Chapter 5
The sign was long gone. Remnants of the old, high fences were still there but other than that, the old army barracks remained, scouring the hillside like a huge, dead beetle, its skin shed, rotting in the morning sun. Looking back, children on Rachley Island had more freedom than any child today. We were largely unsupervised, riding our bikes all over the island, gone for hours, no questions asked unless we were late home and lunch or dinner was getting cold. I’d heard stories about what had happened to children on the mainland, children in other states, children who’d gone to the beach with their siblings and who’d never returned, taken by a man who was overly fond of them, worse than any Underpants Man. He didn’t stand there crying like Olivia’s husband. He took the children.
