Islanders

by Brandon Enns

  It was all over. There as nothing more she could do. As she neared the front door of the cabin, she could only hear Trevor making as big a fuss as possible, but he was still being manhandled by old Bruce.

  Stefan leaned forward and whispered in her ear from behind. "Will you get that for me? Destiny waits."

  Erin placed her hand on the brass doorknob and turned, cracking the door open an inch. It was no longer darkness outside, as amber crept through the skies. She thought of the policewoman one last time. I'm sorry. With one more deep breath of the palm trees, she swung the door open and stepped forward.

  She gazed upward at the pink sunrise. Before she could finish her silent prayer, it was answered with a jolt.

  "SURPRISE!"

  In front of her were tables of food, champagne, balloons, streamers, congrats posters, servers in tuxedos and flip flops, high-class silver and glassware, everything. It was a celebration.

  Standing in the clearing were Skye and Ashton. Their smiles were worried. Skye’s throat was not cut. They were wearing their normal clean clothes—shorts and tanks. Glasses of bubbling champagne rested in their grasps.

  Erin dropped to her knees and Stefan helped her up carefully. He whispered, "You’re okay. You’ll be okay."

  Skye ran up and gave her a big bear, hug squeezing her tight. "Skye." Her tears wiped on the side of Skye's face, and she could feel her strong heartbeat in sync with her own as they embraced.

  "It was all a show, babe. You were the star." Skye tried to pull away, but Erin pulled her back in and held on. "I won't die?"

  "Not today."

  Erin shuddered. "You're alive."

  Trevor sat in the sand next to Erin as she literally cried on his shoulder. Ashton popped a squat next to him in the sand. "We heard about most of it. Saw some when we could. You okay?"

  "Am I okay..." Jaw flexing, he looked to his right at Erin's red nose. "I'm fine," he said quietly. Bruce disappeared in the background without speaking to anyone—no remorse, no explanation, no apologies, only a job completed. Stefan was quiet. He didn't appear overly happy with himself. If anything, he was sympathetic.

  Sebastian approached slowly with his hands up. "I'm actually a doctor, guys. If it's okay with you, I'd like to take a look at both of you. Erin, you first. She hesitated at first but then extended her hand, and he helped her over to a chair. His checkup was all a blur as she zoned out on the spinach dip on the table next to a glass of champagne. The dip had a layer of cheese on top that was crusted around the edges of the stone bowl. She reached out and touched it. She brought her finger to her lips to feel the warmth.

  "Erin," Sebastian said loudly. She realized that she had been gone, and he had been trying to get her attention. She looked at her right wrist to find some bruising from her fight with Bruce. She had attacked him with a real knife. Sebastian followed her eyes to her wrist. "Okay, I see the problem. Does it hurt? Scale from one to ten."

  "My hand won't stop shaking," she cried out, confused. Her whole body started shaking again as she fought tears that crept out. "Erin, you are safe. Everything you have experienced is not real. You are in a completely safe place and we are here to look after you. Anything you need."

  She looked up at him. "I can go home?"

  "Yes, of course Erin. You are going home." Sebastian signaled two paramedics that had approached and were waiting on the sidelines with a stretcher. They brought it over and leveled it off in the sand. They placed a foam material on top. "Would you like to lie down, Erin? Would that be okay?"

  "What?"

  He enunciated slower this time. "Can you lie down over here for me? I'll help you; just take my arm."

  She took it. Nothing made sense. It was getting ridiculous and frustrating. He laid her down and told her to relax while he checked her pulse and flashed a bright light into her eyes. It was better than darkness, she thought. Light was good. The pink sky was fading and the sun was peaking. Someone is holding my hand. She looked over to find Trevor. He smiled. This was kind Trevor. The one she wanted to love.

  Sebastian spoke softly. "Erin, you're experiencing a bit of shock, but it’s perfectly normal, and we are all here for you. That's a fine man you've got there. He'll take it from here. You're as healthy as a horse, or a very small pony."

  "Should I sit up?" Erin asked.

  "Would you like to?"

  Trevor helped her up and guided her back to the chair and the spinach dip. There was also caviar. Oh, and oysters. She felt a big heavy kiss on the side of her face and her world started spinning again. It all hit home. Her garden. She would go home to her garden.

