September 2, 1965
On Ark Island, it has rained for the entire day, and is only just beginning to let up. On the hillside to the West of the island, the ocean is nearly invisible through the misty rain. Through the rain on that hillside is the house known as Summer's End. It is home to the Griffin family: Jake, Abby, and their only daughter Clarke. All three have been inside since the rain began.
Clarke sits cross-legged in the high window of the third story, peering out the window through a pair of junior binoculars. She does this quite regularly—she's never seen without them; they're always hanging from her neck or up against her eyes. She watches through her binoculars as the rain finally slows to a stop, and the mail truck bumbles up to the mailbox and deposits the mail. She lowers her binoculars. This is what she's been waiting for. She sits up, letting the binoculars fall against her chest, and picks up a shoe box labeled 'PRIVATE'.
Clarke carries the box down the stairs and out of the house. She goes to the mailbox, opening it and taking out the letters inside. She sets them on top of the box, flipping through them until she finds the one she's looking for: a letter from her pen pal. Clarke smiles to herself, placing the other letters back in the mailbox, and carrying hers over to the bus stop as to read it privately. She sits at the bus stop, carefully undoing the seal of the envelope and removing the letter. Her eyes scan the paper, her expression settling on seriousness, before she folds the letter back up, opens the shoebox, and places it inside.
This is the island of Ark. Sixteen miles long. Forested with old-growth pine and maple. Criss-crossed by shallow tidal creeks. Treikrew territory. There are no paved roads but instead many miles of intersecting footpaths and dirt trails and a ferry that runs twice daily from Stone Cove. The year is 1965. We are on the far edge of Black Beacon Sound, famous for the ferocious and well-documented storm which will strike from the east on the sixth of September—in four days time.
Meanwhile, at Camp Walden, Scout Master Sinclair is running through routine inspections with his Troop members. A Scout named Wick follows Scout Master Sinclair around with a small, spiral-bound notepad. He continuously makes notes as Scout Master Sinclair checks with all the Scouts. Scout Master Sinclair lights a cigarette, holding it up to his mouth.
"Miller—latrine inspection," Sinclair announces, approaching a dark-skinned boy with short-cropped hair. Miller pulls a series of ropes, complying to Scout Master Sinclair's order. A bucket tips down a chute, emptying the water from the bucket and causing a yellow flag to pop up on the side. Scout Master Sinclair nods in approval, and then continues on.
"Wells, how's that lanyard coming?" he asks as he passes the boy.
"Terrible." Wells holds up a brutally knotted brown and yellow cord with a rabbit's foot attached at the end of it. Wick makes note of this.
Wick and Scout Master Sinclair continue on through the clearing, approaching a large pile of lumber near a thin-trunked tree. A blond-haired boy approaches the two of them, carrying logs in his arms.
"Sterling. What's all this lumber for?"
"We're building a tree house," the boy answers cheerily.
"Where?"
"Right here."
Scout Master Sinclair, Wick, and Sterling look upwards at the thin-trunked tree. A tree house sits at the very top, swaying slightly in the breeze.
"That's not a safe altitude," Scout Master Sinclair criticizes. "Why is it up so high? If somebody falls, it's a guaranteed death!"/
"Well, where would you build it?" Sterling asks.
Scout Master Sinclair pauses. "Lower!"
Sterling bows his head as both Scout Master Sinclair and Wick walk away. Dejected, he drops his armful of logs onto the pile. Wick makes note of the tree house as he and Scout Master Sinclair leave. The two of them stop as they walk along the edge of a wooden fence.
"Atom, what are you doing?" Scout Master Sinclair addresses a boy crouching in front of an ant hill, holding a flaming stick and a small container of lighter fluid.
"Pest control," the boy answers over his shoulder. "Burning some ants."
"Spot check." Scout Master Ward and Wick approach the boy, who stands in his place in front of the ant hill. He is still holding the burning stick and lighter fluid. "Your socks are down, your shirt-tails are untucked, your trousers are not properly pressed. You are reported for uniform violation!" Wick makes note of this, and Scout Master Sinclair veers around the boy's flaming stick as he continues on.
Scout Master Sinclair stops at a workbench where two boys are sitting. On the booth are a dozen or so rockets. A sign on the table reads 'No Smoking'; Scout Master Sinclair holds his cigarette away at arm's-length.
"How many rockets you up to, Jasper?" he asks.
"Sixteen-and-a-half, sir," he answers.
"That enough for the Hulabaloo?" The question is directed at Wick, who shakes his head. Scout Master Sinclair turns to the second boy at the table. "Monty, go fetch another pint of gunpowder from the armory shed—Murphy, halt!" Sinclair quickly leaves the workbench and goes over to a boy on a motorbike. "I saw that. How fast were you just going?"
"Safety test, sir," Murphy answers.
"Come again?"
