’t just storm in there. There might be bats.”
    “Bats!”
    “Bats can’t harm you, Alice,” Edward says. “And it’s likely there aren’t any. I’ll go first, just to be sure. You hold Elsa’s hand.”
    “I am not going where there are bats.”
    “Allie.”
    Alice shakes her head no.
    “Then you can wait here and look after Pudding,” says Elsa. “Edward and I won’t be a minute.”
    “Why do you want to go in there if there are bats? Oh, no. Don’t go in there, Elsa.”
    “We want to explore, Allie. We’re going to be one minute. That’s all. I promise you we’ll be fine.”
    “Promise?”
    “I promise.”
    Alice’s eyes look from Elsa to Edward and back again, and finally she moves aside and squats by the cave’s entrance, settling Pudding’s cage in a patch of grass. The bird flutters and caws, agitated by the raindrops. Elsa unties her own cape and drapes it, like a hood, over Alice’s head.
    “Why don’t you tell Pudding about the albatross you’ve seen.”
    “I already did.”
    “What about the flying fish?”
    “Oh, no. He wouldn’t like that. Fish aren’t supposed to fly. If I tell him that he will think he can swim. I’m going to tell him about bats, Elsa. Big horrible bats in caves.”
    “Allie, we’re going to be fine. I’ll call to you from inside.”
    Edward passes Elsa the lantern and takes her hand. With his other hand he poises the revolver. Elsa calls, “We’ll be right back.”
    Inside, the air is cool and moist. Their shoes thud against the hard ground; a slow drip pings against the rocks. The walls are slick with moss, the ceiling low, and they crouch forward through the narrow passage, Elsa’s eyes intent on where she steps. Soon Edward releases her hand and squeezes ahead.
    “No bats, Allie!” she hollers back, watching Edward crouch down, uncock his revolver, and tap it against the rock face. She holds the lantern out. “How deep do you think it goes?”
    “I think we’re at the end,” he says. “Hear that?” He taps the handle of the revolver once more against the rock. “There’s something hollow. Maybe another passage, but there’s no opening I can see.”
    Elsa wiggles beside him. “Are you sure?” She’d been hoping for a brief adventure.
    “Nothing is so final as a wall of rock.”
    Elsa swings the lantern in a half arc over the passage’s end. “Not even a crack,” she says.
    Edward tucks his revolver through his belt and takes the lantern. “Follow my light,” he says, brushing by her. He extends his hand back for hers.
    “I can manage,” she says.
    She gropes the walls for balance, carefully places her feet behind his. Outside, the light is gray, and they turn from each other, embarrassed by their brief physicality.
    “Good Lord,” says Edward.
    Alice’s post beside the cave has been abandoned. On the ground, the cape lies in a soggy heap.
    “Allie!” Elsa shouts. “We’re out now.”
    “Alice!” Edward shouts, his voice panicked.
    “She’s not far,” Elsa says. “She’s no doubt waiting by the dinghy.”
    Hurrying through the wet overgrowth, they retrace their steps along the coast, calling Alice’s name along the way. But when they finally spot her, she isn’t