Grim Island(Book 1)(Legacy of Terror Series)

by Wayne Tripp

  Frustration clouding his face, Jamie shook his head.

  “No cells, no email–it’s like they’re on to us and trying to cut off our communication with the mainland. I don’t like this James.”

  “Me neither. Maybe it’s time we rethink this and get our asses off the island. Smiley’s ferry was still docked when we drove by the waterfront.”

  “That crusty old coot. He gives me the creeps. The way he always looks at women. Undressing us with his eyes. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s one of them.”

  “Let me worry about Smiley. Let’s get the others. I think we need to talk about this and put it to a vote. I suppose I’d better try to get some of Lacey’s kids too, or she’ll never go. Where is she, anyway?”

  “Still at Mass, I guess. She told me last night she intended going and praying for guidance. She’s been gone since first light this morning. I thought by now she would have hooked up with you.” She clings to you like a damned leech, after all.

  “That damned woman! She never listens. Sometimes I’d like to strangle her. When did she get religion! Any ideas where she went afterwards?”

  “Not a clue, Lover.” I say good riddance to the bitch though.

  “Eric! Larry?”

  “Yeah, what is it, Jamie?”

  “Lacey’s gone. We’ve got to go find her. I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Got a sinking feeling I know where she’s gone. Why would she do such a stupid thing?

  Kat could see his black mood was getting a whole lot darker. Maybe now was the time to kill this Rodriguez thing once and for all.

  “Hurry it up guys!”

  Like an angry tigress in heat, Kat jumped in front of Jamie, blocking the door. He looked at her in mounting fury, his scowl barely human, and moved to shove her aside. Kat stood her ground, slashing out with fingers clenched like claws, tearing five deep furrows across Jamie’s cheek.

  “Let her go, damn it! Maybe this is your sign which of us to choose. Who’s here, still loyally by your side? Me!”

  He stood there glowering at her, his fierce sex-tiger, listening to her talk about signs, but already his mind was miles away, planning a rescue.

  “She’s not worth it, Jamie! Don’t be a fool! Let’s get off this damned island. Just let the bitch go!”

  Touching his stinging cheek, he swatted Kat aside and thundered down the stairs, bellowing for his troops as he ran.

  Kat stood there silently staring at the door for long minutes after he’d gone, acidic hot tears burning down her cheeks. Perhaps it was Jamie who had given her a sign. A determined predator, she turned and stalked into the bedroom to change. She was resolved to make a kill.

  Dressing quickly, she never heard the outside door creak open or three dark figures slip in.

  Chapter 44

  “Stop.”

  As Lacey obeyed, Julie took her blade away from the other woman’s rib cage and ran it lightly down Lacey’s cheek, throat and onto her chest. Snickering to herself, she used the knife’s tip to snip away the two top buttons closing Lacey’s dress, and then gently eased the dress open. Lacey gasped and quivered, the wavering blade almost slicing into her flesh.

  “Easy there, Princess. Don’t want to go giving Gerry any damaged goods now, do we? Be a shame to bloody those nice tits ahead of time.” She pulled her blade away, grabbed hold of Lacey’s arm, and looked back in the direction they’d just come. Lacey wondered what she could see; if anything the swirling fog was worse than ever. “This’ll do just fine. Pull across the road here. That’s it. Block the road with this heap. Good. Now set the parking brake and get out. Do it!” Once they were outside the car, she came around to where her captive stood shivering in the cold fog. Listening for something, she looked behind them as she approached her captive. Seeing her look away, Lacey took a second to reach into her purse, feeling the cool reassurance of the hidden 9mm Walther.

  “Your boyfriend should be along any time now with his buddies. Hopefully he is as easy to persuade as you were. Bring your purse. I’ve never known you to be without make-up and a hair brush. Sweetling will want you pretty. Start walking, bitch.” Julie pointed with her knife and shoved Lacey in the direction they’d been traveling. “You did want to see the principal. Well, he’s just up the causeway a little piece.” Lacey began wondering if she should stand and take her chances with the handgun, or wait for a better opportunity. “Yeah, a couple little suggestions from our Kat and you turn into Rambo with tits. Good thing we figured you might and loaded your little car’s trunk with a big surprise.” Half listening, Lacey caught the mention of her car’s trunk with some surprise, and stopped, an icy chill running down her spine. “Yup, Mr. MacLeod and his goons come barreling down the road like a band of foolish heroes and boom! No more boyfriend. Get your ass moving!”

