Brandon Enns

ISLANDERS

Dedicated to you.

“Too many people are thinking of security instead of opportunity. They seem to be more afraid of life than death.”

— James F. Byrnes

Chapter One - Stefan

Stefan’s thick matted hair shifted in a tunnel of wind. The shades of blue and green appeared layered, the ocean water clear as a crystal ball. His yacht carved through the hypnotic water, leaving a wake in its path. He could spot his island in the distance, a mound of green, sitting there, waiting for him. The tidal data recorded over the past twenty years indicated that it was unlikely his island would flood. If so, it was of little consequence. The insurance on his assets on the island came at a reasonable premium due to said data. If insurance ceased to exist, it still would not have caused much worry. Lost millions would be replaced with more millions. As silly as it sounded, he had felt himself changing after the second meditation session he had tried two years ago. It was miniscule, but there was a shift. It was easier to see that now. Throughout extensive meditation training, he had taught himself to supress the satisfaction he would get from feeling secure due to money or the tools that protected his money. No matter how small or minor the situation, it was important to experience things free of assured outcomes: something as simple as cooking a new meal for the first time; walking in a neighborhood with the graffiti, buildings with decaying facades, and the smell of marijuana; going on a road trip without GPS; or investing in a new start-up company because he believed in the owner and not necessarily the business model and its market. Baby steps.

Stefan was the son of a hedge fund tycoon. He rarely made decisions for himself, and if he did, they weren’t truly made by him. When provided any sort of opportunity, he was paralyzed by his instilled lack of independence. After joining his father’s firm fresh out of Columbia with a business degree, Stefan discovered in a hurry that he was empty and unfulfilled. The business degree was sure helpful though. It’d be a good thing to have as a fail-safe in the event he left the family business or if a meteor larger than the 2008 housing market came and obliterated the US economy. Yes, surely those with degrees would be the only ones to survive the aftermath of that troubling scenario.

His path had been laid out for him to swallow down like yet another dry martini. Suits and meetings with potential clients. Lunches. So many lunches. Then there were the meetings with other A-list Columbian students licking from the palm of his hand like docile house cats. He was their connection. A connection to opportunity; that opportunity being a piece of his dad’s company’s pie, and in turn, a piece of every client’s pie. ‘Bring your money to us. We know better than the rest.’ Twitter news flash—they’re all the same; corporate imagery and sincerity so well-practiced that they almost sound sincere.

Everything about it was unimaginative, uninspired; a waste of breath. It felt… wrong. Everyone experiences the feeling. Many ignore it. It takes effort, painful fucking effort, but people ignore it and carry on, telling themselves it’s the right move, that the feeling will pass. It never really does. It hollows you out, creates dead space inside. Perhaps portions of the soul go missing. Science will explain in due time.

When his dad sold the firm to semiretire and work as a consultant and private investor, Stefan inherited a large chunk of money, strictly for tax purposes, but his money nonetheless. He was to continue in his father’s line of work, marry a beauty, have two kids, maybe a golden lab, pool in the backyard, all-access pass to the finest gentleman clubs where boy-men would gather to drink two-hundred-dollar scotch and talk about the treacherous service on their last trip to the Bahamas. The mai tais would be too sweet, caviar not caviary enough, the steam room not steamy enough, and the massages without enough tug.

No more cigar smoke, stock markets, high-rise suites, boardroom meetings, fancy cars, and most of all, no more fake people. Stefan couldn’t fathom a life like that. If he didn’t get out, he’d drown in it until the day came that it all was good.

So what does a twenty-six-year-old who just had a falling out with the old man and has an unlimited amount of cash do? He buys an island off the coast of Belize to live on remotely and operate as a resort. But this would be no ordinary resort. Stefan had special plans for his island. The bill was $8.2 million. Inconsequential.

Stefan didn’t have a name for his paradise yet. Perhaps naming it would be too pretentious.

Hands on the steering wheel, he felt like a very stupid god, creator of his own world. He was confident that with the right touch, it could all become something very special.

Stefan pulled out a captain’s hat and plopped it on his head. He called out, his voice carrying over the water. Freedom was real. Straight ahead, he could see the perfect circular shape of his island and to his left were massive walls of grass and rock. Southeast was Ambergris Caye where he had come from, which wasn’t that far from Belize mainland.

The sight of it all made him laugh. He was giddy. He moved to the stereo and pressed play, his iPhone hooked up via auxiliary. Flooding the speakers was the theme song to Jurassic Park as he hollered again. “Da na na na na, Da na na na na.”

He was a fool. A very happy fool. Nearing shore, he had to shit in the worst way. He’d pinch it off until he docked, then he would christen the island with a vile NYC dump. From now on, all bowel movements would be balanced and earthy thanks to his supply from the garden and lack of access to fast-food. He would likely steer clear of the beef in Belize. If need be, he would order from a Canadian supplier.

He angled left between the island and the ridges to the left. Up ahead was a docking station. He glided in with plenty of room and killed the engine just as he pulled up to the padded edges of the dock. There was no sign of Arnie, his housekeeper for the time being. Stefan tied off the boat and hauled his luggage off. He stepped off the dock and paused, taking in the view of palm trees and birds circling above.

Walking through the trees with a permanent grin on his face, he entered a clearing; a perfect circle of an opening accompanied by three separate homes. To his left was an old cabin that belonged to Bruce. Up ahead and north was his quarters, a stylish and modern home that he would now refer to as his “bunker”. Its sleek gray siding was reminiscent of where a sophisticated serial killer might live. Very American Psycho.

If he were to continue east, there was a duplex-style home. It looked as though it was plucked from East Village and plotted on sandy land. Both homes were designed for a luxury stay, which Stefan had gone back and forth on during the developmental stages. He wanted his guests to be impressed, but he was also concerned that it would draw away from the true purpose of his island— adventure. The 360-degree area of beach surrounded his circular eighty-five acres—a rocky shelf for some of the best scuba diving; snorkeling directly off shore in the bright turquoise-blue water; various campsites and short, but scenic trails; zip-line traversing the entire island; the hot springs; the rocky cliff with a natural smooth-surfaced waterslide (Stefan had a special material installed to make the sliding soft and slick); not to mention the ‘lover’s nest” out on the water.

He knocked twice and waited for an answer at the front door. He couldn’t hear anyone for a while, until finally, footsteps. The door opened, and Stefan assessed Arnie’s tired face. Arnie was a laid-back hipster living on mainland, but he was from the States, one of the northern ones; Stefan could never remember which. They had met while Stefan was on vacation with some buddies from back home, and drunken conversation led to private islands, which led to Arnie touring him around to view some of them. None of the others compared to this one.

But now, Arnie’s eyes were bloodshot and puffy around the edges. He looked rather disheveled and irritated about something.

“Arnold! Protector of my utopia!”

He seemed confused. “You’re here already?”

“As scheduled.”

“Right. Right.” He looked over his shoulder, but remained standing awkwardly at the door as though he was waiting for someone else.

“You all right? Looks as though you just hurled.”

“No, I’m good… I just—I didn’t realize you were coming this soon.”

“Well, here I am.”

“Yeah.” After a beat, Arnie chuckled strangely. “I’m just not ready to leave.” Another chuckle followed. “So peaceful here you know. I can finally think straight.”

“Oh? Having troubles in Belize, Arnie?”

More perplexities contorted his tired face. “Huh? Oh, no not really. Just living life brother. Floatin’ on a breeze.”

“Smoke a little weed there, Arnie? And by a little, I mean all of it.”

“No, no. I’m off the stuff. Messes with my clarity.”

“Right. Who needs to think clearly when life is one big vacation?”

Stefan furrowed his brow in response to the vacant stare that flattened out over Arnie’s clammy face. “You okay?”

“Of course. I’m fine.” He chuckled.

“You’re good to take the boat back to Ambergris?”

“Yeah. I could do that. What are you guys doing tonight though?”

“You guys?”

“Yeah, your friends are here?”

“No. You’re taking them in tomorrow. Remember?”

“Oh. Right.”

Mushrooms. Must be mushrooms.

“How high are you, man? Can I trust you with my boat?”

Arnie’s grin widened and he shook his head. “You can always trust me, brother. I am at your service, as always.” He tipped his pretend cap. “Just let me grab my bags.”

He abruptly closed the door on Stefan as he was about to follow him in. Stefan pulled on the handle, but it was locked.

It took him five minutes to open up again and he walked straight passed Stefan with sudden urgency in his step.

“Need a hand getting out?”

“No! No, I got it.” He continued walking without even turning back to acknowledge Stefan.

“Hey! Don’t forget about my guests you burnout! Call me on the SAT phone before you leave!” Stefan shouted.

As he walked into his beautiful home, he was questioning his decision to form any sort of partnership with Arnie. It wasn’t that he had any stake in his business, but he would potentially be interacting with future guests, and he didn’t need some whacked-out wannabe-surfer on drugs in charge of the safety of his guests. He’d make a change after the test trial.

The kitchen was beautiful, all stainless steel appliances. He opened the freezer to find it had been stocked with vegetables and seafood. Maybe Arnie was good for something, he thought. Tonight he would have red wine and scallops pan seared in butter and garlic with a splash of lemon. I think I’ll pair it with a chardonnay. Maybe merlot… Or I could do old-fashioneds.

For now though, he needed to unpack and get his ass outside. The sun was waiting for him, beating down with immense heat with a subtle breeze swirling around, waiting to gently kiss his face or his bare ass. He could do whatever he pleased. It was his island.

His steps were quick and heavy thudding down the stairs into his basement. The hallway was long, with several rooms along the way. Two bedrooms, one bath, a theater room at the end, and just to the right of it, a special room. The long hallway was somewhat haunting in its dated styling, comparable to a home of a 1980s middle-class bungalow, contrasting the sleek and modern furnishing of the upstairs. Two-thirds of the way down the hall, Stefan turned into his bedroom.

His bed was positioned in the center of the room. On the other side of the wall was a massive mirror with two sinks; to its left his shower, to the right a toilet. To the right of the bed was a steel door protruding only a few inches from the wall. There were no decorations.

Stefan began unpacking, leaving neatly stacked sections of his clothing along his bedside. He then lined up his shaving kit supplies out on the counter by the sink in particular order. He pulled the latch on the steel door and entered a small cold storage room. The room was surrounded with wine shelving, an endless selection of bottles waiting to be tasted. Stefan grabbed a bottle and stopped to look at a slender door at the far end of the room.

* * *

Stefan sat in his “backyard” drinking straight from the bottle, half of it now gone. The fire crackled and spat sparks at him that he dodged. He heard rustling coming from the old cabin. It was Bruce, the old man, making a fire of his own. Bruce had lived on the island with the previous owners. Part of the deal involved keeping the old man, but Stefan liked him anyway. He was quiet and kept to himself, but had a very direct demeanor that Stefan appreciated.

“Should I go over?” Stefan spoke aloud to himself. “No, it’s all right. He doesn’t like his nights interrupted. You need a good night’s sleep. Big day tomorrow… Big day.” His voice wasn’t loud enough for Bruce to hear as Stefan more or less muttered to himself. “Do me a favor will you?” He swirled the wine in the bottle. “Don’t bombard our guests with your plans right away. Let them get settled in.” Stefan tipped the bottle of wine back. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He tipped it back once more. Once the wine slid down his throat and into his chest, he could feel his eyes grow tired. His time in the water had played him out. He liked what he saw in there, though. There were plenty of colorful fish that would be sure to satisfy the visitors. He was excited, but ready for bed.

Chapter Two - Arrival

Stefan’s head hit the pillow crammed full with anxious thoughts. Three a.m. rolled around and sometime after, he drifted.

He shot up in bed two hours later, his heart pounding. He turned his head toward his doorway and froze. Shadows of a man hovered in the doorway absent of light; the presence staring at him. It didn’t have the correct shape. I’m still dreaming. His head was so unclear that he couldn’t make two cents as to what was occurring. The further he leaned to the edge of the bed, eyes glued to the entrance, the more he realized it was the moonlight through the basement window reflecting off the steel door to his storage room. He rose to his feet and walked toward his opened bedroom door. Did I leave it open?  I normally close it.

Stefan chortled and closed the door. He had always been prone to nightmares as a child, and had been a sleepwalker all the way through and into adulthood. He had found, however, that his late night wanderings were usually attributed to high stress, often related to his conflicting feelings of school and his life’s path. There were many sleepless nights because of this.

Originally, he was concerned about the prospect of sleepwalking on an island in the middle of nowhere with the potential of going for a late-night swim, but ever since deciding to leave his unfit life behind, the sleepwalking had stopped completely.

He put his head back on the pillow and told himself to quit being such a coward.

* * *

He had to move. There was no time. He had to set the perimeter. Stefan popped up. No time to get dressed. He had to act fast.

His bare feet stepped on sharp branches, scraping, stabbing. The cool sand shifted under his feet. I must get… something. What am I getting again? Line the perimeter! Prepare for defense! The island night was not real; it was a mix of movement, of feelings without any order. Time… Time was all Stefan could feel. It coursed through his veins and filled up his lungs. He was racing toward the shoreline with a wheelbarrow. Is this a wheelbarrow? What’s inside? Stefan tried to change his viewpoint, but he couldn’t pull his focus away from the approaching water. He was getting close, but what for? His head was still locked in a vice, while his feet were moving swiftly. He used all of his strength to look downward. It looked like large steel traps of some kind.

He saw boats approaching. They looked old. Almost like pirate ships. In a flash they were gone, and Stefan dropped to his knees and began setting the traps. On the edge of the wheelbarrow sat several sticks of dynamite as well. His clarity was worsening again as his heart thumped faster and faster against the clock, his time running thin. They were on their way whether he was ready or not.

* * *

Stefan rolled over in bed to his alarm going off at seven. He recalled fragments of his dream but could already feel it fleeting from his mind’s eye.

The steam shower was invigorating. He came out feeling like a million bucks—wrong figure of speech, perhaps. Letting himself air dry, he gazed out his bedroom window, which was flush with the ground. The tropical trees made him vibrate with giddiness. He grabbed hold of a stylish short-sleeve button-up shirt, but set it aside and put on a sleeveless shirt instead. He tossed his Rolex watch in the drawer and instead put on an old Ninja Turtles digital that he had worn as a child.

He walked down to the beach with flippers thrown over his shoulders, goggles around his neck, and coffee thermos in hand.

The smell of his freshly pressed coffee was intoxicating, not to mention the powder-like sand between his toes and the sun reflecting off the water.

Within minutes, he located a sea turtle. At first, the turtle kept paddling away from him, so Stefan afforded Mr. Turtle his privacy. After about twenty minutes of admiring the variations of angelfish, the yellows and blues, he moved in closer, the sea turtle receptive of his company as if saying, “Yeah, fine. Just a few seconds. Then piss off.”

Walking back on to shore, he spotted Bruce watching him through the trees. Stefan waved, and he waved back.

* * *

Trevor Miller could no longer hold it in. He sprung out of his padded seat like he had been shot, scrambling toward the edge of the boat. After a couple of dry heaves, the vomit sprung from his chest, erupting down into the water with a gentle splash. A comforting hand stroked his back, but in the background there was good-natured laughter.

“We’re almost there,” his girlfriend Erin assured him. Feeling the nausea partly subside for a moment, he squinted back at Erin. She was bent over with him, the sun too bright behind her.

Even though they had been dating for almost two years, Trevor was not thrilled about committing to a formal trip as a couple. He had been on the fence about Erin for almost a year now; wrestling with the notion of breaking up, fearing that marriage was firmly in her mind. At times there was maybe something there, other times there wasn’t a single spark to start a fire. It was a pretty big surprise that she was the one pushing for the vacation, somewhat passively that is. Mentioning anything more than once meant it was important to her. This trip… it wasn’t for the fun of it, it was to put a title on their relationship, amp it up to the next level, bridging the gap between dating and engagement.

She continued to stroke his back while the others laughed. He arched his back for round two.

Ashton McEwen, Trevor’s friend who hailed from California, couldn’t get enough of Trevor’s misery. “Ride those waves, brother!” Ashton rose to his feet and was immediately felt up by his girlfriend, Skye. She fondled his package while admiring his gleaming six-pack. Somehow he always appeared oiled. Maybe he was. Ashton was a skinny kind of ripped, rocking the long black hair down to his shoulders. He rushed over to Trevor with a fresh cold beer. He dangled it in front of his face while he was still ready to purge overboard. “For what ails ya.”

Trevor grunted and lifted himself up hesitantly, uncertain if he needed to vomit one more time. Ashton was beaming ear to ear. “Sea legs, dude.” He shook his head. “How am I supposed to go scuba diving and surfing without a spotter? We gotta rock the buddy system, bro. Looks like Aquaman won’t be shredding any crests.” He took a gulp of the beer. “Pukey here will be knocked out in the soup.” Ashton laughed and looked over at Skye, who was enjoying her Corona. She spread her legs to entice him back over. “Should I get you a ginger ale, man?”

“I’m good, Hollywood. I have this strange feeling that you’re all talk. And you live in New York now. NEW YORK, BRA!”

“Why are you like this?”

Trevor spit once more and rose.

“Where we at?”

Trevor looked out over the water, the island sitting in the close distance. He glanced at Erin, who appeared edgy but excited. “Relax, Erin.”

“What?”

“It’s going to be fine, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” said Trevor.

“I wanna do lots of things.”

Skye piped up, having just finished caressing her breast when Trevor and Erin weren’t looking, “I wanna do lots of things too…”

“Yes, we know.” Trevor’s words were stark. Skye laughed it off and blew him a kiss.

Trevor hadn’t seen his cousin Stefan in over a year. They were best friends when they were children. They had a lot in common due to the fact that they both had the benefits of fatherly, prosperous guidance and resources. As they both settled into their twenties, they grew apart. Stefan had become different; a little strange for Trevor’s liking. It was hard to place, but it was a quiet confidence that had developed; like he saw himself as a life coach who had all the answers for only fifty-nine bucks a month. All you’d need was your laptop and a mellow attitude. He was somewhat… cultish? Trevor also wasn’t fond of how Stefan went around him and contacted the rest of the crew about the trip, essentially trapping him in a corner with the inability to say no. However, Trevor was burnt out and, after some consideration, he decided it would be good to recharge—even if it meant adding relationship pressure.

“Oh my God, Skye!”

Erin’s face was beet red, and Trevor turned to see what the fuss was about. Skye’s top was off, and she was oiling her already tanned body. Based on the lovely tinge of orange, it was likely a fake bake she had been working on back home. “What? You should be doing the same, pasty bitch.” She released a cackling, playful laugh. “Come help me?” taunted Skye.

“Yeah, right,” Erin scoffed and laughed.

Trevor glanced back at the guy driving the boat. Arnie was his name. He seemed strung out, bloodshot eyes. Trevor slid over to chat. “So, you work for Stefan then?”

Arnie twitched at the startling sound of his voice. His mind had been elsewhere, possibly in another dimension based on how distant his eyes looked. “Oh, yeah— Well, sort of. More just transit. Part-time caretaker when he’s gone. Basically house sitting.”

“Where do you live?”

“Inland.”

“And what do you do there?”

Arnie’s T-shirt had pit stains that expanded so far it was just one big stain. “What do I do?”

“Yeah, you know… for a living.”

“Oh, I get by. Surf quite a bit.”

“You’re sponsored then?”

He narrowed his brow at Trevor. “No. Not sponsored.” His eyes seemed to focus back in. “You wanna know what I do for money? Well, I work at a burger joint on Ambergris from time to time. Help with scuba lessons on the mainland. We gather up a few resorts at once, typically for a lesson, use a pool over a Starline Resort. There’s a really cool bar out on the water at Blackadore. You should check it out sometime. I bartend there on occasion, and I help Stefan out here.” His eyes remained on the island up ahead.

“Wow, and all these places just let you work random hours?”

“Whenever I wanna help out. Stefan more or less makes commands. All good by me.” Arnie looked at him like he was the crazy one.

Trevor didn’t like the guy. He was a sketchy hippie driving a boat while probably stoned, endangering all of them. How could Stefan be stupid enough to trust this loser? “Hey man, some hash for the group? Share a joint?” Trevor asked.

“No, man. I’m not one for drugs. Clouds my head.” Arnie’s answer seemed sincere enough, despite his appearance.

“Yeah, I suppose it does. You know how to take this thing in safely?”

Arnie smiled. “Drive it till we touch sand. Then you get off.”

Asshole. “Well, thanks for the ride.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The view seemed astounding for the girls, only satisfactory for Trevor. After all, he’d already seen and been to many places around the world, most involving five-star beachside resorts.

His sea legs were still wobbly, but as soon as the boat touched sand he was cured of any nausea, and was now in need of something carbonated and sugary to replenish. An energy bar would have been nice too. The sight of Stefan with his arms spread wide on shore, jackass grin consuming his face, bothered Trevor unexpectedly.

The girls were oohing and aahing over the surroundings as Stefan announced, “Welcome! To my island!” Easy, moneybags. Daddy couldn’t just get you a pony?

Erin and Skye were still transfixed as Stefan gave them a hand off the boat and into the shallow water.

The vibrant colors around Erin made her gray eyes and pale skin stand out. Trevor liked her smile. It was refreshing to see her genuinely excited, putting him in an improved mood.

She ran her hand through her sun-dried blonde hair, unable to contain herself as she did an awkward half skip through the water.

Skye shook her ass at Ashton as she stepped into the water. She was absolutely shredded, also petite like Erin. Tattoos were everywhere; on her leg, arm, and back. One was a dream catcher, another was something likely profound in another language, and the other was hard to tell really, probably something sexual in nature.

“This is crazy beautiful,” said Skye.

“The water…” Erin said.

“Ladies… For seven days, this belongs to you. I am simply at your service.”

“Such a gentleman.” Skye openly eye-banged Stefan. Ashton didn’t notice as he unloaded luggage.

Ashton turned with luggage in hand. “Don’t worry, babe, we got this.”

Arnie poked his head out where Stefan could see him. “Arnold! Come out for a drink. I’ll bring a cooler out.”

“No, sorry I—I’ve got plans inland.”

“Plans? You live in Belize. Why make plans?”

“Maybe I got a hot date waiting for me?”

“And maybe Scarlet Johansson is waiting for me in my Jacuzzi filled with Cool Whip.”

“Don’t joke… I should really get going though.”

“You sure?”

Arnie scrambled to check the boat for any luggage that might be left behind. He appeared to be in a hurry to leave.

“You coming back midweek or just for their departure?” asked Stefan.

“I’ll let you know.”

Everyone got off the boat, and Arnie didn’t hesitate to start pushing off. Stefan paid no attention to his yacht. “Cousin!”

“What is this, forty acres?” asked Trevor.

“Eighty-five. Ready for an adventure or what?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” answered Trevor.

He looked his cousin in the eyes. They got caught awkwardly between a handshake and a hug.

“Good to see you. How’s the firm?”

“Busy.”

“Congrats, man, any new clients as of late?”

“A few.”

“Any I’d know?”

“Can’t say. You know how it is.”

“Right. Of course.”

Trevor looked around at his surroundings. He tilted his head skyward, spotting a drone hovering high up in the air. It flew away out of sight. “Has your dad seen what he’s invested in?” asked Trevor.

Stefan smiled through the scorn. “Fortunately, he is not a shareholder.”

Trevor smiled wryly and slapped him on the back as he walked ahead of Stefan towards the inner part of the island.

Stefan turned to the girls. “So! The tour, yeah?”

* * *

Inside their duplex, Ashton opened up the beer fridge and his jaw dropped. It was stocked full with any brand of barley sodas one could think of. “Oh shit, dude!”

Stefan laughed. “Open the cabinet up there.”

Ashton opened it to find every type of liquor on planet Earth. “I like you, man.”

“What does everyone think?” asked Stefan.

“I think I’m really horny,” said Skye.

“Skye,” Erin scolded.

“Well, that might be my cue to let you guys get settled in.”

Erin slapped Skye on the shoulder.

“We will have refreshments ready for you on the beach, along with some snorkel gear, and of course beersbee.”

“What’s that?” Skye asked.

“Oh my… I’ll see you out there.”

Stefan left the two couples to their duplexes. Skye gave one look of seduction toward Ashton and they scampered off over to their side of the duplex, a trail of giggles and squeals following, leaving Erin and Trevor alone.

Erin walked over to Trevor. She kissed him and he pulled away after a couple seconds. “Wine?”

Chapter Three - Erin

Almost two years and he still felt like a stranger much of the time. There was a side to him she could never access, and perhaps she never would.

Erin had had opportunities to be with the “nice guys” in high school and college. But she wanted what the other girls had. You know the girls, the ones that rejected the nice boys with hopeful smiles and a distinct inability to maintain eye contact. Like swatting flies against the wall, it was. These girls, they could have absolutely any guy they wanted, and they’d always opt for the one with an edge; a very specific type of unpredictability often paired with stupidity. There was a reason for that; it was more fun. She loved when they’d complain about there never being any good men out there, saying they just wanted someone honest, sweet, and sincere. They didn’t. They weren’t really tired of the charade. They loved the charade. It wasn’t self-sabotage. It was denial. She couldn’t recall one that was honest about what they desired; well, except Skye. You didn’t get more honest than Skye. But she didn’t grow up with Skye.

Now, having had her gorgeous, rich, successful, intelligent, suave, charming boyfriend, she understood. It wasn’t just that he cleaned up, he owned rooms. He was often arrogant and had enough wit to back it up. It also helped that sexy was an adjective that fell incredibly short in doing him justice. But with that wonderful package came a man who was disconnected, distant, aloof; something considered as attractive qualities in the beginning and tiresome somewhere in the middle, undoubtedly leading to an impending “abrupt” end. Then, on completely random occasions, he’d catch her off guard and stare forever into her eyes, making it all worthwhile. Yes, she was in his web and she was a hypocrite, but at least she was aware of it. Did that make it better?

Leaning against the table watching Trevor distract himself with his cell phone, she could only think of one thing. I wonder how many women he slept with before me? During me?

The sound of raspy moans and bedsprings echoed from the other duplex, increasing in pace. “She has no shame,” Erin said.

“Don’t act so surprised.” He was glued to his phone.

She watched as his face shifted to frustration. “Well, that’s terrific.”

“What?”

“There’s no service here.”

“Maybe go check with Stefan?”

“Jesus, he should have said something if there isn’t.”

“Think you could get by without it?” she said, devoid of any sassy tone.

He ignored her, tapping away on keys, the clicking function annoyingly audible.

“Should I get my books then?”

“You don’t need to study,” he said with a half laugh.

He had it in his hard head that she could just take a mental snapshot of her textbooks and she’d be good to go. This was not the case. She had to work hard like everybody else.

A scowl was still lingering on her face. He finally looked up from his phone after the brief silence. “What? You can just do the whole photograph shot thing you do when you get home. Done.”

“Click. Done.”

He exhaled through his nose with a bleak smile. “I’m sorry. I’m glad we’re here. Should be fun, right?”

The moans from the other room were now tearing down the walls. Either she was incredibly dramatic, or Ashton was a god in the sheets.

Trevor’s dark brown eyes locked on hers. With one stare, her frustrations melted, while his beauty managed to mute the noisy neighbors. He rose to his feet and hovered over her. Her loins grew hot, the sexual pleas next door now adding to her own desires.

She made a mocking sex face in rhythm with the sounds from next door. He remained serious.

She wanted him to take her roughly, but she didn’t know how to play the part. The warmth of his breath touched her cheek. Their lips touched. He pulled away slowly and she said something without thinking, a semi-nervous question to fill the silence. “Could you avoid work while we are here?”

“If I don’t do the work, the next guy will. I’m going to see about getting some Wi-Fi. Probably in Stefan’s place. I’m sure he’s all set up in that pretentious shack.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll keep it to a minimum though, okay?”

She put on her best fake smile. “Thanks.”

He gave her a peck on the cheek. They clanked their beers.

* * *

Erin was partners with Stefan, Trevor with Skye. Ashton was out on the water trying to catch waves that clearly weren’t coming.

There were two posts about fifty feet apart, each with a glass bottle on top. The object of the game was simple. Knock the bottle off with a Frisbee, the other team has a chance to defend and catch the bottle. First to three wins.

Trevor was throwing the Frisbee harder with each toss. He snapped one straight for Erin, and it glanced off of her fingers and drilled her in the mouth.

From both the shock and the humiliation, she could feel tears begin to sting. Ashton, walking in from his failed surf, consoled her first. She could hardly see through her blurred eyes that Trevor was walking over, in no particular hurry. “Shit, are you okay, Erin?” Stefan rested a hand on her back as she was keeled over. “No blood? Did it get your pearly whites?”

Her voice was shaken. “No, I don’t think so. I’m fine.” She choked down the tears and cleared her throat, embarrassment converting over to anger.

Finally, Trevor made his way over. “Sorry, E.” She hated when he called her that. It was always in context of him downplaying a situation, often when he was being shitty.

“I’m fine,” she said coldly.

He extended a hand to her wrist. “That’s my girl.”

She ripped her arm away angrily. She couldn’t help it.

“Whoa. It was an accident.”

“Yeah. I said I’m fine.”

“Really? Cause you don’t seem fine. Should we get some ice for your chin?”

“No. I’m just going to take a break.” She could feel the tears bubbling to the surface again.

Stefan followed her as she stepped away. There was something about his face that was both odd and comforting. He was tall and slender, his dark hair similar to Trevor’s, but he had much less muscle definition, and a clean-shaven face.  His eyes were kind.

“I’d be a little ticked too,” he whispered. “There’s ice in your freezer and some hand towels to wrap it in in that first drawer on your kitchen island. I’ll give you some ibuprofen at dinner if the swelling is bad.” Stefan spoke with her quietly enough that the others continued on playing.

“Thank you.”

Trevor stopped playing and asked one more time, “I’m really sorry. You’re okay, Erin?”

“Oh, God.” She waved her hands casually. “I’m honestly fine,” she said, shaking her head. “Sorry, just rattled me a bit. I’m going to take a dip.” She smiled wide, feeling her already swollen lip pull tight against her teeth.

Stefan called out, “Here.” He tossed her some goggles.

The colors of the fish were so bright. The coral, the fish, the sunlight reflecting off shallow blue water. It was all stunning. The taste of salt made her crave tequila.

Chapter Four - Trevor

Trevor stared at his plate of mahi-mahi. He hated fish. No Wi-Fi and a week of seafood. He’d stomach what he could and hold out for the shrimp days. Hopefully there would be some pasta dishes served throughout so that he could pick around the meats and at least get some carbs. He caught Erin in the middle of an elongated glance at Stefan.

All the plates were served and Stefan addressed the table. “I caught it myself.”

He couldn’t decide if Stefan’s game of host was childlike, creepy, or pathetic. At least Trevor was forthcoming about his handouts from his dad. He didn’t claim his father’s legacy as his own; he just got what he got and kept his nose to the grindstone. There would come a time when the firm would belong to him, not only in writing, but in his heart. He didn’t know when, but it seemed to be at quite a distance. It would be earned as if his last name hadn’t meant a thing.

His relationship with his father had been only a little complicated growing up. He was demanding of Trevor. At the office, he was a drill sergeant, and at home, a happy goof that loved his son and loved his cocktails. Something had changed though, and now he was different both at the office and at home. He was missing meetings with important clients, his scheduling was a mess, his research notes were spotty, he wasn’t dating his files at times, and the most alarming conversation happened a week before Trevor left for the trip.

His father referred to his older sister, who had died at a young age from a combination of illnesses starting with meningitis. Within the context, it appeared that he believed she was still alive for a second, like he was trapped in a momentary time capsule, but he caught himself quickly when he saw Trevor’s facial response. He seemed to be more like himself the rest of the week, and Trevor had convinced himself that he was fine, but he knew he wasn’t.

“Dig in everyone. Who wants wine?” Stefan filled everyone’s glasses with a colossal grin on his face.

The room was a little stiff for Trevor’s liking, which made it even more surprising that Erin was the first to speak up. “So, Stefan, how are you and Trevor related again? Cousins, right?”

“Second cousins. Our dads grew up together, causing shit before they both started printing money.”

Trevor played with his food.

Skye, who had her body on display that evening, asked, “Printing money?”

“They’re rich,” Ashton answered.

“Yes, they certainly are…” Stefan and Trevor stared into one another’s eyes, one smiling, one not.

“But, that’s them. And this is us.” Stefan raised a glass. “I want to thank you all for coming out and being our guinea pigs this week. Here’s to getting out of NYC. Cheers.”

Trevor worked around the fish, enjoying the steamed vegetables as best as one can enjoy steamed vegetables. There was a barbecue sauce drizzle that ran over the edge of the fish that he dipped his carrots in. It was sweet and smoky and would have been nice on some chicken or pork.

Looking around the quiet room, everyone’s mouths chewing, he realized that this wasn’t the trip he had imagined so far. Stefan’s eyes kept flicking different directions, his mouth moving oddly, and then his jaw stiffened. Trevor then saw why. Around the edge of the table, he spotted a foot moving up and down over the crotch of his jeans, Skye reaching underneath the small table. Ashton didn’t take notice as he was too busy mowing through his plate of food.

Trevor wasn’t at all surprised by Skye’s advances. He just assumed the attempt would have been made behind the scenes, not at the dinner table. But that was Skye. He didn’t have enough fingers to count the times she had hit on him. And now, in the middle of an over-the-jeans foot job, he couldn’t help but fixate on her chest. Her small breasts were half exposed. Her body was bronzed, carved out of granite.

A grin crossed Stefan’s face as he examined each person at the table. He cleared his throat, shuffled in his chair, and spoke. “I think we should get drunk tonight.”

Skye removed her foot and cheered out, “Owww!”

Stefan continued, “But before we do, I have a special surprise to announce, and I want to do this while heads are clear… This trip, this island, is going to be more than just a pretty place with a nice beach for lazy, drunk bums. We will be working throughout the next four days. And by work, I mean solving a mystery. It’s up to you guys to figure it out as a team, and it’s not going to be easy. Have you guys ever done an escape room?” They all nodded except for Trevor. He had heard of them before but hadn’t found time for haunted houses. “Well, it’s sort of like that—”

Ashton interjected, “We trying to escape the island?”

Stefan flicked his eyebrows up. “Maybe… or maybe you just have to solve the mystery.”

“And what do we get if we solve it?” Skye said seductively.

“First off, I will reimburse you all for your flights. And second, you’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Come on, give us a hint,” Skye said.

“The reward is something more important to each of you individually than you could even fathom.”

Trevor watched Erin’s intrigued face carve out a smile.

Stefan carried on, “We will begin tomorrow at noon. Each day the game will run from twelve to twelve—”

“That’s a little excessive, don’t you think?” said Trevor.

Stefan’s grin was rueful. He was satisfied with himself. “My island, my rules.”

Trevor’s grip tightened around his fork.

“I’m hopeful that the events laid out will be exciting for all of you. When orchestrating this whole thing, I tried my best not to be corny with it, but it’s difficult to avoid at times. Embrace the cheesy… The rules listed along the way are there for a reason, so please following them strictly, and please take the game seriously. In fact, it should not be called a game. Let’s call it a case.”

“How exciting! Are we detectives?” asked Skye.

“That’s exactly what you are.”

Skye clapped her hands together and Ashton laughed and kissed her, quickly moving to her neck.

“And what are we solving?” asked Trevor with no intrigue.

“Well, you will be trying to solve why you aren’t able to loosen up, cousin.”

Skye laughed. Trevor smiled dryly.

“I’m kidding. You will be solving a murder,” he said, like he was telling a prepubescent ghost story. “That’s all I can tell you. The rest will take place tomorrow when you are good and hungover… But remember, the rules are to be followed, no questions asked.”

Skye was still draped over Ashton. “Maybe I’ve got some rules for you.” she said to him, stroking his arm.

“Or maybe I’ve got some for you,” he answered.

“Or maybe I’ll vomit on both of you,” Trevor said.

“So, this hangover… You got something better than wine to get us there?” asked Erin.

What had gotten into her?

The rest of the night consisted of drinking games, Skye’s sexual advances on everyone (including Erin), and also an inorganic new side to Erin that was flourishing.

Stefan took them all into the basement to show them his theater room. Trevor had reached his limit of watching Stefan show off his riches to the group. He asked if they wanted to do karaoke, and thankfully they all opted for a flick instead.

I Know What You Did Last Summer played, and Erin sat next to Trevor, not saying a word. She was starting to nod off but didn’t rest her head on his shoulder. She always used to. “Erin.” She was out. “Erin.” He touched her shoulder when his own shoulder was grabbed by Stefan.

“Cousin. Have a beer with me. I wanna chat.”

Trevor followed Stefan outside the room. He walked into another room that was very much like an interrogation room. It was exactly like he’d seen in the movies—pane of glass, steel table, and all. Stefan sat on one side and slid a beer across. “Take a load off.”

He sat.

“I know what you’re thinking. What the fuck, right?” He laughed and cracked his beer. He took a big gulp and wiped his mouth as some had leaked over. Trevor didn’t crack his.

“So…”

“So…”

Stefan took another chug from his beer.

“It’s good to see you, man.”

“Yeah, you too.”

“So what do you think?”

There’s the multi-million-dollar question. Looking for that elusive validation? “I think it’s a nice place.”

Stefan crushed his beer and crumpled it before belching. His eyes were heavily glazed. Running his hand through his hair, Stefan laughed and exhaled. “I’m crazy, right? Straight loony.”

“Yeah, maybe… but you can afford to be anything you want to be.”

Stefan leaned forward on the table, upper body stiff as a board, pupils dilated.

“Something wrong?” asked Trevor.

“No, no. You’re right. Doesn’t much matter if this whole resort plan comes crashing down. I can always sell it. I can do anything I want really, thanks to Dad’s success.”

“That’s awesome.”

“I guess…” Stefan drumrolled his fingers on the table. “Listen, I need you to take this seriously tomorrow, okay?”

“What, this game thing you made up?”

“Yes, the game thing. You might just have some fun if you play it the right way.”

“How am I supposed to know the right way to play it?”

“You’ll know. Or you won’t.”

Trevor laughed awkwardly and cracked his beer. “I’ve got a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Why not just pay for an island full of bikini girls to live out here with you? You could run a month-to-month rotation. Just fly them in and out. Cost wouldn’t be that outrageous. Bilzerian wouldn’t hold a candle to you. You’d be living every man’s fantasy.”

“Is that your fantasy?”

“I don’t know. Sure.”

“That’s interesting.”

“I think it’s interesting you’re rejecting this idea.” Trevor attempted to keep the mood light, but Stefan still looked dead serious.

His stare was still cold. Trevor took a gulp from his lukewarm beer.

“Better call it a night. What do you got on the agenda tomorrow for us?”

Stefan smiled angrily. “Right, the game. Is there something wrong?”

With the flip of a switch, he was back to his regular self that Trevor remembered being around when they were kids; leading the way into trouble, stealing from the liquor cabinet, taking his dad’s boat out for a late night rip. His smile was warm and inviting. “No, of course not! I’m just pinned. I get all squirrelly on that vodka your fiancé was pouring.”

“She’s just my girlfriend.”

“Right…”

Another awkward silence followed. Stefan grabbed his crumpled beer can and pulled the tab off, then folded it between his fingers. He had called Trevor into this room to chat about something specific, and yet nothing that could be considered ordinary or specific had taken place.

“That’s a fine woman you got there. Very fine,” muttered Stefan.

“Yup. Better get her to bed.”

“Now we’re talking.”

Trevor laughed through his nose.

“What does she like?” Stefan’s face was wooden.

“What?”

Stefan waited; his eyes glued open, the creases around his flat lips gone. “Ah! I’m just being an idiot. Tell me one thing before you go off to dreamland. What are you looking forward to most on this trip?”

