Islanders

by Brandon Enns

  "Anything else you can you tell me about her?"

  "I remember around Christmas she got herself a dog. Forget what kind...But she was a hell of a cop. I just wish she would have said something to me that day. I could have helped. But it was my day off and she didn't want to bother me I guess. Maybe I was too bitter. I'm not sure. I've been told I frown too much."

  "Do you know was she seeing anyone? Boyfriend? Fiancé?"

  "Not that I know of. I think she was a fairly private person, but maybe that was just my perception. But she definitely wasn't engaged or anything like that. No mention of a man."

  "What about her parents?"

  "Mother had passed if I recall correctly. Don't know if she was overly close with her father. Not sure though. How'd you know Tracy?"

  "I didn’t."

  "I thought you were friends as kids.”

  Erin shook her head.

  “Why'd you ask me here then?"

  "I was there when she was killed."

  He was expressionless. "Oh...I see."

  She waited for more, and so did he. "You saw the shooting?"

  Erin nodded, face hot, eyes filling.

  "I don't remember your name on any statement."

  "That's because..." She choked down the saliva caught in her throat. "My boyfriend at the time…He shot her. I was with him. We robbed that bank."

  He looked down at the ground, then at the headstone, then back up at Erin. She cringed and covered her face. Erin didn't want pity. She wasn't sure what she wanted from the man. Maybe to put her in cuffs and tell her she was a monster and would pay for what she did to his partner.

  "Why tell me this now?"

  Erin forced out the words, "Couldn't go on."

  He nodded in understanding. He hobbled up a step to lean on his other leg. "What is it you do now, Erin?"

  She was taken aback, and wiped at her eyes. "I'm in med school. Last year, then residency."

  He nodded again. "That's good."

  That's good? I just told you I killed your partner. Cuff me! Punch me! Curse my name! Kill me! "Good?"

  "You made it out. I hope the money was worth it."

  "You're not going to do anything about this?"

  "You didn't pull the trigger. And I reckon none of it was your idea? And it took a great amount of convincing to get you on board? And that you felt something strong for that boy. Maybe it was love, yeah?"

  Erin was speechless.

  "You a foster kid?"

  "How did you know that?"

  "Listen. Good people get themselves in bad situations. You wouldn't have pulled that trigger in a million years. I bet my 401k on that."

  "That doesn't matter."

  He smiled at her. "Don't turn yourself in."

  "Why?" It came out angry.

  "What would it accomplish?"

  She shook her head in short jarring motions.

  "You know what that guilt will do for you?" He didn't let her answer. "Nothing. It doesn't make you a better person, feeling guilty. You know what it'll do for others? Nothing...But if only there was some marvelous act that could make a difference in someone's life to make up for what happened. What could that be?" He shifted his focus onto the tombstone again, a glimpse of sorrow finally resonating on his face. "Yeah...That will work."

  "It's not right."

  "Tracy wouldn't want you in prison."

  Erin stared at the grass. Most of the snow was gone.

  "I can't tell you how to feel. I can't even tell you I understand what you're going through, because I don't. So maybe you're always gonna feel like this, but you can do something about that. Every time you feel shitty, go do something good. Or see a shrink, what do I know?"

  Her tears were blinding her. There was no answer that was going to get rid of that awful feeling that had plagued her all of those years. There was no escaping it. It was inside her. She would have to live with it.

  "My knee is locking up. It was good meeting you, Erin."

  "Jess," she blurted out. "My name is Jessica."

  "I like Erin better." He turned to leave, but she stopped him.

  "What about him? He shouldn't get away with it."

  He paused, agreeing with her. "It's already happened. Leave it behind.”

  Erin stared at him, begging for advice on a better solution.

  "Sometimes there's no right answer." And with that, he left.

  ***

  She turned her key, but the lock didn't slide over; it was already open. She opened the door. Trevor was asleep on her couch. There were two coffees on the table next to the couch along with a grease-stained paper bag. She walked over and kissed him, then crawled on the inside. He woke up and dropped his hand on his forehead.

