The Dead Room

by Stephanie Erickson

  He glanced over his shoulder, noting the moon had made a fair amount of progress in its trek across the night sky since he’d left. He shook his head and forged on.

  Too late for doubts, he thought.

  When the moon had just about reached its peak, Mason saw a shadow rising from the horizon.

  The island, he thought to himself, too afraid to speak the words out loud.

  All the elders assembled in Alkoff’s home in the wee hours of the morning.

  “You know, Elder Alkoff, these wake-up calls are not overly popular, just in case you got the impression that we enjoyed them,” Lehman said with a grin.

  “Duly noted, Elder Lehman,” Alkoff said, no joy in his expression. “I’ve called you here this morning to prepare you for a funeral.”

  A collective sigh rang out in the room.

  “Who died this time?” Branneth demanded impatiently. “And why are they worth several hours of my sleep?”

  Alkoff proceeded without so much as glancing in Branneth’s direction, Mattli noticed. “Some of you may have noted Elder Meade’s absence at this meeting.” He watched as the elders looked around for their missing comrade. Only Burton didn’t bother to do so. He only had eyes for Mattli.

  “I’m sorry to say Elder Meade has been killed.” A tense silence fell across the group, and Mattli watched Burton closely. By then, Burton had finally pulled his gaze away from him, but he still made no outward show of emotion, except possibly irritation at having been awoken at such an ungodly hour.

  Alkoff met Burton’s eyes. “We don’t yet know who the culprit was, but it’s best if all of you are on your guard. We don’t know why Elder Meade was targeted, but I have a feeling we haven’t seen the last of his killer.”

  A few of the elders shifted uncomfortably, but Burton didn’t so much as flinch. He stared confidently back at Alkoff, not even blinking to break his gaze.

  Lehman was the first to break the silence as everyone struggled to understand the news. “How did this happen?”

  “We believe he was poisoned,” Alkoff provided. Mattli never ceased to be amazed by his ability to bait those around him with just enough of the truth that they believed the lie.

  “By who?” Lehman persisted.

  “As I said, we don’t know.”

  “Mason,” Mueller breathed, and everyone in the room turned to him. The color drained from his face, and the look of genuine fear there gave Mattli the chills. “Isn’t it obvious? He’s returned, and he plans to exact his revenge on us one by one! He’s the only known killer left alive on the island.”

  Branneth didn’t miss the opportunity to put her I-told-you-so on the table. “I knew it was a mistake to let him live. Now look where it’s gotten us!”

  Alkoff raised both hands in an attempt to calm the rising panic in the room. “We’ve no reason to believe Mason is the one responsible. The canoes have not been found, and we’ve had no contact with him since he left.”

  “He could’ve hidden the canoes or left them anchored offshore and swum to the island. Honestly, Elder Alkoff, Mason seems like a likely suspect,” Lehman said. “But why would he start with Meade?” She posed the question as if it was more for herself than the others. “Why not start with you, Elder Alkoff, or Elder Mattli? Even Elder Burton would have been a more likely target since he went with Elder Mattli to deliver his amnesty.” She paused, chewing it over. “Something doesn’t fit.”

  “I couldn’t agree with you more, Elder Lehman,” Alkoff said. “Until we have this sorted out, please look for and report any suspicious behavior.” Alkoff looked at Burton again, who stared confidently back. “Rest assured, when the culprit is found, he shall be punished according to the severity of his crimes. His execution will be exceptional, and he will not be privy to the normal courtesies given to a common islander.”

  That seemed to give Burton pause. Mattli noticed his eyes narrow, as if he were trying to calculate what Alkoff could mean… and if it were worth the risk.

  Alkoff continued. “In the meantime, we must prepare for Meade’s funeral service.”

  The elders dispersed to perform their regular funeral duties, when Lehman approached the head elders.

  “You know who did this, don’t you?” she asked.

  “I have an idea, yes,” Alkoff admitted.

  “It wasn’t Mason, was it?”