  It was a trap! They were planning on murdering Jamie and they’d used her to set the trap! She had to do something to stop them.

  “Move your ass! We haven’t got all day, bitch!”

  “No!” Without really thinking about it, Lacey pulled the gun out of her bag and assumed the shooters’ stance Jamie had shown her. “We’re going back. You’re going to move my car, and let me go. Now!” Although Lacey held the small 9mm with both hands, the slick barrel wavered with her nervous quivering. Smirking, Julie looked at her, shook her head and started walking towards Lacey.

  “Stop! For god’s sake Julie, stop! I-I will shoot you!” Her ex- friend started to laugh then, a hideous thing, full of crazed giggle and spit. She kept walking forward. Lacey took a step backwards, then two. She glanced at her piece, making sure the safety was off, she’d racked the slide. It would fire; could she fire? Then Julie walked into brighter light as the weak sun forced its way through the thinning mist. In the distance, the anemic sun’s rays danced across the unbroken windows of the abandoned asylum. Lacey gasped at the physical changes in Julie. Her sunken eyes blazed with crazed fervor as she drifted forward, the mottled flesh on her face pulled taut so she looked like a leathery skull. Her mouth was wrong; her normally thin lips were puffy and dark, her prominent teeth clogged with decay. Lacey thought of the zombie movies like Dawn of the Dead, though Julie was obviously still breathing. “Please stop, Julie. I don’t want to shoot you.” The woman smiled, and kept coming. Lacey fired. And fired again. Julie stuttered to a halt, looked down at the bouquet of five red blooms bursting from her chest, and collapsed in the street.

  Lacey lowered her weapon and slumped to the roadway in racking sobs. She dropped her gun and covered her face with her hands, just letting the tears flow. Yet a few seconds later, she struggled to her feet. They’d turned her car into a bomb! She must move it, save her friends. Looking for her 9mm. she bent to pick it up, planning to run back to her car as fast as a woman in heels could go. As she straightened, she sensed someone oozing up directly behind her. Julie? As she turned, the tire iron swooped down, filling her world with black.

  Chapter 45

  Their day seemed so promising when they’d first sat down to breakfast at the little restaurant on Blueberry Lane. Food at Mary’s Pancake House had a reputation among locals and tourists alike, so the place was packed. They started talking with several other early morning eaters. Two local dock workers. A real estate woman. A family from Mystic. All were having laptop and cell phone problems. The real estate agent seemed particularly flustered. “I can get calls in from clients all over the state. But can I make a call myself? Hell, no.”

  Finally, they’d given up and glared blindly at the menu in silence. Reginald finally got his extra large Sunrise Special, but somehow, everything tasted like soggy cardboard.

  “Reggie, what are you planning?”

  “Me? Planning something? Why my dear, whatever can you mean?” Reginald forked another tasteless forkful of pancake into his mouth, trying to maintain his staid aristocratic demeanor, but the blush to his pale cheeks and the crin
kling of his innocent eyes gave him away. His twin patted his warm hands, and stared into his twinkling blue eyes until his gaze was returned. “Reggie, what are you thinking?”

  “Well, my dear, since you ask.” He paused, taking a long sip of his Autocrat coffee milk. “I was wondering if we should– maybe help out just a little.”

  “Are you crazy? You’re going to work a triple finger-flutter here? Reggie, talk about Jamie not thinking! You work the slightest bit of anything new here in the heart of town, and you might as well use a bull horn to tell every one of those things who we are and that we're here.”

  “I wasn’t planning on doing it here,” Reginald answered, shoveling the last bite of Johnny blueberry pancake between his lips. Distaining the paper napkin before him, he dabbed his bottom lip with his own personal tissue. Balling it up, he dropped it to the table and glared at his companion. “It wouldn’t take but a moment or two, back in our room.” Unnoticed, the balled up tissue burst into phantom flames and disappeared. No sense in supplying those things with his DNA. He didn’t get to be his age by being careless.

