Free Great Bear Rainforest by Patti Wheeler, Keith Hemstreet Page B

some ridiculously high number and all, but he definitely needs to brush up on his map reading skills. Fine, I’m no good at reading maps either, but I never said I was. I even reminded Wyatt that we needed to stay within eyesight of the coastline during our search, but he wouldn’t listen and kept looking at his map and leading us deeper and deeper into the forest. This is a big island and Joe and Liam said that you can get lost real easy. Well, they were right.
    For whatever reason, Wyatt keeps studying the map, but it’s totally useless. I mean, he may as well be trying to translate Greek.
    “What did you bring that map for anyway?” I asked. “You can’t even read it!”
    “Yes I can!” Wyatt said angrily. “We’re about a half mile from the kayaks.”
    “That’s what you said a half mile ago.”
    “Just keep your mouth shut and follow me!”
    I knew we should have radioed Alu before we left the ship. Maybe she would’ve come with us. I’ll fess up, that’s totally my fault. I was so anxious to get to the island and find everyone that I just couldn’t wait. Now I realize that was a bad call. Alu would have kept us from getting lost. And not only that, she probably would have been able to help us find everyone. But thanks to me, we’re all alone and being alone in this tangled, mountainous forest, well, we’re pretty much helpless. I mean, I hate to say this and all, but I’m beginning to worry we may never get off this island.

PART III
THE SECRETS OF PRINCESS ROYAL ISLAND
     
Wyatt
    SEPTEMBER 22, 8:03 PM
     
    T he FOURTH LAW OF EXPLORATION reminds us to document all findings. This is especially true when important discoveries are made, so here’s the latest:
    After several hours of aimless hiking, we came to a place where the trees were mangled, bent inland, or snapped in half, leading me to believe we’d arrived on the western shore, where violent storms first hit Princess Royal Island. Moving through the tree cover, a large cove came into view. At the far end of the cove, we spotted two fishing boats trolling around the mouth of a river. Gannon immediately slid down the hillside and ran onto the beach, waving his arms around frantically.
    “Hey!” he yelled. “Over here! Please help us!”
    I caught up with him as fast as I could.
    “They’re too far away to hear you,” I said.
    “Then let’s hurry and get to the other side before they leave. They’ll be able to take us back to the Pacific Yellowfin.”
    Before I got another word in, Gannon took off around the cove. I followed. As we plowed through the bushes, the sharp spines of Devil’s Club sliced my face like tiny razors. Sweat poured down my forehead, stinging the fresh cuts. My legs and stomach were cramping, but I managed to keep up. By the time we reached the other side, I felt like my lungs were about to burst.

    The sharp-edged stems of the Devil’s Club plant
    “Let’s get down there!” Gannon yelled, anxiously. “They’ll be able to see us from the shore!”
    “Wait,” I said, panting. “Something isn’t right.”
    “There are two boats in the cove. Either of them can save us. What could possibly be wrong with that?”
    “But what are they doing here?” I asked.
    “Who cares?”
    “Just give me your binoculars.”
    The captain had said, other than the random sailboat, it was unlikely that we would see another vessel in this area. So what would two fishing boats be doing in protected waters? It just didn’t make sense.
    Leaning against a rock, I caught my breath and looked through the binoculars. The fishing boats were idling just off shore, one on either side of a wide river. There were two men hustling around the back of each boat. The water between the boats was choppy, as if a current from the sea was colliding with the flow of the river.
    “What’s going on, Wyatt?”
    I didn’t answer, only because I didn’t have an answer.
    “If you don’t tell me,” he said, “I’m going to run down there and