  “No, I don’t believe it was.”

  Lehman nodded and turned to leave, but Alkoff had one thing left to say. “Watch your back, Lehman. And don’t trust anyone. Not even the other elders.”

  “Doesn’t that include you?”

  Alkoff’s gaze remained unwavering as he drove his point home to Elder Lehman. “If I lose your trust in the process of keeping you alive, so be it.”

  “I see,” Lehman said. “It’s worse than I thought.” Alkoff didn’t respond, so Lehman cleared her throat. “Well, I suppose I better get to it. The islanders don’t notify themselves of a coming funeral. Although, I wish they would.” She smiled slightly, as if trying to lighten the mood.

  Alkoff nodded, and then he and Mattli were left alone. “I didn’t see that coming,” Mattli said.

  “What? Mason getting blamed?”

  “Yes.”

  “People offer the worst kind of variables to the best-laid plans, don’t they?” Alkoff looked off in the distance, staring out of the window into the night sky. The moon had dipped behind the tree line. Morning would soon shake off the last remnants of night, and then they would all have to face the long day ahead.

  Mason paddled with new fervor toward the shadowy land mass. He had to get on shore as quickly as possible if he wanted to fulfill all his goals and leave undetected. Closing the distance in record time, he tried to get his bearings.

  The moon started dipping toward the western horizon, letting Mason know his time was running short. He paddled ashore, to a deserted little beach north of the docks where they’d departed.

  He did his best to drag the canoe onto the sand and hide it near the bushes, hoping no one would discover it in the short time he’d be on the island.

  After covering the canoe with some loose brush, he took off toward his old home.

  A burst of adrenaline gave him the energy to run across the island. He knew his life was in danger. He had to stay out of sight and get to safety as quickly as possible. The only problem was, he didn’t think he’d find safety anywhere on the island, not even in the shadows.

  Being that he was a welder, which put him in the middle of the social scale on the island, his home wasn’t situated near the coast. It took him about forty-five minutes of cutting across backyards and through the woods to reach his house, all of which was spent hoping beyond hope no one else had been moved in yet. The familiar rectangular shadow of his flat-roofed house shot a twinge of homesickness through him—not for the place, but for the time before everything had fallen apart.

  Pushing the feeling aside, he approached quietly, keeping to the shadows. No candles were lit inside, but that didn’t mean anything given the hour.

  Despite the fact that it was his house, he felt better about sneaking in through the back door than traipsing in through the front. Just as he was about to cut into the backyard, he heard footfalls in the gravel behind him and darted behind a shrub.

  “Do you really think Mason Hawkins might have killed Elder Meade? I mean, Meade didn’t really have anything to do with his sentencing. Why start with him?” The voice was nasal, high-pitched for a man, and it could only belong to Mueller.

  “Of course it was Hawkins! You saw what he did to Wesley. He probably started with Meade because he’s the weakest link among us. Honestly, I can’t say I’m sorry to see Meade gone. I just wish Wesley were still around to take his place. Then we could have more control over the decisions made around here,” Branneth said with a bit of longing in her voice as she made her way down the road, passing right in front of Mason’s makeshift hiding spot.

  “Yes, Wesley would’ve been an ass
et to us. Who do you think they will get to replace Meade?”

  “I don’t know who’s next in line, but hopefully not…” Her voice faded into the distance as they kept walking.

  Mason stayed in the bushes until he could no longer hear their footsteps.

  What the hell? he thought. This island has more fish-dippers on it than I thought. Why would they think I killed Elder Meade? He took a moment to try and place which one Meade was. Non-threatening, which was unusual for the elders. He had always come across as a bit cowardly in Mason’s opinion. So who had killed him, and why? And why were they blaming it on Mason?

  Regret crept up the back of his throat and tasted a lot like bile as he stared at the back door to his old home, and debated going inside. If he turned back now, he could make it back to his tiny island undetected. He’d kicked the hornet’s nest by coming back, but it wasn’t too late to escape.