  “Stop worrying. It’d take no longer than it takes to mutter a few words. Five, six seconds.” Holding his amazingly trim six-pack, he allowed himself a gentlemanly belch. “Besides, my love, we don’t know yet what those things are, but if they're even slightly more intelligent than that homophobic priest in Fall River, they already know we’re here.”

  His twin looked across the table at Reggie. Thin lips forced a trembling smile, but the light reflected by blue eyes glistened with pregnant tears. “Okay, I reluctantly agree. Let’s try it. If it helps Jamie, I think we’d better take the chance. Are you sending her to him?”

  * * * *

  Later that morning, Reginald Bradford III looked down his nose with obvious distaste at the small blotch of bird smeg splattered across the sleeve of his royal blue wind-breaker. Fishing around in his brand new orange knapsack he found his packet of Shout Wipes and began rubbing vigorously at the seagull poop. The inconsiderate buggers were everywhere. Oh bother, he supposed he had provided a bit of sport for these rough-hewn yokels hanging around the dock, as he inelegantly tried to dodge the gull’s flying missile.

  He balled up the used wipe and tossed it on top of the nearest overflowing trash barrel. The crumpled ball hit and bounced out, coming to rest with a dozen other pieces of suspect refuse circling the wire barrel’s base. Reginald ignored it, eased up his vermillion cuff and consulted his gold Rolex. Seconds later the balled up tissue poofed to dust anyway. Reggie pushed up his red framed glasses and out of habit, looked both ways before he crossed the near-deserted waterfront street. Since breakfast, he’d taken care of three errands; hitting the police station, the bank, and the local bakery. Obnoxious arrogant woman, but they did have passable Cannolis. He’d been unable to resist. The police station had been no help. Typical small town donut barge. Police chief didn’t even extend the courtesy to come out and talk to him himself. Too busy surfing the web from what he could see. Porno and EBay, no doubt. He had been surprised to see their fellow ferry passenger with the white Corolla talking to a couple of uniforms in the cop station. Because she was young and attractive, naturally she got more attention. He wasn’t miffed. He’d lived in New England for quite a while now, and in spite of progressive Gay and Lesbian Rights, he was used to the fact that these normally inhospitable close-minded Yankees could be particularly frigid to older gay men. Take their tiny excuse for a bank, for example. He’d decided if he had to endure this adventure, he’d flaunt his gender preference, and burn a few puritanical retinas with some really flamboyant attire. From the silver tips of his crocodile boots, across his pearl gray slacks, over his silk, vermillion Versace shirt, to the blue lenses on his bright red glasses, he made sure he was a peacock that would set the tongues wagging over the queer faggot prancing about. Reggie felt that maybe if they ogled him in disgusted disbelief, they’d forget to wonder what he might be hiding in the back of his jet black Lexus. The two he-men in the bank had almost thrown him out on his well-cushioned tush. Finally, one shy bespectacled teller who’d continued keying in his financial info spoke up. She’d been rewarded with a full disclosure of just who they were tossing out on his ass. Meekly hurrying over to her boss, she’d showed him the printout. Knowing what that printout showed, Reginald took great pleasure in watching these stuck-up yokels squirm. Honestly, it was just money, the grubby stuff. Halfway to the Lexus, he polished off the second Cannoli. Young Reggie needn't worry about carbs like he did–she was always watching her waistline. He should be watching his. He had to bear in mind the boys of Provincetown. Reaching the Lexus, he took a look around before ducking his head inside. There was their fellow ferry passenger again, climbing into her white rental. He lingered a minute, watching her Toyota take off in the opposite direction, wondering what her story was. Then he heard the cry of several gulls overhead, and bent his six foot four frame, and got in, narrowly missing whacking his forehead on the expensive SUV’s doorframe. Plopping his well-toned ass on top of his unused seat belt, he huffed in exasperation. Checking the rear view mirror, he took off like a F18 trying to get airborne in record time. He realized he was still famished. He hoped his companion had thought of lunch. A bowl of steaming clam chowder and a liverwurst and cucumber sandwich would do the trick. Maybe two. And where the hell was Jamie?