  Trevor's embrace left and she turned to watch him walk up to Stefan. What will he say? There wasn't anything to say. Instead, Trevor punched him, sending him crashing to the ground. His fist had extended through his face and then remained outward as an offering to help him up. He groaned from the powerful blow, stared up, and then laughed. "You hit pretty good for a lawyer."

  Stefan appeared ready to speak, but after locking eyes with Erin, he chose otherwise. "What is everyone waiting for? Grab a glass of champagne; Erin, maybe some water for you first. And eat up. We got every appetizer under the sun. Need to load up on calories for our surf today."

  The sight of food made her stomach turn, or maybe it was turning because she was that hungry.

  ***

  It took a while, but eventually the evening/morning was filled with laughter, champagne, scotch, and expensive hors d'oeuvres. Erin should have had resentment toward Stefan, she wanted to, but with Trevor's hand on hers, she only felt gratitude for living. The spinach dip was great. The sunrise was great. Life would be great.

  There was still so much to be explained, so much they didn't understand, but the feeling they were left with now sent chills down Erin's spine.

  The group was quiet for a while. The bottles began to empty and the food disappeared, and fatigue started to set in. Skye and Ashton both looked happy, but they were not showing their usual public displays of affection. Skye swirled her scotch around, admiring the glass. She looked exhausted, her face a shade paler than her body.

  "So wait...were you in on this the whole time, Skye?"

  "No! Shit girl, I was tripping out as much as you were. Sebastian found me when we were looking for Ashton. He slipped me a nice little cocktail of drugs and I woke up in one of those scary-ass rooms." She turned to Sebastian, who still had his stethoscope around his neck. "I want the recipe of what you gave me." She winked and laughed. "So the assholes leave me in there to suffer for what felt like an eternity. They claim it was only a couple hours, but I beg to differ! Then they filled me in on everything, prepped me for my dead girl role. The rest is horrifying history. Nothing like watching your friends shit themselves over and over again. I'm sorry. But Stefan is one convincing SOB."

  "And you?" Erin asked Ashton.

  "Same thing. I was just along for the ride. Until little man here insulted me to the max and Bruce knocked me out with a butt end."

  "Jesus."

  Jhett almost lifted out of his chair he was so antsy. "I told Bruce! He messed that all up. I was supposed to take you on a journey in the woods, but he ruined it. We had some special effects planned for you." He sat back in his chair, deflated.

  "That's okay. You'll get the next poor bastard. You did good. Real good, man."

  Erin could feel Stefan's gaze rested on her, but she chose to admire Skye's beauty instead, sipping her champagne. She extended her glass and Skye tapped her lightly while leaning in close. "Should we swap partners tonight?"

  Erin was too tired to be offended or anything at all. Skye's playfulness faded. "Terrible joke. I'm really sorry, Erin. I know what they made you think. I'd never. I know how I am. I’d never go through with it."

  "I know."

  Skye's classic sexy smile brightened again. "Unless you want to?" she teased. Her cackling laugh followed.

  Erin laughed softly and shook her head.

  "What's so funny?" asked Trevor
.

  Erin slid out of her chair and onto his lap. "Nothing. Just know I’ll have your penis removed if you look at another woman.”

  "Woah. That was…intense."

  She kissed him. He tasted like champagne and strawberries. "Sorry. I have important plans for the little guy."

  "Little guy?" He squeezed her sides. "What kind of plans?"

  She dropped a small strawberry into her champagne glass. "We’ll see." Both of their grins washed away. His eyes were so tired. "I should have trusted you," she said.

  Trevor waited a beat as his gaze drifted around all the empty plates. "Maybe the owner will give us a night in the villa?"

  "Maybe." They kissed again.

  Stefan rose from his chair and clinked his glass to get the attention of everyone: Trevor, Erin, Skye, Ashton, and the entire Royal Family, along with some other helpers that were invited to join them in the festivities.

  "What you've been a part of is our vision for what this island represents. It's about feelings that we don't get to experience out there. Our world isn’t all that it should be anymore. It strips us of our humanity." His voice trailed off sullenly. "Our intent, though cruel and extreme, is to separate ourselves from ourselves. I hope it has provided some answers for you. Maybe answers to questions you hadn't yet asked yourselves. If nothing else, I hope it helped you all feel what it's like to be alive. Regret is heavy. Let's shed it."