  "Hey, where you been?"

  "Just had to do something. You take care of your thing?"

  "Yeah. It’s been handled."

  His body was like a furnace. She grabbed tight, snuggling up to absorb some of the heat. She tucked her cold feet on his bare legs and he twitched. "How are your feet that cold?" he complained.

  "My real name is Jessica." The words hung out there and he remained silent. Before answering he wrapped both arms around her.

  "Tell me something about her."

  Chapter Thirty-two - Trevor

  A series of lights flashed at random. His eyes were glued to his lids, refusing to open. The lights were getting brighter, harsh now. He tried to escape it, tried turning from it, but it was all around him.

  Then darkness.

  Nausea.

  There was an odd pressure pinning him down.

  His eyes opened. Trevor was lying in a pool of sweat and he had no idea where he was. He had no idea what century he was in, for that matter. He was going to be sick but didn't have time to get anywhere, not that he knew where to go. He crawled out of bed and vomited on the floor. It was sour and tasted of champagne and bile. He rose to his feet and looked in the bed for Erin, but she was not there. Where the hell am I? He turned around, trying to gain his whereabouts, but it was too dark and he couldn't find a light switch. To his right there was some light attempting to pour in from...outside? He walked toward it and there was a strange sparkle. It led him to a doorway, but there was no door, just an opening. It all started to feel familiar. He stepped through the opening and his bare feet gripped wood. He heard water. He was on a dock. The lamppost reflected off the water.

  He was on the island.

  Trevor glanced up at the small lamppost at the end of the dock, shedding some light on the beach, not far from where he had dug up bodies.

  He had dreamed it. His father, Valencia, Erin...None of it had happened.

  Trevor felt another surge and purged over the dock. Where was everyone else? If he hadn't left the island, where were they?

  To his left, still on the main beach, he could see a small fire, people around it.

  The walk down the beach alone was frightening. It appeared his flu had never left. He reached the group of people. They were his people.

  "Big sleep, man," said Stefan.

  "Sorry, I didn't want to wake you." Erin said.

  "It's okay." He looked around at everyone. It all seemed inorganic. It was like they were wax figures, but they weren't.

  He glanced around the circle. Skye, Ashton, Stefan, Erin. They were all looking up at him with concern.

  "Are you okay?" asked Erin.

  "Just not feeling well again."

  Stefan was quick to reply. "Yeah, something’s honestly been going around. All the adrenalin probably didn't help either. I wasn't lying when I said I was sick the other day. I think it'll just be a twenty-four-hour flu for you, cousin."

  It was all so messed up that a surprising smile graced his face unexpectedly.

  "What's so funny?" asked Skye.

  "Nothing. Did everyone else sleep away the day?"

  "Yup. There was no sun for any of us," said Ashton. He took a pull from his beer.

  They talked away the night. His stomach h
ad begun to recuperate. Ashton and Skye had scurried off finally, back to their duplex, leaving just the three of them.

  Trevor turned to Stefan. "So…How did you find out?"

  He glanced at Erin, then back to him.

  "Find out what?" asked Erin

  Stefan paused. "I have the resources to acquire important information on almost anyone. Without the investigations, my business here doesn't work."

  "How do you expect to market this place with a model like this? How are you going to be profitable?"

  He smiled. "I won't be. Tough when anonymity is required for the whole process. Future guests will be observed and hand-picked. I'll minimize the losses. I have enough money making me more money. That's not what this is about. I thought you would have understood that by now."

  "I do."

  "I understand though. It’s not easy to shake ways of thinking. I’m not saying this is the right way. It’s just my way."

  "What about the newspaper articles? His suicide?"

  "All fake. Custom job, that is all."

  His mind was churning now, trying to recall everything that had happened. "Your leg, in that trap."

