Islanders

by Brandon Enns

  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?"