  * * * *

  Jaws moving like a masticating cow, Vinny Spinelli watched the tall man get into his expensive SUV and rocket away. Fruity fag! There’d been two of them come in on the ferry, twins according to Capt. Smiley. Vinny had only seen the one rooting around town. Probably the other one was back at one of those B&Bs, reading a copy of GQ or lounging around in whatever lacy underwear those queer boys wore, waiting for his “man” to return. Vinny shivered; just the thought made him want to puke. Thank God he was a real man! Scratching the fresh scab on his forehead, he almost choked on his gum as he remembered his slight change. Well almost.

  Vinny thought he’d better pass his info on to Principal Sweetling, but then he spied one of the Patel girls picking up the good doctor’s mail, and his rat-brain surged towards a fresh target. As the unsuspecting Indian kid strolled away, Vinny fell in behind, dogging her like a cobra following a mongoose.

  Chapter 46

  Young Reggie had been more successful than Reginald. Answering the bedroom door as his identical twin, Reginald watched as his mirror image sighed in obvious relief, turned away, and morphed into the beautiful young woman Kalini really was. He relaxed too, letting his muscular stud façade slide away so he could slip comfortably into his normal pudgy self. He liked to think of himself as a well- read, well- fed loveable Merlin tastefully attired in stylish satin Magenta. No big deal.

  Kalini had indeed prepared their repast, indulging his food fantasy as though she’d read his mind. It helped that they’d brought the ingredients from Salem, part of the more visible portion of the Lexus’s cargo. She of course, had her usual nice salad. Vegans!

  They talked as they ate, sharing everything they’d learned. Kalini did most of the talking. She had her Tarot cards out, the ancient real ones, not the trash she flashed at tourists. She had lots of questions. Reggie sighed and tried to look indulgent. Yes, Jamie was here. Yes, he was working as a cop. No, Reggie hadn’t found him. He’d vanished, along with that nice woman he’d fallen for. Kalini frowned at that. Reginald placed his well-manicured hand quietly on top of hers. He knew exactly how she felt about James.

  Kalini was quiet for a bit, silently forking bits of lettuce, tomato, and chilies between her lips. Reggie looked across the table. There were tears waiting in the corners of her large dark eyes. He lifted his well-fleshed hand and patted hers, careful not to batter her with his multitude of glittering gems.

  “Don’t despair, Kalini. We’ll find him. Our Jamie is pretty good at taking care of himself. Did you try a seeking yet?”


  “Y-yes. Of course. I thought for a minute I sensed him but it must have been a fluke. It was weak, but I thought he was there. Then poof and he was gone. Oh Reggie, we’ve got to find him before its too late! It’s already the full moon!” She wandered away from their half-eaten meal, and slumped down on her still made bed. “He sounded so desperate when he called. I just know something’s happened!” She did cry then, and her companion quickly scooped her into himself, feeling the helplessness at comforting all males seem to share.

  “Kalini, I promise you, we’ll find him. Let’s finish lunch, I’ll change into something more…appropriate, and then we’ll go do a little snooping of our own. Okay?”

  Kalini shook her head, tried to smile and dry her tears, failing miserably at both. “I wonder if we’re too late for the woman.” Unconsciously, one of her slender hands strayed to the long wrapped package she’d placed on her bed. Her slender fingers began to stroke its length much as she might stroke a lover. “He spoke as if he was afraid for her safety. Afraid he might lose control and do her harm.”

  “I certainly hope not. Foolish boy was never very good at keeping it in his pants.” He glanced over at his companion, seeing at once he’d made matters worse. “Sorry, Kalini. I can be so insensitive. I’m sure he kept a leash on it. Walked away or something. From what he said, it sounded like he really cared for this one. Damn, he’ll be an unholy terror if he’s harmed her!”

  “Reggie, I’ve quite lost my appetite. Can we go now, please?” Reginald quickly spooned up the last of the chowder, dabbed his lips and chin with his monogrammed napkin, and got up to change.

  “Should we bring this?” She repeatedly tapped the wrapped package with her slender index finger.

  “Thirst? I think we’d better, don’t you?” Quickly whisking up his handsome stud persona, Reginald grimaced as though biting into a sour grape. “If his lady’s dead, he’ll be wicked pissed, and if I know our Jamie, he’ll want to slash something.”