  "I could've killed you," said Trevor.

  "We took it a little too far. There are some areas we need to work on, to ensure more certainties. No question. Erin, it's one thing to plan all this out, and it’s another to see a friend have to go through it, to have to lie to you, manipulate you. I’m sorry, and yet I'm not, and something tells me you won't hold this against me for very long. I know how pompous that sounds. I don't like it, but I believe it to be true. I can only imagine how hard this was for you. I'm sorry you had to take so much heat. This is how our process goes. We feel it out, and someone has to go the distance. You were that someone and you were remarkable..." He took a breath, scanned everyone’s faces.

  He continued, "So, please don't sue me." He snagged his scotch off the table and raised it. "You guys have five more days here to get shit-faced, surf, scuba, whatever you want. But I'd understand if you wanted to hightail it out of here. No worries. We've got more champagne if you wanna keep the party going." He checked his watch. "Shit. It is now 7:05 a.m. If you must go snooze, that's more than cool."

  Erin chugged her glass of champagne. She had consumed enough bubbly by now that she was feeling perfectly fuzzy, her head tired and lovely. "The villa?" she asked Stefan.

  "It's ready. Enjoy."

  Her first steps inside chilled her, picturing Skye and all of the blood. It came and went quickly as the villa was filled with candles and rose petals. Cute “his” and “her” robes were laid neatly on the king-size mattress. Erin walked over and fell into the bed, sinking into the soft cloud. Trevor climbed on top of her and kissed her forehead before rolling over and flopping next to her, shoulder to shoulder. "Did you really shoot them after they shot me?"

  She exhaled harshly. "I don't want to think about that."

  "Erin."

  "Yeah?"

  "I did something back home.”

  She waited, ready to ask him what he had done, but fewer words left her mouth. "Me too."

  He didn't ask her either. "Hey..." He trailed off yet again.

  "Yeah?"

  "Never mind."

  She rolled over and nestled up into his chest. "You stink."

  His chuckle vibrated against her ear. "I know. I died and came back. You stink too."

  Erin slapped his stomach, making him grunt. "I know I do." She slid her hand from his stomach to his chest, feeling his heart beat. She kept it there and felt it slow. So did hers.

  Chapter Twenty-nine - Skye

  The water was calm but she was still queasy. The sun shined down on Ashton's six pack, and not a smidgen of sexual desire lingered. She wasn’t ten feet off the ground. Somberness enveloped her, distracting her from the pretty boat ride back to mainland. It appeared that she wasn't the only one who was reeling after the most bizarre few days of her life. Everyone else was silent, the water around them was silent, and even the hum of the boat’s motor was quiet. At the far end of the boat, Trevor's arms were wrapped around Erin, and she couldn't help but be envious. It was a dirty feeling.

  Ashton smiled at her. He had a bottle of beer in his hand with the label half peeled off.

  They were off the boat in no time. Mainland.

  A friendly man dressed in a button-up shirt and khaki shorts was there waiting for them. He helped load up their bags into his dated SUV and attempted small talk in the beginning of the ride, but one word answers clued him in that nobody was in the mood. She felt a little bad for him, but was too drained to worry all that much. The road was bumpy and narrow in the beginning. Along the ocean side she spotted some local kids on the beach splashing in the water, laughing uncontrollably as kids should.

  They were herded like cattle the whole way through and before she knew it, their plane had lifted off into the air. No more than five words had been shared amongst the group. They touched down in Boston, their connection fitting in perfectly with their timeline as they only had to wait a half hour before boarding again. Skye looked around at the mix of Yankee and Red Sox hats in the plane, but no brawls broke out. She was asleep as soon as the plane left the runway.

  ***

  Ashton was searching her eyes for something as they stood outside her apartment building in Brooklyn Heights. The neighborhood was rundown, but her place was only a few blocks from the brownstone architecture that she adored. It made her feel like she could travel back in time to simpler times devoid of screens and noise.

  "I think we should break up." The words relieved her more than anything.

  "Yeah...Okay..." He tightened his lips and nodded in disappointment. "Still friends?"

