Islanders

by Brandon Enns

  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 looki
ng 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.