  Ashley’s voice in the back of his mind spurred him on. “Don’t you dare turn back,” she said. “I want to know what’s in that box. You owe it to me.”

  He sucked in a breath and climbed the front stoop of his old house.

  16.

  As quietly as he could, he turned the knob on the front door. His tools were all in the garage. If he could just get in there, he could work on opening the box. But first, he needed to know if the house was occupied.

  He pulled the gun out of the pack, shaking his head. Was he really prepared to shoot someone who was completely innocent, whose only crime was living in a home the elders had assigned to them? He frowned and strode inside with renewed purpose. If threatened, he would do what was necessary.

  He crept through the house, cringing every time a board squeaked beneath his shoe. At the top of the stairs, he bumped into an end table, and then silently cursed himself for never moving it. He’d bumped into that same table countless times.

  All the doors upstairs were open, and he poked his head into each room, finding them all dark and unoccupied. He was starting to relax when he poked his head into the last room and caught movement out of the corner of his eye. His whole body tensed as he froze in his tracks, scanning for the movement again.

  “Who’s there?” he called, taking a risk.

  No one answered, so he whipped around, aiming his gun into the darkness. He risked lowering his guard enough to dig through the pack for the flashlight. He’d already revealed himself by talking, so a light wouldn’t make it any worse. He saw the movement again and switched on the flashlight just in time to catch it. Shining it across the room, he discovered an open window blowing the curtain, nothing more. Extinguishing the flashlight, he took a deep breath and headed back downstairs so he could get to work.

  Lehman was making the rounds, fulfilling her unpleasant duty of waking people up so they could be ready for the morning’s funeral. Most residents knew what to expect when they heard a knock in the wee morning hours, but some of them were better at hiding their irritation than others.

  She knocked on Mason’s neighbor’s door—well, she supposed they were Mason’s former neighbors, since the convict hadn’t been heard from in days, despite Mueller’s wild conspiracy theories. Lehman shook her head as she waited for the door to be answered. Mueller was an idiot, looking to place blame.

  “Ah, Elder Lehman, what can I do for you?” Herbert Bowden was a stocky man, despite the island’s strict rationing system. Lehman thought the man’s job of tallying the rations no doubt contributed to his physique. It was one of the most stagnant jobs on the island. Maybe with a bit more activity, he’d be trimmer, Lehman speculated.

  “Unfortunately, I’ve come to inform you of a funeral in the morning. Elder Meade has died. Please dress accordingly to show the proper respect to a fallen elder.”

  “Of, of course. I…” Herbert stumbled on his words, shocked at the news. Lehman knew the man wanted to ask what happened. But none of them ever did, none of them except Ashley.

  After a few moments, Herbert finally found his words. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Elder Lehman.”

  “Thank you. I will see you in a few hours.”

  Herbert nodded, and Lehman turned to leave. As she walked down the gravel walkway, something caught her eye. A light. Just as quickly as she’d seen it, it was gone, but she could swear it had come from the front upstairs room in Mason’s old home. No one had been assigned to live there yet, as the elders were still waiting to see if he returned. A couple of kids had probably dared each other to sit in the murderer’s home overnight and see who would chicken out first.

  Lehman sighed heavily as she trudged up the walkway to Mason’s door, letting go of the hope that she could skip this home. She didn’t even knock. She just turned the handle and walked in, confident that she’d resolve the problem quickly and move on to the next house.

  Mason was just about to step into the garage when he heard someone at the front door.

  Shit, he thought, freezing in his spot, half way between the kitchen and the garage.

  “Who’s in here?” a voice called. It was deep but carried a definite tone of femininity, which could only mean one person.

  “Look kids, I know you’re in here. Come out now and I won’t tell the other elders you were here.”

  Lehman. It was worse than he’d thought. He couldn’t just stumble on a run-of-the-mill islander. That would’ve been too easy to deal with. It had to be an elder.

