Experiment in Terror 03 Dead Sky Morning by Karina Halle Page B

farmlands that led to the ferry terminal, the clouds broke open and a fairy tale ray of sunshine flowed down from above and enveloped the ocean. I took it as a good omen.
    We had gone straight up to the upper deck of the nearly–empty boat because he wanted to have a cigarette. At least I thought it was just one. He leaned against the railing, looking down at the waves that flowed past the ferry in a foam–filled rage and lit up one cigarette after the other.
    The wind cleared the cobwebs from my face and messed the hair off of his head. He was only wearing a black hoodie with his camouflage pants below, but he didn’t seem the slightest bit cold even though the breeze was a lot sharper than I had expected. Actually, I was borderline freezing and knew my nose was an acute shade of red.
    But I stayed up there with him, soaking in the ocean air and enjoying the glaring sunshine and his quiet company. Dex did seem a little more pensive than usual but that was coupled with bags under his eyes and an ashy complexion. I kept it to myself, but it was obvious he hadn’t slept all that much. Perhaps the stripper giving me a lap dance was a powerful stimulant. At least, I kind of hoped it was. Still, there was something off about him last night too.
    “How’s your new medication doing?” I asked. I was probably overstepping my boundaries but I was curious.
    He didn’t bite. He just shrugged. “It works.”
    He took a long drag of his cigarette, the ashes flying off into the wind and flowing down the length of the ferry deck. His hands were shaking slightly.
    “I didn’t see you smoke a single cigarette yesterday,” I said, eyeing his trembling fingers.
    He shrugged, again. “It comes and goes.”
    I wanted to say that constantly eating Nicorette like it was candy wasn’t helping his quitting case but who was he kidding? He wasn’t trying to quit; this was just what he did. Sometimes there really was no reason – it was a hard concept for me to accept.
    Maybe he knew what I was thinking because his eyes darted over to me. “What now?”
    “Nothing,” I said quickly and turned my attention to the sharp mountains of Vancouver Island that rose in the incoming distance. “At least the day is turning out nice.”
    “Are you worried about me?” he asked, his voice noncommittal. It caught me a bit off guard, enough so that I had to look at him.
    The line between his brows deepened, from thought and from the glare. We both were without sunglasses. It was one of those things you forgot about needing in the Pacific Northwest. He didn’t seem angry or upset, or even really curious. I had to think about whether I wanted to tell the truth or not. The truth was so…iffy.
    “Well,” I said, drawing it out. “I think I always worry about you. And I think you know that by now.”
    “No, I mean, are you worried about being with me,” he said, straightening up and flicking the cigarette overboard, even though there was a cigarette disposal unit behind us. “On this island. Alone. With me.”
    “Why would that worry me? Also, it’s a park, there will be people there.” I wasn’t sure what he was getting at.
    He shook his head with a small smile. “You’ve seen how empty this ferry is. You really think people go camping in November? In Canada? To some hostile island? The place is barely occupied during the summer.”
    I hadn’t thought about that. In my head I was expecting a full campground with other people there to keep us company. I didn’t think we’d actually be the only ones on the island.
    “Isn’t there a ranger on the island or something?”
    “No. That’s why Bill said to call him up on the damn radio if something went wrong. It’s just going to be you and me, kiddo.”
    It didn’t seem like a big deal, really, but I guess it was the first time we would be alone alone …with no Maximus or Uncle Al meddling in our business. But still…
    “I don’t know why you think I’d have a problem being alone