“I know she’s dead.” Emma looked back at him with the same expression of shock, then waved around the room. “Everyone else knows she’s dead.” Jessie sneaked a look of horror through the backroom door before retreating. “And you know she’s dead. Been dead.”
“What the fuck are you going on about? If something happened to my Sarah, come out with it. Otherwise, pull your head in.”
“I’m not trying to tell you anything you don’t already know. I’m just asking questions. Is there some reason why it makes you nervous when I ask questions?”
Anger ricocheted between their eyes. Red stared at her, like he was waiting for something. When it didn’t come, he pushed away from the table and stood up.
“I don’t know what stupid shit this is, but when Ned gets back, I’m going to make sure he knows you’ve been telling lies to frighten people.” He left The Rock by the front door, at one point holding on to the bar to steady himself.
Emma watched him go, then leaned back as far as she could on the stool. She closed her eyes, gave a long sigh, and smiled. Jessie was staring at her when she opened her eyes. Emma grabbed Red's beer as she stood up and finished it in one gulp. As she walked past Jessie, she put the empty glass on the bar without looking. It hung halfway over the edge.
“I think there's a leaky faucet in one of the top floor rooms. Be a dear and have a look at it?”
She walked out the door and looked up and down the street.
“Surprising how quickly that man can move when he wants to.”
Around the corner and four houses down. The one with the white door, narrow windows, and dead flowers on the kitchen table. She ambled up the street, swinging each leg like a pendulum.
“What are you afraid of, Red? Not sure what will be left of you when you run out of lies?”
In her mind she ran through innumerable scenarios in which Red would live his life in peace. Hobbies, friends, the occasional good cry. But she saw every branch of the path in front of him, better than he could see it himself. She knew which path led the other way. It was a matter of gentle nudges in the right direction, some so subtle he wouldn't even notice them.
Who would it be that mourned for Red, when the time came? Darren, perhaps? Or Jessie?
Her feet came to a stop on the uneven ground. She jerked her body forward to prevent smacking her face into the street.
“Stop it.”
“Oh, we've decided we're good people now, have we?”
“Stop doing that. I don’t have to be a saint to not want to hurt anyone.”
Emma felt her mouth pull back at the corners.
“I couldn't agree more. Only monsters talk about good people and bad people. What does that make you?”
“I'm not a monster.”
“You can't lie to me, murderer.”
“Fuck you, I haven't killed anyone.”
“Then what is that waiting for you back at the hotel? Who is responsible?”
“What are you talking about?” There was no response. “What? Do you mean David? What did you do? If you hurt him, I swear to God...”
Emma's voice rose until it ended in a choking laugh.
“Why don't you go back and check on him? After all, you are responsible for him.”
Emma could feel her feet in the cold night wind. They didn't budge.
“That's what I thought.”
“He's fine!”
“As you say, liar. It was clever of him, taking your place. He saved your life. But you didn’t give him much choice, did you, chasing after something so dangerous? Do you want to know what he said to me at the end?”
“I didn't kill anyone! I’m not like you!”
“What are you like, then? Let’s find out exactly. I wish all the world’s liars were exposed, don’t you? You lied to David so you could bring him here to die.”
Emma tried to clench her hands into fists. She could barely feel her fingers.
“Am I wrong? Do I have the gist of it?”
She couldn't move her eyes, but she could see that the street was empty, and the curtains of the houses were closed. She knew who was asleep and who was pretending to sleep. No one could see her. No one could hear her. But she could hear her own voice mocking her.
“Alright, liar, maybe we won't start with you. Maybe we start with your friend Red. Why should you be the only monster who gets punished, hm?”
“I won't let you win.”
“Who are you talking to? Me? How do you know I’m even here? Have I told you anything you didn’t already know? Has anyone else confirmed that you’re not just talking to yourself?
“Alright, I’m only kidding. But as for ‘win,’ you’ve got it all wrong. I’m here to help. I'm the truth you already know. The truth about everyone, about yourself. I'm here for you, not for me.”
“I'm not a monster I'm a human being I'm not a monster I'm a human being...”
“This is fun. I've never noticed much of a difference, and neither have you. Tell me. And try to be honest for once. When you’re not trying to feel ashamed or pretend that everything is fine, some part of you wants someone else’s life to be ruined. Isn’t that right? It’s only fair.”
“Blood for blood is not justice.”
“But I didn’t say just, did I? I said fair.”
Emma tried to shut her eyes. “I'm not a monst-”
“That's enough.”
Emma's feet lurched forward. A little sensation came through her fingers as she steadied herself against the outside corner of the pub. Around the corner a light was on in the fourth house on the right. The thick curtains were drawn, blocking most of the light. They were green with little flowers and filthy, matching the wallpaper. Red was inside pouring himself a whiskey with shaking hands.
“I won't kill anyone.”
“Of course not.”
“I won’t help you.”
“You will. There are rules. There are consequences.”
“You’ll have to kill me. And you can’t do that, because you need me.”
“I told you before, I wouldn’t hurt a fly. It’s all up to you.”