Leaving. “The scuba, I guess.”

“Very good! I shall see to it that you are properly satisfied. I’ll send out a call to the ocean life. Assemble all the fishies.”

“You are some kind of special wasted.”

Stefan didn’t even hear the comment. “I need you to be a leader tomorrow.”

Trevor couldn’t help but laugh at his serious face. “Yes, of course. You don’t have to tell me twice. Or three times.”

Silence came again as Stefan played with his beer in a morose fashion. Gingerly fingering the mouth of the bottle, a smirk formed. “Good man.” He slapped the table. “Now please, I know you want to get rid of me, but I have to escort you to someplace special. It’s for you and your girlfriend, of course.”

As Trevor was about to rise from his chair to get the hell out of there, the lights went out. It was pitch-black. Trevor reached for the doorknob. It was locked. “Why is the door locked?”

“Damn automated locks. Power cut.” Stefan’s voice was monotonous.

“I can see that. Why did the power cut?” There was no response from Stefan. “Who else would be in charge of installing automated locks, Stefan? What’s with that?”

Still no answer. He could feel Stefan approaching him through the darkness. Trevor pinned himself up against the wall and waited. Suddenly, the lights came on and Stefan was face down on the table, a pool of drool forming around his hand, a light rumbling snore gliding off the end of the table.

* * *

They let themselves outside and split from Skye and Ashton, who were no longer in such a humping type of mood. It appeared that Ashton had picked up on some of her slightly flirtatious vibes with Stefan. Took the guy long enough to realize, Trevor thought. Walking up to the duplex, Erin pulled Trevor by the hand, to his surprise.

She was practically dragging him to the beach. “What are you doing?” Once they made it to the beach she pounced on him, kissing him aggressively. She was just full of surprises. She pulled him by the hand again. “Where are you taking me?”

They walked for about ten minutes without exchanging words, until finally he spotted a villa out on the water. “Stefan told us to take it.”

“I’m honestly sorry about today. I was being a competitive asshole. Does your chin hurt?”

She looked up at him with wide eyes. “Trevor…”

She was searching for words, and it appeared she was struggling to find them. “Yeah?” he asked.

“I… Come on.” She sprinted for the villa, and he followed.

Chapter Five - Erin

Their bed consumed most of the villa that was suspended over the blue. The floor was glass and the water was clear. The morning was going to be beautiful.

Erin grabbed hold of the back of his hair and pulled. He kissed her neck, bit her shoulder, and dug his fingers into her cheek.  Her shirt fired off across the room and in a picture frame of fury, clothes were gone and he was inside of her.

What started as rampant thoughts were soon being vocalized. She wasn’t herself. Air was trapped in her throat. Nothing else mattered. The world ceased to exist.

Near the foot of the bed rested a table with a steel container holding strawberries and champagne on ice. They ate and drank into the night, talking for hours. Finally, face to face, his warm boozy breath on her, she shifted below his chin and drifted away, his skin smelling of sweat and cologne. It had all been a wonderful blur.

* * *

Her feet were smacking against the pavement. The streets were blurred, and the smell from the old paper mill was strong. She had been running for a long time.

They were closing the gap on her. She rounded a street corner and neared an old warehouse down by the docks. She cut hard to the right and into a back alley and climbed a fire escape. She crawled through an old window that had already been smashed out. Her feet landed on concrete, and she spun in a full circle, taking in her surroundings that were blackened by the cool and fearful night. It now smelled of urine and something rotting, like old vegetables. She would wait there for a while, and then flee back to where she had come from. Her partner, Josh, was at her side, his breathing heavy. He didn’t agree with her choice of hiding place, and he was cursing something under his breath that she couldn’t make out. “Just be quiet,” she whispered.

Josh was on edge, babbling broken English. Erin shushed him while grabbing his shoulder. They couldn’t be caught. Standing in the middle of the abandoned warehouse, she felt so horribly helpless. A few minutes passed and it seemed the coast was clear. But then, a noise. The pursuant was inside.

* * *

Erin woke up short of air. She turned and Trevor was not there.

She crawled out of bed, and a warm breeze touched her skin. She moved toward the entrance and stepped out. At the end of the dock, Trevor was lying down on his stomach, his head up looking toward shore. Ahead in the distance, Erin tried to find what he was looking at, but it was simply too far. There was nothing on the beach from what she could see. In the middle of the night on an island in the middle of nowhere, her boyfriend was spying on absolutely nothing in the trees. The lamppost on the dock provided only enough light to shine on the front of the beach, illuminating the tree trunks enough to show the darkness behind them. A strong wind rolled in, almost knocking her off balance. Goose bumps ran down her spine as she watched him lie there motionless, head up in the same spot. Is he awake?

She rubbed the backs of her cold and bumpy arms. “Trevor.”

No response.

“Trevor!”

He rose to his feet slowly, not turning his head back toward her. Trevor stood motionless, his hands dangling at his sides. Water sloshed loudly under the dock, shifting her weight. She turned to look out at the ocean to find that it was still. He remained there, possessed by something in the black, stuck there, gazing out at the palm trees that ruffled in the breeze, until finally he turned and walked her way. His steps were short and slow, his stare deadened. He was a walking zombie, moving in on her. As he approached, she could see that nobody was home, his eyes not registering her presence. She moved out of his way; if she hadn’t, he might have run her over, and he continued on back into the villa and crawled into bed.

When she stepped back inside the villa, hands trembling, his eyes were closed, and muffled snoring followed.

Her head hit the pillow, but her mind didn’t rest for about an hour or so. She prayed he wouldn’t get up again to try and strangle her in his sleep.

* * *

The brightness inside their villa woke her early.

To her surprise, there was a wonderful smell that lingered. Coffee and bacon. Stefan must have sneaked in early and laid out breakfast for the two of them. A little creepy, but the gesture more than outweighed the minor invasion of privacy. She leaned over Trevor, whose brow was scrunched like he was trying to solve an equation in his sleep. She whispered in his ear, “Trevor. Breakfast.” He twisted in bed with a frown.

Erin grabbed a cup of coffee and held it close to his nose, finally waking him, his squinting bloodshot eyes confused and upset.

“Good morning,” she said cheerfully.

He groaned.

“Stefan brought us breakfast.”

No response, only shuffling around in the sheets.

“You should give me a hand with all of this.”

He dragged himself out of bed begrudgingly, and she could see the look on his face that was foul for no damn reason.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“How’d you sleep?”

“Fine, I guess.” He yawned.

“You were sleepwalking last night.”

His eyebrows rose. “Really?”

“Yeah, it was freaky.”

“What’d I do?”

“You were at the end of the dock, lying down, looking at something.”

“Wow, that is weird.”

He sipped his coffee and looked out at the water, away from Erin.

“Hungover?” she asked.

“No, not really.”

“Stefan made us breakfast; come sit with me.”

He sat and she made a goofy face, at him but he ignored her.

Trevor pulled out his phone and began surfing through old emails, she assumed.

“You find a Wi-Fi connection I don’t know about?”

“Unfortunately not. It would have been nice to know about this in advance.”

“So you don’t work this week. Your dad managed for twenty-five years before you.”

“By failing to prepare—”

She cut him off, finishing his sentence for him. “You are preparing to fail… No one else is here.”

Erin continued, choosing for once to show her anger rather than suppress it. “You’re failing at enjoying yourself.”

“I’m having loads of fun,” he said unconvincingly, reaching for a piece of bacon.

“Is there something you need to tell me?” Good Lord, I sound like an obsessive freak.

“No.”

“I’m going to the beach.” She rose from her chair a little too aggressively, gaining his attention.

“It’s Stefan,” he blurted out.

She sat back down. “What about Stefan?”

“Last night while you were watching that movie… Well, you were sleeping, but he pulled me aside into this weird room and started asking me questions.”

“What sort of questions?”

“I don’t know really. It was more the way he looked at me, I guess. I know how that sounds. And this whole stupid contest thing. He said he wanted me to be a leader.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s the way he said it. It was messed up.”

“He’s your cousin. I thought you two got along.”

“I don’t really know him anymore. Haven’t for a while now.”

“I don’t think it’s weird that he wants you to be a leader. And maybe you were calling his plans stupid. I can see you doing that.”

“I’m sorry.” He set his strip of bacon back down on the plate and stared at it. “Maybe there’s a reason you’re defending him.”

“What?”

“I saw the way you looked at him.”

“I didn’t look at him any way. It’s called being nice and trying to enjoy my holiday, Trevor.”

“Right. You’re right.”

Erin sighed. “I’d like us to start this morning over. As long as you promise you won’t be like this all day.”

“Like what?”

“Casting your shadow of gloom over everyone.”

“You make it sound like I’m just a complete asshole all the time.”

“You’re not an asshole,” she said. “I just want you to be happy that’s all.”

“Did you know the door locked?”

“What door?”

“To his fucking interrogation room.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” he said smugly, with an anger smoldering that wasn’t appropriate for the level of “fight” they were having.

“Why was the door locked?”

“The power cut out and it was automated. Doesn’t that concern you?”

“Not overly.”

He looked at her like he’d just been slapped across the face. “Right on. Thanks, Erin.”

“You’re being dramatic. And I’m going to the beach.”

She took a strip of bacon and left him there to stew in his foul mood.

Chapter Six - Trevor

Walking down the beach, he couldn’t stop thinking of his father.

Alzheimer’s. He could tell himself it wasn’t, but that one look into his father’s vacant eyes after speaking of his ghost of a sister as if current routine, and there was no refuting the answer. Stress doesn’t do that. Fatigue doesn’t do that. Nothing does that. Only a failing mind beginning to collapse does that. He was so young though. It was difficult to grasp. It consumed the majority of real estate within Trevor’s mind. It had to have been a strange blip; a momentary lapse, never to happen again. He’s unorganized at work because he’s ready for retirement. He’s ready to pass the reins. Maybe he’s sick of it all? Maybe he’s dating someone? Distracted. Maybe he just missed her that much? A Freudian slip?

Trevor’s mother had left over a decade ago, and his father had no one but him; his golf buddies didn’t count. They were pretentious losers, and Trevor figured his dad knew that. Can’t golf alone, shouldn’t drink alone; most of the time, that is. Trevor shouldn’t have left on this trip. He should have talked to his dad, should have taken him to the doctor.

The hot sun made him feel sick. The lingering taste of red wine didn’t help. Just as he thought he was about to vomit, he spotted an old man in the trees staring at him, shovel in hand.

There are others out here? His morose stare persisted. He just stood there. The eerie moment pulled Trevor’s focus away from his father and back toward the disturbing conversation he had with Stefan the night before. Neither of them waved; they remained in a deadlock, the old man’s hand squeezed around the handle of the shovel. Finally, he turned away and continued shoveling at the sand.

Trevor caught up with the group. Ashton turned.

“Where you guys going?”

“Sorry, dude. Thought you were staying back. Feeling better?”

Erin must have spun some lie about him being sick. She had become oddly bold since arriving. Maybe it was the setting, but he loved it and hated it at the same time. He could have compiled every time they’d had sex and it wouldn’t have amounted to the way she screwed last night.

“Good as new. Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise, cousin.”

“Does everything have to be a surprise?” he questioned with a tiresome exhale. Erin snapped her head around, giving him a nasty look.

“Yes, yes it does,” Stefan replied. Ashton handed Trevor a beer. At least he looked happy to have him along.

Erin rushed ahead to join Skye on the walk, leaving the boys behind.

“Trouble in paradise?” Ashton asked with a sly grin.

“You could say that.” They clanked beers and drank. “How about you?”

“Trouble? You could say that.”

“Still not putting a damper on the sex life?”

“Nope. Just different.” He chuckled with his goofy jackass grin that always elevated Trevor’s spirit.

* * *

Trevor watched them plummet one by one off the edge of the cliff. He figured it was about a fifty-foot drop, give or take. He was already an irritable mess, and the thought of stepping off the ledge frightened him. What was with Erin? The way she had initiated last night was no ordinary thing. She rode him like she was possessed. It was all very new.

They all came back up, tired of waiting for him. Ashton was first to jump a second time, his long hair leaving a trail behind his disappearing body. Skye used the natural water slide that was reinforced with some sort of rubbery texture. They watched as she weaved side to side with a joyous squeal in anticipation of leaving the edge. She did, and a raspy scream followed before her splash. Trevor looked back at Stefan and Erin, who made conversation out of pure awkwardness. Stefan walked up to the ledge and took the plunge.

“Are you seriously this mad at me? I was just telling you what happened.”

“And what happened last night?”

“I told you—”

“On the docks.”

Trevor felt a chill. “I told you I don’t know anything about that.”

“Okay.”

“You can’t possibly be upset with me for sleepwalking.”

“No, I’m not.”

“But you are mad.”

“I’m honestly not.”

“So, you are then?”

“In the past, yeah I would be. Now, I’m on holiday.” And at that, she turned and jumped, a splash and laughter following.

Trevor stepped to the edge; the distance down to the group of floating heads made him feel light and shaky. The wind could grab him and blow him sideways at any second. He inched back away from the edge. Fifty feet? Or closer to a hundred?

He could hear Ashton taunting him from down below, his voice bouncing off the rocky walls, trying to find its way up to him. A dude here. A bro there. Pussy.

He needed a second alone. Time to think.

It didn’t take much hiking to discover a trio of mini caves up on the rocky cliffs. The second one was illuminated slightly by bright blue water, steam rising off of it. He entered the cave cautiously, suddenly paranoid that bats were going to come streaking at his face. But no bats came, and the little hot spring was calling his name. He dipped his foot in. It was nice and warm, accented nicely by the cool dampness in the cave. He climbed in, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes. No kind of spa meditation was going to solve the immaturity that was his and Erin’s relationship. For the longest time, he thought boredom was their biggest issue. But now, kick in some spicy sex, and they were petty teenagers.

A daydream ensued, and it was not the kind to put him in better spirits. It tortured him. His father… Trevor envisioned him walking down a back alley; it was raining, dark. The buildings around were the only thing that stood out from the darkness, the graffiti both bold and italicized, all neon colors like it was the 80s. His teeth were chattering, eyes wide and moving side to side. He looked like he wanted to cry, but he was trying to be brave. The rain was coming down harder now. A shadow formed behind him, stalking him in the night. Not a soul would see or hear a thing—

“Hi.”

He jumped. Standing in front of him was a beautiful young woman. She couldn’t have been much older than twenty. There was just enough of a bikini to cover the essentials.

“Hi.”

“Mind if I…”

“Oh, sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

She leaned on one leg, hips out. Her stomach was flat. A bead of sweat rolled into her belly button.

“Where are your friends?”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

Another pause ensued. “Why yes, I’d gladly join you. Thank you.” She stepped into the water gracefully and slowly lowered herself, teasing his eyes. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Still in awe, he asked, “Who are you?”

She smirked and cupped some water. She patted her neck and ran her fingers through her long dark hair. “It’s been said that this spring will reset one’s soul. That any concerns are but a distant memory as they are replaced with dreams of youth.”

Uh huh, say more things, please. “Good. My plans of being a professional bull rider are still alive then?” Weak, but it’s a start.

Any look she provided him with was absolute torture. Lust didn’t even begin to describe what he was feeling.

“If that’s something you desire… I’m Cassidy.”

“Trevor.”

“Why are you so bothered, Trevor?”

He was rigid in the water, hanging on her every word. He conducted another assessment of her face. Dark eyes, tanned skin, lush lips, defined collarbone, and…

“Who said I was bothered?”

She leaned forward. “That stick lodged neatly in your ass.”

Another seductive smile followed. “City boy Trevor…”

How does she know my name? “I’m actually from hick town Wyoming. Bull rider, remember?”

“No, you aren’t.” Her face was serious. “You’re from New York I would guess. Businessman of sorts.”

“And what are you?”

“Here. In this moment.” She raised her eyebrows with a funny grin.

“So, you’re a hippie.”

“I’m not bound by any titles, Trev.”

The way she said that. Trev. Her lips.

“Psych or philosophy major?”

She lifted herself up slightly against the edge of the rock, revealing her breasts again before sinking back down. “I’m not one for school. Couldn’t swallow the conformity. You’re right. Hippie.”

“What do you do then?”

“What could I do? I’m not educated.” She laughed quietly. The tone of her voice was musical. “You’re attractive,” she said. “What brings you to the island?”

“Stefan is my cousin. He wanted us to come check it out before he invites anyone else apparently.”

“Is that all?” Cassidy rose from the water, tucking her hair behind her ears. She showed off her fit body once again, holding her gaze intensely on him.

She wrung out her hair, the sound of droplets echoing through the cave. “What are you worth?”

“Excuse me?”

“Money,” she said.

“That depends.” Surprised, he couldn’t help but be proud.

“On what’s yours and what’s Daddy’s?”

A ping of anger registered. “On which assets you would like to consider.” He smiled awkwardly. “Is this your first time attempting small talk?”

She sat back down in the water, leaning over the edge to grab a cigarette from the pack she had already laid out. She lit one and took a drag. “I know men like you.” She exhaled the smoke without tightening her lips into a circle.

“I doubt that. I’m not like most men.”

“No?”

“Most men don’t drive a Bugatti.”

“What’s a Bugatti?” she asked.

He paused. “A car.” He tried his best not to sound like a prick.

“Well, I figured as much.”

“Right.”

She played with her hair. “Trevor Miller. King of the courtroom. Defender of the American dream.”

Did I say I was a lawyer? How the hell does she know my last name? “Did we sleep together at some point?” he asked.

“Oh, my sweet Trev… I could only dream of such a thing.” She took another drag and laughed, shaking her head.

Just take it easy and get out. “Dreams come true every day,” he said lightheartedly with an overdrawn smile.

Her cigarette burned brightly, her slender neck flexing as she inhaled. The smoke curled out of her lush lips as she sighed out the incredibly lucky toxins.

“You shouldn’t smoke you know.”

“No?”

“It kills, in fact. Didn’t you check the warning on the package?”

“I must have missed it.” She smiled and took another drag, her eyes never leaving Trevor. A humorous grin formed as she wiped beads of water from her chest. “I better quit then. Let’s say this is the last one. Okay?”

“Good thing you ran into me. I saved your life. You can thank me later.”

“Or is it a good thing you ran into me?” she asked.

“I don’t know… You haven’t saved my life yet.”

“Maybe I have.”

“Philosophy major. Knew it.”

She smiled and stared at her cigarette. She observed it with a furrowed brow before taking one last drag, tilting her head back and huffing out the smoke. “Here. You finish my last cigarette ever. There’s no stronger bond on earth than that.”

“What’s one more favor?” Trevor accepted the stubby dart. Two drags and it was done. He put it out on the stone and flicked it.

“Hey now. You treat this place with respect, Trev.”

“My apologies. There was no soil around to bury it in.”

“I’ll bury that attitude of yours if you’re not careful.”

Trevor held up his hands. “I’ll be good. I swear.”

“That’s a good boy.”

“So… Where are you from?” he asked.

She ignored the question and floated close to Trevor, eyes on fire. She held her lustful gaze and moved in slowly. The steam rose around her face. He could see himself in her pupils. All he could think about was her lips on his.

“It’s okay, Trevor. It’s simple isn’t it? You do what you gotta do.” She placed a hand on his beating chest, the warm feeling making her eyes light up, a crooked smile forming on her gorgeous face.

She leaned in about 90 percent of the way; Trevor covered the remaining ten, and they kissed.

When she pulled away, he didn’t know what would happen next, he simply wanted it to keep happening. It was out of his control now. Then, she leaned in closely and whispered, “I have to go. It was nice meeting you.”

She left Trevor sitting there in the hot spring with empty thoughts. In the distance he thought he could hear someone.

“Trevor.”

He snapped out of it. The gang was there, staring at him with looks of concern.

“Hey,” he managed to squeak out.

“You okay? You eat some bad berries, bro?”

“I’m fine. Just need a drink. Or ten.”

Ashton was more than pleased.

Chapter Seven - Erin

Stefan was gauging the group with concerned eyes. Skye lay on a towel with her head resting between Ashton’s legs. They must have made up. How did Ashton deal with her shit? Erin knew that Skye had cheated on him countless times back home, but she didn’t have the heart to tell him. He must have known. She was far from discreet.

Skye snapped her bubble gum and Stefan spoke. “In your picnic basket sits your lunch. Turkey sandwiches. And underneath your bagged lunches is a sheet of paper with your first… task we’ll call it. Your mission is to solve the murder of the Royal Family.”

“The who now?” Ashton asked.

“The Royal Family of Belize. Stefan looked excited. “Their lineage dates back to the Mayan immigration. Spawned from refugees, later slaves and merchants, they rose to gain control and ownership of over half of Belize before colonization came into effect in the late 1800s. Under the legislation at the time, they were able to find a balance, or peace, if you will, between the Mayan and the British power that was expanding. When the new constitution took force, they lost their power and social status as the British formed a monopoly, stripping many of those with private land. The support of the Mayans wasn’t great enough to start a war, so they reached an agreement with the British. The Royal Family agreed to leave Belize under two conditions: first, their followers were to be provided equal opportunity for employment and a small sum of resources to start over, and second, the Royal Family would be granted full ownership of one of their favorite islands. This very one we stand on today, in fact… Forced out and heartbroken, their plan was to grow their roots here; create generations; win back their rights; form alliances with those who rebelled against the Belize Estate and Produce Company, along with the British colony in general; and from there, start taking unused land. They’d start with all the vacant islands and cays before taking back what was rightfully theirs. But that didn’t happen for the Royal Family. Their agreement was broken the day presumed mercenaries from the colony stormed the beach and murdered the family of four.”

“Quite the long-term strategy. Very educational and interesting,” said Trevor.

Erin was displeased with the comment.

Stefan smiled, and he continued. “Rumor has it…” He laughed. “I should really be doing this at night with a flashlight to my face.” He glanced at Trevor. “Rumor has it that their spirits are still trapped here on this island. They’ve grown restless, frustrated, hostile, and they feed off those burdened by their sins. It is up to you, my courageous friends, to locate the names of the killer, or killers, in order to set the family free from their entrapment, so that they can haunt the current family members of their murderous ancestors.”

“This is so hot,” said Skye, followed by a cackling laugh.

Trevor had that foolish smirk on his face. Erin wanted to slap it off.

“So what do you guys think? You up for it?”

“Hell yeah,” agreed Ashton and Skye.

“Erin?”

She nodded yes.

“Trevor?”

“I’m not the imaginative type.”

“Awesome. Because you all don’t have a choice. You can’t leave the island until the mission is complete. That’s one of my rules.”

“What are some other rules?” asked Erin.

“Completion of one task simply leads you to the next. You work from twelve o’clock until twelve o’clock if the full time is needed. In the mornings, you can ask a total of three hints me. Use them as you wish. My home is off-limits until the mission is completed. There is no fleeing the island. Well, please don’t try to leave; none of you are good enough swimmers. Phelps couldn’t make that trek. You would drown for sure, and that’s bad for business… There is no passing on a task. All must be completed. I repeat, all must be completed. Oh, and remember, the end goal is to find the names—the journey along the way may seem odd.”

Everyone was enthused, with the exception of Trevor. “They’re ghosts. What, they need a last name so they can check the white pages before enacting their revenge? I think the creators of Clue and every indie horror film ever made might take legal issue.”

The group didn’t reply, and Stefan pretended Trevor was a ghost himself. “This is still your island, people. Just remember, you’re sharing it with some pissed off spirits, so make sure you don’t do anything that would upset them. We’ll see who has the most fortitude. Are you as excited as I am?”

“Very.” Skye kissed Ashton sloppily.

“There’s no way we’re doing twelve hours per day of this,” said Trevor.

“Okay, well enjoy. I’ll be outside intermittently throughout; no schedule, just random. Remember the rules and be safe. As safe as you can be, that is. I’ll see you all in the morning for a scuba run.”

Erin turned to Trevor. “Cheer up. It’ll be fun.”

“We’re good then?”

“Good.”

He looked at her with kind eyes. The ones she loved.

“Last night was great. Can we just be more like that? And less like… you know?”

He exhaled, looking down at the sand between his toes. He scrunched them together, grabbing a foot full.

“Yeah,” he said, still looking down. When his face rose to meet hers, a subtle smirk creased the corners of his mouth. “I still think this is stupid, for the record.”

“For sure it is. Is that the worst thing in the world?”

“No. I guess it isn’t.”

“So we act like idiots for a few days.”

He put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head.

“You do the honors, babe.” Skye handed her the first piece of paper. It was stylized as old scroll, faded brown with a thickness and coarse texture. It seemed authentic.

She read, “When the stars lead you astray and home grows farther away, follow your heart to where love was scribed. Where hearts were bonded forever, solidified in the garden.”

Erin flipped the page to find a map of the island showcasing various paths through the forested area, the carved-out circle in the middle where they were living, and the beach that rotated all the way around.

Skye reached for a sandwich. “I’m so hungry. Burning too many calories.” She gave Ashton’s crotch a love tap.

Ashton grabbed the paper from Erin’s hands and read it through again. “We need stars? Kind of a tough start during the day.”

“Stars lead you astray… home… Which direction is home?” Erin asked herself.

“Northeast.” Trevor turned to gauge their direction. “Mainland is this way.” He pointed out to the ocean from the beach they were standing on. “And we are northeast of Belize, so we are standing on the east side. North is around the bend here.”

“Right. So opposite of home. South side then?”

“We need to stock up on beer before we go hiking,” said Ashton.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to be extremely polluted if I’m going to take this seriously,” Trevor chimed in.

“Okay, let’s go,” said Erin.

Skye looked at Ashton. “I need the pit stop anyway.”

“For what?”

“Lady problems.” Her eyes locked with Ashton, frustrated with him for not catching her obvious drift.

“No, you rabbits. Let’s focus on the task at hand,” said Trevor.

They all walked back to the cabin, Ashton chasing Skye to their duplex. “You guys! Come on!” Erin yelled. They continued running up ahead. Watching them run, Skye’s uniquely thunderous laughter, the sun so bright, the smell of palm trees; it was all one big blast of déjà vu. She shuddered and turned away from the moment that had already been ingrained in her mind, perhaps in this life or the next.

* * *

Walking south with a cold beer in her hand and Trevor’s heavy arm around her shoulder, she was stress free for once.

Realizing how dreadfully thirsty she was, Erin gulped back half her beer in a hurry. Her legs calmed. The sun scorched through the pasted SPF 50 on her skin. Erin was never much of a drinker but was starting to discover that it might be the way to go.

As they neared the tree line on the south end, they passed a small garden planted with potatoes, carrots, corn, tomatoes, and probably more. Erin loved gardens. It took her back to her time growing up in Hunts Point. Although most of the imagery in her mind consisted of old abandoned buildings, back alleys, prostitution, and overall dirtiness, she cherished her section in a community garden. The others working around her were all so friendly, most often older women, which was no surprise. She felt a true sense of community there. Her tomatoes were firm and full of flavor. Every morning she would start with a BLT, hold the L. She’d buy a fresh loaf of Mountain Grain bread from Gerald’s bakery and cook her bacon in the oven, not too crispy. It made her feel so cozy.

As they entered the thick array of palm trees, she stopped in her tracks.

“What’s up?”

A thought crossed her mind. “Give me that paper again.”

Ashton walked over and handed it to her, and her eyes instantly went to the latter part of the clue. “Hearts bonded forever, solidified in the garden.”

“So we should be looking right here in the garden?” asked Trevor.

“It appears so. I guess it’s opposite from our home and from our duplex, so whichever home he was referring to that makes sense.”

“What, we just start digging then?”

“No… He would have made it more definitive than that.”

“What then?” asked Trevor.

Her mind went back to work while the others just watched her. Finally, they started looking around the garden for additional clues.

When the stars lead you astray… This is set in the late 1800s. North Star used as guidance, or is that too basic?

“How about this?” she said quietly, reserved about voicing her opinion until she looked at their intent faces, waiting for her to give them the answers. She spoke up louder this time. “Maybe it’s referring to the North Star guiding someone home. And home for them was the mainland, which is east. We head west. Seems to me this garden would be too convenient, unless Stefan has zero faith in us. It’s an easy decoy to start.”

“Look at you, Sherlock,” Trevor said with his handsome, devilish smile.

They headed west, working their way through the trees, looking for another garden, or some representation of a garden. Maybe there was deeper meaning to it, but she felt like they were on the right path.

Skye was now on Ashton’s back as he trudged through the trees.

Then something came over her. She stopped dead in her tracks, feeling a flood of anxiety. She wanted to curl into a ball in the sand, and Trevor noticed how distressed she was.

“What’s wrong?”

A vicious ringing in her ears blocked out her surroundings, her vision was blurred, her heart spasming out of control. I’m having a heart attack. She gasped for air but it wasn’t coming in, her lungs rejecting the much needed oxygen. She was disoriented, her brain no longer able to function as she collapsed to the ground. The last thing she could remember relating to the panic attack was the feeling of someone chasing her. Then, like a wave washing everything clear, she felt completely normal.

“What the hell? Are you okay?”

“I—I don’t know. What happened?”

“You just freaked out, that’s what happened! Anxiety?”

She had had attacks before, usually because of school.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Seriously.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. I must just be low on electrolytes. Can you hand me that Gatorade you brought? And a granola bar.” She was slightly hypoglycemic. Must have triggered it, she thought.

He handed her over the drink and bar. Her hand was shaking as she put the sports drink to her lips. The taste of orange sugar was quenching, flooding her system, providing great relief.

They had been walking aimlessly for about forty-five minutes, and the others were starting to get restless.

“We don’t even know what we’re looking for,” Ashton complained.

“These trees are blocking my tan, babe. And any sun that gets through is going to give me lines. You guys care if I walk topless?” It wasn’t really a question.

“We don’t mind,” said Trevor.

He said it with a joking tone, but it pissed Erin off. “Yes, we mind. Maybe some white lines will be good for you.”

“Damn, girl. Maybe your top off would be good for you.”

Up ahead in the distance, Erin could spot the west beach. “Beach isn’t far. Let’s take a break if you guys want.”

“Yes, please.” Skye raced straight ahead.

Frustrated, Erin ran her hand through her hair. She hadn’t felt competitive like that in a long time, if ever. It was strangely important to her. Trevor seemed to be invested now at least. It helped that he left his phone back at the duplex.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“You wanna go for a swim? Rethink our strategy?”

“Yeah that sounds—” Over his shoulder, Erin spotted an opening. “Come on.” She bolted passed Trevor, and he followed.

The setting was breathtaking. Instead of sand, there was a small field of grass and one lonely tree in the middle. Around the edges of the grass were some shrubs and flowers. The bright colors and earthy floral smells drew a large smile.

“The garden. This scene familiar to you at all?”

“A place to avoid getting sand in our cracks while we do it?”

“It’s sort of like the Garden of Eden.”

“Oh, yeah!”

She walked over to the tree. The trunk was twice as thick as any of the other palm trees. She ran her hand over an engraved carving. There was a heart with four names inside. JAMES, MARY, WILLIAM, ANNA. She ran her finger over the carving.

“Hearts bonded forever.” She grinned proudly at Trevor and then placed her focus back on the tree. She looked around the backside of the tree and found a shovel. “I guess we’re supposed to dig.”

At the base of the tree, she dug through the sandy soil. It didn’t take long to hit something solid. It was an old wooden box, and inside was an old revolver. It looked ancient, the wooden handle varnished and smooth in her hand. There was another clue in the box.

Chapter Eight - Trevor

Deeply into the night, not a sound was made, only the fading of life. Where despair and hope meet, acceptance of fate may prevail.

Trevor looked down at the rusted ancient revolver in his hands. It was authentic. Surely it was a priceless antique that Stefan paid a large sum for.

Skye and Ashton were only moderately excited by their findings, as they were already beginning to lose interest. They wanted to spend more time on the beach, so they hung out there for a while, frolicking in the water while Erin and Trevor worked on the clue. He didn’t like to admit it, but he was somewhat intrigued by it all, curious as to how it would all come together. He ran his finger up and down the coarse paper, this one looking more worn than the last.

“So what’s this gun got to do with finding these so-called killers? They used it to murder them? So what?” asked Trevor.

“I guess we’ll just have to follow the steps and see.”

“Maybe we can get ahead of him.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” she asked skeptically.

“Not sure yet. Hey. You notice that old man that lives in the old cabin?”

“Haven’t met him yet. Stefan mentioned something about him when we were drinking at his place. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious. Wonder why he’s out here.”

“I think he’s been here for a while. Or so Stefan said.”

“Yeah.”

“You think he’s got a stake in all this?” Erin asked.

“I’m not sure yet. Not sure of any of this,” he said too grimly. He realized his unintended fervidly sullen tone was affecting Erin, so he quickly flashed a smile. “But! We got a puzzle to solve, and God knows we aren’t going to get any help from Hollywood and the sex maniac.”

“Hollywood and the sex maniac. Sounds like a porno with a riveting plot.”

“It really does.”

Skye had crept up from the other side on the beach. “What’s the matter, Trevor? Jealous?”

He ignored her and looked back down at the paper. “No sound, fading life…”

“Are we looking for more weapons?” asked Erin.

“Could be. Where despair and hope meet… Maybe they were separated and had a meeting place if things ever went south. They were probably surrounded. What place would give them any hope?”

They both looked down at the map and turned to each other at the same time. “A chapel,” she said.

“This is kind of cool, admit it,” Erin said, looking down at the page.

She was excited like a child, and Trevor found it endearing. He leaned in and quickly kissed her, clunking their heads together lightly.

“Okay, so is there anything on the map?”

They glanced back at the map, which was not the easiest to follow. There weren’t many details, just a diagram of the layout with trails, clearings, the ridges, beaches, etc. There was another opening closer to the south, but still on the west side. It would have been as good a place as any to plop in a church. He pointed it out, and Erin agreed. They started walking, and she reached for his hand.

“Wait up!”

“Assholes!”

Trevor and Erin locked eyes, smiled, and sprinted away into the trees.

* * *

By the time they reached their desired location, night had started to fall. It was still warm, the humidity acting as a warm blanket. Trevor was sweating and wishing for a cold breeze, but it never came. What did come was the fruition of their hunch. Up ahead in the clearing, they found a tree with a cross nailed to it, as well as several chairs that hadn’t been used in years. If they were to sit, the chairs would surely crumble beneath them.

“Damn, we’re good.”

“Is this too easy?” Erin said.

“Honestly though.”

“Maybe Stefan just wanted us to start out with some confidence.”

“Could be.”

“No shovel though,” Erin stated, looking around for the next sign that would lead them to clue number two.

Trevor just had a feeling, he didn’t know why exactly. But without any hesitation, he climbed the tree with the cross. He gained his balance, wrapping one leg around a thick branch above the cross. Once he was settled, he found another box. It was the same as the last one. It had another note, along with an ancient-looking blade. The handle was worn, made of wood, its surface smooth, while the steel blade looked to be rather preserved, glimmering rust free.

He climbed down to join the group before opening the note.

“What do we have?”

He read, “Rest is for the weak, so rest my pitiful sinners. Strength for tomorrow will be needed to endure all the island provides. There is no place for hiding, not even in your dreams. Even the great Poseidon is not without fear, for when they come, they sea and know all.’

“Poseidon. Water. Which is probably why we aren’t supposed to go until tomorrow. This is a daylight task.”

“Aren’t we going scuba diving tomorrow morning?” asked Ashton.

“Precisely. A tune-up to help us find a third weapon. A trident perhaps?”

The walk back was long but fun. When their day was about to come to a close, Trevor’s heart stopped while he was taking a leak away from the group. Out in the trees, he saw the old man shoveling. He was digging like a madman; knee deep, each shovelful being flung angrily to the side.

Trevor began to approach from his back side, when suddenly the old man stiffened up and came to an abrupt stop. He dropped the shovel, stepped out of the hole, and began walking back toward his cabin. Trevor continued to follow.

When he regained a visual of the old man, he noticed there was something in his hand. It was a shotgun. It was difficult to see in the dark, but past the old man, moving south toward the trees, was a white gown dancing in the wind. Cassidy? It was definitely a woman, brunette hair bouncing in the back. She was running. The old man followed in her direction before stopping in his tracks and turning to face Trevor.

Still staring at Trevor, he glanced at his gun, then back up to him. Trevor jolted when the group called his name.

The old man turned his back and continued walking casually in another direction, away from the girl who had now vanished. Trevor turned to look for his friends and turned back. The old man was gone.

His friends shouted again. “Yeah, coming!” he called back.

* * *

Trevor stared at a clock in his office in Manhattan. It was 2:08 a.m. He looked at two contracts in front of him. One had the signature of an owner, Gary Valencia, of Valencia Power Systems Inc. To Trevor’s left was a page filled with Gary Valencia’s handwritten signature over and over again. Trevor hovered over another contract between Fairway Capital and Valencia Power Systems, an outline of the corporate share structure underneath. Trevor’s hand lined up on the signature line at the bottom, underneath Gary Valencia.

Suddenly, he was no longer in his office. He was in his car outside of Valencia Power Systems’ headquarters. He watched as men in suits conversed with eagerness and movers cleared out all of the office spaces. Gary Valencia stared onward as his place of business was taken over by Fairway Capital.

All of the men in suits were now laughing, encouraging Trevor to join in. His stomach was swirling, like he was on a boat riding the swells in the middle of the ocean.

Then… his father. He was walking down a dark alley. Trevor was there trying to warn him about something. He was in danger. The screams wouldn’t leave his mouth as the rain pelted down against the pavement, drowning out any audio. Two shadows appeared behind him with guns drawn. His dad staggered forward with frantic steps. Trevor wanted to shout, to warn him, but couldn’t.

Trevor shot up in bed and sprinted for the bathroom. He barely made it to the toilet in time. He vomited violently until his system was empty.

Erin knocked on the door gently. Her voice was soft and concerned. “Are you okay?”

Chapter Nine - Erin

The smell of coffee lured Erin out of her slumber. She opened her eyes, yawned, and stretched with an exhaling grunt.

“Good morning!” Trevor sounded rather chipper.

Then she remembered how bizarre last night was when Trevor suddenly fell ill. He was up vomiting for about an hour before returning back to bed.

She rose up in bed. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Like a million bucks. I don’t know what happened last night. Maybe something I ate.”

“I’m glad you feel better. What are you cooking for me, dear?” Her face sunk from the embarrassing attempt at a pet name.

“Sausage, eggs, toast. Over easy?”

“Yes, perfect. Thanks.”

“I’ve been giving some thought to our next find. Poseidon’s trident in the water is probably off of a shelf. That map has a layout of the depths around the perimeter ocean offshore. And by that cave thing under those ridges, there is a massive drop-off. I’m assuming this is where Stefan would have it hidden. An underwater treasure hunt would be all right. Don’t you think?”

“I’m not sure I like the sound of this.”

“Don’t even worry about it. I’ve got this one. You just put those little feet up and relax.”

He walked over with a plate and kissed her on the lips. She pulled away quickly in hopes that he didn’t catch any of her morning breath.

She was just about to say, “What climbed up your ass and shined so brightly?” but she refrained. There was no way she should spoil what was shaping up to be a great day. The eggs were cooked perfectly, the edges crispy, the yolk firm, running only a little.

Erin made sure she got her fill of breakfast, knowing that she’d need her energy for the scuba diving. She was already nervous.

* * *

Standing on the edge of the boat, she didn’t want to take the leap.

“You’ll be fine. Just remember you don’t have to go deep.” Trevor ran through the basics of her BCD one more time, highlighting the oxygen gauge, air release, and air fill, as well as the weights in her vest that she could ditch at any time to help her rise to the surface.

“And remember, just relax. Slow breaths. You’ll be fine.”

One by one, they each stepped in, leaving Erin last. She felt heavy and clunky in all of her gear. Finally, she stepped off and hit the water.

