Summer Island - A Prince in Peril

3 - The Island

The ocean was dazzling. Greta had seen it as her plane landed at LoganAirport but what sprawled beneath her now seemed so different. This was.... She searched for the perfect word. Spectacular. It had been nearly two hours so far and Burt appeared to still be healthy enough to fly. Greta was becoming more amazed by her companions each minute. She longed to ask Zoë about the crash but it was very clear the girl was in no mood for talking. She had given Greta a curt, "Nice to meet you," when Dinora had introduced them. Since then she had sat with Seymour in the very front of the plane. Zoë had not once taken her eyes off the controls.

"Okay, kids," Burt called. "That's The Island to your left. We should be landing in about five minutes."

Zoë muttered something and Burt shouted, "I heard that, young lady!" Zoë was about to shout back when Seymour subtly moved his hand to her forearm. She pushed it away but seemed to reconsider aggravating their pilot.

"Why's he so mad at her?" Greta asked Dinora across the aisle. "Didn't she save his life?"

"Sure. She saved his life but she also destroyed his livelihood."

"The plane?"

"The plane," Dinora confirmed.

Suddenly Greta felt everything fall beneath her, even her own seat. She fell a second later and her stomach a second after that. Her initial response would have been panic except the others gave no indication this was anything out of the ordinary. Then, just as quickly, the plane lurched forward and caught her. This happened two more times, neither of which was any more pleasant, although at least they weren't unexpected. Greta looked out her window as they made their way down. She felt as if she were about to vomit and was grateful the feeling didn't last. A few short, terrifying minutes later, the plane touched ground and came clumsily to a stop. Greta made sure she was the first person to get off.

There was a blur of activity. Bags and passengers were unloaded and another confrontation between Burt and Zoë was narrowly averted. An ancient Chevy pickup moseyed its way up the tarmac to be greeted by the joyous exclamations of the children as they jumped into the back.

"Greta, do you want to ride in the cab?" Dinora's voice brought Greta back to the moment.

Greta looked at the woman driving. She looked to be about a hundred years old and mean to the marrow. A worn baseball cap covered a mop of gray hair. Dirty overalls hung on her bare-bones frame. She wore old cowboy boots and a weathered flannel shirt.

"Is that Tia?" Greta asked nervously.

"Who? Her?" Dinora began laughing. "No. Definitely not." Greta was encouraged by her tone. "That's Edith. She's...."

"You girls gonna stand there wastin' daylight and testin' my patience or you gonna get in the truck?" Edith's voice sounded like rocks in a blender.

"I'll ride in the back with you," said Greta quietly.

"Don't worry," Dinora said sympathetically. Edith had started driving just as the last leg was pulled over the edge, causing Dinora to tumble down into the truck bed. "She's all bark and no bite." Dinora rubbed her knee, wincing. "Okay, well mostly bark."

The truck meandered along the coastline as they wound their way up the island. Greta looked around and saw steep cliffs looming above her. At the foot of the cliffs she glimpsed dense forest where even the sun didn't seem to brighten. They had made it just in time. The sun was just beginning to set over the western horizon, casting a pink glow across the water. It looked so calm, and for a moment, Greta doubted what she had learned in her science classes, about the dangers that lurked below the waves. As if the ocean itself was responding to her skepticism, her eyes were drawn to a fury of white foam erupting as waves crashed down on jagged rocks.