“I won't. I won't hurt anyone. Not even me. I won't let you.”
“Who said anything about you?”
“I am better than this.”
“That's the worst lie you've told yet.”
“I can still do one good thing.”
Emma saw her foot lift off the ground. She slammed it back in place. It slid backwards against the ancient cobbles, grinding the pebbles and moss under her shoe. The muscles in her legs burned as they fought each other. She twisted her hip around to face the other way and the pain forced the air out of her lungs. She heard the pop and felt her ankle give out. Little pulls and tears screamed up and down her thigh.
She managed to lift her leg and put it in front of her, in the direction of the hill. She closed her eyes and forced herself up the slope. Despite the pain each step came easier, until the accumulated damage forced her onto her hands and knees. Sometimes her hands found purchase on a cobble or hard-packed earth. Other times she scraped at loose rocks and gathered slime under her nails. One slab of concrete gave way under her grip, cracking into two jagged pieces that split the flesh open down the length of her forearm. She crawled past the humming generator and through the little weeds growing around it. Dawn was coming and the wind was dying.
Inside the station it was quiet. The usual strum the wind made against the metal shell was gone. Emma felt in the dark that she was still not alone. She didn't waste time trying to reach the lights and followed the red dot of the radio receiver. It took three tries to get into Evan’s old chair and reach the handset, but as soon as she pulled it down, the radio came to life. Presets and levels spoke to her, illuminated by orange back light. One frequency was marked in a sloppy hand “Royal Navy – Diego Garcia.” She set the dial and activated the handset.
“Hello?”
“Hello?”
“Uh... is this the Navy?”
“This is
NSF Diego Garcia. Identify yourself.”
“My name is Emma Cambourne. I'm a constable on South Alderney Island.”
“Where?”
“It's... I'm at Broken Ridge Station, with the BAS.” Emma hissed through her teeth, trying to keep her voice steady. “There’s been an accident. The Governor General has died.”
A long moment passed before the voice came back. “If you need emergency medical assistance, I think you need to contact Royal Perth Hospital.”
“This isn’t a medical emergency.” She winced at the pain biting at her legs and snapping up her spine. “We need to arrange an evacuation. We can’t stay here.”
“Slow down. And move the microphone away from your mouth. Who’s in charge over there?”
Emma angled the handset away from her face and realized she was panting. “I am.”
“Whoever you are, you need to contact the BOT’s government office in London. We’re not authorized to do anything close to what you’re requesting.”
“I don’t think there is a government office.”
“Can you explain what the hell is going on down there that requires an evacuation?”
“It’s a bit complicated. I’m afraid you won’t believe me.”
“Try me.”
“I will, I promise, but you need to send someone. Please. We need help. I am asking you for help.”
The faint crackling of dead air continued for several seconds.
“I need to talk to my CO. Stand by.”
Maybe they wouldn’t come. Maybe she would have to wait until Beatrice came back next month. But word would get out to someone. Someone on the outside would be reminded of South Alderney and the people trapped there. She had to hold out until then.
Then again, maybe they would come. She had to convince them.
The station was quiet again, except for the crackle of the radio. Emma listened to the stillness. With the wind gone she could hear the village waking up at the bottom of the hill. Her mouth tasted like metal. She felt eyes on her from no particular direction.
“You’re trapped here with me.”
Emma didn’t realize it was her own voice and not the other, until she continued.
“You are going to sit here with me, in this spot. You are not going near Red, or anyone else, as long as I’m alive. We are going to sit here until people remember this place. And when they come here, I am going to tell them exactly what you are.”
“That could be some time. And we have a lot to talk about.”
“I’m not afraid of you. I can wait.”
“So can I.”
The radio crackled. “Broken Ridge?”
“Yes. Affirmative? Yes.”
“We’re trying to get in touch with the BOT government office now. Can you please explain to me what is happening on your end?”
“Not all of it. But I can tell you how the Governor General died. First I need something from you.”
“What’s that?”
“what is your name?”
“AB Foster.”
“You sound young. How old are you?”
“Twenty-four. What’s your point?”
“It helps to match a person to a voice. Humor me one more time. Do you like the Navy?”
“It’s better than working at the DVLA.”
“OK. I think I’m ready. Let me try to start at the beginning.”
Next to the bank of electronics was a cluttered table that had served as a kitchen. The cabinet with the whiskey was still locked, but she could reach the fridge. She winced when she bent over, trying to move as little as possible. She took out two tall cans of VB, cracked one open and placed it on the table, then opened the other and drank until she was out of breath.
Emma pushed the button on the handset just in time to feel the first tremor. She dropped the mic and grabbed the edge of the table, thinking the chair was rolling out from under her. Then it became clear that the whole station was shuddering. After a couple of seconds, the radio and every other light in the room winked out, then the trembling slowed to a stop. The aftermath was total silence, quieter and emptier than the station had ever been. The low hum of the generator was gone.
