Islanders

by Brandon Enns

  "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 qu
ick 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--

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  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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