The Peculiar Case of the Lost Colony

by Constance Barker

  “I don’t need you! I need... I need... agh. I could see you bled dry like a stuck pig, but I’m offering you an opportunity, Isabella. It would be wise for you to at least consider my offer before going absolutely mad,” he retorted, allowing her a bit of breathing room as he released her. A lock of his hair hung over his eyes, and he flicked it back, standing upright and brushing himself off a bit—as if we were some kind of filth not even worthy of clinging to his coattails. “Now. I know how important your family is to you. You’ve said it yourself. That’s what matters most to you in this lifetime, more than women, riches, or anything else that I could begin to offer you. You thought your family line ended with your father and your brother, but that’s simply not the case. There’s a whole tangled web of descendants that share your same blood, and I can see that you come to know them,” he paused, correcting himself after a moment. “Not the exact same blood, but part of the dna that trickles through their bodies is echoed in your own. You’ve had chance to cure, where they’ve not, but...,” he trailed off, shaking his head.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about and why the hell I should care. Leave me and my friend alone, and go along your merry way. I have a family already—a perfectly fine family, that my blood couldn’t hope to compare to,” Isabella grumbled, turning her back on him. He glowered for a moment, and I found that I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. There was something magnetic about him, something that shook me to my core but nonetheless made it impossible to bid a quick escape.

  “There, you’re wrong. They could not hope to compare to your blood—your lineage! Not in a million years. You are a once in a lifetime opportunity, no matter how many years that life may span,” he said in hushed tones, gripping Isabella by the arm once more. She wheeled around, rearing back as if preparing to strike. He held a hand out, a simply piece of card stock gripped between his fingers. Isabella looked at him like he’d grown a second head, tentatively taking the paper from his hand. She considered it for a long moment, and though it was obvious she wanted nothing more than to dispose of it, she tucked it into her pocket.

  “What makes you so sure I’d be willing to forsake Agnes? She’s everything to me. I would give anything for her,” she whispered, her hands tightened into fists.

  “I can tell you that Agnes won’t be of this Earth for much longer. She’s danced with death for far too long, and her time is coming due. This girl, this little Bean as you call her... she may seem important, but she’s not worthy of your company. None of them are worthy. I’m scarcely worthy myself, but dear Isabella, I assure you... I’m the only one who comes close,” he grinned, his eyes flashing with a strange desire. I shuddered, internally bidding Isabella to step away and simply take leave with me. I knew his words about Agnes were true, though I had no idea how he knew it as well as Robert, and before I even knew. Just the same, I wasn’t willing to stay and find out.

  “What do you mean? Agnes isn’t dying. She’s in perfect health, she’s the fittest old broad I’ve ever met in my life. Hell, I’m sure she’ll outlive me,” Isabella grumbled, taking a step away from Martin, as if my pleading eyes were magnetic as well.

  “She’s in perfect health, now, yes. But everyone has to meet their maker eventually. I assure you that if things go as planned, your dear Agnes Astor Smith will be laid to rest, far, far away from her place of birth,” he hummed. I felt my eyes widen, and Isabella moved to trail behind him as he turned his back on us. “I’ve wasted all the time I can. If you come to the wise decision, good for you. If not... I’m afraid there’s nothing more to be done for you. I will come for you Isabella, one way or another. You hold a key that no one else will ever hold, save myself. I will see you dripping from my fingertips, be it willingly or otherwise,” he smiled a sleazy smile as he looked over his shoulder at us, and I fought to swallow the bile rising in my throat. Isabella stopped short, his words seeming to startle her as well. “Consider my offer. Until we meet again, dear,” he called out, throwing down what appeared to be some sort of black capsule. All at once, the area exploded in smoke, and I struggled to find Isabella in the darkness. I could hear her coughing, and rushing towards her, clinging as tightly to her as I could.

  “There, there. I’m here. Stupid asshole and his stupid melodramatics,” Isabella hissed, even as the smoke began to clear. Once I lay eyes on my dear friend again, I nearly burst into tears at the look in her eye. She looked defeated, in a way. It was clear that Martin’s words were having a serious effect on her psyche. I gripped her by the hand, pulling her out of the gardens as we both gasped for breath.