  "All an illusion." He chuckled. "We have access to equipment that would give a magician wet dreams."

  "Right..." Trevor didn't smile back.

  He noticed that Erin had become quiet, looking bothered. She glanced up before he could ask her what she was thinking about. "You had no grudge against Trevor? Nothing happened between you two?" she asked.

  "Nothing more than falling out of touch." Stefan's gaze washed out over the fire.

  "And me?" she asked Stefan.

  "Yours took more work."

  "How then? That far back?"

  "I can't say. I trust you, I do. But I still can't say. Just trust that my sources are genuine and would never harm you in any way."

  He paused. "The nudes from Skye were easy. She was thrilled to do a photo shoot. Why was I not surprised?"

  Trevor moved in next to Erin. He put his arm around her.

  Stefan continued, “Everyone has something hidden. The severity of the pain will always differ and the way it all unfolds is somewhat up to chance. It just so happens that you two had some things to figure out.”

  Trevor and Erin stared at the crackling fire.

  "You both good?" he asked.

  "We're good." Trevor replied.

  "Well." He got up. "I didn't sleep all day like you two. Time to hit the hay."

  "Stefan."

  "Yeah?"

  "We'd like to go home tomorrow."

  "You sure?"

  "Yeah. Sorry. I have some things to look after back home."

  "I'll make arrangements first thing. Should be able to get you out tomorrow midday. Just have to check flights."

  "Thanks, we appreciate it."

  "No worries. You two have a good night."

  He walked away into the inner circle.

  "I had the weirdest dream." He felt her body stiffen up. His heart sank, her reaction telling him their journey was not yet over.

  Chapter Thirty-three - Erin

  Erin had escaped. She had been forgiven by Tracy's partner. She had almost forgiven herself. She had held Trevor in her arms with thoughts only of what was next for once in her life.

  It was a sick cosmic joke.

  ***

  The fire crackled and spat. Her muscles were tense and she held her breath.

  "You were in my dream actually," said Trevor.

  "I was?"

  "Yeah. But it was mostly about the business. Dealing with some things that are...well, real. I have to face them. I mean, I had faced them. You ever have a dream so clear?"

  "Can you tell me what happened?"

  He paused. She could feel his heart against her arm. He looked at the orange fire, his gaze fading. He shuddered and stilled. "I screwed over a business owner. I fixed it as best I could."

  She could feel the disappointment in his voice.

  "You still can, Trevor."

  "Maybe. What if it doesn't work this time though?"

  "Then you tried."

  "Right."

  He leaned down and kissed her, but his breath was terrible from vomiting. "Sorry."

  She kissed his lips lightly anyway. Erin lowered herself into his lap and looked at the blueish hue at the bottom of the flame. It danced around the charcoaled logs. "And I was there?”

  "We were on your couch back home."

  "Oh?" She knew what was coming.

  "Yeah, it was so random. You told me you had a different name."

  Erin jolted upright, staring daggers first at Trevor. She stood and then she did a full 360-degree scope of the island, half expecting her surroundings to melt away like butter. But no such thing happened; they were very much there.

  It appeared Trevor was feeling everything she was, his eyes frantically searching hers. "You said your real name was—"

  "Jessica," they said at the same time.

  Trevor hopped to his feet. "What is going on?"

  "Trevor..." she whispered, "I thought I was home. I was home."

  "Me too. I know it. Like in my bones. I know it."

  "What if we can't get home? What if this keeps happening?"

  "Erin calm down—"

  "I can't calm down!"

  "Listen, listen. We both just went through something heavy. This is just the aftereffects. The shock just hadn't worn off, that's all."

  "No, no. We were connected." Erin was falling apart. "How is this possible?"

  "Connected? Listen to yourself. How can we be connected?"

  "How can you say we weren't?" She continued to unravel. "It's this place. Oh, Trevor. It's this place. We can't leave."