The water was warm enough that her wetsuit wasn’t needed. Stefan remained on the boat. Trevor and Ashton were both certified, so they took lead. “Okay, so we will end up settling along shore,” said Trevor. “You guys can hang out or take yourselves away from the cave across the shoreline. Ashton will lead, and I’ll need one person to stay and hang out on the shelf. Wait for me as I plummet into the darkness.” He winked. Erin liked that he was finally enjoying himself, but her nerves were worsening, teeth chattering even though she wasn’t cold.

Sinking underwater and taking that first breath was indescribable. Her breaths were quick and shorter than they should have been. After a couple minutes, she felt more comfortable, like being wrapped in a warm cocoon. Her breaths slowed, and she was now aware of her surroundings. All of the bright fish were gorgeous. She caught up with Trevor and grabbed his hand. His mouth managed to smile around the mouthpiece and he gave her the thumbs up. She gave it back.

They arrived at the bottom and played with the fish, reaching out to touch them, some patches of coral lined up just behind them. Up ahead, she could see the rocky walls of the cliff projecting down into the pitch-black. Ashton hand signaled that they were moving on, and Skye followed him as they swam the other direction.

Trevor swam up to Erin and pulled out her oxygen gauge, informing her to keep an eye on it and wait there for him. He then removed his mouthpiece, releasing bubbles upward toward the surface. That freaked her out. He kissed her on the cheek before putting the mouthpiece back in. After another thumbs up, he disappeared into the black.

Watching him sink into the pit was so surreal that she had forgotten she was underwater. Her eyes were fixated on the black hole that he had immersed himself into. Trying to distract herself with the pretty fish, she looked away from where he had disappeared. She spotted a clown fish and followed him. As she followed, it zigged and zagged over to the rocky ledge where she noticed the cave.

Erin released a touch more air from her BCD and lowered enough so that she could further explore. As she approached the cave, her breathing increased in pace. It was difficult to see. Moving cautiously into the black, she felt a resounding fear of being trapped there. Claustrophobia was another fun one added to her list of defects. She was now sucking in air savagely, getting ready to turn around, when she almost spit out her mouthpiece.

There was a body floating. This body did not have a scuba suit on.

It rose slowly and rotated. The face was exposed by a beam of light from the surface. The white flesh looked gooey, like his face could be wiped off with one swipe of the hand. She jolted back and heard her own muffled grunt into the mouthpiece.

Erin slashed around frantically before getting herself turned around. She kicked her feet hard toward the light, escaping the corpse.

You have to wait for Trevor.

Just as her feet stilled, a hand gripped tightly around her ankle pulling her back toward the dark cave. She tried to pull away, but it yanked her in with tremendous force, her ankle screaming in pain, her bone being crushed. She screamed and bit down on the rubber mouthpiece. It pulled her hard again. She was leaving the light from the surface, descending into the pit. Her mouthpiece slid out momentarily. As she repositioned the mouthpiece, she felt ocean water rush the back of her throat.

I’m going to drown.

There was no thinking clearly from there on. She kicked frantically. Everything was a blur except for the surface of the water, which was getting brighter and brighter. The distance appeared too far as her lungs screamed at her to breathe. No nightmare could match the pure instinct of trying to evade drowning.

She plunged through the surface, choking and gagging, trying not to swallow any more water. She attempted to call out to Stefan who was nearby, but no words came out at first. “H—” The water finally cleared from her throat, and she tilted back and screamed, “Help!”

She called out once more and within seconds, she heard a splash. Stefan swam to her aid and as he neared, she curled her toes in her flippers, fearing the grasp of the dead man would come once more.

“What’s wrong?”

“There— There’s something—” She was hysterical and aware of her inability to generate a clear sentence.

“What? Is Trevor okay?”

She shook her head to say she didn’t know, but Stefan took it as he was in trouble. Unable to find words quick enough to correct him, Stefan filled her BCD up to the max for her to remain floating, and before she could say no, he plunged down to retrieve Trevor with only flippers and a snorkel mask.

Will it come to the surface for me?

After about a minute, the shock began to wear off and she realized that she could simply swim back to the boat and get the hell out of the water. As she did, Stefan penetrated the surface, took a large breath, and darted back down before she could get his attention. She kicked as hard as she could, carving her arms through the water until reaching the boat and pulling herself to safety. The ladder was down in the back and she pulled her flippers off, refusing to look down at the water below her. He’d be there waiting for her. Erin climbed the stepladder and launched herself onto the boat. Her ankle was in horrible pain, radiating sharp pulses from the crushing grip of the dead man.

Finger touching her foot gently, she hesitated. When she rolled the spandex suit up her leg, expecting terrible swelling, she found nothing. The pain was gone.

Stefan and Trevor swam over to the boat. Trevor had something in his hand. He placed a trident over the edge of the boat and called out, “Erin, what happened?”

She was paralyzed. “Nothing,” she mumbled.

He pulled himself onto the boat, removing his flippers. “What happened?”

She couldn’t find anything sane to say. Her brain was mush.

He looked at her like she was in shock. She was.

“Just tell me what happened. You choke on some water? Panic attack?”

She turned, a pressurized feeling in her chest taking over, and then— She puked up water and bile onto the side of the boat, followed by some violent coughs. His hand was on her back immediately, trying to coax her through it.

“Let it all out.”

She wiped her mouth, feeling relief. She looked into Trevor’s and Stefan’s desperate eyes and finally spoke. “I saw something.”

“What did you see?” asked Trevor.

“A body.”

Trevor recoiled. “You’re sure?”

She could only muster a nod, tears trying to break through the surface. She couldn’t stop thinking about the water flooding her lungs, her heart ripping from her chest as she scrambled to get to the surface, wanting so badly to take a breath in. Feeling faint, she fell back into her seat.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Trevor sneaked in behind her and cradled her, wrapping his strong arms around her. He whispered into her ear, comforting her. “You’re safe now. You won’t go back in that water. We’ll drive back in and get you some food, okay? Maybe a cool shower, yeah?”

Stefan leaned in with a look of concern. “Erin. You’re sure you saw a body?” he asked. “Like bones?”

She shook her head. “A full body. Dead. But not.”

Stefan was obviously keen to ask more questions, but Trevor gave him a look that said “leave it be for now.”

“Okay, you stay with Erin. I’ll quickly go check it out.”

“No!”

“It’s okay, I’ll be right back.” He hoisted up a BCD vest with the tank already installed, put it on, and stepped off the boat and into the water. She was too weak to plead. Instead, she curled up with Trevor, and her body continued to vibrate.

The sun was warm and the clouds were few and far between.

Ashton and Skye made their way back to the boat and she couldn’t hide the horror. She wanted to be normal to avoid questions, but she wasn’t strong enough for that. She was still on the floor with Trevor’s arms wrapped around her, and they asked right away, “What’s going on?”

Her explanation was fragmented. They all thought she was crazy, and she didn’t feel like arguing her case.

When Stefan got back onto the boat, his answer was exactly as she had suspected. “There’s nothing down there.”

As they drove back, Erin stared at the weapon that Trevor had found at the bottom of the water. As he had suspected, it was a trident. Poseidon’s trident and the third weapon. There must be four, total… Four family members. It was just as authentic as the other two. Rusted, used, weathered. The sight of it made her whole body tremble. Trevor squeezed her shoulders.

“There was no message,” Trevor said to Stefan.

He stared straight ahead as he steered the boat. “Let’s put a pause on it. See how things are tomorrow.”

She knew what she saw. There was no convincing her otherwise.

* * *

The whole gang was getting ready for bed. The day had been ruined.

Sipping tea at the dinner table, she could hear the shower running. Trevor always took such long showers.

She couldn’t shake the feeling of that hand around her ankle, the power of the pull. His dead white skin glowing off the blue light… Would Stefan go this far for some entertainment? I could’ve died. What if there was a body there? There was. No, a dead body can’t grab you.

As she sipped her tea, reliving the scuba terror, her hand twitched, dumping half the hot cup into her lap. She shot out of the chair, eyes laser focused on a noise that came from the front door. A note had been slid under the frame, and she had watched it happen in the corner of her eye. The burning in her legs subsided as she inched her way toward the door. The shower was still running; she wanted to go get him first, but she was drawn to it.

She didn’t even bend down to pick up the message. She could read it while standing. The paper was not the same as the other notes they had discovered. This was a plain white sheet of paper, no different than you’d get from Office Depot. She locked the door. It read, “There’s no leaving.”

Chapter Ten - Trevor

Erin scratched repeatedly at some peeled finish on their kitchen table. The scratching proceeded as she dropped deeper into her transient haze.

“Erin, I honestly think this is all part of it.”

“It was a real body,” she muttered monotonously.

“Tomorrow we are going to ask Stefan where the note came from. I’m sure he’s just messing with us. In fact, I’m positive. It’s all part of his big show.”

Her voice was quiet. “I know what I saw.”

“I know you did, but remember one thing… The depth of his pockets is infinite. I’m sure the sick bastard had a cadaver down there and some creep hiding in the cave pulling at your ankle.”

“It shouldn’t have hurt like that. Not like that.”

He ran his hand through her hair. “Let’s get some sleep. We’ll get answers in the morning, and if we don’t like what we hear, we’ll go home. I shouldn’t have taken this much time off anyway.”

Trevor reached across her and turned the lamp off, leaving them in dark. She was quick to comment. “Can we leave the light on?”

“There’s no way we’ll get any sleep,” he said. “Just relax, okay? I’m not going anywhere. Have a good sleep.”

He felt her shiver once more.

* * *

Gunfire.

Trevor’s back arched off the bed. He didn’t know if the blast came from within his mind or from shore. Erin remained asleep, so he lay back down.

* * *

They met with Ashton and Skye in the morning before heading to the beach. After some quick coffee and toast with avocado, they were ready to grill Stefan. Skye and Ashton didn’t seem to be as bothered by the note, but that came as no surprise to Trevor.

Heading out the door, he turned to Erin, who smiled bleakly.

* * *

Stefan was walking in from the water with a surfboard under his arm.

“What’s this all about?” Trevor handed over the white sheet that included the threatening message.

Stefan’s reaction was difficult to read. “Huh.”

“Would you like to use one of your hints?” he asked with a straight face, still fixated on the sheet of paper. Stefan turned to admire the hot sun beating down on them. The sand was especially hot on Trevor’s feet, so he stepped into the shaded area.

“How about you just tell me. You know how upset Erin is?”

He sighed. “I know. And I’m sorry about that. I’m not entirely sure what happened in the water the other day. I can tell you with confidence that when I went down there, it was just an empty cave, and down further, not a thing. Nothing there.”

“And this?” Trevor tapped the paper in his hands.

“Hint?”

Trevor relaxed his shoulders and released a detestable chuckle. “Sure.”

“You have to ask the questions, cousin.”

“Fine. Did you put this note under our door?”

“No. Now let’s do some snorkeling. Or body boarding? Ashton, I saw you out there the other day. The waves are better today. Thank God the wind is stronger, because it’s going to be a scorcher.”

“Stefan,” Trevor said with authority. “Erin’s freaked right out and I want some answers. Just give me something so I can assure her she’s safe and that it’s all going as planned.”

“You’re aware of the rules.”

“Who put the note under our door?”

“I can say with absolute honesty that I do not know who.”

“Quit screwing around!”

After an awkward pause, Stefan asked, “Do you want to use your final question?”

“How about I knock you out and throw you in the ocean?”

“Easy, cousin. Just relax. You tell Erin that she’s safe and not to worry. Just enjoy the ride.”

“Well, you screwed up because there was no note left with that stupid trident.”

“Stupid trident? Do you know how old it is?”

“I’m sure it cost your dad a pretty penny, Stefan. We’re all wildly impressed.”

He smirked in that arrogantly proud way that Trevor disdained. “Maybe I didn’t pay anything for it.”

“Whatever. No stupid clue, no search. We’re not leaving the beach today. You go tend to your little treasure hunt. Get it all organized. You’re right, waves are nice. Where are the boards?”

Stefan’s eyes were showing a glimmer of what he had seen in the interrogation room. A casual smile formed. “I’ll bring you some boards.” He turned to leave.

“Hold up.” He stopped. “You have workers on this island? Who’s Cassidy?”

Stefan tucked his hands in his pockets. “Is that your last question?”

“Stefan,” Trevor said with reason in his voice.

“Yeah, we have some workers. Gotta stay on top of everything out here.”

“What exactly do they do?”

“It varies. Landscaping, fishing, maintenance. Whatever needs working on.”

“They stay with you? In the basement there?”

“They boat in from the mainland.”

“I see.”

“I’m sorry Erin’s upset. Just tell her everything will get better. But are you okay?”

“Peachy. Just need to get in the water.”

“You know… One romantic gesture in this place goes a long way. Let me know if I can help you with that.”

“Okay. Hey, I haven’t noticed your boat around. How have they been going back and forth?” Stefan asked.

“Jeez. Should I have my lawyer present for this? Or is that you? My guy is lousy. I’d go back to you, you know.”

“It’s just been a strange trip.”

“That’ll happen when you’re the only sober one on an island in the middle of nowhere.” Stefan sighed. “They boat in from the other side of the island. Arnie runs transit. You need to relax. If you can’t relax on vacation, how can you relax at work?”

“I don’t have the luxury of relaxing at work.”

“You should consider it. A free mind can improve efficiencies.”

“I’ll try.”

“Just… Promise me you’ll bring down the concern a couple notches and up the level of enjoyment. Let it go. You’re only in control of what you’re in control of. It’ll all fall into place.”

“No promises. I’ll try though.”

“I’m not one for the word try. You’re in the townhouse tonight. Ashton and Skye got the love shack. I’m gonna go improve my treasure hunt.” He turned and walked toward the center of the island, leaving them on the beach.

When Trevor walked back, Erin was already back on her feet, rushing up to him. “What did he say?”

He wanted to talk about his strange experience on the dock that night, his uneasiness about his dad back home, the old man digging and following Cassidy, but he refrained.

Stefan had expressed from the start that this was a game. It was all connected. One big show. If Erin got any more upset, they’d just leave. “He said that you have absolutely nothing to worry about and he apologizes for scaring you.”

“And you believe that?”

“I think so. If anything happens, we’ll leave. But I don’t even know if he’s continuing with this shit. I think I got my point across. On the bright side, we are clue-less and have the beach and the water to ourselves. I need a beer. You need a beer?”

“Okay.” She still looked uneasy.

“I’ll bring a cooler over; Stefan’s bringing some body boards.” He gave her a peck on the lips.

Skye was dancing to a song on the portable speaker, moving her hips in circles seductively while Ashton enjoyed the show from his towel. She shouted out to Trevor, “We good?”

He gave her the thumbs up and headed back to stock up on crackers and Coronas. He’d slice up some lime too.

All of the questions racking his brain were beginning to subside as he approached their side of the duplex.

He cracked open the fridge and filled up his cooler with a couple of Gatorades and the rest with Coronas. In the middle of slicing a lime, his eyes wandered around the inside of the unit, stopping on the table. His pulse quickened, and a wisp of air escaped his mouth as he was startled by not a person, but a sheet of paper sitting on the kitchen table.

It was another ancient scroll-like material of paper with handwritten italics. The corner of the page curled around his finger. Building a future from scratch was no simple feat. What was used as a tool to build, protect, and sustain, became a weapon of heinous barbarity. In the place that doesn’t exist, where water runs deep, retrieve the final armament.

I thought this was supposed to be like a whodunit game of detection, not fetch old relics? Clearly Stefan had sneaked inside to place it there.

He tucked the limes in the ziplock bag and tossed them in the cooler along with the beer and crackers.

Chapter Eleven

After a day of snorkeling, drinking games, and suntanning, everyone huddled around the fire on the beach. The fire wasn’t really necessary, but it made for an improved setting.

Stefan hadn’t joined them all day. He stuck with the twelve to twelve template of his inane game and was probably boarded up inside his luxurious house scheming something that he would deem clever. It was obvious what he was trying to do. Be special, different, and original; separate himself from his father’s money while still using it to craft his plans. A lot of twenty-somethings were trying to go against the grain, viewing traditional careers as the enemy, as imprisonment, unhappiness, all that. It was really all an excuse to be lazy.

Stefan was not as Trevor remembered when they were kids. Sneaking beer onto their fathers’ gold member’s golf course, going to high school parties when they were fourteen, the older women that soon followed… Trevor was still hoping for Stefan to drop the act and join them like the good old days, but he was also hoping for the whole thing to fall apart. Perhaps after Stefan’s pompous project failed, they could do some carefree deep sea fishing. Trevor hadn’t seen the big boat since it dropped them off and was worried he wouldn’t see it again until they had completed their so-called “tasks” or “mission” or “game,” whatever the hell it was.

Trevor rose, leaving Erin’s warm grasp. “Where are you going?” she asked.

“Take a leak.”

Trevor inhaled the scent of palm trees as he made his way toward the center. As he took a piss, he could see the bunker up ahead.

He approached Stefan’s place to invite him to the fire. Plus, they could use another bottle of his good scotch. All of the lights were out. Standing at the door, he heard footsteps inside. Then there was movement outside, leaves scuttling, heavy footsteps breaking through the soft sand. He noticed someone walking up ahead toward the west tree line, past the bunker.

A feeling of enticement lured him in. Was it the same feeling he had on the dock the other night? He couldn’t ignore it, so he pursued. He wasn’t certain it was Stefan, but it definitely wasn’t the old guy based on the lumbering hitch he had in his walk. It was either Stefan or another one of his workers that he hadn’t met yet.

Trevor continued to follow through the trees, babying every step so that he didn’t make too much noise, as if he was about to catch someone in the act of murder or some other heinous crime. The further he walked into the trees, the more he felt like something was watching him closely. His skin crawled.

Near the west beach at the end of the tree line, he saw the silhouette of the same man shoveling. Every time he pumped the blade into the dirt, he’d pick up more speed on his way down. He stopped abruptly. Before the man turned, Trevor lowered himself to the sandy soil. It was damp, his chin touching down, causing some granules to stick to him. The man looked over and paused for a three second count before returning to the task at hand. It didn’t take him long to get back to his Tasmanian devil pace.

Confusion settled in. The trees seemed to have crowded in tight and the moonlight had abandoned him. His legs were heavy. Trevor was no longer convinced he was awake. Was he asleep in the duplex or the villa? He couldn’t push out the image of Valencia standing by his infiltrated business. Am I sleepwalking?

Forging that signature was the worst thing he’d ever done. He knew Valencia wouldn’t have argued the merits of the signature as it was a perfect forgery.  Valencia had signed so many documents during their business relationship that he would have claimed that he was tricked, not that it was a forged signature. It didn’t matter what his defense was, Valencia had been essentially ‘Zuckerberged,” having “signed” on a document that diluted his shares down to nearly nothing to make room for a larger investor—Fairway Capital. Trevor had stripped the man of his business that he had built from nothing, so that their own firm could score a much, much larger client.

Although Trevor’s mind drifted to that regretful place, he remained lying there in the sand, eyes fixated on the beach. He was trapped in his own mind, literally blind, only seeing his thoughts. But it wasn’t a dream. It was reflection. And now, the man was gone.

Trevor emerged through the trees and returned to his group. Stefan sat in the sand with a tiresome grin, a bottle of champagne dangling loosely in his hand. How? What…

Trevor fumbled for a sentence. “Sorry, I went for a stroll. How long was I gone?”

“Like fifteen minutes maybe,” said Erin. “Were you sick again?”

“No.” How in the hell did Stefan get past me? “When did you join us, Stefan?”

“As soon as you took off wandering in the woods. I thought you were giving me the cold shoulder when we crossed paths.”

“Please don’t do that, this place is freaky enough when we’re in groups,” Erin said. She seemed quite relaxed, drunk perhaps. Trevor didn’t like the way she smiled at Stefan. It was the same look she gave him before.

The fire was wearing down, crackling less. Trevor tossed a log on, noticing Ashton had left. “Where’s Ashton?”

“He left just before you did. Ashton hasn’t pooped in three days. He might be done for the night,” Skye said with a cackling laugh after. She took another pull from a bottle of red wine and looked at Stefan, then at Erin. “The three of us were going to start our threesome in the water until you showed up, Trevor. Make it four?”

Trevor was abnormally furious in response to her slightly off-putting joke. It burned inside of him, and giving in to the feeling would have been purified satisfaction. He wanted his hands around her throat. He wanted to squeeze. Was it Skye that was bringing out the adventurous side of Erin? Would she cheat on him with Stefan? “I think I’ll pass tonight. You’re too wild for me, Skye, you know that,” Trevor said through half-bared teeth.

“Oh, you never know for sure until you try, babe.” Before he had time to react, Skye was on her feet removing her top. “Anyone care to join me?” she asked.

Stefan was slack-jawed. Erin’s face flushed. “Skye!” she half-heartedly scolded, which Skye loved, releasing another one of her drunken giggles.

“I’ll go with her. Make sure she doesn’t drown,” Erin said.

“Now, now. Don’t be shy because of us. Trevor and I will hang by the fire. You gals express yourself freely in there. Let the night guide your decisions.”

His flirtatious tone was overcooked.

“All right, girl. Let’s see what you’re packing under there,” said Skye, pulling at Erin’s top as she blocked her.

“No, I think I’m good,” she said, amused and drunk.

“Suit yourself.” She tried to take off in a run and toppled over into the sand. Erin helped her up, but Skye still proceeded to drag her to the water when Stefan called out, “Don’t let her die! We got a reputation here! Of… not letting guests die!”

Trevor could feel Stefan’s eyes all over him, looking him up and down. “You fall in your own piss?”

“What?”

“You’re covered in sand. You got half the beach on you.”

He dusted himself off. “How many staff members you got out here?”

He leaned back on his hands. “You’re out of questions, cousin, thought you knew that.” He took a pull from the wine bottle with a smug smirk.

“Right. They’re part of your little game.”

Stefan forced out a demonic laugh, and then wiped wine from his mouth. “Game again? Really?”

“Case… Right.”

Stefan’s eyes were cold, his mouth sullenly slanted. “Experience would be better probably.” His voice was calm and nonchalant. He sighed and took another sip. “We usually have four helpers. There was lots of prep that went into everything. Mostly with getting my place and the duplex ready. Helping the developers with building, cleaning up, creating trails, cleaning the trails up from palm trees shedding, lots of stuff, man. I wasn’t here for a while, and they had to look after the place.” He grew quiet, as did Trevor. “Why? Which one did you meet again?”

“Cassidy.”

“Oh, yeah. She’s a beauty isn’t she?” He raised his eyebrows, insinuating the obvious.

“I saw someone digging,” Trevor blurted out.

“Digging?” Stefan’s brow furrowed and his attention switched over to the girls in the water, Skye cackling and splashing. “Listen, maybe my hand isn’t in everything. You’ve got to find a way to let the process run its course. I’m still looking to you to continue leading. Try to… just accept the ride. Enjoy it. It’s just starting to get interesting, trust me. Captain Trevor Miller. It should come easy to you if you’d just let your guard down even a fraction.”

“I got your note.” Trevor reached for the bottle and he handed it off.

Stefan just smiled and rose to his feet. “Goodnight.”

* * *

The path was old, unlike the ones they had walked the day before. Ashton made his way through the thick trees, worrying he was working his way farther and farther into thick bush that he wasn’t supposed to be in. What had started as an odd shining light had led him to a dark tropical nightmare.

It looked like a narrow-headed flashlight with intense brightness at first, but then became distorted, splitting apart and reconnecting in strange combinations. Had he smoked too much weed? Was that even a thing for him?

The light had disappeared, settling behind the tall palm trees, but it didn’t matter which angle he took, he couldn’t locate it again.

Ashton changed directions, thinking he was heading back to where he had come from, but reached an opening that looked new to him. He hadn’t passed it on his way. In the clearing sat an old building, worn down. Around the edges, grass stood tall, almost swallowing the building whole. It was a lighter shade of brown, stained with darker brown colors from aging. It appeared to be a community hall of some sort.

He staggered around to the main entrance to find the doors had been ripped out. He hesitated and looked around to make sure no one was going to pop out. When he stepped into the place, mice scurried, causing him to stiffen up. He hated mice. There were cobwebs everywhere, an old soda machine from the 70s, and strange mounted animals on the walls that he had never seen before. They were antelope maybe? Though they had fangs and oddly shaped antlers pointing in different directions, like it was maybe some freak show custom job.

Ashton jolted to the right, nearly screaming in response to the sound of a thud. Someone was inside. Not a word was said. The same thought kept rolling in his head over and over again, and he couldn’t get it out. It was like a virus, spreading out of control like wildfire. Stay a while.

Another thud came from the corner, where it was darkest, hiding from the moonlight and the stars.

What was that sound? Stay a while. Stay a while.

He inched closer and closer. Another thud sounded. Closer yet, slowly but surely, the light leaking in as his perspective changed. Stay a while. He was transfixed. There was no turning back. An object flew across the room, making the same thud again. Then… music? He swore he could hear the droning sound of a guitar settling quietly in the background. The moon was at the correct angle, poking partially through the vacant window frame and a hole in the ceiling.

The object burst forward from the dark, but it was no object at all. It was a young boy, and he was just as frightened as Ashton was, eyes shifting back and forth after he gasped and appeared ready to run away. He was a teenage kid, backwards snapback hat, button-up Hawaiian shirt, and he had headphones in his ears that he now pulled out. Ashton realized that the boy had been throwing darts.

Ashton was leaning against a picnic table, catching his breath. “Hey, hey! It’s all good! Not a ghost, not a ghost.”

The kid bent over in relief and groaned from the startling moment. “Shit. You gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry.” Ashton burst out laughing. “That was the weirdest thing. Where the hell are we?”

“Lost tourist?”

“Yeah, bro. A little lettuce and beer and I’ve gone rogue.”

He looked at Ashton with confused eyes.

“Sorry I scared you, small fry.”

“It’s okay.” He collected the darts off the board.

“What are you doing out here? With headphones in yet. That’s a terrifying night out, buddy.”

“Just felt like being alone for a bit.”

What was this kid doing out in the bush? He thought they were the only ones out on this island.

“I’m Jhett.”

“Ashton. What’re you doing here, Jhett?”

“I help out around here.”

They shook hands. “You’re from New York, right?”

“How’d you know that?”

“Stefan told me. Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“What’s it like there? At night with all the lights and clubs.”

Ashton tossed his bottle of tequila over. “How old are you?”

“Old enough.”

He laughed. “Fair enough.” A 101 class on getting laid seemed to be on the docket.

Chapter Twelve

Skye walked down the lonely beach, water rushing up to her feet. When she had arrived back at her room, Ashton was not there. She didn’t want to bother Erin and Trevor, so she went for a stroll by herself to look for him. She figured that he had maybe smoked and drank too much and wandered over to the cliffs—not a great location to hang out in that condition. He loved the half day they had spent there cliff diving, water sliding, and relaxing in the hot spring. They had decided against going for a longer hike that Stefan mentioned they should try out. Maybe he had gone to complete that trail?

She arrived at the rocky wall. Ocean water pushed into the shelf; the breeze was tunneled, concentrated on her. She crossed her arms, hands in her armpits. The wind roared, making her more anxious than she already was.

Skye stared at the daunting ridges. Just as she was about to start her shaky climb, a light caught her eye. It was coming in off the water, against the rocks.

She walked toward it slowly. It danced back and forth. She dipped her feet into the warm ocean, and she slid her feet along the sand. The light expanded as she neared. She could hear a splashing noise. Her feet slid over slimy and smooth rocks. She reached the corner and placed her hand on the rock, ready to peek around the corner at the beast that waited for her. The rock on her hand was slick with moss. As she leaned forward, she slipped, clumsily losing her balance and falling into the shallow water, near the mini cave. She jumped to her feet, a scream lodged in her throat. A man stood in the corner hunched over, his back wide and thick with muscle. He was a beast.

The man yelled, standing waist deep in the cave with a flashlight. “Jesus!” he bellowed. “I thought you were a shark. Or a… vampire.” He released a high-pitched whine of relief.

The wind had been vacuumed out of her lungs. “Why are— Who are you?!”

His chest was deep with curly chest hair, and he had short black hair up top and brown eyes. He appeared to be in his mid-forties.

“I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else!” Skye said.

“Oh, well, it’s just lonely ole me.”

His smile was hunky. Everything about him was hunky. He was no beast. He was gorgeous; like a sexy lumberjack. From what she could see with the flashlight still on, his face had a nice outline of stubble. She couldn’t take her eyes off his defined chest. He ran a hand through his dark hair that was salted with gray and in doing so, his pec flexed.

Her concern for Ashton had evaporated into the humid air.

“What are you doing down here?” she asked.

“Looking for my car keys.” His straight-faced delivery made her laugh.

“Oh, really?”

“I’m always misplacing things. And then I became so relaxed I figured I’d stay a little while.”

“It is nice. I’m Skye.” She felt like a flustered schoolgirl. Her instincts should have told her to leave the potentially dangerous stranger and go back to the duplex, but there was no damn way that was happening.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“I didn’t realize there were other guests here.”

“Not really a guest. I have a business in Belize, but I also help out around here with various exciting chores.”

“What’s your business?”

“Just a little beachfront restaurant. Less sealife, more burgers and fries.”

His voice was deep and soft. She wanted him between her legs.

“Why Belize?”

“Oh, let’s just say it moves at a slower pace here. A little more forgiveness.”

“Yeah, it’s bonkers beautiful here.” She had never said bonkers in her life.

“And you. Where do you live?”

“New York.”

“Really?” He sounded dramatically surprised.

“Why?”

“Well…” He stopped himself, perhaps trying to be coy.

“No seriously, what is it?”

“I’m just surprised you’re from anywhere I guess. Just a feeling I get.”

“Are you saying I don’t seem rooted, or do you just get me?” He wasn’t necessarily wrong. She wasn’t a true New Yorker.

His beautiful smile was still on display. She wanted to grab his square jaw and kiss him roughly.

“I suppose I do. So… What do you like about New York?”

It was a good question; one that she had never even asked herself. Was the art and culture her only answer?

* * *

The bottle of tequila was almost completely drunk, the kid taking in his fair share. He thought about cutting him off halfway through, but they were having a good time. Jhett was quite the conversationalist for a fourteen-year-old. The laughter was hearty, the dialog easy, talking about life in the Big Apple, the women, the drugs—trying not to place too much glamour in association with using. He seemed like a smart kid. A good kid.

Jhett took another gulp of tequila. “So, what’s your problem, Ashton?”

“What you mean, little man?”

“Why are you out here wandering around? Thought you had a girlfriend,” he asked.

“I’m not really sure what she is.”

“You break up or what?”

“No, no. I’m not sure why I’m out here. Same reason as you maybe.”

“If you ask me, it’s not a good sign.”

“Or maybe it is. Gotta roll with the punches, you know? Whatever will happen will happen.”

He stared into Ashton’s eyes daringly and then chugged the rest of the bottle in one big gulp. He didn’t even cough or grimace after.

“Hey. I’m a child of a broken and recovered home. I’ve seen both ends of it. Don’t act so Zen,” said Jhett.

The words were out of left field and cut through Ashton, even though he wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by it. Ashton never had a father.

“You don’t act Zen, brother. You are Zen… How do you mean, broken and recovered?”

“Avoiding each other at all costs… You’re on an island. A very small island. And here you are talking to me.”

“You’re just that cool. Why the hell are you living in Belize? I mean it’s wicked, but where are you from anyway?”

“Where I’m from doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”

Ashton regretted filling the kid up with tequila. If one of his parents were here on the island, he’d be in deep shit. Vomit was on the horizon, and he was to blame.

“Where are your parents?”

Jhett started throwing darts again, leaning back into the darkness. Ashton saw that look. He knew that look.

“I can’t remember my dad either. I wouldn’t worry about that, small fry.”

Mentioning his father made him think of his mom. He could see her clearly; lying on the hospital bed, surrounded by flowers. MS… That machine breathing for her…

Ashton extended his hand to receive the bottle of tequila and when it was handed off, he saw it was empty.

“Sorry.”

“It’s all good.”

“No, I mean I’m sorry you’re so pathetic.” Jhett’s sadness had transformed into something with a more sadistic flavor.

Ashton said nothing.

“I mean, what are you? Some damaged burnout without any brain cells left.”

“Hey, I’m sorry your parents abandoned you on an island. And I’m sorry I fed you a barrel of Agave. You should puke as much as you can now. Don’t wait for morning.”

“Oh, no. Bro. Mom and dad are here with me.”

“Good for you.”

“Yeah, I’m not a babbling pussy like yourself. And I’m pretty sure even I could fuck your girlfriend.”

Ashton laughed bitterly. “You might be right. She’d be a helluva cherry popper, small fry. She’s maybe built a little too fast for you though. I’d start slow, build yourself up.”

“I’d handle her just fine. Keep her as my pet. My little stupid whore-slave. I’d treat her the way she should be treated… Fairly.”

“Remember. Vomit before bed. You’ll thank me.”

“That’s some barrier you got, large fry.”

“Shit. You are clever. No denying that, my man. But I should leave though. I haven’t felt the need to punch out a scrawny preteen in quite a while. Since I was a preteen I guess… Make sure you give Skye a shout when the balls drop, yeah? Or let me know. I’ll pass along the message.”

“Don’t worry, Ashton. I think we’ll make a man of you yet.”

Whatever that means. “Sounds good, buddy.”

“I’m not your buddy. Bro.”

“I don’t really care what you are. I’ll catch just ya later. Hopefully not though.”

Ashton was baffled about being railroaded. He debated asking for directions as he turned, and that debate went away when he was struck with something solid. The force folded him to his knees; everything turned black. He fought to stay awake for a split second, but his legs were gone. Fading out, he saw another person in the shadows. He bit down on a crunchy grain of sand as he passed out.

* * *

Skye was almost face-to-face with Sebastian in the small cave, the water now up to her chest. The darkness in his eyes was so alluring, making her heart flutter. His last question had lingered. What do you like about New York?

He smiled at her, but it was different this time. It wasn’t quite pity, but it was a longing to help her in some way. Ordinarily, she wasn’t much for the type that was trying to “save” her, but she found his calming smile comforting. His eyes were honest, much like Ashton’s, but more intense. More passionate. She fucking loved passion. Ashton didn’t give a shit about anything.

“What do you do?” She was close enough this time that she could indeed feel the vibrations of his voice. She was becoming increasingly aroused, tension building with reckless abandon.

“I’m a teacher.”

“No.” He moved in closer. The tips of their noses almost touched. “What do you do?”

She leaned in closer, feeling his hot breath on her cheek. “Whatever you want me to do.”

She leaned in and kissed him. He pulled away after a second. She slid her hand down his stomach and passed the waistline of his trunks. To her surprise, he grabbed hold of her hand and squeezed her wrist rather tightly. She liked that it hurt a little. “I should go,” he said.

The wind was removed from her sails. His eyes didn’t waver, his rejection making it hotter. She removed her hand and grabbed hold of his, placing his fingers neatly around her throat, taunting him to apply pressure.

Then, a second look of pity followed, more prominent this time. He removed her hand and slid around her slowly. He stopped in the entrance of the tunnel, his back turned to her.

“Why were you here? Really?” she asked.

“Maybe I was waiting for you.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Don’t I?”

“I doubt it.”

He seemed to sadden at the sight of her face. “It’s good here. It’s one of the few places to get properly clean. You should stay. Just for a little while.”

“You weren’t hiding from something then?”

“Nothing to hide from here. Never will be. It’s safe.”

Skye narrowed her brow. She tucked her hair behind her ear and grazed her kissed lips with her finger. She wanted to say something, wanted to keep him around just a little while longer, but she was without the proper questions that would hold him in his spot.

“Weren’t you looking for someone?”

“Right. Seen him around?”

“Can’t say I have.” He smiled and turned.

“Where do you stay?” asked Skye.

He hesitated for a moment. “Other side of the rocks. Over the hills.”

After he was out of sight, she pressed her hand against her lips again.

* * *

The walk back to the duplex was a daze. Her worry about Ashton had lessened. He’ll be back, waiting in bed probably. At least she could still get hers yet tonight. She could think of Sebastian during and it would feel so damn good.

When she arrived at home, he was nowhere to be found— no sign of him having come home, not a thing out of place. Not knowing what to do with herself, she sat on the edge of the bed, feeling weighted by fatigue. She flopped down into the bed for a moment, looking up at the ceiling. Just a quick break and I’ll get help from Erin and Trevor. Five minutes. She was out cold in five seconds.

* * *

All she could hear was screaming. Skye yelled at her mom and dad to stop, but they didn’t hear her. They didn’t even see her standing there in the small messy kitchen, plates, pots, and pans everywhere. She kept staring at the sink filled with dirty gray water and floating pieces of lettuce. Skye was worried one of those pots would be used as a weapon again.

Their screams were overwhelming, each high note piercing her ears and heart. Make it stop! Make it stop! It felt like her heart was outside of her chest, bleeding all over the dated flooring with floral patterns, the cheap tile cracked in many places. She was going to die if they wouldn’t hear her, if they wouldn’t stop. She watched in slow motion as her cruel bastard of a father raised his hand and closed it into a fist. She knew it was going to land. It already had before, and many times before that. Still voiceless, she watched as his large knuckles met her soft cheek, crushing her head to the side, sending her to the floor.

She didn’t help her mother. Skye ran to her bedroom and closed the door. She sat on the bed and looked down at a drawing she had been working on for quite some time. The sketch was that of a ballerina dancing on water. She was meticulous with the shading around the pointed toe on the surface of the water, making sure the rippling pattern around her was as realistic as dancing on water could be.

A whimpering sound drew her out of her room. It was coming from her mom’s bedroom, but he was gone to work now or at the bar, so she was in the clear to check on her mother. She cracked the door open, fearing what she would find. Her mom was upright in bed, staring at her through the cracked door. “Come on.”

Skye stopped. She hadn’t heard that sweet voice in a long time. “Well come on. It’s all right. Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

She opened the door and stepped in. Her mother’s face was terribly damaged. Why wasn’t I there to stop it? I should have done something. Anything.

Her eye was swollen shut and her nose appeared to be broken, dried blood still stained around her mouth as she hadn’t cleaned up yet.

“How’s the drawing coming?” asked her mom.

Her mother looked angry with her. She couldn’t reply.

“Well, as long as you’re happy, I’m happy,” her mother said sarcastically.

Finally, through great effort, Skye spoke. “Are you okay?”

“Of course. I feel fine. It’s like anything else, sweetie. You do something enough times, you get better at it. Taking punches, it’s like breathing for me.”

She lit a cigarette and took in a big drag. “Yeah, after a while if I’m in the right kind of mood, there’s a satisfaction to it. On the chin is better than the eyes though. On the eyes always hurts the way it should.”

Skye could feel the tears running down her face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Do me a favor, yeah? Don’t marry an asshole. And if you do, don’t have no kids with him.”

Skye flinched. “You don’t mean that.”

“No? Here’s what I mean then. Every time you decide to ditch school, your mommy dearest takes a punch. You smoke pot with your friends, a punch, you get caught screwing some boy in school, a punch, you get suspended from school, a punch… I’m all punch-drunk, babe.”

Skye wanted to drop to her knees and hold herself. “I told you we should leave.” Skye had suggested it several times, but never with enough insurgence as they needed to make a strong stance against her father. But he would have come after them. He would have found them. He was maybe a drunk, but he was also a determined man. Apathy wasn’t the problem.

Her mom took another drag from the cigarette, ash falling, burning like her words. “I know what you said. Thought about it a lot… There’s no leaving. No living. Do me a favor and graduate sooner than later. That’ll make things easier.”

Tears continued, dripping down to the cold floor on her bare feet. They had missed their heating bill. Words from her mother’s lips didn’t ring true, they felt off. She was always a sweet woman that would never hurt her. Not ever. She was supposed to be her friend.