  “Don’t listen to him, Isabella. He’s not a good person. He can only cause trouble for you, and I just—,” I cut myself short, nearing hysterics. “

  “I know. I just... what do we tell Agnes? What am I supposed to say to her? Do you really think she’s dying?” She asked weakly, looking as if she wanted nothing more than to say ‘screw it’ and fling herself to the ground in defeat. I tried to get back in the proper state of mind, realizing that my panic was doing nothing to help the situation. Isabella needed me, and in spite of everything, I was sure that Agnes needed my aid... my help, my protection.

  “I think it’s best we don’t say anything to Agnes. It’ll only get her all worked up, and that’s no good for any of us. We’ll tell her we explored the garden, and didn’t find anything. That’s what she’ll have expected anyway. Then... then, we can come up with some sort of plan. If Martin has your family—,” I began, only for her to brusquely cut me off.

  “I told you. You’re my family. Not him, nor anyone under his control. We don’t have to tell Agnes what happened, but if any of my kin are helping him... they’re no longer my kin,” she said decisively.

  That, I suppose, was that.

  Chapter Eight

  When we met back up with Agnes and Robert, they were watching what appeared to be some sort of reenactment scene—complete with actors in period appropriate clothes. It was a bit strange, considering that the actors weren’t doing much of consequence, simply washing clothes in wash basins while one focused on jotting down notes on a piece of paper. I fell into place beside the two as Isabella stood somewhat quietly at my side.

  “Did you two have fun?” Agnes asked idly, her attention seeming to be focused on the one particular actor who didn’t seem to fit in with the others, the one wrapped up in jotting down what I could only guess was crucial information. I gave her a slight nudge, raising a brow quizzically as she turned to look at me.

  “It was... interesting, to say the least. What are we watching here? Some kind of reenactment? It doesn’t seem terribly exciting,” I mused aloud, shifting from foot to foot as Agnes chuckled breathily.

  “I’m not quite sure. Robert and I thought it was some sort of act being played out, but...,” she trailed off, approaching the very man she’d been staring at. She waved a hand in front of his eyes, but he seemed oblivious to her presence, tapping his quill to his cheek before exhaling a sigh and resuming his work. After a moment, Agnes grunted and slapped him across the face—to our collective shock. Except her hand didn’t exactly make contact with his skin. It sort of phased through him, his flesh wavering and almost seeming to glitch until he rose to his feet and strode away from his small writing nook. I looked on as all around us, the skin of the other supposed actors blackened and began to appear to rot. I grimaced as they collapsed to the ground in a pile of bones, all of them with some sort of sickly green steam rising from their remains. I glanced to Robert, who watched the scene with a grim expression.

  “Some sort of time rip, then?” Isabella prompted quietly, hands tucked into her pockets. Agnes raised a brow, considering the younger woman before shaking off whatever seemed to be bothering her.

  “I’m not sure how you would know anything about that, but... essentially, yes. A tear in the space time continuum, revealing an image of the past... presumably,” Agnes explained, waving a hand grandly at the wide open and empty space before us.

/>   “I didn’t peg you as an astrophysicist,” I said mildly, though Agnes only waved me off.

  “I dabble in bits and pieces of everything, dear. How do you suppose I would know about extraterrestrials?” She paused, as if giving us time to laugh. Robert chuckled a bit uncomfortably, but Isabella and I only stared at the woman who floundered a bit. “I’m being facetious, of course,” Agnes pressed. Isabella barked out a sudden and abrupt laugh, but immediately fell silent once more. I groaned internally at how obviously uncomfortable the situation was, but shook off any second thoughts as I stepped towards Agnes and gestured to where the phantom of a man had been sitting.

  “You seemed particularly preoccupied with this guy. Do you think he had anything to do with what we’re looking for?” I inquired, tapping my foot anxiously. The elder woman’s expression turned a bit distant, and I could only wait for her to come back around. Isabella was muttering quietly to Robert just behind us, and though I couldn’t make out the words, I had an idea of what they were talking about considering the elder man’s expression. I hadn’t mentioned keeping the situation on the down low as far as he went. No matter, then. I needed to focus on Agnes—who looked as if she were slowly coming back down to earth.