"The vehicle appears to be in working order. I'm just checking if—"
Scout Master Sinclair looks at him angrily. "Reckless cycling. Second warning. Next time I take away the keys." Wick writes this down as he follows Scout Master Sinclair to a long picnic table. Wick takes a seat to Scout Master Sinclair's left, while Scout Master Sinclair smokes his cigarette and reads from a magazine as the boys report for breakfast. He stops, looking over to see an empty chair next to Wick. To no one in particular, he asks, "Who's missing?"
The Scouts murmur amongst themselves, one name making itself clear—Blake. "Blake," one of the Scouts answers, and Scout Master Sinclair sighs, leaning away from the table.
"Blake! Breakfast!" Silence. No one from the tents stirs. Scout Master Sinclair rises from the table and makes his way over to the tents. The one on the very end is zipped shut. He knocks on it, asking, "Blake, you in there?" He gets no answer. The rest of the Scouts have followed him over to the tents and are waiting for the boy. "Bellamy?" Scout Master Sinclair asks, softly. He looks down at the tent's flaps, and then turns to Wick.
"It's zipped from the inside," he announces. He removes a wooden handled pocket-knife from his pocket, and uses a thin hooked tool to unzip the tent. The other Scouts push the flaps to the side and peer into the tent. There are a few maps hung up in the tent, though the cot is unslept in. His things are missing. Bellamy is nowhere to be seen.
Scout Master Sinclair enters the tent. He sees an envelope labeled 'Scout Master Sinclair' tucked slightly underneath Bellamy's pillow. He plucks it out from underneath the pillow, and looks around the tent. He notices that one of the maps in placed noticeably lower than the others, and upon removing it, finds a neatly cut hole in the side the size of a basketball. Scout Master Sinclair turns to the other Scouts, dumbfounded.
"Jiminy Cricket. He flew the coop."
Captain Kane: Hello, this is Captain Kane. Over.
Scout Master Sinclair: Captain Kane this is Sinclair over at Camp Walden. Over.
Captain Kane: Morning, Sinclair. What can I do for you? Over.
Scout Master Sinclair: I'm not sure exactly. I've got an escaped Khaki Scout. Over.
Captain Kane: What does that mean? Over.
Scout Master Sinclair: One of my boys seems to have stolen a miniature canoe, some fishing tackle, ten pounds of sundries, two bedrolls, plus an air rifle—and disappeared. Over.
Captain Kane: Any idea why? Over.
Scout Master Sinclair:No—he left me a letter of resignation. Over.
Dear Scout Master Sinclair,
I am very sad to inform you that I can no longer be involved with the Khaki Scouts of North America. The rest of the troop will probably be glad to hear this. It is not your fault.
Best wishes,
Bellamy Blake
Captain Kane: Well, I guess we better notify his folks. Over.
Scout Master Sinclair: Okay. Over and out.
Later that same day, both Captain Kane and Scout Master Sinclair sit with a woman at an operator's switchboard in the Ark Island Mail Office. The woman sitting at the operator's switchboard is waiting for a call, eating a sandwich while she does so. The switchboard buzzes, and she sets the sandwich down to plug a few cords into the switchboard. She lifts a headset to her ears and speaks into it.
"Hello, Diane."
"Becky, I have your person-to-person from Chesterfield," the operator speaks into the headset.
"Hold the line, please." Becky presses a switch on the switchboard and attempts to get through. Both Captain Kane and Scout Master Sinclair put on headsets of their own.
Mr. Sorenson: Hello?
Captain Kane: Hello sir, this is Captain Kane.
Mr. Sorenson: Yes, sir, I received your message. Thank you very much. In fact, we've come to a decision as a family because this is only the most recent incident involving Bellamy's troubles, and it's just not fair to the others, so, unfortunately—we can't invite him back, at this time.
Captain Kane: There's no cause for alarm, sir. We'll find him. We're simply notifying you as a matter of protocol and so on.
Mr. Sorenson: I understand that. I'm notifying you of the situation on my end.
Captain Kane: I'm confused by that statement. You can't invite him back?
Mr. Sorenson: I'm afraid not. He's a good boy, he's got a good heart, but it's just not fair to the others, you see. He's emotionally disturbed.
Captain Kane: Am I speaking to Bellamy's father?
Mr. Sorenson: No, sir. Bellamy's parents passed away a number of years ago. We're Mr. and Mrs. Sorenson. We're foster parents. Bellamy's been with us since last June.
Scout Master Sinclair: Uh, excuse me, sir, this is Scout Master Sinclair speaking. Are you implying that Bellamy is an orphan?
Mr. Sorenson: Well, it's a known fact. Of course he is.
Scout Master Sinclair: Well, why the hell doesn't it say so in the register? Excuse my language.
Mr. Sorenson: I don't know. What register? We sent him a letter, it should reach you presently.