Her mother’s stare turned colder, her voice quiet and steady. “This will be you. The writing’s on the wall. May as well get in on the action. He’d be happy to have you. Maybe after he kills me, you can step up to the plate. Yeah, that’d be just fine.”

* * *

Skye awoke in her clothing on the bed where she had fallen. She was covered in sweat, a swirl of nausea cursing her stomach.

The day Skye left, she was never the same. It didn’t happen at once, but with time, she pushed her mother, the only person she’d ever love, out of her mind.

She cried for a minute and then checked the rooms for Ashton. He was still gone. What time is it?

Chapter Thirteen - Erin

The smell of coffee hovered in the air, bringing her no pleasure. She tried to travel to her default setting; in her garden back in New York, but her mind was underwater, trapped with that body. His skin was so white. The texture would have been sponge-like to the touch. The fiery grip around her ankle and the fireworks that shot up her leg had been so intense.

She stood and grabbed her cup of Joe. She swallowed too much coffee, scalding the back of her throat just as there was a knock on the door.

Skye’s eyes were bloodshot, the fake-bake tan nearly gone from her face. She was panicked. “Ashton didn’t come back last night?”

“What? I assumed you had found him. Why didn’t you get us?”

“I thought he’d come back. I figured—I don’t know, I just thought he went for a walk, got turned around, and would come back.”

“It’s going to be okay, Skye.” Erin rubbed her shoulder. Trevor came out of the bedroom looking half asleep still. He yawned with a sleepy grin on his face, and then realized how upset Skye was.

“Ashton?”

“Gone still.”

“He’s in Stefan’s shit hole. Some part of his game.”

“You think?” Skye perked up.

“Has to be. Where else would he go? Stefan’s just trying to freak us out,” said Trevor.

Erin watched Trevor, as a look of guilt formed.

“Listen,” he said. “Yesterday I got another note. He left it on our kitchen table. It was a clue for the final weapon. He didn’t put a pause on anything. This was probably his punishment for us. You know, get us scared, get us rattled.” Trevor finished the sentence with an agitated snigger. “God, this entire thing makes me sound like a child. Just ridiculous.”

“I’m gonna kick his ass,” said Skye. “I’m seriously going to kick the shit out of him.”

Erin was angry with Trevor at first, but soon understood his reasoning for keeping the new information to himself.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted us all to pump the brakes and relax. We didn’t agree to any of this shit.”

“I agree. We shouldn’t have to do this anymore. We didn’t know what the hell we were consenting to. He completely blindsided us.” Erin hesitated and spoke again. “Let’s go get him. If he plays dumb, we’ll threaten to leave.”

Trevor’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “I’ll get dressed and we’ll go.”

“What if he’s not there?” Skye’s eyes welled up again.

“He’ll be there,” said Trevor and smiled wide. “Skye… Don’t take this loser seriously. Ashton is fine.”

* * *

They wailed on the door and got no answer. Of course, it was locked.

The urge to vomit was kept at bay as Trevor distracted her from it, taking off in the other direction toward the old man’s cabin without consulting them first. Erin remembered Stefan mentioning Bruce but had never met the man. She and Skye followed.

Bruce was quick to answer the door. His hair was thick and combed to the side, white and gray, weaving in and out. He was a massive man, his face wide, his neck nonexistent. He was a little taller than Trevor and was wider in the shoulders, which was saying something, because Trevor wasn’t small.

His face was expressionless, his white eyebrows making a perfect line across his prominent brow ridge.

“Do you know where Stefan is?” Trevor asked, devoid of friendly notes.

Bruce scratched his chin and walked back inside. He came back with a hot cup of coffee, the warm steam rising from his cup. “Should be inside that damned place of his.”

“He’s not answering.”

“Maybe he’s sleeping. City kid probably needs his nap time.” He sipped his coffee.

Erin cut in, hoping he’d be more amicable with her. She used her exaggerated, quiet-Erin voice. “Our friend Ashton disappeared last night. We’re really worried.”

It was difficult to get a read on him, but he seemed to empathize with their situation.

“After my coffee I could help you look. It’s not good to wander around aimlessly.”

Trevor cut in. “Listen, we don’t want to be a part of this stupid game anymore.”

“Excuse me?”

“Mr…” Trevor fished for his last name, but Bruce just stared at him, waiting. Trevor shook his head; nevermind that. “We know you’re most likely involved with Trevor in this whole charade, but we aren’t finding any humor in this. We’d like our friend back.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed and he sipped his coffee again, his eyes locked in on Erin’s.

“Please, sir,” she said, putting forth her best poor-victim look.

“I got no business with Stefan. I told you. This is my property here. It runs directly a hundred yards that way to the tree line, and this other way here to the kid’s property line. Out back I got another hundred yards to work with. The kid’s got part of his garden on my property, but you don’t hear me complain. So… I don’t know anything about your friend and I’ve not got a damn thing to do with your pretty-boy host. I had a deal of sorts with the previous owners and within that deal, my ass is staying put. Capiche?”

Erin looked over at Trevor. He never liked being told how it was. He was normally the one taking charge.

“You think I’m happy about this new arrangement? My way of living has been completed upended, and what can I do about it? Be a helpless victim, that’s what. While shithead parades his kiddie friends around what should be mine. He owes me yardage. The chips, they like to fall a certain way, don’t they?”

“We’re sorry for interrupting you. We will try and keep to ourselves. I’m—”

“Not going well so far, is it?”

“I’m Erin. This is Trevor, and Skye.”

He looked down on Erin and smiled, his dentures shimmering with a whole new definition of white. “Bruce. Pleasure,” he said with a slight grumble. They shook hands. He sipped his coffee once more, “Now, I suppose I could help look for your friend. I can push back my chores. Not a big deal.”

“Oh, we’d really appreciate that, sir.”

“I’ll just finish my coffee and grab my gun.” He slammed the door on their face.

“Did he just say gun?” asked Skye.

“That he did.”

Eighty-five acres was a decent amount of ground to cover, especially when considering the thickly wooded area clustered on the north end, and also the cliffs.

The sun was fierce again today, burning Erin’s skin. Trevor stuck close to her side, while Bruce flanked off to the right, almost out of sight, rifle in hand. They trekked on ahead into the trees toward the cliffs. They had agreed that Bruce would veer west. Trevor and Erin would cover the south end and follow the bend to the west beach. Skye was adamant that she check the rocky ridges again alone, and then she’d go back to Stefan’s to see if he had returned.

Erin found it oddly suspicious that Skye was so eager to venture off on her own again considering how upset she was this morning, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer, so she let her be.

Having separated from the others, Trevor lowered his head to speak to her quietly. “I don’t trust Bruce.”

“He’s helping us.”

“Or so he wants us to think.”

“That’s some heavy paranoia, if I’m being honest.”

“Let’s break into his cabin.”

“What? You’re crazy. Are you kidding me?”

“What’s the big deal? We take a peek. In and out. Worst-case scenario we find more information in there about what the hell is going on with Ashton.”

“I don’t know…”

“Erin, I don’t like any of this. We need to do something. You really think Ashton got lost? This is either part of the game or we got a serious problem here.”

His edgy tone frightened her, but he was right.

“Okay.” She couldn’t believe she was agreeing to such a risky maneuver. “Now?”

He nodded.

Bruce’s cabin’s musty smells were largely concealed by a heavy use of lemon Pledge and lemon air freshener. Deer antlers hung on the wall. Erin was surprised to find a brand new Samsung TV mounted in the corner of the room with a recliner lined up for viewing. The log cabin was pretty much exactly as expected; a square box made of logs, animal furs and mountings, and no sign of Ashton.

Erin leafed through some old newspapers, feeling terrifyingly out of place while doing so. “Okay, let’s go.”

“What? Wait a second. I need to look around here.”

“What are you expecting to find?”

“Something incriminating probably.”

“Come on. You sound ridiculous.”

“Tell me you haven’t noticed something weird.”

Trevor scampered about, flipping couch cushions and touching along the walls.

“What are you looking for exactly?”

No response. He looked outrageous frantically scattering about.

“We should go,” she said.

“There has to be something!” Trevor’s eyes were on fire with rage, beyond what she had ever witnessed. Yes, he could be ill-tempered from time to time, but it was like there was someone else behind those pretty dark eyes.

“Trevor. There’s nothing here to help.”

“You’re right. Ashton and the creepy puppet master go missing at the same time on an island the size of my apartment back home. But you know what? They’re probably just hanging out. Buddies.”

He dropped to the floor and pulled a throw rug out of its spot as he searched for some sort of an underground opening. He looked like a crazed lunatic. He continued to search on his hands and knees. It would have been more fitting if he was in a padded room.

“He’s in Stefan’s stupid place. There is no other place he could be. Let’s go there quickly. Before they get back.”

“Okay, but I need you to be calm first.” She waited for him to make eye contact.

Erin’s pocket started to vibrate against her leg. She slid her hand in and pulled out Trevor’s phone. How do I have his phone? She motioned to give it to him but stopped herself.

The vibrations continued to come in as Trevor carried on with his search for hidden clues that weren’t there. She tried a password but was locked out. She typed in another, 1-2-3-4, and was granted access. Erin tapped on the incoming texts that must have all been delayed from the lack of service.

Erin first examined the cabin for a moment, and then looked back to the phone. She had to do a double take, disbelieving what she was indeed seeing; nude photos of Skye, one after the other flooding in.

“Let’s leave, please.” He ignored her and kept digging through drawers. “Please!” She startled Trevor, his head jerking toward her.

“Okay. Okay. We’ll go to Stefan’s again.”

The door cracked open and her heart stopped. Bruce walked in with his rifle at his side, and she slid the phone back into her pocket.

After analyzing them, he walked over to his espresso machine and slid a cup with a flower pattern underneath.

He waited for it to finish filling without acknowledging them whatsoever.

“We’re sorry for intruding, sir.” She tried to sound light and carefree but the fear had crept up into her throat, cracking her timid voice.

The coffee spattered at the end of its brew. He pulled out the cup, walked over to Erin, and stopped. After a moment, he handed her the cup. He walked back to the machine to make another cup, not speaking a word.

“Thanks for helping us look,” she said.

He walked the second cup to Trevor.

“Thanks.”

Finally, Bruce spoke, looking up at a mounted fish. “I once witnessed a golden eagle fly down and pick up a tarpon bigger than this one. Did it with ease.” He admired the mounted fish.

“That’s a beauty,” Trevor said.

Bruce ignored him. “The golden eagle is such a ruthless bird. Did you know that they will prey on other eagles? If they’re hungry enough… It’s incredible what something is willing to eat if it’s hungry enough. Wouldn’t it be something to try and take one of those down? I don’t know what would compare.”

He faced Trevor. “Have you ever hunted anything before?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“The first time takes the most courage. The most patience, too. It’s also the most satisfying. It’s different. Seeing the life fade from any set of eyes… In that moment, you feel so far away from it all. Like living on an island, I suppose.” He smiled and clapped his hands. “How’s the coffee?” he asked cheerfully.

Trevor raised the cup to his lips.

Bruce placed his hands on Trevor’s shoulders and squeezed, his big denture smile almost cheerful enough not to be menacing. “Strong, I know. It’ll give you the energy you need for the day. It’s going to be a long one by the looks of it.” He gave Trevor’s shoulder a pat and dropped his hands back down to his sides.

“No sign of Ashton out there?” Trevor did his best to stand tall, but Erin could sense how nervous he was.

“No, sorry. Any sign of him in here?” asked Bruce as he looked at the floor. Annoyed, he grabbed a broom and swept dirt toward the entrance.

“All clear.” Trevor cleared his throat.

Bruce looked over his shoulder at the bear rug that was tossed to the side.

“Do you like it here?” he asked.

“We’re just worried about our friend,” Erin said.

“I understand that.”

“Well, thanks for the coffee. We better get back out there,” said Trevor.

“You should. Hopefully you find your friend and stay a while yet. I’ll be back out to help though, you can bet on that.”

They nodded politely and set their coffees on the kitchen table before attempting to walk around Bruce to the exit. He blocked their path for a moment and looked into Trevor’s eyes, while Erin stood idly by. “Keep your eyes open out there. You don’t want to miss anything.”

* * *

Skye’s legs burned as she traversed over the last grooves of the cliff, reaching the top. Slightly above her line of sight were three grassy hills in the shape of elongated breasts. She stopped to catch her breath.

The trip down the backside of the rock was surprisingly difficult, as there were many smooth spots that she had to be careful with to avoid her feet sliding out from under her. Sweat ran down her back, and her legs had doubled in weight.

Visions of her mother, battered and bruised, flashed unnaturally through her mind. It was ingrained in her; a variation of a memory that never existed, now refusing to leave. She had gone so long with a mind free of the tremendous guilt that had ruined her for years, and now it was back in unforgiving form. Walking out that door and leaving her with that monster was the hardest thing she had ever done. It took an absurd amount of drugs and alcohol to move somewhat past it.

She was a pretty woman, her mother. She was taller, more elegant than Skye was. Her legs were long, and her bright green eyes were mesmerizing, and Skye always figured she would have been the most confident woman in the world had it not been for that loser. Her face was slender, hair dark like night falling halfway down her back, skin olive colored, an indent on her cheek from when she had chicken pox. The little crater was a perfect imperfection. As soon as Skye pictured her mother’s beauty, the vision was quickly replaced by her eye swollen shut and her nose badly broken.

She was determined to make it to the top of the hill. She grimaced with each step, not willing to let up, battling through the lactic acid that was killing her legs. She clawed at the grass, pulling every ounce of her small body up, nearing the top. Was she desperate to find her boyfriend?

Finally, she reached the top, lungs burning, begging for much needed rest as she wheezed for air on her hands and knees.

The view was not at all what she had expected. It should have been a smaller version of the island they were on, with big beaches and lots of land, trees cleared out to make room for hospitality. But she saw none of that. It was an island almost completely underwater. A small portion in the middle was thick with trees, and she could spot what she thought was a small cabin. One would have to swim quite a distance across without a boat, and there was no way that it was livable over there. Sebastian had lied. Who was he, and why was he there? I should have told Trevor and Erin about him.

Skye could feel a tingling sensation up her spine. There was someone behind her on the hill. She turned.

Sebastian looked at her blankly. “Out for a stroll?”

“What’s going on?”

He approached her and placed her hands on the back of his neck. She slid them down to his chest. They stood there intoxicated by one another, breathing each other in. His skin was cold and clammy, but he felt strong and powerful. “Where is Ashton?”

“It will all become clear soon. You can let go of all concern.” His tone was different from when she met him in the cave. He was… prophetic? He rubbed her shoulders softly, and then she felt a sharp pricking sensation. Skye winced in pain, but his calm, peaceful eyes never wavered, his smile level. “You’ve never trusted before, but you can trust me.”

Her whole world was suddenly collapsing like an old burning building. Blackness filled the edges. Her body was denser. Unable to hold herself up, her bones feeling like they were melting, he held her against his chest. He spoke, but she didn’t feel the soothing vibrations she had felt the first time. “Your mother is gone. You can accept it now. She’s gone.”

You’re a liar! Hate emerged, but the darkness swept her away.

Chapter Fourteen - Stefan

He was trapped. Back pressed against the cold damp wall of the hot spring cave, he debated jumping into the water and holding himself under to hide.

Before he could take action, a man entered. He sprinted to the other opening but was quickly closed off by another dark shadow that was yielding a familiar blade. He should have attacked the other man who was a behemoth, but Stefan was unarmed, and certain he wouldn’t fare well. The decision was moot anyway. He couldn’t move. He was paralyzed with inaction, and his head was feverish.

The silhouettes of men had become visible, though he could still not make out their faces. They closed in on him. The large man punched him squarely and the back of the cave cracked the back of his skull. The man stopped and stared at him, but there were no eyes visible. He was living in an abstract it seemed. Then, hot steel burned his stomach. Stefan stared down to find an old knife with some kind of engraving on the smooth wooden handle fully immersed into his stomach, blood dripping down onto the ground. He could see no face, only understand the satisfied hate from the intruder as he watched the blood run into the blue hot spring, clouding it murky red and green.

Stefan woke in a pool of sweat, his skin on fire. He tried to lift himself off the bed but he was too weak. He rolled over and grabbed a glass of water next to his bed and drank it quickly. He pulled himself under the sheets again, shivering and sweating in misery, thankful to be alive, but praying for his horrible fever to break. He wanted to think about his guests, the island, the game, the glory, but all he could do was let his eyes close, even though he feared the nightmare would continue or, worse yet, start again from scratch.

He woke again in a couple hours with enough energy to rise. The fever was still raging on, but it was not quite as intense as before. The cold surges had lessened and become more of a sweaty chill.

He willed himself out of bed and moved down the long hallway that toyed with his frightened mind. Too many rooms, too many doors, not enough light, he thought. He labored up the stairs, each step creaking as if they’d been installed sixty years ago. He made it to the kitchen and slid the dimmer switch up all the way, squinting from the sheerness of the light. There was a leftover bowl of soup in the fridge that would hopefully hit the spot just right with some soda crackers.

It settled okay in his stomach and spurred on his hunger, so he ate some more crackers with cheddar cheese. Another hour of rest and he could go check on everyone. He put some Tylenol and ibuprofen into his system and went back to the stairs, but stopped by the window. The power cut and he was left in the dark. He spilled some hot soup on his arm and cursed as he set it down on the kitchen table. Stefan hadn’t programmed the lights to cut at this time. It was all wrong.

Leaving his soup to cool off, he was on his way to check his surveillance and power circuit room when he stopped in his tracks. Looking through his window, he saw some of his staff members standing outside in front of his place; Sebastian, Cassidy, and Jhett. What are they doing? Why are they here still? Their shift ended an hour ago and the sun was gone. Stefan gave them a tired wave, but they seemed distracted by something outside. What are they looking at?

Beyond the distracted workers, Stefan could see the ocean water moving in, the light post on the dock providing just enough visibility. The staff’s focus was still on something east of his bunker, into the trees that thickened with distance traveled.

Chapter Fifteen - Trevor

Trevor had reached a breaking point. Words better suited for his father’s mouth were about ready to spew out. Enough is enough. The thought of Stefan hiding up in his ivory tower infuriated him. Trevor could picture him clear as day; planning, scheming, twiddling fingers together, and sipping red wine as he waited for his so-called master plan to unfold. He was no genius, merely a child holding a magnifying glass atop ants that he hoped to either impress or burn.

Trevor couldn’t remove the image of that person digging. What were they digging for and how could they have planned to have me wander out at that exact time? If it wasn’t Bruce, who was it? Stefan? The staff?

Walking through the trees, his scrambled thoughts were mixed with the surroundings, blending together. He was in a mental haze, not thinking of direction, only walking. Time was elusive, feeling both stagnant and rapid, like he had smoked half a joint and ate the rest. In what seemed like a large period of time, Trevor finally realized that Erin was still walking with him, behind him through the trees. He stopped. “We need to go home.”

“I agree.”

He got his bearings straight and they moved toward the west beach, reaching a familiar arrangement of crowded palm trees. This was where the man had been digging.

Trevor stopped again.

“What’s wrong?” asked Erin.

“Nothing.”

“What the hell is going on, Trevor?”

And then it came. Was it a feeling? He had to move again. It was impulsive, or intuitive? He knew he couldn’t let her in on where he was going. He didn’t even know himself. His pulse slowed. His whole body stilled, like the effects of ecstasy taking over, making him feel fluid.

“I’m gonna keep going this way. You look around here for a bit and head back. Meet at Stefan’s in like an hour max?”

He still hadn’t turned to face her.

“Why do you think Skye didn’t meet us back at our place? She said she would if she couldn’t find Ashton. We gave her two hours.”

“It’s possible she found him. But we need to keep looking.” His reply was robotic. “She’s fine. And it’s possible they took her as part of this whole thing.”

“And who exactly took her?”

“Stefan.”

“Right.”

He turned to console her, fighting off his urge to walk away. “We’ll be on a boat back into Belize in no time. I promise.” Her face was both scared and hardened at the same time. Her eyes glistened.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?” she asked.

Which direction is she going with this? It was irrelevant. He had to move. “Nothing… I don’t trust Stefan and neither should you. That’s all I know. That and we need to leave this place.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He left her looking broken and beaten down and yet guilt did not rear its head; in fact, all emotions were absent.

Trevor trudged through the trees along the south bend. He had reached a thicker portion of the forested area, where various types of shrubbery intertwined, and the hypnotic view of palm trees partnered with the sounds of the night; it all engulfed him, pushing him deeper into a state of hypnosis.

Beading sweat trickled down his forehead, where it collected on his brow. He spotted someone in the distance. A man dressed in a black jacket leaned up against a tree. Subtle hand gestures indicated that he was having a conversation with someone else on the other side of the tree, but it was too far to tell.

He jogged toward the man. Was it Stefan?

Now running, the branches and dirt crunching and pounding beneath his feet, he yelled, “Hey!”

The man turned his face slightly. Trevor ran faster. “Hey!”

The man disappeared behind the tree. Get back here! In his entire life and short career as a lawyer, he had never been so desperate for answers.

Just like that, the man was gone. Trevor suddenly found himself standing in front of the rocky peaks near the east beach, feet in a small babbling brook of sorts, leading a short distance into the Caribbean.

He couldn’t move. Invisible hands were wrapped around his neck and face, forcing him to look up at the rocks. Stay a while. It had no voice. It wasn’t audible, nor was in being said in his mind. It just existed. Among it, a high-pitched frequency was distant.

Stay a while.

Chapter Sixteen - Erin

She should have been weeping, but the anger was enough to prevent her from such poignancy.

Erin built up enough courage for self-torture and pulled out Trevor’s cell phone to examine the nude photos of Skye. She tried her best to pay attention to the background in which the photographs were taken. Tapping on the text conversation with Skye, she opened up the dialog that was filled with about ten pictures in a row, no words exchanged, other than winking emoticons from Skye. She highlighted one and began swiping through. The first few appeared to be in a bathroom, the glass sliding door of a shower in the background, then the corner of a mirror, then a bathroom sink. It looked very comparable to their duplex, but also similar to Skye’s place back in NYC with ordinary beige walls. After one final swipe, there was Skye, lying on her back on a bed, legs spread, hand covering between her thighs while her breasts were left exposed. She was gorgeous. No denying it. Erin’s legs shook as she continued to scroll through all of the photos. Skye’s beauty and raw sexual attraction was obvious, something Erin had always told herself she didn’t want or need for herself.

So much for having a best friend, and a boyfriend.

Skye’s stomach was flat and defined. The outline of her abs… Erin didn’t cry, she didn’t shout out in a fit of rage; she just felt empty, every single thing cleared out.

When she finally pulled her focus from the phone to check her whereabouts, there were two chairs in front of her. Up ahead was the same cross where they had found the blade.

Finding the most structurally sound chair absent of rot, she sat and looked up at the cross. She tried to find some sense of calm, but her moment was interrupted by a disturbing past memory; the one she had been dreaming about since her arrival to the island…

* * *

The warehouse. The piss. The cold air. Her breath visible. She looked up at the window frame she had gotten in through, seeing strands of light creep through the otherwise pitch-black nest for the homeless and drug users. But there were no others there, not that she knew of anyway. It was just her, her masked partner, and the pursuant.

The sound of a door creaking ignited the old empty building. The air was filled with rusted copper and stale cigarette smoke from days past. She looked to her right and could see the shining silver of a handgun. The man in the mask, Josh, had wide eyes staring at her for answers, answers that she didn’t have.

Pigeons startled them, fluttering up into the rafters, cooing continuously as if to warn them of their poor location choice. Did someone come in? We had enough distance separating us. They didn’t see us come in. She could now taste the rusted copper, the smell of urine increasing with each backpedaling step she took, deeper and deeper into the darkness, away from the moonlit window.

A footstep sounded. The grooves of a boot grasping at freed pebbles on the cement floor, sliding them across. The pursuant was near, and not giving up. Never. The silhouette of an armed person moving cautiously by the slightly illuminated portion of the warehouse sent a silvery cold to her already vibrating hands. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t believe she was in this situation to begin with. For a split second, she wondered what her masked partner was thinking. What did she hope he was thinking? Retreat? Forfeit? Attack? Surely the former.

They were moving in quicker; she could feel their presence stalking them like prey. The pigeons above fluttered again, creating a jarring reaction from the silhouette in the dark. Gun pointed skyward toward the birds, the figure was distracted, and her partner stepped forward with fearful eyes. Animalistic.

A gunshot rang out, and the figure dropped to the floor. Stripes of light revealed the lower half of the body.

Air trapped in Erin’s chest. She could not speak in time to prevent her partner from firing off another round into the defenseless person. By the time Erin could move herself out of the darkness toward the body, she knew what was already done. She was an accomplice to murder.

It was a woman. Her face had hard lines but was pretty. Her brunette hair was done back in a ponytail, a strand falling over her left eye, pupil dilated, fear transferring to acceptance. As blood expanded across the cold cement floor, her hand covering the bullet wounds to her stomach, Erin’s eyeline drifted from the woman’s face to her jacket. NYPD.

She probably has children… She does. She has children.

* * *

A hand touched her shoulder, launching her from her seat and down to the sand. She was greeted by a soft, kind-eyed woman who appeared extremely apologetic for her intrusion. “Sorry! Excuse me, dear!” The woman looked too young and attractive to call anyone dear.

She was middle-aged, tall and lean, with wrinkles under her eyes, but other than that she had a remarkable complexion, with skin that looked soft to the touch.

“I didn’t mean to startle you. Though, what did I expect?” she laughed.

“It’s okay,” Erin said while rising and dusting herself off.

“A hand to the shoulder in the middle of a remote island with a cross bearing down on you. Nice touch on my part.” She chuckled again. Even her laugh was pretty and charming. “Sorry, didn’t mean to be punny.” She radiated cool-mom vibes. The woman was looking up at the cross now. “Do you pray often?”

“Oh, I wasn’t praying. Just thinking.”

She smiled warmly while nodding understandingly. “Often the two are one and the same. Have you found your friend yet?”

“Still nothing.” How did she know about that? Moreover, who is this woman?

“That’s a shame. I’m sure there’s a good explanation for why he’s hiding out.”

“I sure hope so.”

“I’m Teresa.”

“Erin.”

Teresa caught Erin with a bewildered look on her face. Erin never was much for poker, nor being stranded on an island in the midst of an unequivocal identity crisis.

“I work here on the island. If you’re wondering…” She brushed her hair away from her face.

“Oh. Were you here before? With the previous owners?”

“Yes, I was. We were relied on more heavily then. It was basically ours.” She adjusted the slanted collar of her stained white shirt. “I look like a battered-down old farmer. I’ve been in my garden all day. You can probably smell me from there.”

There was something about her. She was too regal to smell of common body odor after a hard day’s work in the sun.

Why hadn’t Stefan mentioned anything, she wondered. A part of his plot? “There are other workers here?” she asked casually.

“Yes, of course.” She smiled. “I couldn’t handle this place all by my lonesome.”

“Sorry, I thought Stefan handled all of the upkeep.”

Her laugh that followed was hollowed out. “Not possible, I’m afraid. Especially with that boy.”

Erin was without words, her face reddening from the silence that followed. The woman continued. “What were you thinking about, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’m just worried about Ashton.”

She took a seat next to Erin, releasing a quiet and cute grumble. “I don’t blame you, my dear. That foolish boy better have a reasonable explanation.”

“I’d say… Unless it’s part of the whole game thing.”

Her face contorted and her head tilted to the side, like a dog trying to understand its master. “Game?”

“You know. With Stefan.” She laughed through a nasal exhale. “I’m sure you know all about it. Even have to help him with it.”

Every time she mentioned Stefan’s name, it seemed to trigger a subtle imprint of anger. But Teresa’s face rested back to a place of comfort. “I’m sorry, Erin. I haven’t the faintest clue of what you’re referring to.” She took a sip from a water bottle. “But I gather by your distrusting look that you were hoping for an alternative reply?”

Erin was embarrassed and apologetic in response to the word distrust. “No, no, it’s not—”

She interrupted, putting her hand up and waving it about. “Don’t you worry… Your poor friend… I don’t mean to add worry but—” She caught herself, regretful of starting her sentence.

“What?”

“Nothing, dear, don’t fret. I’m sure he’s fine. I just don’t like the mix of alcohol and the ocean. But honestly! Please forget such a nasty and improbable line of thinking.”

Could he have drowned? Suddenly a new thought had dawned heavily on Erin. What if we were brought here specifically for a reason? What if Stefan has a vendetta against Trevor? Trevor could easily be withholding information from me. He already was, the cheating bastard. Jesus… How could he? Then again, should I really be surprised?

Teresa cut off the unraveling hypothesis in her brain.

“It’ll all be okay, I promise… You’re all kinds of troubled now I can see, no thanks to me.”

“I’ve got a lot of my mind that’s all. It’s not your fault.”

“Anything you wish to share with a stranger you just met?”

Erin hesitated. “No. That’s okay. Just… I guess I have a sudden appreciation for home. I thought trips were supposed to be fun.”

“That’s a good thing that you like home. A wonderful thing.”

“I guess, yeah. Or it means I’m too chicken to leave my comfort zone. I’ve been told that.”

“I wouldn’t worry. Many people aren’t afforded any comfort in their lives. It’s a special thing to be aware of and grateful for… Besides, is this supposed to be an escape from your comfort zone? Not exactly slumming it, are you?” She laughed. “I’m just bugging you, dear. I know it’s your friend. We’ll find him.”

“Yeah… So you live in Belize I take it?”

“Sure do. It’s so beautiful. We’ve built quite the relationship with the locals. Keep the hungry fed and as many of the jobless working as we can.” She chortled. “I’m being boastful. My husband is constantly reminding me to be more humble. I just can’t help but be proud sometimes, you know?”

“I don’t think you’re being boastful.”

“Well, no matter. You know what?”

“What?”

“You’ll return to your friends and the lost boy will be there. Maybe you have a beer and forget all about wanting to go home. How about you do some spearfishing with my husband? That should get you out of that pesky comfort zone, yeah? How does that sound?”

Erin chuckled. “Sounds pretty good to me.”

“That’s the spirit. A couple hours from now you’ll feel right as rain, my dear.”

“You should be a psychiatrist.”

“I don’t believe in all those pills. Nothing a place like this can’t fix.”

“You might be right.”

“I’m right.”

Teresa ran her hand over Erin’s hair and caressed her face for half a second. “I’ll come around at the end of the day. Check on you guys.”

“Okay.”

Teresa turned to leave. “How do you live here? Away from everything? What brought you here?” Erin asked.

“Well, we can leave any time we want, you do realize that?” said Teresa.

They exchanged smiles.

“My husband bought a restaurant in Belize a while back. It was a tough road that led us there, but I’m grateful it did… I think as humans we always crave change, especially when what we have doesn’t feel right. It’s all a juggling act. The most important things to a person rise to the top, and hopefully the heart is at peace. At some point it should be. Or so I hope. Who knows God’s truths? We should all quit pretending we do, I suppose.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Oh no, dear. Nothing is easy. It’s a long and difficult journey. But what else would it be without it? Pointless if you ask me.”

“And your important thing is this place?”

“Of course not. Mine is my family.”

“Sounds like Belize is a nice fit though,” Erin said.

She nodded, smiled, and brushed her hair back away from her eyes again. “You are very beautiful. There might be some untapped potential there too. Just a hunch.” She winked. “I’m good at reading people. Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll read your future before you leave.”

“Sorry to burst your optimistic bubble, but clearly you aren’t good at reading people.”

“I know enough just from looking at you.”

She rose to her feet and spoke a few final words before her departure. “Relax. It’ll all be okay.”

As Erin watched Teresa leave, her phone vibrated. She looked down to find a text had somehow forced its way through. How is there service here?

The text read: “Building a future from scratch was no simple feat. What was used as a tool to build, protect, and sustain, became a weapon of destruction. In the place that doesn’t exist, where water runs deep, retrieve the final armament.”

Erin started walking back to the middle circle to meet with Trevor when another text came in. Her heart sank. “Fail to proceed with the task and consider your friend dead in less than pleasurable means.”

Erin sat on the ground staring at the screen in disbelief.

* * *

She knocked on the front door and nobody came. She walked around and tried the backside. Still nothing. She didn’t know whether to be pissed with Stefan or worried for his well-being. He had been gone for almost twenty-four hours now, not a trace of him. Without the faintest of clues what to do next, she leaned up against the backside of Stefan’s house and allowed more self-torture to prevail, scrolling through more nude photos of Skye. She slid the phone back in her pocket and exhaled.

* * *

Eight years ago

Caught in a foster home with a man that had been steadily gauging her developing teenage body, she could sense something treacherous was about to take place. It started with the slightest touch to her shoulder, her arm, small caresses that normal parents may provide to their children. But then, a time came when he looked at her differently.

One night while she was studying in her tiny bedroom next to a room that harbored three younger boys, he entered and stared down at her, his hand laid flat against his small belly hanging over his waistline. Pretending to be busy and deep in thought with her textbook, she could feel the heat rising to her cheeks. He sat on the edge of the bed, the bedsprings creaking. He stroked her back gently, so she pretended to be startled, making the moment seem natural and innocent.

Her acting didn’t deter the man. She could smell the pine needles of gin on his breath as he leaned over her body. His eyes were bloodshot and glazed. His lips were still, his hands calm and steady. He slid his hand under her shirt along her backside and ran his cold, leathery hand up and down, up and down. Erin trembled at his touch, which is exactly when she saw him close his eyes. His touch lingered along her lower back. Was he going to slide his hand down the back of her pants? Feel the trim of her panties? She could only peer around the other side of his body to see his other hand on his crotch. “I’m sorry. I have to finish this chapter. See you downstairs in a half hour?”

His eyes flickered.

He rose to his feet and smiled. “Of course. I’ll check what’s cooking down there. Smells like roast.”

“Yum. I’m hungry.”

With that, he left. And two days later, so did she. Not that much convincing was needed, but her boyfriend aided in her escape, and they lived on their own, starting with the streets for twenty-four hours and eventually moving in with his cousin Eddie. Erin’s boyfriend, Josh, lived fast and loose without regard of anyone else’s perception of who he was or what he was up to next. He was rather homely looking, with bushy eyebrows and a curved nose, but he had this way of always making her feel good about herself. He made her look forward to things. It was good to feel excited instead of hopeless. She didn’t know why a guy like that was interested in her. She was structured, focused on her studies. Regardless, they were happy together. Perhaps they both had qualities the other lacked. They filled each other’s gaps, so to speak.

A plan soon took shape. They shared a vision, but they needed the cash to bring that vision to fruition. Money would get them a sufficient living situation, a new school to finish out her last two years (the most important time to line up her full ride to medical school) and a little left over for a down payment on a modest garage. Eric was quite the mechanic. He absolutely loved working with cars. It was his dream.

Cousin Eddie had a close friend who worked in a small, remote bank, under absolutely pitiful surveillance. Short-staffed and dead quiet, excluding the rush times of the day, it’d be a surefire lock. Despite its small size and lackluster security, it still carried a decent amount of cash on hand, nothing marked in the back. They’d hit this spot, cut Eddie and his friend in on the deal, and start their lives with an estimated amount of twenty thousand dollars.

They hit first thing in the morning. Josh borrowed a gun from Eddie. Just for show.

The robbery went fine, despite how nervous she was waiting in the car. But then, they had a tail. It continued for hours.

Cars were switched, the original plate of the getaway car ditched, but the tail kept reappearing and never shook loose. Then… the warehouse. Josh did what she thought he’d never be capable of doing.

* * *

“Hey.” Erin jerked to the side to find Stefan poking his head out of the door. He looked ghastly, skin white, hair strewn about in a wacky mess.

“Where have you been?” she asked.

“Where is Trevor?”

“Still out looking! We were supposed to meet thirty minutes ago. Now Skye is gone.”

No devious smile formed due to his mastery of plans; only fatigue and confusion rested on Stefan’s pale face. “Come with me.”

“Stefan, this has gone too far. I got your text. That’s just sick.” Her tears bubbled to the surface.

“Text? I couldn’t text you if I wanted to. Just get in here. Please.”

He peered outside his door around toward Bruce’s cabin and the surrounding area. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“I don’t know exactly. Let me show you.”

She followed him inside.

Next was a surveillance room that Stefan had kept behind closed doors. The amount of tech was impressive. He had views of the island from every angle, including all the groomed trails that would have catered to his game. Erin didn’t know exactly how to feel about the curtain that had been pulled back, unveiling his spy squad. She didn’t know where to look after a few seconds, so she rested her eyes upon Stefan, who looked completely rundown.

“You haven’t left.”

He shook his head. “I lost track of time. I’ve been sleeping for twenty-four hours. Horrible flu. Can’t seem to shake it.”

Erin handed her phone over to him.

“What are you showing me?”

“Check the text.”

He read it and narrowed his brow. “Shit…”

“Tell me that shit means you understand what is going on here.”

He looked Erin deep in the eyes, evoking honesty. “There’s something going on. It’s not my doing. I swear.” He bent down, shaky in the knees. He pulled a blanket tightly around him, shivering, even though the stuffy room was hot.

“The text?”

“Someone else is having some fun.”

“Why do you have all this?”

“A simple precaution. I had reservations about showing you this, but I have to. When I’m not out there, I’m making sure everyone is safe. I’m working around the clock, Erin, except…”

“The last twenty-four hours.”

“Exactly. I’ve been just swamped with this. It’s a horrible flu. I’ve never had anything like it.”

“Trevor was throwing up all of last night. I think I’ve felt some of it too. Just a bug I guess, or do we have some sort of foreign virus?”

“We shouldn’t. There’s nothing unique for traveling here. We all have our shots that I sent to you guys. I just don’t know.”

“Unfortunately, it’s the least of our problems right now,” she said. “The text?”

He shifted in his chair, his sweat sliding down his cheek. “I’m coming out of it. The worst happened ten hours ago. Have you met some of the staff here yet?”

“One. Teresa. You think they have something to do with this?”

“I can’t say for sure. But there’s something not quite right with them. I need to show you something.”

He directed her attention to one of the monitors, a small Samsung TV mounted in the corner. The footage was of the rocky cliffs from above. “Our drone got footage of Trevor. It’s strange, Erin. Really strange.”

Erin watched Trevor on the screen sprinting through the trees chasing something, but it unclear as to what. “Is that Trevor?” She knew it was.

“Who else would it be?” he replied.

“What is he doing?”

“I was hoping you could fill me in,” he said.

Stefan fast-forwarded the recording to Trevor standing in the water. “He doesn’t move an inch for almost ten minutes.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t really know what we are looking at. I mean, what are you suggesting?”

“I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just pretty concerned that two people are missing on my island. Maybe you can tell me what to think here.”

“Can’t you check your footage. You should be able to find them, no?”

“I checked. Drones didn’t track them like they should.”

“Trevor will be back soon. I need to talk to him.”

“Whoever is pulling these strings, they want us to keep playing out the game. At least for the time being. To be safe, we should go.”

“You don’t actually think that they’re in danger.”

“I have no idea. All I know is I want Trevor with us. Better to be certain.”

She wanted to protest, but there was already so much Trevor had been keeping from her.

He continued. “Something tells me they’ll have their own set of rules moving forward.” His face was bitter.

“I don’t know. If they are on this island, it has to be the staff, right? We just need Trevor with us first.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“Coffee?”

“Sure.”

He left her behind and she rewound the footage of Trevor to play it back again. She couldn’t find anything.

She went even further back, watching intently for anything significant at the high speed. Then, she spotted something. No, not something. Someone. She stopped the footage to watch Skye standing atop a grassy hill beyond the walls of rock. A man was approaching. Something peculiar caught her eye and she rewound. When doing so, she discovered something. The camera shorted out and glitched, the footage twitching and settling back upon the man’s arrival, making it look as though he appeared from nowhere. She reeled it back and watched the same glitch happen again.

