Elizabeth marched off to the catamaran and saw the captain and Mark snoozing. Afternoon nap? Elizabeth smirked with the thought that they could not have been nearly as distressed as Mark would have her believe. But then she noticed Mark, though in a reclining position on a deck chair, had his eyes wide open. And he did not look happy. His face was dark and stormy in the gleaming sun, while glistening waters, singing their gentle lull, did not seem to calm him at all.
Elizabeth boarded the boat and ordered them to depart immediately. The captain snapped to it. Mark, who had no duties on board, kept to himself and fiddled with his cell phone. Not wanting to get off to a bad start, Elizabeth struck up a conversation with him. Though she wasn't very interested, she pushed him to tell her all about his past exploits in camping and hiking. She hoped this would make him happy, and she was content with the free flow of his voice. To her, it was a sign that recalling his past was a happy thing for him, and she should expect a marvelous experience on the island. No one wants to see their wilderness guide become suddenly sullen and close mouthed when discussing his past work history. Thank God he had been highly recommended by other female hikers Elizabeth had hiked with.
They sailed for some hours. Elizabeth admired the islands that they passed, watched birds fly overhead, and listened to the ocean. She enjoyed communing with nature, but she was beginning to feel troubled. Sunset was fast approaching. They had been sailing for far longer than she had been told to expect by Mark himself. By now, the island, with its quaint little cabin, should have been in sight. But all she could see were open waters.
"Mark! It's going to be dark soon and I see no island."
"I told you we should have started sooner."
"We could have left exactly when you said and it still would have been too late. You didn't plan this well if your goal was to be back home before dark."
"Cross your fingers..." he trailed off.
"What?" Elizabeth called back.
"Cross your fingers this is all going to work out fine."
This kind of talk was unusually superstitious and juvenile for a hardened wilderness guide. Elizabeth was mildly annoyed by this. She didn't give a crap about adhering to Mark's superstitions. Her will was the only thing that mattered on this trip, and her will was to be carried out before dinner time.
Suddenly, Elizabeth saw another boat off in the distance. It was coming towards them at a remarkable pace and had a couple of people inside. It looked old, like something she might see in a black and white film. It was a small, wooden, red motorboat, with a white interior, and was shaped like a fish. Elizabeth stared hard for a moment, unsure of something large she saw on the boat. It was a grandfather clock engine. There was no mistaking the tall, vertical engine with the enclosed crankcase and cylinder and valve resting on top. It looked exactly as the name implied it should: like the pendulum of a grandfather clock. Elizabeth didn't know what to make of this old boat with the antique engine out in the middle of nowhere. Is this person from the year 1900? she wondered. She also wondered at its speed and where it could have come from. It was the fastest motorboat she had ever seen. She realized she couldn't hear the engine. Weren't grandfather clock engines noisy? But her marvel at the antique quality of the little boat, its silence, and its speed was short lived. Before she knew it, that little boat had pulled up alongside their boat.
"Looks like we have company, Mark" Elizabeth called out.
But then she noticed something even odder than a random speed boat suddenly pulling up alongside the catamaran. Arthur was sleeping against the grandfather clock engine. Arthur? She was bewildered. What could he be doing here? Did Austin send him? But she was quickly distracted by someone else. Another man, dark and apparently strong, sat on a seat. He wore sunglasses, a black coat, and black jeans. Elizabeth stared at this man. He was intense. She could feel his presence, and that presence felt eerily familiar. And then he removed the sunglasses. Shock filled her when he locked eyes with her. It was Aaron. The deep set eyes, shadowed by the monstrous, overhanging brow ridges, pierced her. She felt mesmerized by him. But his hold over her was abruptly broken when he put the sunglasses back on, jumped from the motorboat, and grabbed the side of the railing of the catamaran. Elizabeth stared in shock at him. That leap had been inhuman. Aaron suddenly drew a gun and shot at her. Elizabeth felt a stabbing pain in her shoulder. It was a dart. Almost immediately she began to feel dizzy. The intruder lunged towards her. She pulled up her right pant leg and reached for a throwing knife. She grasped one and threw it at him, but it only bounced off of him, harmlessly landing on the deck. She sank to the ground. Unfazed, the intruder lifted her clear off the deck. Elizabeth felt like she was suffocating in his grip. She tried to fight back, but her struggles were useless. He only clutched her harder and pressed her head against his chest. Angrily, she attempted to bite him through his thick coat. It did no good. She couldn't breach the fabric. She was caught in a vise with no escape.