  “I am fairly certain that he had plenty to do with our plan, as it were. Robert has mentioned looking into a connection with the sole remaining descendant of the Sappony tribe, who were rumored to have connections with the lost settlers of Roanoke themselves. If anyone has information regarding the page we’re seeking, I would presume it’s him. He works at a tobacco shop a few miles down the road. That will be our next stop,” Agnes said hurriedly, seemingly unaware of the collective discomfort in our group. I met Isabella’s gaze, and although I felt Agnes deserved to know what was going on, I felt we were better off keeping her in the dark for now. I could only hope Robert and I would be on the same page in that regard.

  “Right, right. Off to the Raging Bull Tobacco Shop we go, then.” Robert announced, gripping Isabella tightly by the wrist and pulling her in the direction of the car. Agnes watched the two with a rather strange expression, but said nothing about their sudden closeness, or the way the elder man was whispering frantically into Isabella’s ear. I walked alongside her with as much cheer as I could muster, settling in the back seat of our rental car and folding my arms over my chest. Isabella fidgeted a bit uncomfortably at my side, but before I could ask what was bothering her, she closed her eyes and seemed to try and dismiss everything that was going on around us.

  The Raging Bull Tobacco Shop certainly had an intimidating name, but there was nothing intimidating about the simple front deck with a porch swing, and a carved wooden native American propped up next to the door. I stared at the place with about as much delight as a kid being forced to go to the dentist, giving Isabella a nudge and gesturing towards the building. She stared for a moment before shrugging and pushing out of the car. Agnes was swift to trail behind her, and Robert lingered in the car a moment longer as I stared at the storefront.

  “Isabella explained your run in with Martin. As much as I hate to suggest this, we will need to watch ourselves around her. With her true family at stake, there’s no guarantee we can trust her,” he said quietly, meeting my gaze with a serious expression. I frowned, wanting to leap to my friend’s defense. He had a point, however, as much as I wanted to deny it. As much as Isabella insisted we were her real family, there had to be something to the idea of Martin holding her blood kin captive. I swallowed any feelings of unease as I slid out of the car, making myself as positive and presentable as I could manage. Agnes had already gone inside the tobacco shop, while Izzie sat on the porch swing, slowly swaying back and forth. Her expression was troubled, not that I could blame her considering all we’d been through in the past few hours. I took a step towards the swing, pausing and internally rerouting to the store itself. As I stepped inside, I saw Agnes hurriedly speaking to a burly looking man behind the counter. His skin was dark, as if kissed by the sun, and his long beard was woven into a gray braid. He looked rather serene in spite of Agnes’ obvious agitation—at least obvious to me. I approached her from behind, gently resting a hand on her shoulder. Some scarce moments later, Robert stepped into the building as well. It seemed a bit strange not having the final member of our party present, but I could only assume she was trying to cope with everything that had happened.

  “So, you claim to be the sole remaining member of the Sappony tribe. I was under the impression that your people had died out,” Agnes asked in a somewhat sweet tone, though there was a dangerous undertone to her voice as well. Whatever we were looking for, it seemed that the elder woman was only getting more and more frantic to find it. If this man was pulling her leg, as large and intimidating as he was, I had no doubt she would clock him across the jaw.. I hoped it wouldn’t come to that—I wasn’t meant to work for pennies in a prison labor yard. Of course, I hadn’t felt as if I was meant to work for thousands per check for an eccentric scientist of sorts, either. One option was notably more pleasant than the other, however, and I tightened my grip on Agnes’ shoulder in an attempt to soothe her. She frowned, examining me from the corner of her eye with a rather haughty expression.