Chapter Seventeen - Erin

Trevor’s return should have rendered a slap, but she withheld. Right under your nose. He cheated on you. There is no remorse. Not an ounce of it. Erin was foolish for believing in him, for trusting him, and she now came to the painful realization that this probably wasn’t the first time he had cheated. She was so stupid. But he was the exact guy she wanted for years. Ask and she received. To a goddamn tee.

The walk to the rocky ridges was a long one filled with silence and concerned glances from Trevor. He kept asking if everything was okay. Sure, honey. Though she didn’t trust Trevor, she didn’t trust Stefan either. The only thing she trusted was her instinct to leave.

There was a sweetness rolling through the tropical breeze, one in which smell nearly became taste. Coconut and a hint of pineapple lingered as Erin walked through the trees with a miserable stone in her shoe. She stopped to pull it out and saw a drone fly overhead. How are those things controlled?

They reached the small channel of water to find a dock where the small fishing/scuba boat was tied off. The thought of stepping one foot on that boat made her cringe. Stefan walked toward it.

“Where exactly are we going?” she asked.

“To the other side.”

“Other side?”

“Trust me.”

Trevor extended his hand and she took it begrudgingly.

Around the cliff and past the two grassy hills, they continued on across slightly choppy waters. Stefan turned the boat gradually, as the nose now directed toward trees coming out of the water. It appeared to be a sunken island with a small patch of land in the center. A flashlight mounted to the front of the boat directed them through the night and around palm trees halfway out of the water. They weaved in and out of trees until they found a clear path toward sand. Stefan hopped off first to tie off the boat and then went to help Erin out. Trevor intercepted and took her hand, making sure she didn’t fall into the water. And who said chivalry was dead?

Stefan kept the headlight shining straight ahead and also pulled out a flashlight of his own as they walked into the night, the boat light losing its strength as they walked to the center of the hidden island. The backs of Erin’s arms were covered with goosebumps, the breeze cooler now. She examined the backs of her arms, colored with an unattractive purple/reddish blend, unlike Skye’s beautiful bronzed skin.

They followed Stefan toward the cabin surrounded by trees and tall grass. The windows were cracked and thick with cobwebs and caked on dust. Finally, the tension was dismantled. “You’re sure about this, Stefan?”

“Of course, I’m sure. It’s where I put it.”

“What then? Buried it?”

“Nope.”

There were holes chewed through at the base of the cabin. If the light breeze were to increase at all, it’d blow the whole thing over.

Stefan paused and exhaled. He looked back at Erin and Trevor with an apologetic stare before turning and entering through the rickety door. It squeaked upon their entrance, as did the old dirty floors beneath their feet. The flashlight beamed around the walls, their surroundings coming to life, but there wasn’t much to look at. The place had been vacated long ago.

Stefan tapped his knuckles against the wall repeatedly. Meanwhile, Erin wandered over to the kitchen area, where a picture sat on the table. Difficult to see at first, she moved toward Stefan’s flashlight to get a better look. The photograph, much like the old weapons they had found, was authentic. She wiped away the dust with her finger. In it stood a group of people all smiling, looking happy. Vacationers maybe? Based on the way they dressed and the fact that it was black and white, she guessed 1930s maybe. Then she discovered something within the photograph that could not have been so. In the background, there was a woman carrying a basket of clothing. She was beautiful. It was Teresa.

Erin stared at the photograph in disbelief. Voice was gone from her throat. She was about to get the attention of the guys but decided against it. Calm yourself. They planted the photo to freak you out. A little convenient to be just sitting out isn’t it?

Stefan smashed a small hole on a hollow spot in the log cabin wall. Peeling apart splinters of wood, he opened up the wall enough to retrieve an axe. With it came a note, but Stefan didn’t bother to read it, simply dropping it to the floor.

“Now what?” Trevor asked.

“I’m not exactly sure. It’s their game now. I was assuming there’d be a note with the one I made. This one is mine.” He pointed to the scroll of paper on the dirty floor.

“Remind me who they are?”

“The staff. I don’t know. Who else?”

“Great, anyone bring a deck of cards?” said Trevor.

“Patient cousin—”

“Patient? Are you kidding me? Where are they?”

“First, I need you to calm down. Second, I need you to believe wholeheartedly that I have nothing to do with your friend’s disappearance. What I had organized was meant for everyone, you have my word.” His brow furrowed as he chewed on his fingernails. “Maybe Bruce?”

“Wholeheartedly is a big ask. What about Bruce?”

Erin pocketed the picture, listening to their conversation, but also waiting for something to happen. Maybe another note will slide under the door?

“Bruce was here before I was. Part of the agreement involved him staying.”

“Yeah, you told me this.”

“Well, maybe he had a problem with the sale. It’s possible the previous owners sold because of him.”

“Is that what you’re saying?” Trevor’s face was turning angry.

“No! I’m not saying anything. I’m just brainstorming here.”

Erin cut in. “What were they like in person? The owners.”

He looked sheepishly at the floor.

“You didn’t meet them, did you?” Trevor asked.

“They were unreachable. I dealt with the realtor.”

“Jesus! So you got this place for a fraction of the market value, I’m guessing. They hauled ass out of here, didn’t they? Otherwise why wouldn’t they keep it as an investment? Wow, Stefan. They were practically chased out of here then, I bet.”

Stefan was quiet for a moment. “What does that even mean? Chased out of here? What for?” Nobody replied. “I don’t know who they are. I didn’t get any names.”

“Nice research, Stefan. Really. Nicely done.”

“There he is on his high horse again. Rolling in, just in the nick of time, hey? Shouldn’t this discovery please you?”

“Why would it please me?”

“Don’t play dumb. I’m a fuck up. And you love it. Oh yeah, you are just basking in it!”

“You got yourself into this mess. And us! Pity yourself all you want, but you won’t get any from me.”

After a tense pause, the dust settled. “What can you tell us about Bruce?” asked Erin.

“He’s been helpful with everything. He supported my plans. I mean… yeah, I filled him in on a lot of the details so he knew what to expect. So he could even play a small role if needed. I left that up to him.”

Erin looked to Trevor. “Fairly convincing in his cabin.”

“No shit,” Trevor replied. “I think we have our answer. Question is what does he want with us?”

“I have no ties to the man. Maybe he just wants his peace and quiet? Chases out new owners anyway he can find it? This is one of those ways?” Stefan was panicky. No one answered. The walls creaked. “Maybe he gets off on this? The old man is loony tunes out here and likes to polish his fuckin’ rifle and freak people out.”

“Do you have any guns?” Erin could hardly believe the words that escaped her mouth. The guys were especially surprised.

“Yeah, I got one at my place.”

“It doesn’t appear that he’s provided us with any other clues here. Let’s sidestep the bullshit and go ask him some questions then.”

She walked up to Stefan, ripped the axe out of his hands, and trudged out the door. Walking back to the boat, she looked back toward the cabin to find both guys had stopped. She flashed the light on them. Their jaws were practically unhinged. She moved the light to the wall of the cabin. Something was drawn on it. Was it there before?  They stepped aside so that Erin could see the word “STAY” written in red, leaking down to the base of the cabin. Trevor called out, “It’s blood.”

All at once, they ran for the boat. Erin expected the old motor to be dead, but it started with one turn of the key, and they were back out into the water. The narrow channel was shallow, rocks visible along the edges, vines and other tropical vegetation thick and touching the water. Cobwebs were dense in one spot, but there were no spiders. The motor rumbled and Erin could smell the gasoline. There were no words to be said. There was only a gun to collect.

* * *

They flanked left through the trees, keeping their distance from Bruce’s cabin so that they could approach Stefan’s from the rear, out of plain view. Trevor mentioned the rifle that he had seen Bruce lugging around when he was in the woods taking a piss the night before. Erin had a tight grip around her hatchet as she waited for something else to happen.

There was activity in the trees. Not a person, but birds, critters, who knows. The night was suddenly very alive, and she was very aware.

Trevor and Stefan jockeyed for position of lead. Trevor backed off and placed her in the middle, covering her backside.

“You’re concerned about me now?”

“What?”

“Screw you.”

“Whoa, hang on. Erin, tell me what’s going on. Why are you mad at me?”

She wanted to turn around and clock him. “Not now.”

The trees were more abundant. Erin could hear a heavy wind swirling. Was it wind? It pushed at her from all directions simultaneously. Fist clenched and sweaty around the rope grip of the axe, she felt hot breath on her neck, sending a tingle that nestled somewhere in the center of her skull. She couldn’t tell if she had stopped dead in her tracks or if she had burst into a full sprint. A thought came. It was like it was in song. Stay a while. It grabbed hold. The wind accelerated.

When she turned around, Trevor was not there. They were almost out of sight up ahead, fading into the trees and the black. Before she could move her legs to run, a gunshot sounded off causing her to flinch and drop the axe to the ground. She bent over to pick it up. The gunfire was thunderous. Lifting her eyes from the ground, trapped in an awkward crouched position, she heard a scream like no other. It didn’t even sound human. In med school, she had spent time shadowing doctors and nurses as they tended to some fairly damaged patients, injuries generating all kinds of agonized moans and screams. Once she had come across a man with scissors penetrated through his midsection, the tips of his intestines poking out in one spot, the putrid smell of exposed flesh mixing with ammonia. Before succumbing to his own consciousness, the man was snarling like a wild animal, followed by a high-pitched howl that would have best resembled the sound of someone begging for death to come.

She sprinted up ahead and darted right into a small opening before coming to an abrupt stop. There they were, both lying on the ground, blood everywhere. She could hear wet-mouthed ragged breathing. Grabbing Stefan’s flashlight, she lit it up to find that the blood belonged to him. He was even whiter than he was before, bordering on gray. “No,” he growled.

“Are you shot?”

“Some animal trap,” Trevor said.

Erin moved the light to the left, showing bloodied steel teeth with chains throughout.

Before she could tend to Stefan’s wound, Erin was brought to her knees with the fierce sting of those same familiar words. Stay a while. With all the leftover control she had, she lifted her head to look at the others, who were both experiencing similar agony.

“Make it stop!” howled Stefan.

The last thing she remembered was leaning over to hurl. The burning taste of bile erupted out as the words persisted with great force in her mind, forcing her face into her own vomit and sand.

* * *

Erin woke up in a bed with a wet towel in her hand. She could hear grunting and wincing sounds next to her, and finally her vision returned with some form of clarity. Battling through a groan was Stefan’s voice. “You okay?” She looked across the bed to see blood everywhere. She shot up and stared at his ghastly face. “I’m okay, really,” he said.

“You don’t look okay. Let me check it.”

“You’re too late, doc. Already numbed, stitched, and gauzed. Trevor went to get me more gauze and bandages though.”

“Shit, I should have checked it. It could get infected.”

“I’m pretty thorough. You might not know this, but I have some experience in the field. Grandfather on my mother’s side. Military physician. Caught some action in World War II. Most old folks don’t like to talk about their time served. Too much trauma. My grandpa, he wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“Did you get a good look at the wound? Those spikes could have hit an artery.”

“It’s all good there. I can’t speak for the calf muscle though.” His blinked hard and a tear pushed out.

“You’re in so much pain,” she said.

“Yeah, the cure is upstairs. If you’re able to help me up, that is.”

She checked their surroundings. They were in Stefan’s room in the basement. The towel in her hand seemed clean, and then she remembered the vomit.

“Don’t worry. You weren’t the only one who heard it,” he said.

“We need to get off this island.”

He looked down at his leg, then back up to her eyes. “Yes, we do.”

Chapter Eighteen - Trevor

Stefan had sworn he was okay, but there was a lot of blood. If they weren’t able to get away soon, that leg could get infected, and he could die, leaving the rest of them stranded. They could have taken the small fishing boat to safety and sent help back for Ashton and Skye, but he couldn’t leave them. It wouldn’t have been right. Send Erin with Stefan to mainland? Can I trust him? No… No, of course I can’t.

As he neared the duplex, he could see a woman up ahead, and she let herself in stealthily, head swiveling to scan behind her as she entered.

Wishing he had a weapon, he twisted the doorknob and inched his way into the entrance, avoiding the first set of lights as he crept forward. He couldn’t hear anyone’s breathing, nor could he hear any movement. He flipped on the light, bracing himself for a surprise. The place was empty.

In the corner of his mind or maybe his ear, he could hear a familiar sound, the same one that had brought them to their knees and pounded inside his mind.

Stay a while.

He opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, and he could sense there was someone behind him. He jerked to his side. Nothing. He walked cautiously over to the washroom and turned on the tap. Cold water to his face was refreshing. The presence came once more. Stay a while. Lifting his head, he saw a shadow move through the corner of the mirror, gone as fast as it was there.

He stepped into the living room to find nothing again. “Come on,” he called out angrily. Trevor moved back to the bathroom to grab an extra first aid kit from under the sink. He grabbed a bottle of scotch from the liquor cabinet and made his way back toward the entrance. He stopped. Their bedroom door at the end of the hall was closed. It wasn’t closed before. He never closed the door during the day. Trevor set his supplies down on the kitchen table and made the dreaded walk down the hall. “You think you’re good, don’t you? You want me to look crazy, is that it? Want me to think I’m crazy? Good luck with that.” Trevor wiped his forehead on his sleeve. The room was too quiet.

“You’re all going to need a few more IQ points to make me question myself. So keep working at it. It will take you quite a while!” He stopped in front of the door. “The second-rate theatrics are just pissing me off now. Kidnapping, emotional damages, the parade of liability concerns… Keep serving it up on a platter. I suppose the longer you feel like conducting your skit, the angrier I’ll get, and the more fucked you’ll be.”

Trevor exhaled. Whatever he had felt earlier in the woods, it had its grips on him again. The walls were closing in, suffocating him. Reaching for the knob, he was powerless, giving into his unknown desires. The door cracked open and he paused, grimacing before revealing a darkened uncertainty.

Trevor threw the door open, slamming into the wall, causing pages upon pages of newspapers to flutter up into the air, circulating back down toward the floor. On his bed laid hundreds of newspaper articles, each of which had something circled in red in the bottom right corners. Page three of the Times, business insider, although it wasn’t so much business involved in the write-up. Instead, it was a follow up to Trevor’s severe wrongdoings. Throw a pebble, there’s a ripple effect. In this case, drop a bomb, destroy someone.

Gary Valencia, hard-working second-generation American, originally from Mexico City, grew up poor; father took a chance and got out, that whole story. They were good people. Made the sacrifice for their children, children seized the opportunity given, and Gary built something solid upon nothing.

After Mr. Valencia’s shares had been diluted without his approval or understanding, Trevor had lost tabs on him. He supposed it was on purpose, given that he couldn’t sleep many nights.

And now, hovering over the bed, single newspaper in hand, Trevor stared down at the circled portion and read. Gary Valencia had shot himself in a hotel not two blocks from his home. The article mentioned the business mishap on Gary’s end and labeled it more as a disagreement among the newly formed partnership with Angel Investors at Fairway Capital, whereby they were forced to oust him—buy him out, when in reality he hadn’t received as much as a dime. It read that financial compensation was omitted for the time being. To tie it up in a nice bow dipped in anthrax, the article went on to explain his intentions of getting a life insurance claim for his family to help keep them afloat. It had been more than two years since he had committed to a sizable insurance policy and from his understanding, suicide would still prohibit a payout if executed after the two years of owning the policy. But the crafty insurance company found a way around that of course. It was a fine-print screw job of sorts, leaving the family without a penny.

Trevor backed himself up against the wall, reading the article over and over again, trying to smash the black print into his mind. Somewhere in the black smudgy words under his sweaty fingerprints, the same image of his father being shot in an alley crept in. Would Gary Valencia have hired a hit? Or maybe it was a disgruntled relative evening the playing field?

He staggered toward the door, and when it opened, Cassidy was there waiting for him in the living room, vindictive smile and all, the curves of her lips causing her sexy dimples to cave in.

“Race you,” she said. After a moment, she took off toward the beach. He followed at a half-jog and rounded along the north side of the sand to find her step onto the dock, and into the villa out on the water.

By the time he arrived, she was already naked on the bed with two glasses of champagne and a rose stem in her mouth, mocking him in his moment of despair.

“What the hell is going on?”

She dropped the rose to the bed and licked her lips. “That’s how you greet a girl?”

“What do you know about Valencia?”

Only another seductive smile followed.

“Tell me you bitch.”

She looked dangerous despite her beauty. “Your pillow talk needs work.” She proceeded to sip her champagne casually, but there was still flatness in her eyes.

“You killed him. You or Bruce, you tracked him down, is that it? Made it look like a suicide?”

“Is that what you want?”

Trevor flinched. Before he could formulate another question she waved him off.

“It’s no matter, Trev. I haven’t the faintest clue what you’re rambling about.”

“Why would you--What is it, money? You’re holding some piece of evidence. Waiting for the right moment to dangle it over me? Or you’re helping Stefan with this?”

“Trevor, are you hearing yourself? You sound awfully crazy. It’s not making me feel sexy.” She caressed her breast, then reached into an ice bucket and ran a cube down her neck to her nipple, circling it around, her eyes never leaving his. “I can handle some crazy. I like some crazy. Know the limit though, yeah?” She plucked a pedal off of the rose. “He loves me.” She plucked another. “He loves me not.” She winked, smiled, then closed both eyes and laughed softly, breathing the humor through her nose. “Calm yourself,” she said, handing him a glass of champagne from the nightstand. He took it.

“Explain to me what’s going on.” She spoke to him as if he was a third grader trying to spill the beans about him and Timmy’s failed science experiment that made a mess.

“Don’t—Don’t do that. What were you doing in our place?”

“A girl can’t play a little chase game? The foreplay is the best part.”

“How’d you find that article?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She bit the tip of her finger and then slid it into her mouth, her lush lips sucking gently. She removed her finger as slowly as she had put it in. “Your shorts. Off, preferably.”

He wanted so badly to take the bait, but the thought of doing it after everything that had happened was beyond ridiculous, but still… Extremely agitated and confused, he downed his glass of champagne and cleared his throat. “What is it you really want?”

She arched her back and cranked her head and neck backward, her sternum and rib cage showing below her perfect breasts. She exhaled and returned to form. “I want you.”

“And I want you to tell me what the hell is going on. What is Stefan actually up to?”

“Stefan is a child. And you, you are the man, Trev. You are the man that is going to fuck me.” Abruptly, she shattered her champagne glass on the bed frame and removed a large shard. “Wouldn’t you like that?” She dragged the sharp side of the glass along her breast, cutting a small portion. Blood oozed out slowly, a single line running down and circling around her nipple. Her face twisted in confused contempt. “Why would you do that?”

“What?”

“Why would you do that to me?” She stared at her bloody chest.

Trevor took a step back. “What is wrong with you?”

She laughed hysterically and dropped the glass beside the bed. She ran her finger in the blood and licked it. “You want some?”

“You’re insane… Get out of here if you aren’t going to answer my questions.”

“So you won’t fuck me?”

“You’re not my type.”

“Oh, I see. I didn’t think you had a type. Seemed you liked fucking anyone really.”

“What’d you do to Valencia?”

Her smile shifted aggressively up her cheeks. “Are you playing hard to get? A little played out, but I still like it.”

“Get out!” he yelled.

She recoiled for the first time, surprised by the force behind his words. “My goodness, just take me already. Use me up, Trev.”

He was dizzy. It was like he was fifteen drinks deep. She crawled across the bed, her bare ass sticking out toward him. “You fell for that old trick? I’m honestly a little disappointed.” She sprung off the bed and put her hands on his face, then the back of his neck. They were so cold and dry. He started to lose balance, but she helped keep him up. She squeezed his cheeks. “I was hoping I could use a different strategy. One that was more fun.”

She kissed his scrunched lips softly. “You’re so pretty. A pretty boy you are.”

Trevor collapsed down through her hands.

Chapter Nineteen - Erin

As Stefan rustled around to find coffee beans, she closed her eyes in an attempt to control her miserable state of being. The clink of a glass landed in front of her, but it was not a cup of coffee, it was red wine.

“You don’t need coffee,” he said.

She downed it in two gulps and grimaced. “Gross. Got any tequila?”

He hobbled over to grab a bottle from the top shelf.

“I’m sorry, I should be the one walking around and you should be sitting.”

“No, no. It’s fine. I need to get used to walking like this if we—” He stopped himself.

“If we what?”

“To help us get home in one piece,” he said with feeble reassurance. “If it locks up on me, I’ll be useless and you’ll have to carry me.”

He brought over two short glasses and poured her two ounces of tequila. The sip didn’t burn at all; it was smooth and flavorful. Perhaps it triggered a moment of brave bluntness. “Stefan. Cut the shit. Just you and me. Are you on track with everything?”

He lowered his head to his chest with a smile and shook his head. Then he stared at his leg. “No. We aren’t on track. The track cracked. And we’re derailed. You have my word.” His hands lay flat on the table, his face tense, eyes piercing through hers. “Erin. This isn’t me. This truth is all we got left. I don’t know what’s going on.”

Stefan pulled out a bag of weed, set it on the table, and began prepping a joint. She couldn’t stop herself from revealing her judgmental stare.

“For the leg, remember?”

“Sorry. That’s fair, you need something. Although a more powerful painkiller would be ideal.”

“Hey, this shit is potent.”

“Sure.”

“It calms me.”

“How long has he been gone?”

Stefan was focused on the joint. “Not sure.”

“He should be back by now.”

“He’ll be back any minute… We’re going to figure this out, Erin, you do know that, right?”

Tequila wasn’t helping her stomach. “I should go back out there.”

“Sit.” The way he said it was a bit too snappy. “Sorry. We are safe here and this was the plan. I can’t be losing you out there too. I can’t be alone.”

He lit the joint and took in a big drag, then extended it toward Erin. Her response was automatic without consideration. “No.”

“Come on. One hit. This will help you. Trust me.” She hesitated. “I know you’re not a drug user, Erin, but consider the circumstances. It’ll help.” She hesitated and he continued, “You’re a medical professional for God’s sake. You know the benefits.”

“I’m okay. Really.”

“Are you?”

She was somewhere between a mess and complete disaster.

For years she had just wished she’d get caught and head off to prison in shackles. The combination of guilt and not knowing when the case would be solved was eating her alive. Every day she waited for a forceful knock on her door; or for it to come flying off its hinges. How had they not been able to track them down? If one officer knew they were the culprits, how did no one else? What were her children doing today? Were they okay?

Erin snagged the joint from his hand and forced a large pull of smoke down deep into her lungs. Her lungs rejected it and she coughed, trying to expel the toxic smoke from her body. The more she coughed, the harder she coughed. Once she calmed, she could see that Stefan was laughing at her.

“The coughing helps,” he said.

She passed it back to him and downed the rest of her tequila. They sat in silence for a minute or two.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“Are you worried about someone dying on your table? You know, once you’re a full-fledged doc.”

The question was so morose and direct. “Sure. That’s the job though. Plus, I’m a ways away from that.” A ways away. A ways away? What did I just say? A ways away I go.

“Yeah—Yeah, for sure. It would be a helpless feeling though. Working on a lost cause… Knowing death is inevitable.”

The weight of his comment was heavier than the high that was melting her into the chair and filling her legs with liquid lead. Is he threatening me? No, you’re stoned, Erin. You smoked the ganja. She laughed in her head.

Stefan continued, “I mean. It would be so draining. Surrounded by the sick all of the time. The fading lives… I guess it depends what you specialize in, if you specialize.”

“Right. Yeah, depends for sure.”

“Can you smell death, Erin? I’ve not only heard the stories, but experienced it once. For me, it was hard to place. Not a smell of rotting, or gas, or anything really foul for that matter. It’s just there. I’ve heard that each person’s death smells unique. What do you smell, Erin?”

She was frozen for a moment, stuck with a terrified and dysfunctional mind. “Like… Stew and homemade bread.” She burst out laughing, and Stefan’s face remained serious. When she came to a stop, he sipped his wine and the intensity on his face cleared.

“How is it?” He grinned and blinked slowly.

“How is what now?”

His smile widened. “The tequila.”

She thought of pulling some pretentious descriptors from her ass. Thankfully, her crippling fear of saying something stupid again was strong enough.

“Good. It’s good.”

A gunshot went off outside. She couldn’t react. She was stuck for a three count. A bubble formed in her throat, preventing her from speaking. Stefan walked over to the drawer, pulled out a gun, and loaded it in front of her. Everything around her moved. The floor had become fluid and wavy.

“Why do you have a gun here?”

He didn’t respond. The bags under his eyes appeared to have darkened.

“I should come with you,” she said.

“Absolutely not. I’ll be back right away.”

Before she could argue, he was gone, and she was left there all alone with the smell of burning marijuana. She was sinking in her chair. The floor was tantalizing, a waxy coating shining.

She hadn’t moved in a half hour, or maybe thirty seconds. Against all odds, she rose to her feet, the bones in her legs still replaced by iron. She wasn’t entirely sure which action was most appropriate in the given situation, but she couldn’t stand being inside anymore, Stefan’s eerie bunker inflicting the beginnings of a panic attack. She made her way across the kitchen to the back entrance about as fast as a turtle. She exhaled quietly as she pressed the handle to open the door. The lights cut out and the door locked automatically. She was trapped.

Erin stood by the door, back upright and stiff as a board. She moved toward the front entrance and found the same result. Locked. She rushed over to the silver-trimmed blinds covering the large living room window and rolled them up slowly, letting the anticipation of fear control her. Fear did not let her down. Standing there in front of the house looking up at her was Teresa, with three others.

She couldn’t feel any of her limbs. She desperately wanted to look away from their haunting stares, but she simply couldn’t. Erin could feel something crawling up her neck as she twisted and tried to swat away an imaginary insect. There was no thing on her; instead, an invitation circulated the lining along her head. Stay a while.

Footsteps. She turned to speak, her voice pitiful. “Hello?” She turned back to the window and they were gone. Another shift in the floorboards came from the kitchen, and finally she was able to convince her body to flee. She took off down the stairs and shuffled down the long basement hallways. She decided Stefan’s room was the correct choice and locked the door behind her.

She stared at the door, waiting for it to come crashing down. But there were no sounds. Erin examined his room. It was so bare, his clothes oddly positioned in the middle of the room in organized piles. There was a large steel door on the far wall. That was peculiar. It was already cracked open. Placing her hand on the cool steel, she pulled it open to find hard case coolers on the floor and shelving filled with bottles of wine. She awaited the big, bad wine goblin that was curled up in the corner, waiting to attack her at the throat. None came. Before stepping inside, she looked over her shoulder to make sure the intruder wasn’t outside her door. She didn’t hear a peep. She stepped inside. It was cool and damp. Erin pulled out a bottle from the back wall and in doing so, something moved. From the corner of the back wall, flecks of dust appeared as if from nowhere. She realized that there was another door at the far end. Placing her hand flat on the door, she pushed, and it swung open, revealing a dungy underground walkway.

Erin stepped out onto a cement step immersing into the cool, damp air of the passage. Her fingertips slid across a light switch and she flicked it on. The hallway was all cement. She soldiered on ahead, sensory overload causing her stoned cognitive function to malfunction. Cobwebs, strange brown stains on the walls, and cracks in the floor—all seemed to strip her away from reality. This can’t be happening. She walked slowly, feeling the cold wall on her trembling hand, each step calculated like she was walking the plank, trying not to tip over. Working her way deep into the monster’s mouth, she neared the end of the hall, where she found four locked rooms, two on each side of the narrow hallway.

Ashton… Skye…

Erin touched the door. She heard footsteps come from straight ahead. At the end of the hall, a few steps away, were three steps leading up to a bright green door. The paint looked fresh.

More patter of movement. Bruce’s cabin! She pulled at the first door, but it was locked. Then the second. Locked. She wasn’t certain, but it sounded like the footsteps had reacted to the noise she had made. Then they stopped. Silence. A hand covered her mouth with powerful force, her hips yanked in tight, pressing against a man’s body. She tried to bite, but he kept adjusting his hand as he brought his head in close.

“We need to go.” It was Stefan. “No noise.”

He let go and she turned to face him. There was a splotch of blood on the bottom corner of his shirt. Is that new blood? “Follow me,” he whispered with a finger to his lips.

He extended his hand and she took it. As they climbed back into the wine room attached to Stefan’s room, she heard a door slam at the end of the hall, echoing all the way down and hitting her like a warm wind trapped in a tunnel. She climbed up after him. They walked through the cold storage and he locked the door connecting his room with a padlock into a latch.

He opened the door of the bedroom to leave, but she stayed put.

“We don’t have time.” His voice was an urgent whisper.

They rushed upstairs. Stefan was delirious at this point, pacing back and forth before deciding to make a pot of coffee this time. She stepped toward the kitchen to stop his hands and ask him what in the hell was going on and why it was a good time for a fucking coffee break, when she spotted a beige folder sitting on the kitchen table. Stefan had his back turned to her as she peeked. The first page was a clue. It was done up in the same way as the one that was slid under their duplex door. Plain white paper, hand-printed with black pen. It read, “All eyes are on you, Erin. Kill Stefan or Skye dies. HINT: Stefan’s gun will do just fine.”

She reread the note and then looked up to see Stefan was still busy making coffee, his gun sitting on the counter next to him.

“I need to tell you something. Something I saw.” He sounded different, his voice croaking. “I just don’t know… how to explain it.”

Erin looked back down at the folder; there was more inside. Underneath the note was a picture of Skye with duct tape around her mouth, horror-filled eyes streaming tears as the knife they had found was held to her throat.

Trevor’s phone vibrated in her pocket. A video had been sent to her. Skye, tied up in a squared-off room, was trying to scream through the tape, but it was too muffled for Erin to make out any pleading words. Suddenly, a hand crashed into Skye’s face, snapping her head to the side. Blood trickled down her cheek as she sobbed. The short video came to an end. Stefan turned halfway to acknowledge her, so she quickly tucked the phone back in her pocket. She was in too much shock to cry, but there was a storm swirling in her chest, crashing back and forth, desperate to get out.

“I saw someone outside. I couldn’t see who.” Stefan lowered his head, watching the drip of the coffee pot. “They were dragging something—someone—into the trees. I don’t think they saw me but… Erin, I know something is going on with the staff here. My staff… I followed… and saw blood. There was too much blood. I think they got Trevor. This is all my fault.” He grabbed his handgun and stared at it for a moment. He set it back down on the counter an arm’s length from the coffee pot.

Erin swiped past the harrowing photograph of Skye, discovering more disturbing pictures. She staggered over to the couch, grabbing hold of the arm rest, breathing deeply, trying to prevent herself from passing out. The rest of the folder was flooded with duplicates of the same three photographs. A crime scene. Within that crime scene lay the policewoman covered in blood. They know what I did. This is all for me.

She tucked the folder underneath the couch. Stefan piped up again. “I ran, Erin. I ran for the fishing boat.” Stefan was now crying, bordering on sobs. His breaths were sharp and broken. “I was going to take the boat and… and leave. Leave all of you.” He cried out like a child. “I’m so sorry…” Stefan turned to face her. He cleared his throat and wiped his tear-stained face. “The boat was gone. I’m glad it was. I would’ve never forgiven myself.”

“So, what do we do now?” It dawned on her that in addition to Skye being held captive and her imminent decision to kill Stefan pending, Trevor might indeed be dead. Killed. Murdered. Trevor is dead.

“I called into Reggie on the SAT phone but he didn’t reply yet. I told him to bring help on my boat. I’m hoping he knows police in Belize that aren’t corrupt and can help. I’m sure he does. He’s been here quite a while. Knows the locals.”

Erin couldn’t take her eyes off the counter. He walked up to Erin and took her hands. “We have to find them. We’ll get help on the way and we will find them. I promise.” His lip quivered. “I promise.”

All she wanted was to be back home, tending to her old garden, sci-fi novel in hand ready to be binge read. But her consequences had come knocking, and the repercussion was murder yet again. This time, she’d pull the trigger.

Erin rose to her feet and walked toward the coffee pot and poured herself a glass, hand so shaky that she almost dropped the whole pot. Leaning up against the counter, she sipped the java. Stefan took two deep breaths, poured a cup of coffee, and walked over to the couch and collapsed onto it. He ran his fingers through his long black hair, muttering something to himself. His armpits were soaked through his shirt. The kitchen light reflected off the silver of the gun.

Chapter Twenty - Trevor

Trevor shoveled at the dirt, each spike into the ground bringing him greater satisfaction than the last. He showered dirt over a body, the scent of decomposition wafting. The sand had quickly covered the legs, leaving only the upper half of Ashton’s body remaining. From behind he could hear a girl crying, the irritating interruption adding fuel to his already hot fire. Erin stood there, babbling something incoherent between sobs, disgusting tears defiling her already homely face. She looked to him for mercy, but he was too furious to supply her with any. He welcomed the feeling, the satisfaction, as he showered dirt on his best friend. She reached out toward him, pleading for him to take her hand, to move away from his dug grave. “You’ll get your turn!” he snapped.

* * *

The cracking sound of gunfire woke Trevor. His head was split in two, a wedge separating each side of his brain with splinters piercing through the soft texture. His head pulsed in pain, and before he had time to recognize how angry his stomach was, he vomited. Eyes closed as he finished his half-hearted purge, he opened them expecting to find a pool of yellow vomit, but instead found a dark substance on the glass floor of the villa out on the water.

He rolled over in bed. The sheets were wet. I pissed the bed? He glanced down at blood. When his head turned, he came face-to-face with Skye, her mouth wide open. He scrambled off of the bed, blood and vomit splashing about.

Her throat had been cut wide open. There were ligature marks around her wrists and ankles, her eyes partially open and angled to the side. She had known only horror leading up to her death.

Trevor closed her mouth and eyes, and her skin was cool to the touch. He scrambled off of the bed and snatched his pants and dressed. I’m dreaming. I have to be dreaming. He turned away from her dead body, from the blood, the smells, and racked his brain, searching for an answer. Skye is dead. She’s dead… Focus Trevor… Did I do this? No, you didn’t do this. Someone is trying to set you up. Cassidy did this.

On the breakfast table was a folder. Trevor tiptoed around the blood and opened it. There was a note. “Should we kill Ashton or your father?” A slew of photos had been taken of his dad around his home, and also around his law office. The message continued: “Murder looks good on you. Kill Bruce. Or accept our decision between Ashton and your old man.”

Next to the folder on the table sat a gun. Making sure he kept his back turned to Skye’s bloodied body, he left the villa with gun and folder in hand. He had no choice. The only thing to do was kill an old man he didn’t know, had suspicions of to begin with, in order to save his friend and father.

Trevor made it to the beach and walked up to the tree line and dug a small hole with his hands and buried the folder. The evidence that he was coerced into murdering Bruce would certainly come in handy, and the threats couldn’t have been clearer. Which side was Stefan on? Were there sides? Walking down the beach, Trevor fumbled around with the gun until finally figuring out how to load it.

Chapter Twenty-one - Erin

Just a quick vacation to take a break from school. A little beach, a little beer, lots of food, a little sleeping in. What would it hurt? If anything, the break should have helped clear the fog that had seemed to have settled in. She would be more efficient with her studies when she returned to her life.

Now, she was faced with a decision. Let them kill Skye or kill Stefan. She couldn’t risk them murdering Skye.

Stefan remained on the couch, strung out, hands pulling at his dark hair. The gun remained on the kitchen counter, closer to her.

Erin swayed back and forth on her decision. Option three just wouldn’t present itself. Her hand slid along the table and stopped. Who wants Stefan dead? Bruce lived there before him, so maybe there were some disagreements with how he was running the land. As they had discussed on the other side of the island, there were too many unknowns about him, and their encounter with him in his cabin was less than pleasant. Granted they had broken in to his place while he looked for their missing friend. Okay, that leaves the staff. Her encounter with Teresa was pleasant in a way, but there was something strange about her. Maybe the staff drove the previous owners out? Or maybe they are in alliance with Bruce? Bruce expressed his frustrations with Stefan when we were in his cabin. Something about property lines.

How are they seeing me right now? She glanced at her phone, then looked around the ceiling and kitchen cupboards for a camera. They were either in the surveillance room downstairs or in Bruce’s cabin. Or the duplex. Erin hadn’t stepped foot in Ashton and Skye’s side of the duplex yet, largely because they were humping whenever they got a chance. Erin slid her hand back away from the gun, dumped the coffee, and snagged a bottle of water from the fridge. She needed more time. Just then, another text came through, vibrating against her leg. She checked it. “Time is of concern.”

Another video came in. She took out the phone and played the video without volume. A knife was being held to Skye’s throat, applying enough pressure to barely break the skin.

“What’s going on?” Stefan asked. He looked at her and the phone. “Your phone shouldn’t work here.” He rose from the couch, his face switching from confusion to suspicion. “Erin, I’m not going to ask you again.” Thud, thud, thud. Surely her heart would pop like a balloon. “What’s on the phone, Erin?”

She shoved it back in her pocket and tried to play it casual, but it was too late for that. “It’s nothing. I was just looking at old messages from Trevor. I hope he’s okay.”

“Is that right? Because it looked like you were reading something relatively new to me.”

Thud, thud, thud. “No, it—”

“You wouldn’t happen to be playing me? You and Trevor? You wouldn’t do that, right?”

“Play you? What does that even mean?”

“I’m such an idiot.” He laughed. “I should have given you all more credit.” He was angry now. “Take over my plans with some of your own. Embarrass me, is that it? Or is he getting back at me?”

“Back at you for what?”

“You must know.”

“I don’t.”

“I should have known he’d never let that go. His shortsightedness has reached a new level.”

“What happened?”

“Just kids being kids. Kids are cruel though, aren’t they? Nothing a little growing up can’t fix. We’re only human, right?”

“Stefan, you’re scaring me. Just tell me what happened between you two.”

“I’d hate to tarnish your cute little image of him.”

“Trust me. His image is shattered. Stefan, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I bet Trevor is having a good time with this.” He had a snarl she hadn’t seen before. It was violent. “I wouldn’t have expected you to go along with something like this though. Why?”

He was inching closer now, closing the distance. “Just stay back.”

“I thought we had an honest connection. I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends, I just—” He was close enough now. She tried to give him an exaggerated look to let him know something was up, that she needed to tell him something important. There were eyes and ears on them, and she couldn’t speak the truth. But he was too blinded by rage.

“What do you see in him anyway?”

It was a good question, but not at that time.

“Give me something. So he’s attractive. But how long is that enough for? Especially for someone like you. You’ve got too much depth for that. I know that’s a fact.”

Her hand was on the counter. She was ready to grab the gun.

“I saw the way you looked at me. More than once, whenever I spoke. You liked what I had to say. You don’t like what Trevor has to say.”

He hovered over top of her, his eyes wild and fierce.

“I can’t tell you…” They were the wrong words, confirming his delirious allegations. “What exactly do you think I’m behind?”

“I think you don’t know exactly what you’re behind.”

“What does that mean? Let’s lose the code-speak, Stefan.”

He grinned and shook his head. “A rouse to squander my intentions. Humiliation is a powerful thing, especially for him… But no. That’s not it. He’ll have you believe that’s it, but it isn’t. You’re thinking this is a playful prank… I’ve seen his behavior. I saw the blood. Where is he, Erin? Where is he?” He shouted the second time. “I’ll tell you. He’s murdering Skye and Ashton and it’ll all come crumbling down on me. An easy frame job while you two ride off into the sunset. You’ll be convinced it was all my doing…” He shook his head. “I’ve been so foolish. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I can’t tell you anything until you tell me what happened between you two.”