  Her laugh was more of an exhale. "That'd be great. Seriously though. I think we are capable of keeping in touch."

  "We're still going to have sex though, right?" he said half-jokingly, maybe half-hoping.

  She didn't respond.

  "I'm kidding. Would it be okay if I called you in a couple weeks?"

  "I'd like that." In the past, several booty calls would have ensued. But this time, that would not happen.

  He hugged her and sneaked an innocent kiss on her lips, the final touch to let her know that her gut was telling the truth. There was nothing. She was nothing.

  Everything in her studio apartment looked the same. Her stone walls, rustic kitchen, cheap leather sectional couch pointed at her old television that was deeper than it was wide. The open concept leading her to her massive window that looked out toward a series of billboards, usually promoting the latest hit detective or medical TV show. Her bed placed in the corner of the room, not having a room of its own. She had liked how free it was, having everything in one room, not being secluded to smaller areas. It felt cozy; it was an eccentric place, and it had been hers. But no longer did it feel like hers. She was a stranger living in someone else's apartment, distant from the same brick walls that had comforted her all those nights she lay awake satisfied after heated sex with a stranger.

  The smell of cigarette smoke from the hall comforted her, and she fell asleep once more.

  Skye woke up disoriented. She didn’t know where she was. Once she became aware, she was disappointed. Her bright red digital clock flashed into her eyes 4:01 a.m. She tore through her closet, packing everything into a small suitcase and duffel bag. She didn't even take a second to look around the apartment to admire the place she wouldn't come back to. She just left.

  Skye rode the subway to the end and back twice, looking through various search engines, along with Facebook, but had no luck finding her mother. She tried the white pages and siphoned through a list of Carol Bernard's. She would wait until her favorite library opened and ma
ke her calls there. Maybe she'd pick out a new thriller novel and read that too.

  Clinton Hill library was reasonably busy first thing in the morning, but she found her spot tucked in the corner, lost in a maze of shelving. A small round table and two chairs; the spot was almost always available to her. She took a seat, and began making calls to every Carol nearest their old address and outward from there.

  Some hung up immediately, probably assuming she was some telemarketer or life insurance pusher. Some were rather friendly, maybe feeling lonely and just happy that their phone rang. Some were direct, telling her she had the wrong number, sounding annoyed. But she wiped through New York with no trace of her mother, the woman she had abandoned.

  He had always hit her so hard. Nearly killed her once… What would he have done to her when they discovered I left? Skye continued to make calls.

  She went to her favorite coffee place which was now quiet because the morning rush had come and gone. She ordered a lemon poppy seed muffin to go with her dark roast coffee, one cream, no sugar. The smell made her feel a little better, and although she didn't think she was hungry, she scarfed down the muffin rather quickly. An old gray-haired couple sat across from one another; one reading a book, the other reading something on her phone.

  Before she searched for more Carol Bernard contacts outside of NYC, she reconsidered the worst. As she tried to search obituaries, her hand was trembling. She thought of her mother's pretty face. She didn't smile often, but when she did, everyone else around her felt better about themselves. Her hair was always in a ponytail, her long elegant neck always dressed with a gold or silver necklace. She loved jewelry but took a beating the one time she purchased some on her own. She was so elegant, like a dancer, and her voice was as soft and as smooth as her walk. Then, thinking of her mother's beautiful attributes, she remembered a conversation they had shared once, back when they still had some form of happiness.

  They stayed up late into the night, her father out on a bender, and they ate popcorn with a movie on in the background that they paid no attention to. They told stories of their fantasies of living in Rome, sipping wine outside their hostel, listening to love stories of other backpackers, watching the tourists pass by on the beach within their sight. They'd eat fresh Margherita pizza on the beach and fall asleep in the sun, pretend fight with swords at the Coliseum like the idiots they were, check out hot guys at the Vatican, and make corny jokes. They would find a rich father-son combo and marry them to take half their shit and move on to the next country. They would spend the whole night spinning fictional tales, dreams that could only rest with the stars, and would go forever unlived. Their fantasizing fun would come to an abrupt halt when they heard cursing and clumsy footsteps coming up to the door. Skye would rush to her room and her mother would quickly set out his cup of water and Advil for him before rushing to her bedroom as well.