  "Yes. We can so." He grabbed her by the shoulders. "Let's take a beat here. Breathe with me."

  "What we are going to do is stay seated right here with this fire a little longer. Let's talk through what makes sense and what doesn't. There's always an explanation, E. How freaked out were we before, and it ended up being what we knew all along. A game. Right? Tell me I'm wrong."

  "You're not wrong."

  "Okay. Sit." They sat on the towel and faced each other, legs crossed.

  "So, blood, guns, Stefan's leg. All fake. Easy. Surveillance—"

  Erin interjected, "Stefan knew I'd check the surveillance when I went to supposedly get Ashton from the basement. It was set up for me to find you going into the villa."

  "And I was led there by Cassidy, as I thought she was working with the others to blackmail me for what I had done to Valencia.”

  "Stefan was down and out with the flu for almost a full day. That's when the alternate notes came in on the white paper instead of the old scripture-style stuff."

  "He could have moved in and out as he pleased, using the surveillance to track us. So that checks out.”

  "The scuba incident."

  "Bruce. It sure as hell wasn't me pulling at your ankle. They used a cadaver or fake body to scare you and then Bruce hung back in the dark, probably dressed head to toe in black."

  Trevor shook his head with a smile. "We can't really contest anything, Erin. I mean, they had a full crew of people, it would be impossible to have all of them unaccounted for, for any of this bullshit. There was always someone available that knew the layout of the island perfectly. They even had a cat and mouse game with me in the woods. Trying to mess with me."

  "Mess with you how?"

  "Shoveling. Or chasing Cassidy through the woods with a gun."

  "This Cassidy was really obsessed with you."

  "Part of the skit."

  "Were you worried about her?"

  "I was worried about you."

  "Really?"

  "Really."

  Then she remembered. "Did you hear that noise in the woods?"

  "Yeah, some type of high-pitched frequency they must have used."

  "It wasn't just the pitch. It was like words. Being put in my head. It's like it was saying—"


  "Stay a while." He shook his head, trying to reason with the inexplicable. "It could be two things blended as one. Some type of trickery. You heard him, Erin. They have money and resources to do some crazy shit. Remember that."

  "There was something about it though."

  "Like a weight," he said.

  "Like a weight."

  "So what? What are we supposed to do? Weird sensations don’t get us any answers."

  Erin pondered for a while. "First we talk to Ashton and Skye to see what they have to say about everything. Then, we— Oh! Your phone. Stefan rigged it somehow to get service in his place and Bruce's. Let's use it to call someone for help. We'll get an emergency boat to come in.”

  “Isn’t the yacht still here?”

  “Arnie took it back halfway through my first glass of champagne.”

  "Honestly, I think we're okay. We'll be out of here tomorrow anyway. Like Stefan said."

  She wasn't so sure. "Just hedging our bets. Come on."

  They walked away just as the fire was starting to die out.

  ***

  Erin knocked on their door but nobody came. They let themselves in and she heard crying. "Skye, put the knife down!" Ashton pleaded. They rushed down the hall to the bedroom; the door was open. Skye was standing on the opposite side of the bed waving a kitchen knife around in the air. "Get back, Ashton. Don't smother me!"

  He had his hands up. "Not smothering you, I just want to talk. That's all. Tell me what's going on. It's okay, just tell me."

  Skye slammed her back into the wall when she saw Erin and Trevor standing outside the doorway. "It's okay."

  "No, it isn't! It's not okay! Stop saying that!"

  Erin's voice was calm, reasonable, clear. "Skye, I know exactly what you're upset about. It's happening to all of us. You're not going crazy, I'm not going crazy, none of us are. I know how upsetting this is."

  "They're poisoning us! Torturing our minds! They'll keep doing it. I know they will. They know what we want. Don't you understand?" She tilted her head back and huffed out a deranged sigh. "They know what we want."

  Skye brought the knife to her wrist and held it there, contemplating the vertical slice. "I just can't. I won't let them."