  “I do not just claim it, ma’am. I am, indeed, the sole descendant of my people. I try to keep it quiet, as it were, you see... I’m not particularly thrilled by the idea of undergoing years of dna testing and interviews just because of my bloodline. I only want to live a simple life. Your friend, Robert, said this was a life or death matter. It is the only reason I am willing to help you. Well, not just you. A friend of yours came in a little while ago, asking me for the information you seek. I’m a bit surprised that he didn’t share the information with you, after all, you’d have only missed him by a few minutes,” the man rumbled, tapping his finger to his chin. Agnes tensed, and I glanced towards Robert who was exceptionally pale. Certainly it couldn’t be so... but it appeared that Martin had beat us to the punch, if not by a substantial period of time.

  “Where did you send him? If the journal page is hidden somewhere in this town, where would it be hidden?” Agnes demanded, slamming her hands down on top of the counter. The Sappony man considered us with a deadpan expression, taking her gingerly by the wrists and lifting them up and off the counter.

  “If you would be careful not to disturb my merchandise,” he said coolly, crossing arms as thick as tree trunks over his burly chest. “Your friend didn’t give me much information as to what you were looking for—neither Robert nor that Martin fellow. He seemed rather hurried, truth be told. But if there’s something of great value hidden in this city, I can think of only one place that would be a worthy hiding place. There is a plot in the cemetery where my people are buried. For all intents and purposes, it appears to be a grave, but it is instead a memorial for the lives of my people. It is where I will be buried when I die, the final Sappony laid to rest,” he said brusquely, seeming nonplussed by the increasing panic in Agnes’ eyes. “You can understand, it would be the end of the mystery. With no remaining descendants of the lost colonists, or anyone hypothesized to be descended as such, the lost colonists would truly be lost... forever,” the man continued.

  “We need to move, Agnes. We’re wasting too much time. We need to get to this cemetery before Martin gets the chance,” Robert said in a rush, gripping his friend by the arm and tugging her towards the door. She looked more sickly than ever, sicklier than she had even seemed in the airplane ride on the trip here.

  “We’re too late,” she whispered, her hands trembling as she was guided from the building. I quickly offered the tobacco salesman my thanks before darting behind them. I nearly slammed into the back of Agnes just short of the driveway. “No... No! You can’t!” She screamed, and I peered over her shoulder just in time to watch Isabella step into a conspicuous black van. I would recognize the driver anywhere, and a sinking sensation nearly brought me to my knees. “You can’t do this! You can’t take her!” Agnes continued to shout, lun
ging towards the van. Robert gripped her tightly, refusing to let her risk her life.

  “She’s going of her own volition, Agnes. The more time we spend crying over rotten apples, the less we have to get to the cemetery,” Robert insisted, pushing her towards our vehicle even as the black van lurched onto the road with a squeal of its tires. I rushed to jump in the car as well, rubbing the elder woman’s shoulders as she began to hyperventilate.

  “What do you mean? Of her own volition? Why would she—,” Agnes began through her tears, and I swallowed my own misery in an attempt to comfort the older woman.

  “Martin has her family. He claims... he claims that if she doesn’t come with him, they’ll be killed. She told me she wouldn’t dream of joining him, but...,” I trailed off, rubbing my eyes wearily. Agnes’ expression softened briefly, before growing extraordinarily steely. “He keeps referring to her as some sort of key. I don’t understand,” I continued, realizing it was the worst time to press for information but being unable to help myself.

  “I’ll explain everything once we get the final piece of the puzzle, Abigail. Don’t worry. Everything will be alright,” Agnes said quietly, staring ahead of us as the van sped into the distance. Robert pushed the car to move as fast as he could, and just as we seemed to be gaining some distance on the other vehicle, something crashed through the windshield. Agnes’ screams drowned out the sound of my own as the car lurched off the road, nearly coming off of its wheels while we were thrown around like helpless ragdolls. As soon as the car came to a stop, I climbed out, collapsing on the ground and retching as the anxiety seemed to catch up with me all at once. Agnes looked like a deer in headlights in the front seat, the glass from the windshield having sliced into her skin but fortunately having done little damage. Robert coughed to get my attention, having lurched out of the car himself. He gestured towards the elder woman’s lap, and I was startled to see a large chunk of glass protruding just above her knee. I felt the blood drain from my face at the sight, looking to Robert for some sort of instruction.