Her hands slipped on the edge of the table when she tried to push off. In the dark she could see the table was streaked with blood. The cut on her arm had not stopped bleeding, and every movement brought hot needles and a fresh trickle of blood down her wrist. She held her arm stiff and wheeled the chair to the door, opening it with her other hand. She got the chair mostly over the threshold before it tipped over. Without trying to break her fall, Emma landed on her face in the dirt. The weight of her body pushed her face forward, grinding against the tiny splinters of volcanic rock.
She propped herself on an elbow and looked around. The cold wind made the mud on her face sting like ice. A seismic event made no sense. South Alderney had been volcanically extinct for thousands of years. In any case there was no sign of serious damage to the building, or any building of the village that she could see below the hill. She listened for the sound of birds, hoping the cliché of birds troubled by impending natural disasters was real. It was difficult to tell if the squawking was any louder than usual over the roaring of the wind. The sky was light blue around the mountain, only moments now until the sun came over the top. It was normal for the wind to pick up again.
Emma looked at the dawn and squinted into the cold wind. It was coming from straight ahead and tasted of compost and sulfur instead of salt. The night wind was blowing.
In the same moment, the ground began to shake more violently than before. A ridge of basalt sand that marked one edge of the hill liquified and oozed downhill.
Emma shouted into the wind.
“Do it. Throw a tantrum.”
She crawled up the slope toward the center of the island.
“I’m right here. What are you going to do? I’m not your toy, and I never will be.”
The presence was still there, felt more clearly than the pain in her arms and legs. The second tremor abated, but she still felt like she was holding onto a lifeboat in a storm.
“What? Nothing to say to me?”
After several feet she was crawling through the tall grass that grew in clumps on the lower slopes of the mountain. She kept her eye on the peak but otherwise lost sight of everything around her. She could not tell how long she had been pulling her body forward when it refused to move any farther.
A puff of warm air hit her ear, then another. She looked up into the face of a small dog, sniffing her filthy hair without making a sound. When she lifted her head, the creature moved to a safe distance and walked a full circle around her. There was no sound, and the mud it trampled bore no footprints. When the dog came back to her face, she saw that the pads of its feet were covered in thick fur. She was inches away from it but couldn’t smell anything but grass and dirt. It sat down and cocked its head to the side.
“Hello. What are you doing here?”
Emma was almost surprised to receive no answer.
“I’d get out of here if I were you little guy. Maybe go to Australia. I hear it’s nice there.”
The dog yawned, then scratched behind its ear.
“Maybe I should have gone to Australia. Maybe we both should have never come here. You can still get out. Some boat is bound to want a weird dog mascot or something. Go keep the people company while they evacuate. Tell them I said goodbye. Tell them I would have liked to live. Even if it meant living with myself.”
It cantered down the hill and out of sight.
“OK. Bye.”
A third tremor hit, this time almost rolling her onto her side with its force. She looked up the slope and saw large sections of the mountain slide toward her. Dark clouds of dust curled in slow motion around the rubble. That was the last thing Emma remembered until she was lifted off the ground.
“It went this way! I swear I saw it.”
“Red! Red, you drunk cunt forget the dog. It’s Emma!”
&n
bsp; The world spun around several times until Jessie’s face came into view.
“Get over here. I can’t lift her by myself.”
“Jesus, what happened to her? Constable! Can you hear me? It’s not safe here.”
“Grab an arm before the whole hill goes.”
“What was she doing out here?”
“What are we doing out here? I’ve got better things to do in an emergency than talk you off a mountain because you think you’ve seen a dog.”
“She’s awake. Constable?”
Emma tried to walk, but the dragging motion swept her feet out from under her. She settled for raising her head enough to see where she was going. When she cracked open her voice, her lips were sticky with blood and mucus.
“I have to leave this place.”
“You’re not alone in that.”
The village had reached a state of chaos. The sight of the tumbling mountain was unprecedented in living memory. The cold, fetid air sloughed off the slopes despite the morning sun, rasping and wheezing through the narrow streets. People argued over how far the slurry of mud and gravel would reach before it was satisfied. Red and Jessie dragged Emma onto a small fishing boat that was quickly filling with nervous people in mismatched shoes and uncombed hair. Greg and Lily sat in the next boat. Greg had thrown an orange anorak over his pajamas. Lily squeezed a small rucksack in both arms.
The one-eyed man argued with someone behind her.
“We can’t get that far, not in this. You know that as well as I do. We can circle the island for a few hours, maybe a day. That’s about all.”
“And then what? What do we do about the paddocks? Our farm? What if our house goes?”
Emma used Jessie as a brace and turned her body as far as it would go.
“It’s OK. Diego Garcia will come.”
“The Navy? How can you be sure? Do we even have a radio on this hulk?”
“They’ll come.” Emma sank back against Jessie’s shoulder and the young woman jumped.
“Oh! Mrs. Cambourne, what about David? Wait here. I’ll go and get him. If he’s not here, he must be upstairs at The Rock wondering where you are.”
Emma reached out and grabbed Jessie’s arm as hard as she could. It was weak, but the grip stopped her in her tracks.
No Stone Tells Where I Lie Page 11