  Lehman made her way up the stairs, making no attempt to be quiet. Mason thought he might be able to slip out of the front door, right behind Lehman’s back. He tore himself away from the garage, so close to his goal, and turned toward the living room and the front door. As he crept across the house, a telltale board squeaked beneath his weight.

  “So, you’re back downstairs now, are you?” Lehman was halfway up the stairs when she turned and spotted a figure much larger than a kid in the living room just below her.

  “Identify yourself,” she demanded.

  “Good to see you, Elder Lehman.”

  “Mason,” Lehman breathed, clearly shaken.

  The two stared at each other for a few beats. Finally, Lehman’s curiosity broke the silence. “What are you doing, sneaking around your own home?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “I bet it is. You’d better come with me.”

  Going with Lehman was the last thing Mason wanted to do, but he saw no way around it. Lehman seemed to be a levelheaded elder, and Mason had no desire to kill her, let alone draw such attention to himself by firing the gun in the dead of night.

  Despite Lehman’s levelheadedness, Mason didn’t trust her enough to tell her about the box. Anyway, he couldn’t even be sure there was anything to tell. He turned and looked longingly at the garage, feeling so close yet so far.

  “Something you need before we go?” Lehman asked.

  “No. Not anymore. Let’s go.”

  Once outside, Lehman wasn’t sure how to navigate back to Alkoff’s home. She certainly couldn’t walk openly in the street like she had been doing, not with a convicted killer in tow.

  “How exactly did you get this far into the island without being seen?” Lehman asked.

  “Very carefully.”

  “Indeed,” Lehman said, wishing he’d be a little more compliant, but understanding his reticence. “All right, well, come this way, I suppose.”

  She’d already woken up all the houses between there and Alkoff’s home, so she was taking a risk by slinking along so close to their houses. But she thought it was preferable to walking openly in the street. Mason was plainly dressed, so he’d never pass as another elder, not even in the darkness.

  They continued to dart from house to house, bush to bush, tree to tree until they arrived at Alkoff’s home.

  17.

  Mattli and Alkoff were sitting in silence in the living room when Alkoff’s match cleared her throat. She was a beautiful woman who’d aged well. Her silver hair hung just below her shoulders, thick and healthy, and she had an enchanting voice,
one that charmed Mattli no matter how hard he resisted. His own match was perfectly kind and loving toward him. He didn’t need to fawn over Saraphina, and yet, he felt an attraction to her he couldn’t entirely control.

  “Sorry to interrupt you boys. Elder Lehman is here to see you, and she has a guest.”

  Mason braced himself for his fate as he stepped into the living room. If they thought he’d killed Meade, he’d undoubtedly be executed. And since Meade was already an elder, the punishment would be fierce and inescapable. Regret left a bitter taste in his mouth. He should have stayed on the small island and ignored the call of the box.

  Finally, Alkoff spoke. “Elder Lehman, thank you for bringing Mr. Hawkins to us. Where did you find him?”

  “In his home.”

  “Of course. Where else would he have been?” Alkoff said with a smirk. “You’re free to go, Elder Lehman. I assume you have a few more doors to knock on? Oh, and I’ll thank you for your discretion on this matter, not only with the islanders, but with the other elders as well.”

  “Of course.” Lehman nodded and left Mason alone in the living room, facing his possible executioners.

  After a few moments of tense silence, Mattli spoke. “You’re alone?” The disappointment in his voice was thick and obvious.

  “Yes,” Mason said without budging from the doorway, too afraid of what was inside to go closer, but too afraid of what was outside to run away. Trapped, he thought.

  Alkoff gestured toward the chair closest to Mason. “Why don’t you have a seat and tell us what happened?”

  He remained rooted to his spot. “Why do you think I killed Elder Meade?”

  “We don’t think you killed Elder Meade. In fact, I’m quite sure you didn’t,” Elder Alkoff answered.

  “Okay, let me rephrase. Why do Elders Branneth and Mueller think I killed Elder Meade? I overheard them while they were walking in the streets.”