Something clicked. His eyes deadened as he looked past her shoulder at the gun on the table, her hand stretched out next to it. He lunged at her, wrapping his hand around her throat, squeezing tightly, but not enough to strangle her. She reached for the gun. It was too far, just out of her grasp.

“There’s nothing to even tell. You don’t want to be a part of this, but for some sick reason, you think you do. You don’t want to hurt me though, do you? No, you don’t want to hurt anyone. You’re a kind person.” He tilted his head to the side and searched her eyes.

She stopped reaching for the gun and wrapped her hands gently around his wrists. “I’m in trouble,” she whispered.

He kissed her roughly on the mouth. His tongue, the taste of tequila, his hands all over her… Skye… She pushed Stefan back, grabbed the gun, and pointed it at him.

“What? I thought I was a good kisser. Or does everyone think that about themselves?” He looked deranged, menacing. He was insane. He glanced at the gun and bent at the knees.

“Don’t,” she blurted.

He lunged at her once more. She fired. Her ears were ringing. She had pointed away from his head and chest. It shouldn’t have hit him. Did it?

The gun had more kick than she expected. It was louder than anticipated. She held the pistol up again and fired another round high and to the left, hitting the floor. She then knelt down and whispered as softly as possible, while examining the blood flowing from his shoulder. “Keep your eyes closed. I’ll be back for you.” He grimaced and obeyed her commands.

Knees completely wobbly with each step, she made her way down the staircase toward the surveillance room. Each step she took felt like she was walking on ice. The surveillance door was closed. She stood to the side to avoid any possible gunfire and swung the door open, spinning around with her gun raised. There was nobody.

Erin gave herself a moment to let her nerves return to a dull roar before taking a peek at some of the surveillance, expecting her leg to vibrate with a text at any second, calling her out on her staged performance. She took the opportunity to explore the technology in front of her to find some answers that weren’t coming from anyone’s lying lips. The majority of the unraveling had happened within the past twenty-four hours, and most questions started outside the walls of the bunker, or at least that was where she needed to begin her search.

She began scrolling through the latest drone footage. There were two different drones actually, and it appeared that one covered the east the other the west side. She accelerated the rewind, but it was a touch too fast as she fumbled to put it back to the prior speed. In doing so, she saw activity around the villa. It appeared that the drones were operating based on movement—unless a manual override took place. She stopped the video and fast-forwarded slightly before stopping it again. It was Trevor walking into the villa hours ago. The sun will be coming up soon. Then two hours of footage later, the drone shifted back onto the island. There came Stefan, staggering out of the bunker with a gun. Up ahead, someone walked in the distance, though it was difficult to make out whom. Suddenly, he stopped and looked at the ground, again, difficult to see because of how dark it was. He knelt down and touched the sand. He had spotted blood. Stefan told me there was blood. That he was following someone. Dragging someone else. But from what she could see, there was no dragging—just a dark figure, with what appeared to be a hood, moving quickly through the trees.

The drone flew back to the villa. It remained at a distance, but it was close enough to film Trevor leaving the villa. He walked with broken, inconsistent steps, almost as though he was drunk. The drone closed the gap, the lamppost on the dock giving her a better visual. In his hand was a black gun, and there was blood all over his shirt. She stepped out of the room and back up the stairs with her gun in hand. Her phone vibrated, stopping her halfway up. Another text. “Bury him. Northeast corner. The cross along the edge will suffice. A fresh grave is required.”

A fresh grave? As in there are existing graves there?

If Stefan had understood her when she shot him, maybe he’d hang on long enough for a fake burial. She continued up the stairs, preparing the best instructions to whisper to him, planning how she would approach his body to make it look like she assumed him to be dead. Erin turned the corner and stopped. Only blood smeared across the floor remained. He was gone. Another text came in. “You lied.”

“Please!” she shouted, looking around at the ceiling frantically to get their attention. “Take me instead!” Another text. “Not how this works.”

“Then give me time!” Her voice was hoarse. “I’ll find him. Let me bring him to you! Yeah, you can finish the job!”

“You’re on your own.”

The ambiguous response made her sick. Erin looked up at the ceiling again. “Just… give me time to fix this.” She ran out of the bunker this time, no automated locks to stop her.

She felt so exposed out in the open. Erin stepped onto the docks, the floats underneath the dock shifting her back and forth, her wobbly legs wanting to give way. The gun was heavy.

She stepped inside the villa and fell to her knees. Skye’s throat was slashed open and her skin was gray. There was so much blood. All she could see was the blood. She leaned forward on her hands at the foot of the bed. Her hands made perfect prints in the blood on the floor, warm and smooth, almost causing her to slip flat on her face.

She rose to her feet and stared at her dead friend with her hand over mouth. How would he have responded when Skye told him she couldn’t do it anymore? Couldn’t do it to her friend… She tried to convince herself it was someone else, but she knew. Trevor murdered Skye.

Leaning over the dock and washing her hands, the red drifted away into the ocean blue, leaving only her reflection. She couldn’t just leave Skye there, but she had no choice.

The walk back to Stefan’s bunker was quiet. Only the palm trees spoke in the wind.

Chapter Twenty-two - Trevor

Trevor stood outside the front door of Bruce’s cabin. What to do? He wasn’t exactly Special Forces. He held the gun out from his side awkwardly, paranoid about shooting his own foot or worse. He reached for the doorknob and turned it. He threw the door open.

Bruce sat in his Lazy Boy recliner, facing Trevor. The only element missing from the moment was a 360-degree swivel in the chair.  Bruce didn’t appear startled in the slightest.

He had a mug in his hand. “It’s decaf. I have regular if you like?”

The image of Skye’s open mouth stained his mind. “Start with why,” said Trevor.

Bruce pulled a lever and his feet kicked out in a more relaxed position. “Why what?” he said. “I told you I got nothing to do with your relative’s tricks. Don’t have time or the care for it.”

“You killed her.”

“Killed who now?” He pushed his feet back down and clicked the footrest into place, leaning forward with concern. “You better tell me what in the hell you’re talking about.” Bruce’s eyes were hard, his wide brow narrowed.

The man was a sociopath. His mannerisms were on point on. They were believable. “Are you lying to the guy with the gun?”

“Are you gonna tell me who is dead or not?”

“You know, you son of a bitch.”

He leaned back in his chair, an understanding seeming to resonate within him as he took another sip of his coffee. He set it down on a stand next to him. “The who of it doesn’t matter. What matters is what will come next.”

“Which is?”

“I’ve been here for thirty years. And little by little, I’d stumble upon some, let’s say, interesting things… No, horrible things. I’d like nothing more than to shed some light on the matter, but I don’t think you’re of the right mindset to accept what I’ve got to tell you. So, I’m in a tough position, particularly with that gun pointed at my head.”

Standing up against the wall in the corner was a rifle. Trevor walked around and collected it while keeping his gun pointed at Bruce. He set it next to the door, then lowered his gun with distaste.

“I could give you a speech about my particular set of skills… but I think I’ll just let you know that before you get started, I can pick up lies. And I’m starting to like the feel of this gun in my hand.”

“Noted.”

“Explain these strange things,” said Trevor.

“There are the graves. For starters.”

“Graves?”

“Along the east beach by the trees. Rounding north.”

“And who is in these graves?”

“I don’t know for sure, but if I had to guess, I’d say other visitors. People such as yourselves.”

“Bullshit.”

“Just a theory, based on other things I’ve discovered, unfortunately. There are photographs of others. Happy tourists thinking they’ve stumbled upon some hidden gem, thinking they’re special, crusaders or some horseshit. But I got a strong inclination that many of them have ended up in the dirt.”

“And we’ve been the first visitors since you’ve been here?”

“No. Three other owners. All took off within two days being on this island.”

“And you have a theory for that?”

“The sleeping. Tell me Trevor; have any dreams since you’ve been here? Maybe memories? Anything else odd going on with yourself, things you can’t explain?”

Trevor was now sitting on the leather loveseat across from Bruce. He set his pistol down. Bruce’s eyes never left his.

“I’ll take that as a yes, my friend.”

“What does it mean?”

“It’s this island, sinking its hooks into you. Like when you’re fishing and you feel that tap, tap, tap, waiting for the right moment to set the hook. You stay here long enough, it becomes problematic.”

“How so?”

“Thirty years. You think I want to be here?”

There was an unmistakable sorrow that sunk his wrinkled, sullen face.

“I believe speaking these words to you could mean my death, but I don’t know that for certain either. What I do know is that I couldn’t leave, and I never will.”

“What are you talking about? We get Stefan’s boat, you get your ass on it, and we sail away from this shit-show. What’s so hard about that?”

He chuckled. “If it were that easy kid… I can’t. I don’t want to leave. It’s like a disease. Or maybe it’s a virus. They won’t let up. It keeps getting worse the longer you stay here.”

“Who’s they?”

“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? When I first came here, I honestly felt like I could stay forever. I had just escaped a dreadful marriage. I wasn’t built for it. Wired wrong maybe, I don’t know. I shouldn’t have ever married, but we do things because we’re supposed to. It was ironic really, that I felt so incredibly free when I came here. Life’s a real twisted bitch. But… the dreams started after a few days of getting here. Regrettable moments in my life that I’m least proud of were continuously pounded into my skull over and over again every time my head hit the pillow. Never thought I’d be begging to be one of them insomniac people, but I was sure wishing for it then. Reliving one’s worst moment over and over again isn’t exactly daiquiri fun in paradise.”

Valencia.

Bruce continued. “And I know you know what I’m talking about because that’s the way they work, or the way it works.” He coughed hoarsely into his hand. “I don’t trust those folks that work here for Stefan. They came before him, with the last owners. There’s something wrong with them.”

“How so?”

“Intuition.”

“Intuition…”

Bruce leaned forward again. “It’s not normal having those kids here. What? A twenty-year-old girl and thirteen-year-old boy? They shouldn’t be here that much, or at all, for that matter. Mind you… If I’m right, the island has them all spun sideways.”

“What about the place on the other side?”

“No one lives in that dump. I take it you’ve seen the place?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, there you go. I think they got a hand in this. In the island’s power. Maybe there’s something more. Some great purpose for it. I’d go as far to venture mythical…” He smirked. “Probably doesn’t matter anyway. Seems as though we’re screwed either way you slice it.”

“Is there anything else you can tell me?”

He sipped his coffee again. “This roast will blow your hair back.”

Trevor felt like he was going to be sick again. He lowered his head into his hands and closed his eyes. He had the spins like he was drunk. He took a deep breath and spit. While doing so, he heard shuffling. When Trevor lifted his head and opened his eyes, Bruce stood on the other side of him near the door with a rifle pointed his way. Quickly, he eyeballed the gun on couch and lunged for it. No shots were fired as he pointed the gun at Bruce, finger firmly on the trigger.

After a long pause, Bruce handed the gun over to Trevor. “No sense moving forward if you don’t trust me.”

“I could have shot you.”

“Yeah, you could’ve.”

“Show me the graves.”

Bruce studied Trevor’s face. “Who is dead?”

“Skye.” His voice cracked saying her name.

“Tell me you didn’t kill her,” Bruce said.

Trevor paused. He looked him in the eyes and inflicted as much sincerity as he possibly could. “I did not kill her.” Did he know that for sure? Trevor still had a lot of dead space, lost time. The first night when he had been sleepwalking, his trance in the wooded area, an unknown force taking a hold of the steering wheel…

“I didn’t.”

“Give me my rifle.”

Trevor hesitated.

“You’ll want me to have it.”

I couldn’t have killed her.

Chapter Twenty-three - Erin

Erin retrieved the SAT phone from the creepy basement and raced back upstairs. She pressed the button and held it down. “Is anyone there?” Nothing. “Please, somebody pick up.”

The sweetest sound of static came and then a voice followed. “Who is this?”

“This is Erin.” She remembered being very unsure of Arnie on their trip over on Stefan’s boat. She didn’t like his buggy eyes and strange tattoos. He’d flash her that slanted, close-mouthed smile from time to time just to confirm her reservations. She didn’t know if she could trust him then, but she was sure willing to give him a chance now.

“Oh… Okay…” He left her hanging.

“Listen, I know you work with Stefan, but if he hasn’t already contacted you, we need help right away. My friend—” Her voice cracked. “My friend was murdered by someone on the island and another is being held hostage. I need you to come with a boat and authorities to help us leave. This is not a joke, nor is it part of Stefan’s plans he laid out for us. This is real. And we desperately need your help. Will you help us?”

A long pause followed, leaving her hanging on the edge of hope. Even if he wasn’t one to trust, having an extra boat there wouldn’t hurt. There was the fishing boat, but she had a feeling it wouldn’t be in the same spot she saw it last.

“I don’t know about the authorities… But I’ll do what I can.”

“So you’ll come?”

“Roger that. Is there anything I should bring? Medical supplies?”

“Sure, bring some medical kits. And sulfa powder, stitching thread, and extra gauze if you can.” She thought about her next suggestion briefly before speaking. “And protection. Guns.”

“Okay. Over and out.”

His responses seemed far too casual.

Erin moved down the stairs to check the surveillance and put the phone back on the charger. Before turning in, she noticed a small blood strain that trailed into Stefan’s room. She thought they had reached an understanding after she shot him—as crazy as that sounded—but there was no certainty. His manic ups and downs destroyed any chance of anticipating his intentions.  Following the blood prints step for step, she entered Stefan’s room and then to the storage room. It was unlocked. She went through both doors. The air was cool and damp in the secret pathway of doom. A gecko lizard scurried across from floor in front of her and shot straight up the side wall and into a crack. She watched it all the way to ensure it wasn’t going to run back toward her.

Stefan had locked it before, right?

Erin consistently looked over her shoulder as she inched her way through the cement tunnel, fearing that she’d be attacked from the rear. But when she arrived at the end of the hall, she heard no sound coming from Bruce’s cabin, and the four rooms that had been locked were now wide open and empty. There was blood in two of them. He relocated them. He. Stefan. Trust no one. Find Ashton.

Erin inched her way up the three steps leading to the bright green door, pressing her ear against it, waiting for sound. No sound came.  She cracked the door open gently and peered inside to find an empty cabin. She stepped inside. The first thing that caught her eyes was the TV mounted in the corner of the room. She grabbed the remote and turned it on. Surveillance of the four rooms in the hallway appeared. She changed the input and found surveillance of Stefan’s bunker as well.

Erin walked over to the counter in the kitchen to where she had once already stood. She touched the picture of the old tourists, the profile of who she knew to be Teresa in the background. Placed neatly underneath were more photos, photos that weren’t there before. Someone had put them there for her to find. Six more photographs, all of small groups, mostly families seemingly moving farther back in time as she flipped through, finally leaving her with one photo. There, plain as day, was Teresa (who hadn’t aged a day) with a man and two teenagers; one boy, one girl. It wasn’t possible. She didn’t even want to think the word, let alone say it out loud. Stay a while.

They wanted her there and they wanted her to remember what she had done. Erin dropped the photographs and walked out the front door.

The tree line wasn’t far, but she walked against the wind. It seemed the night had gone on forever. The drawn out darkness showed no signs of allowing the light to start the next day. Maybe it had other plans.

Erin headed for the duplex. She was hit with a pang of déjà vu. Ashton must be in the duplex. As she neared the entrance, an opening through the trees lined up perfectly with the moonlight, and a shadow emerged. She changed her course, and the closer she got to the beach, the louder the shovel sounded, splicing into the fine sand, the thickness sounding more and more dense with each plunge.

Trevor pounded away at the dirt, Bruce standing next to him with a flashlight and a rifle. It was difficult to tell, but it didn’t appear that Trevor was being held captive, a manic persistence on display as he spiked at the dirt. She pictured Skye’s slashed throat.

The trees to her left rustled, and something hit the dirt hard. Quiet groans followed—not those of a ghost, but those of an injured man. She followed the sound and came upon Stefan covered in blood, lying in the sand as he fought through labored breaths. “I only have time for the truth,” she said.

He grimaced and took a deep breath. “I got Ashton out. He’s safe.”

“Really? Because I think you put him there to begin with.”

He shook his head and spit again. “No, Erin. No.”

“What the hell is going on?”

“We need to get him and leave. That’s what is going on.”

“Okay,” she said. He winced, and she grimaced with empathy.

Before she could explain the photographs she had found and all the feelings she had been experiencing, he cut her off. “The staff… They aren’t human.”

“Come on…” But she knew. Erin helped him sit up, leaning him against a palm tree. He spat into the sand and laughed. It was quiet enough, but still hysterical. “We got ourselves some pissed off spirits, Erin.” He looked at her gun. “Not entirely sure if that thing will work. You know how to use it anyway?”

“Point and shoot.” She looked back toward the beach and found that they had stopped shoveling and were staring down at something.

“I’m sorry I came at you back there. I couldn’t control it. That wasn’t me.”

“I’m sorry I shot you. I couldn’t control it.”

Their eyes met humorously, and then the seriousness returned. “I tried to call Arnie. Nothing.”

“That’s because he’s on his way,” said Erin.

Stefan sighed in relief. “Here’s the plan then. First, don’t shoot me again. Then, we go get Ashton from my place and trek to the south end, where Arnie will hopefully be waiting for us.”

“What about Trevor?” She knew the answer but needed to hear it from someone else.

“He has to stay. He killed Skye. I saw it on the drone coverage.”

“I know… How’s your shoulder?” She leaned forward to examine the wound, and he flinched before she touched it. He groaned and she smothered his mouth so they wouldn’t be heard.

“I’ll be okay,” he murmured.

“I don’t know about that… Come on,” she said.

She carried most of Stefan’s weight into the bunker through the back entrance. She got him seated on the couch first. He looked so pale. As she motioned to check the bullet wound in his shoulder, he jolted away in pain again. “Make sure the doors are locked. Now.”

She rushed to both the front and back entrances, ensuring the dead bolts slid in all the way. She ran back up to Stefan. “Let me check your shoulder.”

“No, no, no.” He fussed, his breaths still labored. “I can’t stand you touching it. It hurts too much.”

“Do you have any sulfa powder we could use to pack it in to stop the bleeding? If not, I should cauterize it. You’ll need some more pot to dull the pain.”

“Forget about that.”

“You could bleed out if we don’t.”

“Get Ashton first. Then you can play doctor.”

She leaned in closer, letting her hand linger over the top of his. His fingertips touched hers. His hand rested on her cheek. He was as scared as she was.

“Go,” he whispered. “Hurry. He’s downstairs. Probably still be unconscious.”

She stood. “I’m sorry I shot you. Seriously. Oh my God, your leg too.”

He glanced at his leg and shook his head.

“I had no choice, but it didn’t matter anyway.”

He shared her loss, her fear, her homesickness—all of it—with one single look. “I’ll pull through. We just have to stick together.”

She raced into Stefan’s room, but there was no one there. A different room? She checked all the rooms, included the interrogation room; the one that Trevor had told her about on their first night… how something was off about Stefan, how he was lured in there and the power kicked out, how he said strange things to him. Her head was now light and woozy as she staggered into the dark theatre room and turned on the lights. She leaned over a chair, still trying to look around the spinning room for Ashton, but it was quiet. There was not a soul down there. The sickness was spreading as she walked back into Stefan’s bedroom. She reached for the storage room door and swung it open. She walked past the wine shelving and placed her hand on the door to the passageway. It wasn’t just locked. It was as though it was sealed or boarded shut. She slammed her fists angrily into it over and over again, but it didn’t budge. By the time she stopped, her knuckles were scraped and bleeding.

Wobbling over to the hall, she was brought to her knees by a piercing noise in her head. Stay a while. It was unrelenting.

Chapter Twenty-four - Trevor

He dug another grave. More bones. Bones that belonged to actual people. The devil’s spot on the Caribbean was real, and he belonged there. Trevor crouched to his knees and touched one of the bones. Grains of sand crunched between his teeth, his tongue dry, his body covered in sticky sweat. He could smell his own body odor and bad breath. Down on his hands and knees, he began pawing handfuls of sand like a dog. The sand was wet and dark; the coolness felt good against his skin.

Bruce angled Trevor aside and finished the job for him, showing him yet another grave, the bones worn, and the sand spilling around them. They were a mix of gray and brown. Bruce wiped sweat from his brow and finished one more grave. They were shallower than six feet but would suffice. The final grave revealed the bones of a child.

Bruce’s voice was bitter. “There are more. We’ve seen enough.”

Trevor cursed under his breath. “What now?”

Bruce spiked the shovel and wiped his mouth. He looked up at the moon and sighed. “We get that girl of yours away from the kid.”

“Stefan?”

He nodded. “I don’t think it was his doing, but the island got a hold of him. Once it does that, it doesn’t let go. I don’t trust these folk here, not for a second, but the kid had a hand in this. Whether he was of the right mind or not. He lost control.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“His eyes aren’t right. Not anymore. Plus, he has access everywhere. You said it yourself. He was gone all day, while shit hit the fan with your friends.”

“Would he hurt Erin?” He could see her clearly in his mind, a bright aura around her smiling face. The way her cheeks blushed when she was nervous or embarrassed. He missed her coconut-scented hair, the subtle curves of her hips, her soft white skin, her freckled nose, chest, and arms.

“I wouldn’t figure it. But if she tried to leave… Well, that’s a whole different story there.”

Bruce shuffled to his left as Trevor looked up at him. As tears formed in Trevor’s eyes, the sky broke and spilled, rain falling down on them gently. The sand in his hands turned to clay as the floodgates opened, pouring down on two damaged men—one old, one young. Bruce handed him his gun. “Keep it dry,” he said. “Whatever it takes… you’re leaving.”

Trevor nodded and rose to his feet. Bruce looked at him expressionless. “What is it you did?” he yelled through the downpour. “I took everything from a man. You?”

“Enough to be here.”

They had no significant plan, only the need to save Erin, and they were on the same page. The walk felt long, the rain weighing them down in the sand. They made it to the trees and jogged right out of plain sight, hugging the tree line which gave them shelter. They walked around the south side, Stefan’s horror house coming into sight.

Other footsteps blended with the patter of rain. Trevor heard scurrying sounds.

He sidestepped around a tree and spotted a woman in the distance. It was difficult to tell, but she looked older, just standing there like she was waiting for someone. It wasn’t Cassidy.

Bruce’s rifle fired. Trevor turned. Bruce was on his back, trying to fight off a man who was throwing chaotic punches. Finally finding traction between his feet and the wet ground, Trevor surged forward for the rifle, grabbed it, and jabbed the butt end to the man’s jaw. The impact was solid. The man lay on top of Bruce, out cold. Trevor turned to locate the woman again. She was gone.

“A little help here,” groaned a battered Bruce from underneath the unconscious man.

* * *

A bucket of water to his face did the trick. Tied to a chair, in the middle of Bruce’s cabin, the man that Bruce called Sebastian awoke.

“Been killing young girls?”

He blinked his eyes to wake himself up and then looked at Trevor curiously. “Was that me?”

Trevor reared back and hit him square on the nose, knocking his head back. He rested his head forward, chin down to his chest, and muttered something Trevor couldn’t make out.

“What do you want with us?” asked Trevor.

“I think the question is, what do you want with us.” He rolled his head back, holding it loosely to the side, blood leaking from his nose.

“Oh, okay!” Trevor patted him on the shoulder. “I’d like a one-way ticket off this island. I’ll take Ashton and Erin and be on my way. Bruce is coming with us too.”

Sebastian snapped his fingers. “Granted.” He chuckled obnoxiously, his large Adam’s apple plunging up and down with each break in his voice. Trevor’s skin itched as he waited for him to stop. “What makes you think you can’t leave? And why would I decide that?”

“Why’d you attack us back there then?” asked Trevor.

“Did I? Because I heard a gunshot. You attempted to take my life… Bruce, is it?”

“Ignore him, kid. He’ll say anything he has to. He’s with the island.”

Sebastian gave him a sarcastic look. “Yes, I am on the island. Aren’t we all?”

“We know you killed Skye.”

“And how is that?”

Trevor could access it far too quickly; recalling waking up in bloodied sheets, her open mouth and eyes, her throat.

Sebastian continued, “A little bird told me you killed her.”

“Ignore him, kid!”

“Yes, ignore what you already know,” said Sebastian.

Could I have? Trevor’s head hurt as he tried to access time that was lost. There was something important, something… “Skye and Ashton had both gone missing, but the notes… the notes had changed. It wasn’t part of Stefan’s game, it was your own. You did this. You did something to me and put me there with her body. You…” Trevor trailed off. “I saw her. Her dead face…” Tears fell. “You killed my friend.” His gun was lifting, but Bruce’s hand rested gently on top to lower it back down.

“I didn’t kill anybody. I wouldn’t do that. And it seems to me the strange activities started happening the moment you folks stepped foot on this island,” said Sebastian.

Bruce cut in, trying to deter some of Trevor’s anger. “We’re here for some simple answers. Hang tight while I get my kit.”

Trevor turned to watch Bruce collect a tool bag. When he opened it up on the couch, an assortment of knives and pliers were revealed. “Toenails or fingernails to start? They might not be a game changer, but they’re a good appetizer. What will it be, Sebastian?” Bruce pulled out pliers and paused, his face contracted. “Sebastian. I don’t like that name. Sounds like a goddamn lame horse.” He opened the pliers and ran his thumb over the corrugated part. “This whole mess with their friend… We won’t even start there. How’s that sound?” No answer. “Perfect. We require Erin. She’s at Stefan’s, yes?”

No reply. He moved his tongue along his teeth to check if any were missing, then spit blood on the floor like any tough guy should.

“Okay.” Without any taunting for effect, Bruce squeezed his pliers and ripped off a fingernail in one quick motion. Sebastian howled, spitting everywhere as he breathed in short bursts.

“We need the girl. Where is she?”

“Your sins could only be absolved here, but it will never be permitted.”

Out came another nail, along with a scream that shook the cabin.

“Should I switch to one of the little piggies?” Trevor couldn’t look at the fleshy fingertips, but got a glimpse of the nails on the floor.

“Stay a while, gentlemen. Time is on our side.” His smile widened.

“What did you say?”

“I said stay a while, Trevor. Why would you wish to leave?”

Bruce reached into the bag and pulled out wire clippers, placing them around Sebastian’s pinky toe. “This little piggy? Should it go to market?”

Bruce’s hand tightened around the handle.

“Okay!” Sebastian laughed with relief. “She’s with your brave and noble owner, in his eyesore of a home.”

“Good. We assumed as much but appreciate your cooperation. Next, your clan. Where are the others positioned?” Bruce looked to Trevor. “This one might be a little trickier.”

Without giving him time to answer, he clipped his toe off, and it hit the floor. The sight of it rolling around made Trevor feel sick.

“Your blood will taste sweet in the shadows of—” Bruce had already pulled out a short blade and thrust it into Sebastian’s leg. His scream was so loud, it echoed, like it came from another place.

“My blood is old dust. And yours is on the floor. Where are they?”

Sebastian contorted his face in disgust, pure disdain. “The children are on the other side. Teresa could be anywhere.”

“Oh, brother…” Bruce squeezed the handle of the knife in his leg.

“She’s waiting to intercept the boat! The boat!” Bruce pulled the knife out.

Bruce looked at Trevor. “Gut up, soldier.” He slapped him in the shoulder. “I’ll take care of the crazed woman. You get Erin and meet me on the south side at the dock. Come hell or high water, you make it happen. All right?”

“You’re fools!” Sebastian hissed.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m not going anywhere, princess. I’d never leave you.” Bruce turned to Trevor. “Got that gun of yours still?”

Trevor felt around his waist and touched the handle. “Yeah.”

“Good man. You go get your woman now.”

Trevor left feeling queasy, his legs like jelly.

Sebastian’s veins bulged in his forehead and sweat dripped from his chin. “You know the truth. Isn’t that right, Trevor? But you tell yourself that I’m the monster. Go on. If it makes you feel better, you go ahead.”

Trevor remembered that night clearly. It had never left him. Standing at the end of the dock, looking out at the beach… Behind the first set of trees, there was a man, shovelling dirt into a pit. A grave. He had just stood there and watched. That man was him.

Trevor stepped out of Bruce’s cabin. The rain was still coming down hard.

Chapter Twenty-five - Erin

Had Ashton fled from Stefan?

Erin arrived at the top of the stairs. Stefan was back on the couch where she had last seen him. He was motionless, but still breathing. He had something in his hands. It was the folder.

“What is this?” He opened it up and flipped through it, looking at the photographs of the dead policewoman.

“Where’s Ashton?” she asked.

“He’s not in my room?”

Erin shook her head, waiting for a reaction.

He lowered his head. “It’s this place. It’s this… place!”

“How did they get to him?”

“I don’t know, Erin. I don’t know how it works.” He sounded like such a defeatist. It was all over based on the tumbling tones of his dry voice.

“Why was the wine room door sealed off?”

He rose to his feet with a grimace. “I. Don’t. Know. Why am I finding a folder here with pictures of a dead cop and a note that I can only assume was for you?” He was staring straight through her. “You’ve seen this already…”

“It was a long time ago.”

He threw his hands up in the air along with the folder, sending the photographs everywhere. “Oh! Well that’s fine then. Let’s mosey on out of here. Doesn’t seem like anyone is trying to use this against you or anything.” His eyes shifted and he stared at his feet, a picture of the dead cop next to them with blood smudged on the corner from Stefan’s hand. “What did you do?” he asked. He seemed fearful, staring at Erin like she was a dangerous killer.

She couldn’t begin to explain.

“Well?”

“I don’t expect you to understand. I don’t want you to.”

“You’re the reason this is all happening. Help me understand. How can this island have anything to do with this?” He looked down at the photographs again.

“I don’t know, I don’t know, I just—I…” She exhaled. “This is my punishment.” He opened his mouth to ask another question but fell silent as he studied her despairing face.

“This is my reckoning. I’ve been waiting for it for too long.”

“Good. I thought you were going to say something to scare me more,” he replied.

She shook her head. “It was an accident.”

“You murdered a cop?”

Then, a bang at the door made them both flinch.  “GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR!” It was Trevor. Bang. Bang. More gunshots fired. Trevor pulled his gun and stepped in front of Erin. Is he going to kill us both?

Trevor’s eyes were red, his skin white, and he was soaked, covered in sand from head to toe. The lunacy of his entire being was terrifying. His eyes darted back and forth with both confusion and rage. Stefan held out his hands to block Erin, and a staring contest ensued. “Just let her go,” said Trevor.

“You should leave.”

Trevor assessed the arrangement, Stefan blocking her as if protecting her. “Just let her go.” His dumbfounded look locked in on Erin. “Erin, come with me. We’re leaving. We’re going home.”

Trevor glanced at the blood-ridden kitchen floor.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” The words were not even understood, like he misheard her. He looked dangerous, paranoid, obsessed. His shaking gun was raised uncomfortably at Stefan, making uneven circles in the air.

“He’s doing this to you. The island is doing this to you!” shouted Trevor.

“Drop your gun, Trevor,” she said.

“Not until he drops his.”

“We know what you did.”

“I didn’t do that!” he snapped like a sick dog foaming at the mouth. “That was him. It was all part of his sick games. Can’t you see that?”

“I see that your honestly confused, but—”

“You’re going to get us killed, Erin.”

“Listen to me. This isn’t you. This is this stupid place, Trevor. Let go of whatever it is. You’re in control. And we can go home. But you have to slide over your gun.”

Trevor shook his head in frustration. “He’s filling your head with complete nonsense.”

“Tell me the cheating wasn’t your choice.” His head bobbed back as though the suggestion was ludicrous. She continued. “Please tell me that nothing happened before we got here.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Not a clue. Erin, I love you and I just want to go home with you.”

The words hurt. He was only saying them out of desperation. He had never told her he loved her. It was a lie.

“No, you don’t. And that’s okay. Just put the gun down so nobody else gets hurt.”

His shoulders rolled forward in defeat as he lowered to the ground. “We’re all dead.”

Heavy footsteps came crashing into the living room as Bruce charged up with his rifle pointed straight at Stefan. “I’d keep that gun up if I were you.”

Erin sidestepped around Stefan and raised her gun at Bruce. “We all need to calm down,” he said.

She glanced to her left. Stefan looked poised to fire, as did Trevor. “You two are family. Without any guns, let’s share what we know… Like the photograph I found.”

“What photograph?” asked Trevor.

“I have one in my pocket.” She reached in slowly and pulled it out. “I can take you to the rest of them. In the cabin.” She scowled at Bruce.

“We don’t need to see anymore pictures.” urged Stefan. “We have evidence. We know that Trevor killed Skye.”

“That wasn’t me. Erin. That wasn’t me.”

Erin held the picture in front of Stefan and then tossed it over to Trevor. It fell at his feet. “Listen,” she said. “I don’t care what you two say—”

The sound of Bruce’s rifle filled her ears with a sharp blast, followed by muddled ringing. The smoke was redolent of campfire. Her gaze fell on Stefan, who was keeled over, blood spilling out of him. He rolled over, looking up at her with pleading eyes. The blood spit up from his lips, making her cry out as she dropped her gun and rushed over to tend to him. “You’re going to be okay.” His stomach was soaked in dark blood, a purplish hue prominent around the point of entry.

Bruce shook Trevor from his trance. “The plan. Getting you home. I’ll handle all this. You just need to leave. That’s all.”

“Erin—”

“Get away from me!” she snapped, holding Stefan, shielding his body from them. He was fading fast. He reached up and touched her cheek, his hand warm from the blood. He smiled at her. She squeezed his hand tight against her cheek, leaned forward, and ran her hand through his hair and whispered, “We got help on the way. Tomorrow morning you’ll be on a beach. Mainland. Okay?” She had felt his smile against her cheek, but as she finished her sentence, he gasped for air and was dead. She rolled over onto the floor, wiped her tears, and looked up at the two of them with pure contempt.

“Erin, I didn’t want any of this,” said Trevor.

She crawled over to Bruce. “Finish the job then. Kill us.”

Trevor dropped to his knees to be with her. “What are you doing?”

“Just kill me. Come on!” Bruce didn’t move an inch, just stared down at her.

Trevor’s voice was a whisper now. “I know you don’t believe a word I’m saying. That’s okay. I deserve that. I’ve been a shitty boyfriend. But my only concern is getting you off this island safely and returning you back home with or without me. Your safety is my only priority.”

Her laugh was disturbed. “My safety… Something that should only be described as irrelevant.”

“Don’t talk like that, E.”

“I deserve this.” She looked at her red hands. “It was coming around the bend sooner or later. After enough time, I just always thought it’d be later.”

“What’re you talking about?”

She finally lifted her head and looked him in the eyes, no longer caring to gauge his intentions. “I’ve been so sick. Sick of waiting for it. I was intending to ask what your plans were, but I don’t care anymore. Just let Ashton go. He’s a good person, okay?”

Erin grabbed hold of his face callously, digging in her nails slightly. “If you’re still in there, I hope you don’t remember any of this shit.”

“Let me help you up. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Okay,” she said, emotionless. She was dragged up by her shoulders and when Trevor let go of, her she crumbled. He caught her before she crashed into the floor.

Trevor carried her across the inner part of the island, past Bruce’s cabin. She stared at the logged cabin and thought of the pictures. Teresa.

They entered the trees and the wind changed directions. The rain stopped its roaring pace and fizzled to a dainty drizzle, droplets hitting her forehead. They walked through the trees, heading toward where she remembered the boat dock was.

They arrived at the dock. Stefan’s yacht was there, but there was no Arnie. Bruce stepped aboard and searched for keys but cursed when he couldn’t find them. Stay a while. Stay a while. It played on a loop, making her feel stoned again. She didn’t fight it. She couldn’t anymore.

“No keys?”

“Nope.”

They emerged from the shadowy edges of palm trees. The Royal Family. They were all dressed in current clothing, unlike the photo she had discovered. Erin could feel Trevor backing up with short steps until he finally sat her down in the sand. He was stammering as he tried to speak. “How did you get out?”

“Because I wanted to. And I deserved to,” said Sebastian.

Each one of the Royal Family had a weapon in their hands; the hatchet in young Jhett’s hand, the dagger in Cassidy’s, Sebastian with his trident, and Teresa with the smoothly polished and rustic revolver. She fingered the short shaft of her gun gently, and a devilish grin settled permanently on her face. Trevor raised his gun, his eyes widening. Erin was still lifeless, along for the ride, craving nothing but misery. Distaste appeared to hit Teresa’s tongue as she cringed at the sight of Erin sitting on the wet ground in such a helpless fashion. “My child…” Teresa stepped toward her in attempts to comfort her.

Trevor intercepted with his gun. “Back up. I won’t ask again.” She hardly broke stride and he fired, hitting her square in the chest.

She stopped for a second and continued walking, the next three bullets doing nothing. They penetrated nothing, only shifting her shoulders with each blast, the bullets disappearing into the abyss. She knelt down, providing Erin with enough distance for her own comfort zone. “My sweet dear… I knew you were lovely from the beginning. I could see inside you. There was decency along with the darkness. I’m sorry for your pain, but you had to see. Did you see?”

A warm elixir bubbled inside of Erin. It felt like silk and peace. Comfort swarmed her, wrapped its arms around her, swaddling her until her heart slowed down. Heat rose to her face and chest. “Very few are able to find it again.” Teresa was beaming with pride and love. “You, my dear, will be just fine.” Her hand extended and touched Erin’s face. Her touch was transcendent. Unconditional love was the only thing Erin felt. “You belong with us.”

Trevor stared slack-jawed, ass in the sand. “Erin, don’t touch that crazy bitch. You hear me? Don’t listen to her. They killed Skye! They did!”

Bruce stepped off the boat and looked at the family. The reverent silence drew a smile upon his old round face.

“We’re leaving. You’re letting us leave!” Trevor demanded.

Sebastian smirked. “Go on then.”

Trevor looked back at the boat, then at Bruce. “Where is Arnie?”

“Arnie has been taken care of.”

“What are you talking about?” Trevor stood and grabbed Bruce by the collar. “You’ve been lying to me?” Trevor grabbed his throat.  “You’re dead. You’re all fucking dead. I’ll see to it. And you want to kill me right here, right now? My father will come for you. He will ruin you all!”

Sebastian stepped forward. “You’re right about your father. Not your choice of words now, but what you’ve been feeling at the center of you. It’ll progress slowly, but progress nonetheless. You wouldn’t have handled it well. We’ve already played it out I’m afraid.”

“You don’t get to talk about my father.”

“Do we need to spell things out for you, Trevor?” said Sebastian.

“You’re scaring your girlfriend,” said Bruce. “You’ve been my silent partner. We’ve accomplished quite a lot.”

Trevor’s face was blank. Bruce patted him on the shoulder, pity in his eyes. “It’s blurry, like a distant memory. It feeds on you because it can and it should. You think your innocent outside of this place? You’re as quick to screw the next as some of the worst, Trevor. You should know that by now. Or at the very least just own up to your corrupt ways. So they show you how bad you really are. That’s the magnificence of it all. It’s just the way it works. Like a well-oiled machine running on sinful gasoline.”

“You’re all nuts.”

Sebastian placed his hand on Trevor’s cheek. “Think about it.” Trevor’s eyes rolled back and then he jerked away and staggered back, short of breath.

“Killing us won’t get you anywhere. It’ll just invite a whole bag of problems for you. I have money. Let’s make an arrangement,” said Trevor.

“This is our arrangement. And we are lucky to have you.”

Trevor pointed his gun and Bruce and pulled the trigger. It clicked. Cassidy stepped out of the shadows, wearing a stunning dress. She was beautiful. “Trevor, please stay. We can be together.” Sebastian scowled at the request, deeming Trevor far from worthy of his daughter’s affection.

Erin was a bystander, absorbing everything, still feeling a warming sensation. Like morphine.

“Can’t you feel it yet?” Cassidy asked, her anticipation resting on glass, waiting to be broken.

“Feel what?”