Captain Kane: Mr. Sorenson, I've got an escaped Khaki Scout. We're notifying you as a matter of protocol. You say you can't invite him back? You say that he's an orphan? I don't understand how that works! Wh—What am I supposed to do with him?
Mr. Sorenson: That's up to Social Services. They'll be in touch with you. They'll look after Bellamy. Good luck to you.
Back in the Ark Island Mail Office, Becky unplugs the cords, leaving Scout Master Sinclair and Captain Kane sitting dumbfounded about their current situation.
At Camp Walden, Scout Master Sinclair has taken it upon himself to organize a search party for Bellamy. He talks to the Scouts as they walk through camp. "You have your orders. Use the orienteering and path-finding skills that you've been practicing all summer. Let's find our man, and bring him safely back to camp. Remember, this isn't just a search party, it's a chance to do some first-class scouting. Any questions?"
Everyone raises their hands. Scout Master Sinclair looks around, before facing forward once again. "Finn," he says.
"What's your real job, sir?" the boy asks.
"I'm a math teacher. Why?"
"What grade?"
"Eighth."
"Do you need a PhD for that?"
"Finn," Scout Master Sinclair comes to a halt once they reach the entrance to the camp. "No, but you know what, we're actually in the middle of something here, in case you didn't notice. One of our Scouts is missing and it's a crisis. Anybody else?" A handful of boys raise their hands. "Murphy."
"What if he resists?" Murphy asks.
"Who?" Scout Master Sinclair asks.
"Blake. Are we allowed to use force on him?"
"No, you're not. This—this is a non-violent rescue operation. Our mission is to find him, not to hurt him. Under any circumstances. Am I making myself understood?"
Mumbling comes from the Scouts that lets Scout Master Sinclair know he's making himself understood. "Good." Scout Master Sinclair begins to walk away before turning back around and speaking to the Scouts. "I'm going to change my answer. This is my real job. Scout Master, Troop 55. Math teacher on the side. Be leery out there, okay? Let's get started. Who's got Snoopy?"
"Right here," Sterling answers, crouching next to a Russell Terrier.
Scout Master Sinclair turns to face the boy. "Give him the scent."
Sterling pulls a sock out of a bag; something Bellamy had forgotten during his escape. Sterling offers up the sock to Snoopy.
A group of Scouts sit in a circle, discussing the circumstances of Bellamy's escape.
"I heard he ran away because his family died," Finn says, turning to the boy next to him.
"I heard he never had any family in the first place," Wick says.
"Probably why he's crazy," Miller says.
"I'll tell you one thing: if we find him, I'm not gonna be the one who forgot to bring a weapon," Murphy says.
Atom scoffs. "Me, neither."
The Scouts walk along, each of them carrying different weapons, despite Scout Master Sinclair being clear not to harm Bellamy in any way. Scout Master Sinclair takes Wick out with him on a boat, both of them scanning the waters for any sign of Bellamy.
Meanwhile, Captain Kane goes door to door across the island with a picture of Bellamy from his register. He shows it to several elderly couples and groups of children, passing the photo between their faces individually so they can get a good look at it. Finally, he reaches Summer's End, and hands the picture of Bellamy over to Mr. and Mrs. Griffin.
"Camp Walden? That's all the way over on the other side of the island. You really think a twelve-year-old boy could row this far in a miniature canoe?" Mr. Griffin questioned.
"Most likely not," Captain Kane answered.
"It is possible, Counsellor," Mrs. Griffin said.
"I disagree, Counsellor. It would take him three days at least."
"I don't think so. Two days, maximum."
"Well, I'm not gonna argue about it."
"Be that as it may, will you let me know if you see anything unusual?" Captain Kane interjects. Mrs. Griffin hands the photo of Bellamy back to Captain Kane, and both she and Mr. Griffin head back into their house. Captain Kane leaves the house in his police cruiser, and Mrs. Griffin heads outside to the clothing line. Behind two sheets is a bicycle, concealed from view. She drops her basket of clothes, and follows not far behind the police cruiser.
From the top of her house, Clarke watches the police cruiser slow to a stop across the way through her binoculars, her blond hair blowing in the wind. Captain Kane exits his car, and wanders over to a bench near where he parked. He sits down, lighting a cigarette. Shortly after, Clarke sees her mother ride up to the bench on her bicycle. She stops and talks to Captain Kane, and then reaches for his cigarette, which he takes from his mouth and hands to her. She takes a puff of the cigarette, and then hands it back. Clarke lowers her binoculars curiously. She sees Captain Kane grab her mother's hand briefly, before her mother turns the bicycle around and heads home.
Scout Master's log. September second. First day of search party for Bellamy Blake. Morale is extremely low. In part, I suppose, because Bellamy is the least popular Scout in the troop. By a significant margin. I'm confused, and I'm worried… please let us find him tomorrow. Please don't let him fall off a cliff or… drown in a goddamned lake or something. Terrible day at Camp Walden. Let's hope tomorrow's better.