“You have to let go first. It’s amazing when you do. We can be together. Don’t make me beg.”

Sebastian turned to Erin, ignoring Trevor as something of the past and of little consequence. “Our pain has been insurmountable. You couldn’t even fathom.”

Teresa spoke, “Sweet Sebastian. He did everything he could. We did everything we could. This was our only option.”

“A new start.”

“I love it here. It gets lonely though. Loneliness is a horrible feeling, slowly eating away at you,” Cassidy said, her hand grazing her arm as she stared into Trevor’s eyes.

“Then those horrible men came. They wouldn’t take no for an answer. We were only given one warning; there was no second. They stormed the beach and there was no escaping. Our alliances wouldn’t be back for days, as they were out collecting supplies. We were stranded, and they came from all angles. They were stronger than us. So we split up, used our knowledge of the small landscape to try and elude them. But they had nothing but time. And weaponry. I went with Mother. Cass went with Dad. But they found us. They were always going to find us, and there was nothing we could do. The blade of the knife hurt so badly. I was scared,” Jhett said.

Cassidy’s eyes were tear-filled as she spoke softly after her little brother. “We were cornered on the rocks. I always struggled with my breathing since I was a baby.” She ran her hand over her chest. “I couldn’t breathe. Father tried to stop them, but then I witnessed the spear go through him… He had begged me to keep quiet, but I screamed. I couldn’t stop screaming. The bullet went through my chest. I only remember thinking… I didn’t get to find a nice man. To fall in love.”

Teresa was strong in the midst of listening to her children’s final thoughts before their deaths, deaths she couldn’t help them avoid. “No mother should have to watch their children die. Those people took no consideration for human life. They only took for themselves. Sinful demons. They exist within so many. Too many to fight off. But we fight for pure life anyway, and we’ll never stop. Not a dirty soul will step foot on this island untouched by their own transgressions. They all must pay for what’s been done.”

“It’d be good to have a friend.” Jhett looked to Erin with hope.

“Jhett hasn’t been able to stop talking about you, Erin.” Teresa was glowing with joy, while Jhett looked at her bashfully, waiting for her acceptance nervously.

“I don’t… No.”

Sebastian nodded at Bruce. “It’s time to get on with the ceremonies.” Bruce nodded, turned, and butt ended Trevor as he was about to protest. He crumbled to the ground next to Erin, who wasn’t able to muster a squeal.

“Don’t be afraid,” Teresa tried to assure her. “We look after one another.”

Chapter Twenty-six - Trevor

Trevor sat helplessly in the empty room. The four walls of concrete were covered with oddly patterned stains. Without anything to distract himself, he worried for his father. Had he been harmed?

His older sister’s passing had taken a toll on the family, as it would any. Her death drove his parents apart as their grief didn’t sync well enough for them to go on living together. At a young age, though he didn’t want to, he had to choose. He remembered his mother urging him to not feel guilty about it. It was all right, she had said. It was the best for everyone, she had said. He didn’t blame her for leaving. There was no blame to give to anyone. She couldn’t stay. She couldn’t be a mother anymore. She had to be something else. They would still exchange emails a few times a year, and get together at least once for lunch, but that was all.

That day when his dad spoke of his sister in present tense, referring to her recital… his face was so blank, only for the slightest moment. But it was enough.

And now, they were gunning for him; if they hadn’t already.

There was a drip coming in from the ceiling in the corner by the steel door. He rose to his feet and pulled at the door. It didn’t budge, and he could hear chains rattle on the other side. Sitting back down and dropping his head between his knees, he stared at the floor stained with his own blood. In the far corner, there was a gecko lizard sideways on the wall resting completely still.

He had to get to Erin. Somehow. She wasn’t even supposed to be there. She should have been at home studying.

Trevor’s door cracked open and Cassidy slithered inside. She looked like a heroin user, eyes dug deep inside the puffy purple pockets, her pupils dilated. Trevor hadn’t heard any rattle of chains or the sound of a lock being taken off, just silence leading up to her entry. She strode toward Trevor, backing him up to the far wall. Her face was urgent and desperate. The conniving manipulation he had seen in the villa was gone, leaving a girl desperate to be held and loved. She placed her hands on his face, and he tried to pull away. Her mouth was warm against his, her saliva sweet, like she had just eaten tart lemon drops. He pulled away again. Her face was stained with tears. “It was supposed to be different,” she said. “But I can’t have it the way they want it. I’ve been watching you, Trevor. You’re my soul mate.” Her fingers were now interlocked with his and he shook them loose. She hugged herself and stared into his eyes. “I can’t explain it, but I know. I didn’t want to be like that toward you. That wasn’t what I wanted in the villa. I just want to be with you.” Eyes sparkling like emeralds, a tear rolling down her face, she stepped in closer. “They will see. You’re pure again. Pure here.” Her hand was against his chest. “Please stay.” The words hung. It was difficult to believe they were real, that she was real. “Tell me you want me,” she said.

He closed his eyes and pictured Erin smiling nervously. He whispered, “No.”

Cassidy stepped back and wiped the tears from her face, her mouth open as she tried to choke out words. “Why?”

“You know why.”

She stepped back one more time and looked down at the floor, her hands trembling, tears falling. “Her?” Her face contorted in disgust. “Her?”

“Yup.”

She turned and slid awkwardly through the crack of the door, closing it slowly behind her.

* * *

Erin’s head was unclear, something that seemed to worsen since her feet hit the sand on the island. Trevor didn’t kill Skye. The relief, that didn’t do her much good now.

The ceremony… That’s where they will kill us. She knew his father would worry, and then scour all of Belize for answers. But Erin had no one else in her life to come calling.

There was a rattle at the door. It cracked open and Bruce walked through. She deemed his neutral face as smug, curling up her toes in her shoes angrily. He had a bottle of water in his hands. He tossed it to her; it hit her chest and fell to the floor with a plastic smack. “We’re just prepping the ceremony. We need a little more time so you should drink up. Get comfortable.”

“I’m comfortable.”

“It’s best not to be angry. You should be grateful.”

“Grateful?”

“Do you know how many people they’ve tried?”

Tried? As if they were sampling crackers at the supermarket. “They’ve chosen you, Erin. You’ll be reborn. You’re their holy grail.”

“Lucky me.”

He stepped forward. The knife tucked in her back waistband was waiting. She wanted to reach for it but it wasn’t quite time yet. Erin had grabbed it from the kitchen back at Stefan’s after she knew they were being hunted. She backed up to the wall, portraying fear, desiring revenge. She looked down to see a gun holstered at his side, but that was moot; he’d never see it coming.

“There’s no need to be scared. You’re home.”

“What will you do with Trevor?”

“He’ll be disposed of like the others.”

“Ashton?”

“Oh, of course. He’s been gone a while now.”

She cringed.

“Don’t worry though. We are delicate with our executions. Well, maybe not Stefan. But the rest all went without pain. Trevor will go without pain.”

She tilted her head and wiped her wet nose with her finger. “Thank you,” she muttered.

He inched closer. That’s right. A little more.

“It will be clearer to you soon. And you’ll feel right as rain.”

Right as rain… “So what’s the deal with you? You’re like a servant to them then?”

He sighed. “I’m still paying my dues in flesh, but my time will come soon enough. I’ll need to be replaced.”

“How’d you get here?”

“Pure luck.” A big greasy smile took over his wrinkled face. “Backpacking. I was a writer. A journalist. A very terrible one at that.” He chuckled. “I couldn’t be what everyone wanted me to be. I was a stain on my family, an outcast at my core. There’s great shame in that. It brought me here, though. I was the first to find them. I set them free and they welcomed me in like family. Helped me see things the way they should be seen.”

One more step. Her hand grabbed hold of the knife and she pulled it out and attacked in one fluid motion. His eyes lit up and the knife missed his face and slashed his arm. Bruce grabbed her wrists and squeezed. She tried to push the knife towards his face, but he was too strong. He wrenched the knife from her hand as it clanked on the floor, so she threw her head into the bridge of his nose. His gun dropped to the floor.

She ripped her hands free and got to it first. Erin backed up against the far wall, gun pointed straight at his chest. “Don’t think about going for that knife,” she commanded.

“I wouldn’t dare.” The fear had abated and was replaced by a sly smirk again. “You know that old story. Don’t bring a knife to a gun fight right?”

Her hand was on the trigger.

“You’re not going to kill me, are you, Erin?”

“Let’s not find out.”

He touched his puffy nose and sniggered.

“I will do this. I will,” she whispered.

He staggered slowly over to the knife, bent over, and picked it up. “I wish you had the flare for taking a human life, but sadly, you don’t. You’re going to be a doctor, Erin. You don’t take life. You’re supposed save lives.”

“Drop the knife and face the door. Please, just do it.”

He stepped toward her, looking down at his feet as he did so.

“Drop it.”

“No.” He took another step.

“Stop!”

“You’re where you belong. Don’t you want to stay?” He took another calculated step.

“Don’t move!”

“You’ve got it. No more moving.” He placed a finger on his left nostril and cleared out his right onto the cement floor. It left a green stain on the cement. “I’ve been around long enough to know cowardice. Don’t take it personally. It’s something that built into you; both from birth and your environment when you were of an age too young to control it. We’re often erased before we have a chance. That’ll never change. Not with the way the world is.”

“I’m not a coward.”

“No?”

“No.”

“What are you then?”

“I’m half a second away from shooting you.”

He chuckled. “I’m afraid not. I have a speech about a lion. Care to hear it?”

“I’m sure I’ve heard it before.”

“Right. Well the takeaway is that you are not a lion. You are something else.”

“The one with the gun. Yes.”

“I wonder what you will be like…”

“What?”

“After we drain all the blood from your body.”

“Dead. I’d be dead.”

He sniggered and ran his hand through his scruffy facial hair. “You’re charming.”

“Get up against the door and turn around.”

Bruce’s face collapsed. Any resemblance of the human condition was now gone. He jolted at her with the knife cocked back. She pulled the trigger. He fell to the floor. Keeled over against the wall, he put a hand to his bloody chest.

Erin tried to exhale but it was more like short vibrations of her vocal cords. The shimmer of keys caught her eyes. She reached around his belly and snagged them without touching any of the blood. She stepped over his body and out the door. Standing in front of the other captive room, she slid the key in the lock and it turned. Yes, yes. Thank you, God. She pulled out the chains from the steel handle and swung open the door. Trevor looked awful, but he was alive. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Chapter Twenty-seven - Erin

He hugged her tightly and she hugged him back, despite everything. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“Come on.”

Trevor followed Erin underground to the wine room. It had been boarded up, the wood thick and unbreakable. They were trapped with only one direction to go. Bruce’s cabin. The yacht would be their escape, if they were able to find the keys, or perhaps attempt to hot-wire it. She assumed such a task would be beyond Trevor’s skill set, but one step at time was the best approach moving forward.

She led Trevor by the hand back to the green door until she felt him pull back. He had stopped. “You know now that I didn’t kill Skye. And I did not sleep with her. Never even a chance in hell. There’s no magical spell on me. You see that, right?”

His tone was final and somber. It was the truth. Erin nodded subtly, not wanting to waste time with words that would still taste bitter. “We have to go through the cabin. It’s the only way out. No matter what happens to me, just get to the boat.” His eyes lifted at the implication. “If we can’t find the boat keys… Find a screwdriver, something that might give you a chance to turn it over.”

He grabbed hold of her hand. “I should be saying the same to you. So how about we just both get the fuck out of here, okay? Leave no man behind. What’s that from?”

She stepped into her captivity room to find Bruce still there in a pool of blood. She stepped around his body to pick up the gun. She handed Trevor the knife, and the corner of his mouth tightened. “What? You’re stronger in close. You know, hand-to-hand combat. Knife won’t do me any good. Plus, I saw your shooting,” she said.

“Fair enough.”

“Okay.”

He tried to take the lead, moving past her, but she stopped him. “I’ve got the gun. Unless you plan on throwing that knife?” He stepped aside.

She crawled up slowly, gun in her right hand, her left pressing against the uneven concrete step. She could feel pebbles molded in with the cement. It was cool and bumpy. As her hand reached up to the knob on the green door, the image of her bloodied hands rolled right before her eyes like a projection screen.

She shook the image loose and twisted the knob slowly, waited, then charged through.

Erin staggered to the side. She backed up to the kitchen, next to Bruce’s beloved espresso machine.

Stefan sat comfortably in Bruce’s recliner, sipping from an apple juice box. He remained seated, seemingly enjoying her reaction. He was dead. She had witnessed it. “You’re…” she stammered.

“And yet here I am.” He turned his attention to Trevor. “You look funny, cousin. Something is off with you.” He wagged his finger emphatically.

Erin was stirring, holding onto the counter for balance.

“Don’t get up!” shouted Trevor. “Stay where you are and start talking.”

“As you wish… Well, needless to say, you’ve all been part of something very special. A tradition actually. One that takes place only once a generation, this being my first, obviously. You’ve all been chosen based on what they like to call your unrighteous sins. A little too biblical and dramatic for my taste. I’d prefer utter fucking selfishness, stemming from greed, or what they would call gluttony. Moreover, they’ve never been able to find that soul that could be purified by their hands. They’ve yet to find a single soul they even desired to save… But then you came along, Erin. You in all your shameful glory… I still think it’s because you have that girl-next-door quality, but who am I to argue the merits of age-old spirits.”

He waited for Erin to reply, but her brain wasn’t computing.

Stefan proceeded in a less relaxed position, leaning forward in his chair, feet tucked in. “You’ve been chosen. You’re special. I honestly did see it from the very beginning. Can he say the same?” He gestured at Trevor.

Trevor snapped. “You don’t know a thing about us. You’re just a spoiled little rat turned cult. I don’t give a shit about all this garbage. I know what you are. You think you intimidate me? You think you scare me? You are an ant at my feet, and I’ve been gracious enough to not step on you. So fuck you and your hocus-pocus. You can’t have her. She’s going home and I’m burying you with the rest of them.”

Stefan smiled, then bowed his head and closed his eyes. He lifted his head back up, cheeks flushed, his smile bridged on the left as he shook his head. “I can respect that. But you’re a realist, Trevor. Which normally would suggest your prior comment to be true, but you know neither of you are going anywhere. That is the real truth that you know in your heart. Soon you will be sand and bone like the rest. We all die anyway. Consider us a cleanup crew.”

“I saw what you wanted me to see, you manipulative piece of shit.”

Stefan ignored him. “Erin, you can be with me. I think you’d learn to love me. I get better with time, or so I’ve been told.”

“Don’t listen to him,” said Trevor.

“He’s upset,” said Stefan. “Erin, I think you’re amazing.”

Trevor extended a hand to Erin. “Just hand me the gun.” She stepped toward Stefan and the cabin shook. Trevor’s mouth jutted open and he fell to the ground. Shot in the back between the shoulder blades. Her scream was nothing but a pathetic croak. Bruce’s came booming up the steps and over top of Trevor, who was trying to say something. After a panicked breath, his head smacked into the floor.

“I killed you,” Erin muttered.

Stefan rose to his feet to join Bruce. They blocked Trevor’s body, and she tried to look around them. “Get away from him!” she cried. “Get away from him!”

“It’s time for the ceremony now. We must go.”

“No! Stay back! Get away from me!”

“You should shoot me,” Bruce said. “Come on, shoot me again. I think it’d be good for you. Shoot me. Once more for the crowd! Come on, Erin! A little more gusto this time!”

Her gun was shaking violently, feeling heavy in her hand.

“Human instinct. Hesitation. How can you expect to survive? Shoot me.” She couldn’t. “Shoot me!”

She pulled the trigger, then turned to Stefan and squeezed once more. He had a smile on his face before he was hit. Both crumpled to the ground, the cabin now filled with bodies.

Erin gulped for air. Trevor was gone. She shook and cried, her lips inches away from his. The cabin was silent, and then they rose. Stefan, then Bruce.

Stefan was over the moon with excitement. “That was brilliant, Erin! Are you having fun? Because I’m having fun. I can’t believe you pulled the trigger on me. You are outside your mind right now, and I love it.”

“What…”

“Fake bullets. Fake blood. I thought you had maybe figured it out back at my place when you tried to dress my wound.”

Erin’s eyes lit up as she looked down at Trevor, a glimmer of hope that he was alive.

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. That, unfortunately, was real. He’s dead.”

Her heart plummeted. “I’ll kill you.”

“You will?” Stefan moved in close and she pivoted and socked him with a hard right to the mouth. He staggered back with his hand to his bloodied lips. She stepped in and stroked him once more in the face. Her knuckles cracked and shifted in her hand.

The burly arms of Bruce wrapped around her and pulled her to her feet as she kicked, scratched, screamed, and bit, doing anything to separate herself from him.

Bruce was so strong. “Give her the drugs!” Bruce yelled at Stefan. Stefan reached into his pocket and pulled out a small syringe. She tried. It wasn’t enough. It took mere seconds for the drugs to sink in, making her feel increasingly tired the more she tried to fight it. Urine dribbled down her legs and her heart slowed.

Chapter Twenty-eight - Erin

Erin was in her garden back in New York. The dark soil in her hands was moist, the air was crisp. A worm wriggled at her feet. She looked up at her old apartment building, tattered and worn, but it had enough character that she always thought of it as a person. The sun was catching the corner of her eye, blinding her, and she smiled. The warm rays and cool breeze balanced. Erin looked back down at the dirt and then to her neighbor Wei, a lovely elderly Chinese woman that would cook for her every Thursday. Sometimes they’d clock out their Monday’s with a shot of baiju. The stuff would burn the hair off a girl’s legs, but it was a tradition she cherished. They’d shared many laughs. Her English was spotty at best, but they were able to converse with relative ease once they’d gotten to know one another.

She pondered what she was going to cook for herself that evening. Maybe she’d use up some of the vegetables still in her fridge. Make a stir-fry with orange teriyaki. Her stomach gurgled at the thought, but her mouth did not salivate as a horrible smell suddenly attached to her nose. It smelled like ammonia.

* * *

Erin’s head bobbed up from the scent. A tiny bag of smelling salts was raised up to her nose.

Her mouth was dry, lips cracked, and she tasted blood. She wanted so badly to go back home, to her garden. She missed Wei. But instead, she was about to be sacrificed like some animal, apparently destined to live out her own hell on an unknown island off the coast of Belize.

“Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey,” Stefan said joyously. “Quick little power nap for our girl. Our star girl… Sorry, I gave you a little too much, had to use those nasty salts to get your motor running. We don’t have a ton of time, Erin. The sun is coming up.”

She groaned. Everything ached. She spit on his shoes and he laughed uproariously. “I love it.”

Her wrists had been bound with duct tape and she was sitting upright on the couch. When she turned to her left, she cried out. Trevor was there. His chest rose and fell. He was alive.

Bruce was in the middle of applying the salts to Trevor’s nose. He was tied up as well. “Trevor. Trevor look at me.” She turned to Stefan. “He needs medical attention. Please!” Not a worry in the world registered on his arrogant face. “Trevor.” His eyes finally opened as his eyes squinted and his head bobbed around, saliva dangling to the floor. “Look at me. You’re gonna be okay.” Back to Stefan. “Get him help!”

“Settle down. He was sedated. Did you not hear me before? It was our fake blood you were seeing while you had your little freak-out. He was tranqued. I was just pulling your leg. Take a joke, doctor.” Stefan walked to the fridge and pulled out an apple. He used the largest kitchen knife to cut it into slices, savoring each bite with the smack of his lips. “Sorry about the tape. It’s easier this way. You’ll be free of it soon. Free of it all.”

A jackhammer was drilling into her head, pain sensors going off like a pinball machine. Trevor coughed and spit. He looked over at Erin, eyes terribly bloodshot. She saw the realization register in his eyes, remembering what had transpired before. Bruce ripped a strip of duct tape and put it over Trevor’s mouth before he could speak.

Stefan had leaned in close and Trevor tried to jolt up, but Bruce slammed him back down into the couch. Stefan’s words were damp on her ear. “I want you to remember this moment. What it was like to be human, to be afraid… Everything. Remember it. You’ll never forget it for the rest of your unlimited days. Just because you’ve transcended the human form doesn’t mean you shouldn’t remember what you were. You should, and you will.”

Erin placed her taped hands on Trevor’s and he blinked in understanding, or so she hoped.

Bruce sauntered over with espresso and held it to her lips. The aroma would have been delightful if she were about to wake up in her villa after a horrible dream. “Take a sip.” She hated him, but took a sip anyway, knowing it would be her last taste of coffee. Bruce stepped back but hung around to feed her more. “Here.” He placed the cup perfectly in her fingers, sliding her pointer finger through the handle but away from the piping hot cup itself. “How’s that?” he asked.

“Perfect, thank you.” She took another sip. Stefan was staring at her. The man of so many faces… He was talented. “Why?” she asked simply. “Absent of the bullshit that so often comes crawling out of that mouth.”

He knelt down and helped her off of the couch. Trevor rose protectively with her, but Bruce’s hands held him back. “An excellent question, Erin. For them? They’re lonely,” he said with a high note, very matter-of-fact. “And that harrowing tale of the rebels storming their land, which they were banished to—if you remember our history lesson from earlier—well, that was mostly true. An honorable family with such love and compassion, slaughtered for some extra land. They just took it because they could. An agreement was broken. And they haven’t been able to rest since. They have great purpose now.

Erin awaited more.

“Could you imagine living without any purpose? What a waste of life. They’re not evil. They eliminate evil. And they provide the greatest thing that exists; redemption of the human soul. Picture the perfection of it. Not just false words people like to spout off. Actual redemption you can hold in your hands. You can be free of your guilt soon, Erin. You’ve earned that right. They feel your hurt, your love, all of it. And they will accept you as one of their own. We will rejoice! And you and I can be together.” Trevor reached for her, but Bruce pushed him back. He was trying to shout, but the tape muffled his sounds. Stefan sighed at the sight of him. “I know you don’t see it now. And I don’t expect you to. It’s okay, really. But you will soon. And you won’t even be able to describe it. I know I haven’t given it any justice. How could I?”

“We need to go.” Bruce was edgy.

Stefan sneaked in behind her and held her tightly. Her heart was racing. She used her remaining fuel and rammed her head back, clocking Stefan in the nose. “Goddammit!” he yelled. “You are fierce!” He chuckled and grimaced, dabbing at the blood under his nose.

It was all over. There as nothing more she could do. As she neared the front door of the cabin, she could only hear Trevor making as big a fuss as possible, but he was still being manhandled by old Bruce.

Stefan leaned forward and whispered in her ear from behind. “Will you get that for me? Destiny waits.”

Erin placed her hand on the brass doorknob and turned, cracking the door open an inch. It was no longer darkness outside, as amber crept through the skies. She thought of the policewoman one last time. I’m sorry. With one more deep breath of the palm trees, she swung the door open and stepped forward.

She gazed upward at the pink sunrise. Before she could finish her silent prayer, it was answered with a jolt.

“SURPRISE!”

In front of her were tables of food, champagne, balloons, streamers, congrats posters, servers in tuxedos and flip flops, high-class silver and glassware, everything. It was a celebration.

Standing in the clearing were Skye and Ashton. Their smiles were worried. Skye’s throat was not cut. They were wearing their normal clean clothes—shorts and tanks. Glasses of bubbling champagne rested in their grasps.

Erin dropped to her knees and Stefan helped her up carefully. He whispered, “You’re okay. You’ll be okay.”

Skye ran up and gave her a big bear, hug squeezing her tight. “Skye.” Her tears wiped on the side of Skye’s face, and she could feel her strong heartbeat in sync with her own as they embraced.

“It was all a show, babe. You were the star.” Skye tried to pull away, but Erin pulled her back in and held on. “I won’t die?”

“Not today.”

Erin shuddered. “You’re alive.”

Trevor sat in the sand next to Erin as she literally cried on his shoulder. Ashton popped a squat next to him in the sand. “We heard about most of it. Saw some when we could. You okay?”

“Am I okay…” Jaw flexing, he looked to his right at Erin’s red nose. “I’m fine,” he said quietly. Bruce disappeared in the background without speaking to anyone—no remorse, no explanation, no apologies, only a job completed. Stefan was quiet. He didn’t appear overly happy with himself. If anything, he was sympathetic.

Sebastian approached slowly with his hands up. “I’m actually a doctor, guys. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to take a look at both of you. Erin, you first. She hesitated at first but then extended her hand, and he helped her over to a chair. His checkup was all a blur as she zoned out on the spinach dip on the table next to a glass of champagne. The dip had a layer of cheese on top that was crusted around the edges of the stone bowl. She reached out and touched it. She brought her finger to her lips to feel the warmth.

“Erin,” Sebastian said loudly. She realized that she had been gone, and he had been trying to get her attention. She looked at her right wrist to find some bruising from her fight with Bruce. She had attacked him with a real knife. Sebastian followed her eyes to her wrist. “Okay, I see the problem. Does it hurt? Scale from one to ten.”

“My hand won’t stop shaking,” she cried out, confused. Her whole body started shaking again as she fought tears that crept out. “Erin, you are safe. Everything you have experienced is not real. You are in a completely safe place and we are here to look after you. Anything you need.”

She looked up at him. “I can go home?”

“Yes, of course Erin. You are going home.” Sebastian signaled two paramedics that had approached and were waiting on the sidelines with a stretcher. They brought it over and leveled it off in the sand. They placed a foam material on top. “Would you like to lie down, Erin? Would that be okay?”

“What?”

He enunciated slower this time. “Can you lie down over here for me? I’ll help you; just take my arm.”

She took it. Nothing made sense. It was getting ridiculous and frustrating. He laid her down and told her to relax while he checked her pulse and flashed a bright light into her eyes. It was better than darkness, she thought. Light was good.  The pink sky was fading and the sun was peaking. Someone is holding my hand. She looked over to find Trevor. He smiled. This was kind Trevor. The one she wanted to love.

Sebastian spoke softly. “Erin, you’re experiencing a bit of shock, but it’s perfectly normal, and we are all here for you. That’s a fine man you’ve got there. He’ll take it from here. You’re as healthy as a horse, or a very small pony.”

“Should I sit up?” Erin asked.

“Would you like to?”

Trevor helped her up and guided her back to the chair and the spinach dip. There was also caviar. Oh, and oysters. She felt a big heavy kiss on the side of her face and her world started spinning again. It all hit home. Her garden. She would go home to her garden.

Trevor’s embrace left and she turned to watch him walk up to Stefan. What will he say? There wasn’t anything to say. Instead, Trevor punched him, sending him crashing to the ground. His fist had extended through his face and then remained outward as an offering to help him up. He groaned from the powerful blow, stared up, and then laughed. “You hit pretty good for a lawyer.”

Stefan appeared ready to speak, but after locking eyes with Erin, he chose otherwise. “What is everyone waiting for? Grab a glass of champagne; Erin, maybe some water for you first. And eat up. We got every appetizer under the sun. Need to load up on calories for our surf today.”

The sight of food made her stomach turn, or maybe it was turning because she was that hungry.

* * *

It took a while, but eventually the evening/morning was filled with laughter, champagne, scotch, and expensive hors d’oeuvres. Erin should have had resentment toward Stefan, she wanted to, but with Trevor’s hand on hers, she only felt gratitude for living. The spinach dip was great. The sunrise was great. Life would be great.

There was still so much to be explained, so much they didn’t understand, but the feeling they were left with now sent chills down Erin’s spine.

The group was quiet for a while. The bottles began to empty and the food disappeared, and fatigue started to set in. Skye and Ashton both looked happy, but they were not showing their usual public displays of affection. Skye swirled her scotch around, admiring the glass. She looked exhausted, her face a shade paler than her body.

“So wait… were you in on this the whole time, Skye?”

“No! Shit girl, I was tripping out as much as you were. Sebastian found me when we were looking for Ashton. He slipped me a nice little cocktail of drugs and I woke up in one of those scary-ass rooms.” She turned to Sebastian, who still had his stethoscope around his neck. “I want the recipe of what you gave me.” She winked and laughed. “So the assholes leave me in there to suffer for what felt like an eternity. They claim it was only a couple hours, but I beg to differ! Then they filled me in on everything, prepped me for my dead girl role. The rest is horrifying history. Nothing like watching your friends shit themselves over and over again. I’m sorry. But Stefan is one convincing SOB.”

“And you?” Erin asked Ashton.

“Same thing. I was just along for the ride. Until little man here insulted me to the max and Bruce knocked me out with a butt end.”

“Jesus.”

Jhett almost lifted out of his chair he was so antsy. “I told Bruce! He messed that all up. I was supposed to take you on a journey in the woods, but he ruined it. We had some special effects planned for you.” He sat back in his chair, deflated.

“That’s okay. You’ll get the next poor bastard. You did good. Real good, man.”

Erin could feel Stefan’s gaze rested on her, but she chose to admire Skye’s beauty instead, sipping her champagne. She extended her glass and Skye tapped her lightly while leaning in close. “Should we swap partners tonight?”

Erin was too tired to be offended or anything at all. Skye’s playfulness faded. “Terrible joke. I’m really sorry, Erin. I know what they made you think. I’d never. I know how I am. I’d never go through with it.”

“I know.”

Skye’s classic sexy smile brightened again. “Unless you want to?” she teased. Her cackling laugh followed.

Erin laughed softly and shook her head.

“What’s so funny?” asked Trevor.

Erin slid out of her chair and onto his lap. “Nothing. Just know I’ll have your penis removed if you look at another woman.”

“Woah. That was… intense.”

She kissed him. He tasted like champagne and strawberries. “Sorry. I have important plans for the little guy.”

“Little guy?” He squeezed her sides. “What kind of plans?”

She dropped a small strawberry into her champagne glass. “We’ll see.” Both of their grins washed away. His eyes were so tired. “I should have trusted you,” she said.

Trevor waited a beat as his gaze drifted around all the empty plates. “Maybe the owner will give us a night in the villa?”

“Maybe.” They kissed again.

Stefan rose from his chair and clinked his glass to get the attention of everyone: Trevor, Erin, Skye, Ashton, and the entire Royal Family, along with some other helpers that were invited to join them in the festivities.

“What you’ve been a part of is our vision for what this island represents. It’s about feelings that we don’t get to experience out there. Our world isn’t all that it should be anymore. It strips us of our humanity.” His voice trailed off sullenly. “Our intent, though cruel and extreme, is to separate ourselves from ourselves. I hope it has provided some answers for you. Maybe answers to questions you hadn’t yet asked yourselves. If nothing else, I hope it helped you all feel what it’s like to be alive. Regret is heavy. Let’s shed it.”

“I could’ve killed you,” said Trevor.

“We took it a little too far. There are some areas we need to work on, to ensure more certainties. No question. Erin, it’s one thing to plan all this out, and it’s another to see a friend have to go through it, to have to lie to you, manipulate you. I’m sorry, and yet I’m not, and something tells me you won’t hold this against me for very long. I know how pompous that sounds. I don’t like it, but I believe it to be true. I can only imagine how hard this was for you. I’m sorry you had to take so much heat. This is how our process goes. We feel it out, and someone has to go the distance. You were that someone and you were remarkable…” He took a breath, scanned everyone’s faces.

He continued, “So, please don’t sue me.” He snagged his scotch off the table and raised it. “You guys have five more days here to get shit-faced, surf, scuba, whatever you want. But I’d understand if you wanted to hightail it out of here. No worries. We’ve got more champagne if you wanna keep the party going.” He checked his watch. “Shit. It is now 7:05 a.m. If you must go snooze, that’s more than cool.”

Erin chugged her glass of champagne. She had consumed enough bubbly by now that she was feeling perfectly fuzzy, her head tired and lovely. “The villa?” she asked Stefan.

“It’s ready. Enjoy.”

Her first steps inside chilled her, picturing Skye and all of the blood. It came and went quickly as the villa was filled with candles and rose petals. Cute “his” and “her” robes were laid neatly on the king-size mattress. Erin walked over and fell into the bed, sinking into the soft cloud. Trevor climbed on top of her and kissed her forehead before rolling over and flopping next to her, shoulder to shoulder. “Did you really shoot them after they shot me?”

She exhaled harshly. “I don’t want to think about that.”

“Erin.”

“Yeah?”

“I did something back home.”

She waited, ready to ask him what he had done, but fewer words left her mouth. “Me too.”

He didn’t ask her either. “Hey…” He trailed off yet again.

“Yeah?”

“Never mind.”

She rolled over and nestled up into his chest. “You stink.”

His chuckle vibrated against her ear. “I know. I died and came back. You stink too.”

Erin slapped his stomach, making him grunt. “I know I do.” She slid her hand from his stomach to his chest, feeling his heart beat. She kept it there and felt it slow. So did hers.

Chapter Twenty-nine - Skye

The water was calm but she was still queasy. The sun shined down on Ashton’s six pack, and not a smidgen of sexual desire lingered. She wasn’t ten feet off the ground. Somberness enveloped her, distracting her from the pretty boat ride back to mainland. It appeared that she wasn’t the only one who was reeling after the most bizarre few days of her life. Everyone else was silent, the water around them was silent, and even the hum of the boat’s motor was quiet. At the far end of the boat, Trevor’s arms were wrapped around Erin, and she couldn’t help but be envious. It was a dirty feeling.

Ashton smiled at her. He had a bottle of beer in his hand with the label half peeled off.

They were off the boat in no time. Mainland.

A friendly man dressed in a button-up shirt and khaki shorts was there waiting for them. He helped load up their bags into his dated SUV and attempted small talk in the beginning of the ride, but one word answers clued him in that nobody was in the mood. She felt a little bad for him, but was too drained to worry all that much. The road was bumpy and narrow in the beginning. Along the ocean side she spotted some local kids on the beach splashing in the water, laughing uncontrollably as kids should.

They were herded like cattle the whole way through and before she knew it, their plane had lifted off into the air. No more than five words had been shared amongst the group. They touched down in Boston, their connection fitting in perfectly with their timeline as they only had to wait a half hour before boarding again. Skye looked around at the mix of Yankee and Red Sox hats in the plane, but no brawls broke out. She was asleep as soon as the plane left the runway.

* * *

Ashton was searching her eyes for something as they stood outside her apartment building in Brooklyn Heights. The neighborhood was rundown, but her place was only a few blocks from the brownstone architecture that she adored. It made her feel like she could travel back in time to simpler times devoid of screens and noise.

“I think we should break up.” The words relieved her more than anything.

“Yeah… Okay…” He tightened his lips and nodded in disappointment. “Still friends?”

Her laugh was more of an exhale. “That’d be great. Seriously though. I think we are capable of keeping in touch.”

“We’re still going to have sex though, right?” he said half-jokingly, maybe half-hoping.

She didn’t respond.

“I’m kidding. Would it be okay if I called you in a couple weeks?”

“I’d like that.” In the past, several booty calls would have ensued. But this time, that would not happen.

He hugged her and sneaked an innocent kiss on her lips, the final touch to let her know that her gut was telling the truth. There was nothing. She was nothing.

Everything in her studio apartment looked the same. Her stone walls, rustic kitchen, cheap leather sectional couch pointed at her old television that was deeper than it was wide. The open concept leading her to her massive window that looked out toward a series of billboards, usually promoting the latest hit detective or medical TV show. Her bed placed in the corner of the room, not having a room of its own. She had liked how free it was, having everything in one room, not being secluded to smaller areas. It felt cozy; it was an eccentric place, and it had been hers. But no longer did it feel like hers. She was a stranger living in someone else’s apartment, distant from the same brick walls that had comforted her all those nights she lay awake satisfied after heated sex with a stranger.

The smell of cigarette smoke from the hall comforted her, and she fell asleep once more.

Skye woke up disoriented. She didn’t know where she was. Once she became aware, she was disappointed. Her bright red digital clock flashed into her eyes 4:01 a.m. She tore through her closet, packing everything into a small suitcase and duffel bag. She didn’t even take a second to look around the apartment to admire the place she wouldn’t come back to. She just left.

Skye rode the subway to the end and back twice, looking through various search engines, along with Facebook, but had no luck finding her mother. She tried the white pages and siphoned through a list of Carol Bernard’s. She would wait until her favorite library opened and make her calls there. Maybe she’d pick out a new thriller novel and read that too.

Clinton Hill library was reasonably busy first thing in the morning, but she found her spot tucked in the corner, lost in a maze of shelving. A small round table and two chairs; the spot was almost always available to her. She took a seat, and began making calls to every Carol nearest their old address and outward from there.

Some hung up immediately, probably assuming she was some telemarketer or life insurance pusher. Some were rather friendly, maybe feeling lonely and just happy that their phone rang. Some were direct, telling her she had the wrong number, sounding annoyed. But she wiped through New York with no trace of her mother, the woman she had abandoned.

He had always hit her so hard. Nearly killed her once… What would he have done to her when they discovered I left? Skye continued to make calls.

She went to her favorite coffee place which was now quiet because the morning rush had come and gone. She ordered a lemon poppy seed muffin to go with her dark roast coffee, one cream, no sugar. The smell made her feel a little better, and although she didn’t think she was hungry, she scarfed down the muffin rather quickly. An old gray-haired couple sat across from one another; one reading a book, the other reading something on her phone.

Before she searched for more Carol Bernard contacts outside of NYC, she reconsidered the worst. As she tried to search obituaries, her hand was trembling. She thought of her mother’s pretty face. She didn’t smile often, but when she did, everyone else around her felt better about themselves. Her hair was always in a ponytail, her long elegant neck always dressed with a gold or silver necklace. She loved jewelry but took a beating the one time she purchased some on her own. She was so elegant, like a dancer, and her voice was as soft and as smooth as her walk. Then, thinking of her mother’s beautiful attributes, she remembered a conversation they had shared once, back when they still had some form of happiness.

They stayed up late into the night, her father out on a bender, and they ate popcorn with a movie on in the background that they paid no attention to. They told stories of their fantasies of living in Rome, sipping wine outside their hostel, listening to love stories of other backpackers, watching the tourists pass by on the beach within their sight. They’d eat fresh Margherita pizza on the beach and fall asleep in the sun, pretend fight with swords at the Coliseum like the idiots they were, check out hot guys at the Vatican, and make corny jokes. They would find a rich father-son combo and marry them to take half their shit and move on to the next country. They would spend the whole night spinning fictional tales, dreams that could only rest with the stars, and would go forever unlived. Their fantasizing fun would come to an abrupt halt when they heard cursing and clumsy footsteps coming up to the door. Skye would rush to her room and her mother would quickly set out his cup of water and Advil for him before rushing to her bedroom as well.

Did she escape?

Skye found the white pages for Italy and typed in her mother’s last name. There were many Bernard’s. She was scared to type in her mother’s first name, fearing the zero results that would show on the page. But she did it, and there were only three. She dialed.

After three dials, the voice that answered was soft and kind. It was her. Oh my God, it’s her! It has to be, right? Is that how she sounds? Her head screamed with joy, but the words didn’t follow. “Hello?” she asked for the third time. Skye couldn’t speak. “Um… I can hear you breathing. I’m not really into that.” Skye almost laughed. She and her mother had the same sense of humor. “Sorry. Wrong number.” And Skye ended the call.

* * *

Fifteen hundred dollars in her account. A one-way flight was four hundred dollars. Perfect. There was one stop on the way, a thirteen-hour trip total. She caught a red-eye and didn’t sleep a wink. Instead she wrote; everything about her mother, everything about herself, about leaving, about her horrible father. The flight was fast. It came and went as she lived in the same headspace, cleansing herself of all things that tormented her all those years. It spewed out until she found herself at the end of it all, her hand sore.

When she arrived in Rome, her mother had called her phone back seven more times. Three almost immediately after she first reached out. Either she was really eager to find out what the mouth breather on the other end wanted, or she recognized Skye’s voice when she said, “Sorry. Wrong number.” She turned her phone off again.

She had never heard from her mother, largely because she had no way of contacting Skye. New cell, new city, low profile; her mother had no idea she had become a teacher. Skye made a Facebook account briefly, but that got deleted quickly.

Skye knew why she had done it. There was a prominent fear of being trapped. Of knowing she loved her mom too much and would return to her, to that horrible house, to him. She prayed that she didn’t bring that monster with her to Italy, but laughed at the thought of that drunken asshole leaving the country. Maybe when hell froze over, she thought.

The train ride to Sperlonga was about three hours. She arrived feeling tired. She couldn’t sleep though, she was too anxious. Skye used her phone to scope out the beaches along with the map to her mother’s listed address. From the map, it appeared that the streets were crowded and confusing, and she was growing even more anxious about how she would find it once she got off the train.

During her research, she discovered many cute coffee shops and restaurants to try, and the private beaches that were gorgeous.

Because it was so late at night, the train was only a third full. The ride was long and it smelled like stale smoke. She liked it. Probably because it reminded her of her mother, when they’d sit side by side on the steps of their home, watching the sun set around a grassy hill at the end of the street where her crumbling old elementary school sat, while they shared a cigarette. After the first few stops, Skye turned her phone off again (having gone without receiving any more calls), and she set her sights on the view. The grassy countryside to her right was beautiful. She rested her head on the plexiglass window to her left, looking out over the cliff of white rock and ocean water moving gently back and forth on the shoreline. There was nothing but open space between the crowded, cute towns. In and out they went, making their stops, each town looking somewhat the same.

The stop before hers, a batch of people flooded into her car. She watched their various faces out of boredom and her heart stopped when she saw a man with a cap pulled down low. He looked like Sebastian.

He adjusted his hat and she realized that it wasn’t him. Her stop was the next one, and it came slowly.

She worked her way through tight picturesque streets that were more like back-alleys with brick stone paths, leading her in and out of a maze as she looked like a moronic tourist, holding her iPhone out to guide her every step. Although New York City had always been said to be a rich diverse pot of culture, Sperlonga felt authentic, the walls speaking to her, the locals probably holding on to stories of their ancestors that had been passed down their lineage.

Her desired location on Google maps involved a steep hill heading toward the ocean side. As she neared, the strong smell of baked bread wafted into her nose. Her mouth salivated, and she smiled and released a sharp giggle she couldn’t control. The path narrowed as she approached, and to each side of her were quaint and crowded homes stacked on one another. She reached a building that was connected with many others. Walking through an archway, she reached her spot, and looked down at the house number attached to the address. She walked another flight of steps and followed to the end of the walkway, counting each door along the way. I made it. Before she knocked, she gazed out over the ledge, down at all the homes and pretty lights shining in the dark. She could hear the tide moving on the sand. The smell of the bakery was still prominent.

Skye knocked. A young man in his late twenties answered. He was handsome, wore glasses, and had a large nose. He was wearing a tank top that showed off his ripped arms. Wrong place. He looked at her with sleepy eyes, but still not overly bothered by the intrusion. “Yes?”

“I’m so sorry.” She adjusted her duffel bag on her shoulder. “I’ve got the wrong place I think. I hope I didn’t wake you.” She spoke quietly, as if to not wake him up any further.

“No bother. I’m going for a run soon anyway.” His accent was medium-thick. A slight pause made him continue. “Who are you looking for?”

“Carol.”

“I’ll get her.”

After about a minute, her mother walked through the kitchen toward the entrance. Skye heard her whimper as soon as she saw her in the doorway. She stopped in her tracks, examining her long-lost daughter with her hand over her mouth. “My Skye is so blue,” she whispered.

She stepped forward out of the dark. They stood face-to-face, studying each other’s appearances. Her mom’s hair had two stripes of gray mixed in with her brown, curling fashionably around her right eye, her hair in a ponytail just like she’d remembered. Her face was radiant and bruise-free, which was something she hadn’t been able to see regularly. There were some wrinkles around her eyes that had formed, but the additional years looked good on her. Skye wanted to say sorry and weep but instead she said, “Some muscular treat you got for yourself.”

“Rents cheap.” Her laugh snorted out, imperfectly perfect. “No. In his dreams right?”

“In his dreams,” Skye repeated.

The hug was soft, not overly forceful, but their shoulders both relaxed as they huffed out their grief. “I knew it was you,” she whispered. “My Skye. It’s good to see you.”

Skye squeezed tighter. “Sorry.”

“No, no, no. I’m proud of you.” They pulled apart. “You had to. And believe it or not… It saved my hide. If you hadn’t had the guts, I’d be up shit creek.”

“You left right away too?” Skye blurted out.

“No.” She shook her head. “It took me a while. Once I stopped trying to contact you…”

Skye lowered her head shamefully.

“No, no.” She rubbed Skye’s shoulder. “That’s when I left him.” She cleared her throat. “And look at me now!”

“You’re in Italy. On a cliff.”

“I’m in Italy on a cliff.”

“Is that bakery any good?” asked Skye.

“Only the best. Let me take you on my favorite walking route, watch the sunrise.”

She watched her mother tie her running shoes after she set her luggage just inside the door around the corner. By the time she got her shoes on and rose from her chair, Skye couldn’t contain herself. She lunged at her mother and hugged her tighter this time, sobbing into the nape of her neck.

“Hey, hey,” her mother shushed her. “Do you wanna get high?” her mom asked.

They walked outside and looked out over the stone railing down at the water.

“Can we have pizza on the beach later?”

“We can do whatever the hell we want.”

Chapter Thirty - Trevor

White picket fence. Castle. On each side of it, smaller castles. The grass was half covered with a light layer of snow. Trevor looked back to the cab, Erin’s hand dangling out the window, reaching for him. He took her hand.

“He’ll be okay, you know that right?”

“Do I?”

“Just be honest with him.”

He stepped up the driveway. His dad’s shining Jag was parked. His father was definitely home, probably watching CNN with a cold beer in his lap. He’d always set the glass bottle of beer in the freezer first before drinking it. Trevor entered his monstrosity of a house. Despite the circumstances, it still felt good to be inside his home. He looked up at the wide staircase, thick oak banisters leading up to his childhood bedroom. To his right, the kitchen lights were off, so he ventured left around the corner where he found his father. He had the Ranger game on instead of CNN, and a glass of whiskey instead of beer. He had crept up, still thinking of what he should say, how he should say it.

His dad turned and jerked, spilling some of his whiskey in his lap. “Jesus!” He caught his breath with his hand to his chest. “You scared the living shit out of me! What are you doing back home so soon? Everything all right?”

“I’m fine.” He dropped his bag next to the coach.

“What brings you back? Still got a girlfriend?”

“Still got her.”

“Well good. I like her. She’s a nice, smart girl. Sit. Take a load off. You’re not coming in tomorrow, are you?”

“No, I don’t think so. If that’s all right?”

“You got four more days if you want them.” He looked back at the TV. The Rangers were on the power play working the puck around in the Red Wings’ zone. “This is a sport. I think in another life I was a hockey player. They used to beat each other senseless, but the rules have sure tightened up… More graceful now. Faster. So fast. Did I tell you I switched?” He held up his glass of scotch. “It’s like a campfire in my mouth, but oddly enough, I like it.”

Trevor was pleased to see the mood his dad was in.

“So, why you home early then?”

“There were some troubles with the hospitality. Not a big deal. Listen, I need to talk to you about some things.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“Have you been noticing anything different lately? Been feeling different at all?”

He looked down at his glass and swirled his whiskey around. “What’d I do?”

“Nothing, I’m just noticing inconsistencies at work. I should have mentioned it earlier. But it seems to me you’re forgetting things. Things you would never forget. You seem scrambled. Unfocused.”

He paused, staring at the TV. A moment or two passed.

“I thought it was just semiretirement, but it’s getting worse. Too many thoughts are hanging on the edge of my mind.”

“I didn’t think you’d be this forthcoming, to be honest.”

“Yeah, well. You’re the man of the business. You should know what’s going on with your defective partner.”

They both looked straight ahead at the TV. He had planned on bringing up the time he spoke of his passed sister in present tense, but he couldn’t bring himself to look him in the eyes and deliver.

“Dad…” Trevor said, like “come on.”

“I didn’t want you worrying about this shit. You got enough on your plate.”

“You got some for me or did you drink it all?”

“I’ll get you the cheaper stuff.”

“You just keep drinking. Two more and I’ll tell you about the doctor’s appointment I scheduled for you.”

“We’ll see.”

“Yes, we’ll see you at your appointment.”

“Not the kind of appointment I like. Doesn’t make me money.”

“I know.”

His dad nodded and motioned to get up from the couch, but Trevor stopped him. “There’s something else.”

“What?” he asked cautiously.

Trevor ran his thumb down the middle of his left palm. “There’s something I have to fix.”

His dad knew the severity from the look on Trevor’s face. “Then fix it.”

* * *

Gary Valencia and his family were still listed at the same address, although he assumed they would have fire-saled it by now, waiting for a possession date. Trevor walked. He didn’t want to show up in his father’s Jag, nor his Mercedes. He didn’t deserve to show up in either. Their house was large, not nearly as extravagant as his father’s, and half the size to fit seven people instead of one.

He knocked on the door, somehow making it sound like a dead man’s knock, if such a thing existed. A small girl, maybe five years old, answered the door. She was adorable with pink ribbons in her hair and pudgy cheeks with dimples as she smiled. Little white chicklets were on display. “Hi!”

“Hello. How are you?”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Well, that’s good. Is your dad home?” She smiled again before turning to get her dad, her little feet scurrying across the hardwood floor. Heavier footsteps followed shortly, returning back to the entrance. At first sight, Gary’s face fell flat and angry. “What are you doing here?”

Trevor handed him a small square piece of paper from a notepad.

He looked at it. “What is this?”

“Call that number, talk to Leonard. He will be awaiting your call. He will help you with acceptance of the wire transfer on your end.”

“Wire transfer?”

“Consider it a buyout.”

“You’re joking.”

“Mr. Valencia, what happened—”

“Was incredibly illegal?”

“I know that this doesn’t replace what you built. It was your company. Your family. This price tag doesn’t replace that. But nine million can help you create something meaningful again, should you desire to. I know whatever you put your name on will be built with integrity. Something I could learn a thing or two about.”

The anger in his eyes faded, but he wasn’t thrilled either.

“I’m not wearing a wire, Mr. Miller.”

“My father had nothing to do with it. Fairway Capital dangled the bait and I took it. It was my mistake. If I could go back, I’d change it. But that’s a worn-out saying not worth saying.”

“You’re not wrong about that.” He sighed, looking back in reaction to his kids screaming in the living room as they chased each other around the couch. He turned back to Trevor. “What will happen with Fairway?”

“Rumor has it the partnership just isn’t working out.”

He nodded. “This is all coming from your bank account?”

Trevor nodded. Valencia was surprised.

“You know what I could turn around and do with this money you’re giving me?”

“I do.”

“I could hurt you.”

“You could try.”

“Maybe I will.”

“If you feel you have to, you should.” Trevor glanced at two of the kids kicking at one another on the couch. “I’d save your lawyer fees though. You probably wouldn’t win.”

He shook his head. “Maybe not… For the record, you’re still scum.

“Yeah… I’m working on that.”

Valencia grumbled and looked at the piece of paper in his hands. He squinted at it. “Good to be white, hey?”

“It is. Maybe not so great to be me.”

Valencia considered the comment and nodded.

Trevor turned around and glanced at the For Sale sign. “Sold already?”

“We don’t need this big house anyway.”

“Right. Well, you’ll do good things, Mr. Valencia. Please give me a call if you have any questions.” Trevor extended his hand and Gary paused, then took it firmly. “And please, think of Miller and Associates for your future needs.”

“I’ll do that.” Maybe it was sarcastic. Maybe it wasn’t. It didn’t matter.

His ledger was clear. Yes, the retainer from Fairway helped some in paying Valencia back, but after twelve months, they’d be dropped and Trevor would move on. His father was seeking medical attention. Erin was at home, likely sleeping, but even more likely, studying. I’ll bring her breakfast. Trevor walked all the way back home to discuss everything with his father. Was he pissed? You bet your ass he was pissed. Would he get over it? Yes, he would. After that, he called his Mercedes dealer. He didn’t need it. It made him look like a douche. He’d use the proceeds for some pro bono work, perhaps.

Chapter Thirty-one - Erin

Her name was Tracy McGowen. She never had kids. Learning that fact didn’t clear her conscience in the way she had hoped it would.

Erin stood at her grave. The stonework was of the bargain variety. She set down flowers next to the headstone, kneeling to touch the print of her name. Her breath rose in the air and she shivered. She tightened her scarf around her neck.

Erin heard a grumble from a man behind her. He was short, bald, and moved like a man older than he was. He was recently retired from the NYPD.

“I hate the cold.”

Erin smiled and shook his hand. She was nervous.

“Erin, right?”

“Yes.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Thanks for meeting me, Doug. This may be strange to you. I don’t know. We could have met at a coffee shop or something, but—”

He waved her off. “This is fine. It’s about time I stopped by for a visit. I haven’t seen McGowen since they put her to rest here. Not great on my part.”

“Were you close?”

“No. My experience with her was memorable though. She was young and eager, full of piss and vinegar. You know the type. I like that type.” He stared at the headstone, and she waited for him to speak again. “I prefer people that give a shit. Anyway, I was old and starting to count the days by then. She gave me the last push I needed to care about my job. I always thanked her for that.”

“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 had 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.”

“We had the dreams too, Skye. We had them too!”

Her eyes softened as they looked into Erin’s. Erin smiled back as she expected a “hey girl” to leave her lips, but her eyes went dark again. “I know you did. And they won’t stop.” The blade slid down, cutting into veins and arteries. Erin just stood there and watched it happen. Ashton jumped over the bed and ripped the knife from her hands. Blood was everywhere and Erin’s knees went weak.

Chapter Thirty-four - Stefan

Stefan considered it a good sign that they wanted to leave. His shin bone hurt from the false trap—he didn’t remember setting them up. He thought he had decided against that. He must have instructed Bruce to do it. Bruce had played his role flawlessly. He’d be paid a fair sum, though Stefan didn’t believe money was that important to Bruce. Perhaps it would only be a modest sum. They had only discussed rough numbers.

It was all a success, and it was clear that the potential was now a reality within his grasp, but there was just one problem. He was in love with Erin.

Lying in bed, he let a fantasy run its course. They were showering together, the glass steamed, his hands on her hips behind her. He ran his fingers up her flat stomach, she arched her lower back. His left hand ran to the base of her collarbone and he kissed her neck. He tasted her skin as steam filled the room. Every sound she made was perfect.

Stefan opened his eyes and there was someone standing at the foot of his bed. He scrambled back in his sheets. The shadowy man was… Arnie? He just stood there, not moving an inch as Stefan gathered his breath back. “Arnie? What the hell are you doing, man?”

Stefan expected a goofy, toothy smile. Not so.

“Arnie?”

“Hey.” His voice was quiet. “I needed to talk to you.” He was monotone, robotic.

“Well, I’m free now. Let’s talk.”

“This is not the place.”

“What?”

“I guess I just came to give you a heads-up.”

“A heads-up about what? I thought you took my boat back.”

“No. The paramedic crew took it back. The ceremony. It’s time.”

“Are you serious? I hardly know those people. Shit, Arnie. I trusted you with my boat. Who’s bringing it back tomorrow then?”

“It will all be fine. They’ll return tomorrow. Just fine…”

“Whatever. Take a bottle from the cellar and get out. I need to get some sleep, man; I’m exhausted.” Stefan sunk back into his pillow. “Arnie?” No answer.

He was clearly messing with him. “Arnie, get out of here.” Stefan lifted his head off the pillow and he was gone. Stefan’s throat was dry, and he was now bracing himself for something to pop out of the dark corners in his room. Nothing came.

The minutes ticked on and with time, he was able to relax, convincing himself that it was very probable that Arnie was wasted.

* * *

The sheets lifted and slid down his legs. Something was forcing him to sit up in bed. Something had full control of his body, and it wasn’t him. His head was strategically turned with slow, agonizing suspense toward the clock down on the floor next to the bed. It was 2:59 a.m.

Like insects hatching inside his brain at an incomprehensible rate, the message played over and over again: Stay a while. It pounded into him over and over again as his fists clenched and punched against the bed. His brain pressed against his skull as he yelled for it to stop, begging, pleading, just wishing it would end.

Everything went still and quiet. He had control of his body again. Thank God, thank God. He climbed cautiously out of bed and made his way out into the hallway, only to be grabbed hold of the thing again. His joints were stiff, immovable. Then, it took charge, and he was walking. Up the stairs, through the living room, around the corner, out his back door. The warm air moisturized his skin. His feet were not in his control. They belonged to something much, much more powerful.

He wanted to turn his head, to look toward the duplexes and call for help, but he had become a doll with strings attached.

He walked through the trees. The night was silent. His feet became wet as his steps continued through the small channel of water. Hiking the ridges was painful. His bare feet were scratched and scraped as his arches curved around sharp corners and jagged rocks. His body stopped at the top, and his head was tilted toward the old cabin surrounded by trees, hardly visible even from that vantage point. He was forced to continue his trek down the backside of the rocks, carving up his feet even worse on the way down. When he reached the bottom, his hamster wheel was churning. What now? His bloodied feet touched wet sand and he was forced to lunge into the water.

The swim was over an hour long. His arms and legs burned so badly that he was sure he’d drown. But the thing wouldn’t let him drown. Small mouthfuls of salt water were forming every time his head dipped in, and he’d try to spit it out and breathe in all in the same motion, starting to choke now. His pace was slowed and he continued on.

Stefan made it to land. He was thrown onto the beach where he was given permission to rest for only a couple minutes to catch his breath.

The floors in the cabin were cold, and he could feel the blood from his feet cake up. He collapsed to the floor. Sebastian, Teresa, Cassidy, and Jhett were all standing with grimacing smiles, bitter and satisfied. There was an old chair in the middle and he was forced to sit. They smiled. Then it let go.

“What is this?” His throat was still burning from the salt.

Each of them was holding one of the four weapons that he had hid for his special game.

“Thank you for conducting the trials. They were flawless. Very high notes of fear,” Sebastian said, grinning.

“What?”

“We realize this is confusing for you. It always is for the owners. You’re all the same, varying levels of enthusiasm. I was pleased to see that profitability was not your true desire. So much more, right, Stefan? So many others, they didn’t stay long enough for us to begin.”

He tried to stand but was thrown back into his chair without a hand being laid on him.

Someone else entered the cabin and moved forward through the shadows. It was Bruce.

“Kid.”

Arnie followed in behind.

“Bruce, what’s going on?”

“You were an integral part in delivering us the girl. You did well.”

“What are you freaks talking about?” He snickered but didn’t believe in his own attempt at laughter. This was no joke. Whatever spell they had him under, it was real.

“Tell me, how did you find this place?” asked Bruce.

“I—” He hadn’t found it on his own; he hadn’t even done any research into investing in islands until he met Arnie in a bar on the mainland. It was a simple getaway involving women, drugs, and alcohol. Arnie had spoken of various islands, had told him about this one; that it was a massive bargain.

“Arnie. What is this?”

“Sorry. You were the man we’d been looking for. It took a while. Grandpa was getting on my case.” He nodded toward Bruce.

“Grandpa?”

“I used to run recruitment and conduct trials here, but I need someone of the bloodline to carry on. To be ready for when my time comes.” Bruce patted him on the shoulder. “We wanted you here, Stefan. Your beloved game, that’s what we wanted. As Sebastian said, you performed better than the others. You took it to a new level. An effective level.”

Stefan was shaking his head. He tried to stand again, but his legs were rubber.

“But the dreams, Stefan. The more nights they spend, the worse it gets. The reminder of the pain they had caused others, of the greed. You wanted a Royal Family, Stefan, because I gave you one. I told you the tale. And lucky you, you got to meet them. Well, here they are. Say hi.”

“This isn’t real.” I want to go home.

“Sorry. That can’t happen. You need to be here.” Sebastian said.

Cassidy blew a corrupt kiss his way.

Bruce took a step back, knelt down, and analyzed Stefan’s petrified face. “It’s not personal. It’s a process in need of management.”

“The— The—” His teeth were chattering, his body vibrating, trying to reject his inevitable death. “Those graves…”

“Yes, other travelers. Like I said, we only get buyers that are the right fit for us once in a while. Sometimes mistakes are made.” He glared at Arnie. “Sometimes we aren’t thorough enough. They just want to invest and spend no time here. Invite no one. That’s no good for us. They need to kill just as much as they need to purify. The purification tastes sweeter, and lasts forever.”

“What?”

“This guy isn’t too bright, is he?” Jhett said with a childish chuckle.

Bruce continued, “Erin. She’s been absolved from her past, no longer stained by it. She’s true. She’s good.”

He didn’t want to say the words, but he had to. “And me?”

“Don’t worry. We have a nice spot mapped out for you.” Bruce nodded at the Royal Family, signaling them it was time for something to happen. “No, no, no, no. Wait! Wait! I can help. I can keep working for you. You need someone anyway!”

Bruce looked intrigued, his big mouth tightening on the one side as he mulled it over. “You’re a fine architect. But you wouldn’t have the stomach for the kill.”

He paused and locked eyes with Sebastian.

No, no, no.

“May your past sins vanish with your soul.” He looked at Sebastian. “William.”

“William?”

William smiled. He looked at the others. “James, Anna, Mary.”

They all looked hungry, their appetites about to be satisfied.

“You don’t have to do this. I’ll help you. I can take life. I can do it! I see now. I see what this is. It’s amazing. It’s wonderful. It’s perfect. It’s fucking perfect.”

Sebastian pivoted. The trident plunged into Stefan’s stomach. His flesh tore and his blood spilled. The old revolver point his way and fired through his chest. He couldn’t breathe. The shine of a steel dagger closed in on his neck. An appalling sting was followed by warmth as he choked on his own blood, throat wide open. Gagging on blood and disconnected arteries, knowing it was the end, wishing he was home, wishing it was all just a dream, his eyes lifted in time to see a hatchet blade rise and fall on his head, burying into his skull.

The Royal Family stared at Stefan’s mangled body.

Chapter Thirty-five - Erin

Erin was covered in blood trying to isolate the artery, but it was difficult to see with all of the blood. Using water constantly to wash it away while Ashton kept pressure on her arm, Erin could see that her radial artery wasn’t severed all the way through. Trevor had the first aid kit supplies laid out for her, but she didn’t want to lose sight of it again. Her hands were now calm as she took control. It had been chaos when Skye was swinging her good arm around at them trying to get them to back off. Luckily, Ashton got a hold of her arm and detained her.

Skye was faint and mumbling something, all of the color now gone from her face as the blood drained out of her. Even if I can repair it, she’ll need blood.

Delicate hands were an absolute requirement, though it would ensure no guarantee in the result. The artery had been clipped but not severed completely. She was lucky. Trevor handed her the needle and thread, held a flashlight, and poured water around the exposed artery while Ashton held onto her. He had been consoling her, but she passed out. His eyes lit up with worry, but Erin cut him off. “It’s better she’s out. Check her pulse though. Count the beats in ten seconds.”

He put his finger under her neck. “Six!”

“Shit.”

“Is that not good?”

“How’s the strength?”

“I don’t know. It didn’t feel that strong.”

One deep breath. She asked for a splash of water and immediately followed in after it cleared some away. She fed the needle through the opening and brought it back through the other side that was intact. She pulled it snug and it appeared to hold. “Water again.” The stitch was too bulky and she didn’t trust it would hold, but one more and it may have been too aggressive, causing damage or constricting blood flow. It would have to do for now.

“She needs a blood transfusion. The paramedics. Are they still here?”

“I think they went back on Stefan’s yacht.”

“We need supplies to give her blood. Stefan must have what we need at his place for security purposes, right?”

Trevor didn’t seem to agree.

“I’m not so sure he knows what the hell this is, Trevor. He’s a perfectionist though. He took this business all very seriously. He’d have what we need.”

Ashton was holding her, tears rolling down his face. “She’ll be okay without it though, right?”

She won’t make the two-hour boat ride into land. “She’s tough, but we still need to try, okay?”

He nodded and held her hand gently, looking at her fingertips.

“We need to keep her here. We can’t risk opening that artery again. Lay her down on the bed.” They did as such, and Erin finishing the job stitching up half the wound (to leave some opening if the artery reopened and she needed to work on it) and wrapped it with gauze, then bandages not too thick.

“Ashton, you need to stay with her, keep her calm if she wakes up. Pin her down if you have. Sit on her chest, and keep her other arm away from the bad one.” He wasn’t hearing her. Erin slapped him in the cheek and it made a loud smack. “Ashton. Focus. She’s not right in the head. You squash her if she tries anything. Trevor and I are leaving you to get supplies from Stefan’s, and hopefully boat keys, but one thing at a time. Got it?”

He nodded with understanding this time.

“I need you to say it.”

He struggled for the words at first but managed to spit them out. “Got it.”

She turned to Trevor. “Take that knife she had.”

Erin rushed to the kitchen cupboard and grabbed another knife.

She ran toward Stefan’s bunker with Trevor at her heels. They used the front entrance and it was unlocked.

They tiptoed inside, not wanting to wake up Stefan. She had seen what he was capable of, the cold manipulation, from a tender touch and loving eyes to malice. “Stay with me,” she said to Trevor.

They searched the closet near the back entrance for supplies. There was nothing but some of Stefan’s clothing and shoes. They did a quick sweep of the kitchen, hoping to find something to work with under the sink, but to no avail. Next stop was downstairs. There was the laundry room that she hadn’t really explored. She stepped onto the cool cement and in the corner, she found a much larger medical kit that was three times the size of the one they were working with back at the duplex. It had everything they needed.

Then it came again. They both fell to their knees in agony as the island grabbed hold. Erin gritted her teeth and rose to her feet, pulling Trevor up. His hands were over his ears, his eyes squeezed shut. She hoisted him up and the high-pitched wailing continued in their minds. They staggered up the stairs and moved slowly through the living room. Her shoulder was throbbing from his weight as she shuffled them through the living room. She turned to the window and the Royal Family was there, staring at them.

“Trevor,” she hollered. “We need to make a run for the trees. We go north and loop around to Skye and Ashton.”

He shook his head. “We should split up. Better chances.”

Erin grabbed him by the collar, irate with his suggestion. “We go together.”

Whatever she had done, it wore off again and they took over, sending wavelengths of needles through her skull. She let go of Trevor and asked if he could walk on his own and he staggered to the side, yelled monstrously, and took the lead without her help.

They looped around, the pain easing, their footsteps increasing in speed as they came back through the trees, seeing their duplex up ahead. They charged out from the trees and straight for the front door, and then they appeared from thin air, blocking them from the door. Trevor stepped back with his knife cocked.

Erin could taste ammonia in the air. Their eyes were all bloodshot, faces tense. Then their eyes cleared and smiles formed. The weight lifted off of her and she gasped as they let go of her mind. She and Trevor collapsed to the ground.

“There’s no sense helping your friend. Everything has been written now.”

“Where is Stefan?”

“Waiting for you.”

“Which is where?”

Sebastian didn’t take kindly to her insulting tone. “Choose your next words carefully, Erin. Remember you’ve been blessed with purity.”

“That’s strange, because I’ve done some pretty impure things on this trip.”

“You mock us?” Cassidy glared at Erin. “I don’t know what you see in this shrewd little thing.” She turned to Trevor. “You could be with me.”

“Think of the ghost babies you two could have. Melts my heart.”

“That’s enough!” Sebastian’s voice boomed. His big hand was wrapped tightly around his rustic trident, ready to be thrown as a spear at the next provocation. “You will not ruin this. Tonight we will have rebirth and we will have death.” His eyes flicked over to Trevor. “The pure one will join us. The beginning to a new army. To take back what was ours.”

“What are you taking back?” asked Trevor.

Bruce walked up with a rifle in his hands. He lumbered with each step, his shoulders hunched. “Mainland? They’re talking about Belize.”

“You’re going to take Belize? There are over 300,000 people living there.”

“And those who are worthy will join us. Those who are not—won’t.”

“You’re crazy,” said Erin.

She was no longer thinking about getting herself off the island; she was thinking about all of the people who were in danger.

“That’s why we’ve chosen you, Erin. Your selfless nature. Your passion. Your will to make right. To make good. You will help lead our legion. You will help so many find their redemption. They will have purpose again. Fewer will be lost than you’d imagine. That’s the kind of power you have. You, Erin.”

“No.”

“You’ll see in due time that—”

“No!”

Sebastian snapped his head to the side in disgust. “To our site,” he said to Bruce.

Bruce started walking and Trevor was ready to jump him from behind.

“What site?” asked Erin.

“Where you and I met,” the soft voice of Teresa spoke. “Erin, my girl, please calm. See the good here. The peace that will come.”

“No.”

Sebastian leered at Trevor and he crumpled into a ball in the dirt, howling from the pain scorching through his head. Then like a robot under its master’s command, Trevor rose and began walking stiffly behind Bruce, following him to the outdoor church. She ran toward him, drawing her knife from her waistband, but he saw her coming. Her stride hit an imaginary wall and her foot was forced back to the ground, her hand back down to her side. She used all her strength to keep the handle of the knife in her hand. Sebastian smiled at her, drunk with power, his intoxicating smile infuriating her. He stepped toward her.

She could feel his mind crawling around inside hers.

Sebastian kept on tinkering in her mind, but she simply removed it. She thought of her old garden and her favorite place to study on campus. She thought of Trevor, his hands on her face. Her eyes opened.

Sebastian squinted in confusion. They disappeared.

Erin turned back and saw Trevor regain control, Bruce beside him in awe. He punched Bruce in the jaw, and then tackled him to the ground, knocking the rifle loose. They exchanged blows on the ground and rolled around, jockeying for position on top. They were grunting, throwing elbows and fists. Bruce kicked Trevor square in the chin and sent him back and got to his feet quickly. Erin dove for the rifle, rolled to her back, and fired. Rubber bullets left no welt; only the smell of hot led and blood followed as he dropped to his knee, but kept himself perched up. “Shit,” he said.

Erin loaded it. “How about that?” She put another in his chest.

Chapter Thirty-six - Erin

“How did you do that?” Trevor pressed his fingers against his temple.

“Come on!”

They sprinted back into the dreaded duplex. Skye was still unconscious, her complexion a new shade of white.

“Where the hell were you? She’s burning up.” Ashton’s hand was on her chest. “Her heartbeat is really slow.”

Erin put the big medical kit on the bed and got organized, tubing and IV bags placed on the windowsill above the bed. “How’s the wound?”

“Nothing more has seeped through the bandaging. I think it’s okay.”

“What’s her blood type?”

“I have no idea.”

“I’m O negative,” Trevor said.

“Okay. Sit.” It didn’t take long. She found her openings with ease and they laid Skye down on the floor, Trevor up on the bed, blood flowing down.

“Now what?” Trevor asked.

It was a good question. They had to get to the fishing boat. Then she remembered Bruce’s keys. She pulled them from her pocket.

“What kind of boat was it?”

“Lund!”

A Lund key jingled amongst the others from her fingertip. “Got it. My God, I’m stupid.”

Trevor looked at poor Skye. “How long do we need to do this for?”

“Until she gets enough.”

“Which is how much?”

“You’re only supposed to donate 350 ml in one sitting, but she’s lost two or three pints. We could do 700 ml but no more. You’ll feel weak and tired.”

Would they be waiting for us at the boat? Or was I able to send them someplace else? How do I do what I just did again?

“I think we reached weak and tired a while back, E.”

She liked the sound of her nickname now. Trevor closed his eyes as the blood continued to flow out of him.

Erin knelt down in front of him and waited for his eyes to open. “You okay?” he asked.

“We’re going home.”

Trevor nodded.

She stood and checked Skye’s pulse. It was still weak. She’d hang in there. She had to. Fingertips still to her neck, there was a loud bang at the door. Erin scrambled for the gun but remembered it was out of ammo and Bruce didn’t have any more on him. Another loud bang and she heard the frame of the door crack. Once more, the door flew open, and she was already charging ahead with her knife.

Arnie wasn’t ready. His eyes widened as she charged at him. He stumbled backwards away from her into the kitchen before falling to the ground. She hovered over top of him, knife cocked. “Wait!” he cried out.

He had his hands up, defenseless without a weapon. “I’m here to help you.”

“Why?”

“Because whatever you did… it broke their connection.” He climbed to his feet. “They’ve been inside my head since I don’t know how long, but you did something to them.” He shuffled backward on his behind. “Do you know how long they’ve had me?”

“How do I know you aren’t lying to me? That this isn’t some ploy.”

“I saw Bruce. Did you kill him?” His face was serious, but anticipating an answer, watching her mouth for movement.

“Yes.” His furrowed brow lifted. He rose to his knees and moved in, her knife still at her side. He hugged her. “He’s my grandfather. Sick bastard. Made me think I’d be sipping pina coladas and making some cash. Not… this.” He was lost in a sea of questions, his stare momentarily vacant. “We should get moving. I don’t want to be here another second.”

“What about Stefan?”

He grimaced and looked down at the floor. “They killed him.”

“What?”

“I helped… I couldn’t…” He huffed and shook his head. “We need to go.”

“Okay.”

An attempt at being illusive was no more promising than a direct path to the dock. They could access them at any point, that is, if they weren’t irreparably displaced in some other dimension courtesy of Erin’s newfound ability. Ashton carried Skye. He looked to be in shock still. Trevor appeared faint but alert enough.

They were gone and the boat was there waiting for them. They lugged Skye onto the boat and laid her down at the back. Trevor fired up the boat and the motor rumbled softly in the shallow water. He extended his hand and she smiled at him and took it.

It was a small boat but they managed to fit. There were questions that she probably should have asked Arnie but she was too damn tired. There’d be a time for questions, and they’d take place on American soil.

“How is everyone?”

Right on cue, Skye’s eyes opened, looking up at Ashton. “Where are we?”

Erin rushed over. She didn’t look any worse. “We’re on our way home, Skye. On a boat right now, but we’ll get you home soon.” Of course they’d have to stop at a hospital in Belize. It wasn’t preferable, but preference wasn’t in the cards. Home. Erin wrapped her arms around herself.

The boat turned sharply, almost knocking her to the floor. Ashton held tight and kept Skye from flopping onto the floor like a fish out of water. Trevor hadn’t just turned slightly off course, he had turned right around and they were heading back in.

“Trevor! You’ve got to block them out! They aren’t real! You are in control!” His eyes were gone.

She charged at him to knock him off the steering wheel. She tried to wrestle him off, but a straight arm shot out and clocked her in the nose. She hit the floor with a thud. By the time she got back up it was too late. She could see them waiting on shore, their concentrated possession of Trevor unwavering. “Trevor! Please!”

Trevor pulled the boat up to shore aggressively, knocking everyone back. He stepped off; Ashton and Skye followed. She could feel them back in her mind again, scurrying around like rodents. It took everything she had, but she was able keep them at bay, flexing her mind with great focus. She stepped off the boat and placed her feet upon the sand, her gaze circulating the group of the dead.

“What’s wrong?” Erin asked Sebastian.

“I’m impressed.”

She could get on the boat and drive away if she wanted. “How long is that range finder of yours?”

Even if they had all gotten to Belize, to the airport, maybe even home, could they draw them back in? “Okay.” It had to be done. “I’ll stay.”

“You will?”

She looked over at Teresa, who was overjoyed. Cassidy was less impressed.

“Trevor stays too. As mine.” Cassidy’s eyes flickered to pure black then back to normal.

Sebastian was quick to overrule his daughter. “I’m sorry. That will not be possible. His only destination is south of here.”

“I’ll stay on one condition.”

“Sorry, we don’t do conditions.”

“What are your plans for the others?”

“They will meet their destined afterlife, you know this.”

“No, they won’t.”

Sebastian’s eyes drifted to Trevor and he collapsed to the ground in agony.

“Just leave,” Trevor grunted through barred teeth.

Erin knelt, touched his head, and rose. “Trevor won’t leave me. Make him and the others get on a plane. I don’t want them back here.” She searched for a response on Sebastian’s uncertain face.

“Erin, don’t,” Trevor begged.

She couldn’t look at him. Erin took her knife and stabbed it into the wet sand. “I’m yours. Pure and here to stay.”

Cassidy was outraged, unable to hold it in any longer. “She killed Bruce, Father! Murderer!”

He smiled. “She had to.”

“What?” she spat.

“That’s enough!” he bellowed. Her silence was then prompt.

“I’m ready.”

“Erin, I’m not leaving you. Don’t do this. You can do it again. Zap these assholes!”

She gave Sebastian a teary nod and soon Trevor was out of sight, along with the others. They were going home.

“If anything happens to them…”

Sebastian’s face softened and Teresa approached slowly. “You are beautiful.” She turned to Sebastian. “There’s nothing more powerful than a sacrifice.” Her smile was beaming her eyes still soft with sympathy. “You remind me of a dear friend from our time before. She was noble. You are more endearing. Our purified darling.”

Erin hoped she would go into the night with fearless glory, ready to fight against the demented monsters that scoured the lonely island torturing the troubled living. She hoped she would have the power to vanquish them and drive to the shores of Belize. She hoped that she’d make it home to Trevor and they’d start their lives together.

But it didn’t feel that way.

“I can be whatever you want me to be. Just take my friends home and keep them there.”

Teresa cut Sebastian off with much more grace and gratitude than he could ever express. “We will honor your wishes. This will be our binding agreement. Come, my dear.” She extended a hand and Erin took it.

She glanced back over her shoulder. The ocean water was flat. Thunder boomed, lightning cracked, wind whistled faintly, and she heard the sound of rain while looking up at the dry sky and still trees.

--THE END--

<<<<>>>>

About the Author

Brandon Enns is a novelist and award-winning screenwriter. Brandon’s stories are suspenseful thrillers, mysteries, and dramas that often keep the reader guessing.

Novel or film, he simply enjoys a good story and feels inclined to write some of his own. When he isn’t writing, he is likely playing or watching sports.

Brandon currently lives in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan.

Visit www.brandonenns.com for more information on Brandon, his upcoming novels, and more importantly, prize giveaways.

Other Novels

Loss of the Decade

The Night is Cold

Copperhead Road

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Copyright

Copyright © 2016 Brandon Enns

Registered with Writer’s Guild of Canada 2016. All rights reserved

Published by Brandon Enns 2018.

No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Under no circumstances may any part of this book be photocopied for resale. This is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and coincidental.

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Content

Brandon Enns
ISLANDERS

Chapter One - Stefan

Chapter Two - Arrival

Chapter Three - Erin

Chapter Four - Trevor

Chapter Five - Erin

Chapter Six - Trevor

Chapter Seven - Erin

Chapter Eight - Trevor

Chapter Nine - Erin

Chapter Ten - Trevor

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen - Erin

Chapter Fourteen - Stefan

Chapter Fifteen - Trevor

Chapter Sixteen - Erin

Chapter Seventeen - Erin

Chapter Eighteen - Trevor

Chapter Nineteen - Erin

Chapter Twenty - Trevor

Chapter Twenty-one - Erin

Chapter Twenty-two - Trevor

Chapter Twenty-three - Erin

Chapter Twenty-four - Trevor

Chapter Twenty-five - Erin

Chapter Twenty-six - Trevor

Chapter Twenty-seven - Erin

Chapter Twenty-eight - Erin

Chapter Twenty-nine - Skye

Chapter Thirty - Trevor

Chapter Thirty-one - Erin

Chapter Thirty-two - Trevor

Chapter Thirty-three - Erin

Chapter Thirty-four - Stefan

Chapter Thirty-five - Erin

Chapter Thirty-six - Erin

About the Author

Other Novels

Copyright