The Dead Room Trilogy

by Stephanie Erickson

  “What is that?” she asked Mason.

  He followed her gaze as she pointed at a shadow to the southeast. “I don’t know.”

  Without speaking, they paddled toward the shadow, and their fate.

  7.

  Mattli struggled to rouse himself before the dawn. There were things to do. But the night had been far too long, with far too little sleep. His body protested as he tried to hoist himself out of bed. The floor was cold, and his feet recoiled from it. His bones creaked and groaned as he made his way to the bathroom.

  He spied himself in the mirror while washing his face and hands. He looked haggard. Once upon a time, he’d been a handsome man by most accounts. But his dark hair had grayed in the last few years, and his unusually dark skin had started to wrinkle with age. At least his blue eyes still held their sparkle.

  He sighed heavily while peering at his exhausted reflection. Once this was all over, he could get things back to normal again. All he had to do was help Alkoff figure out what to tell the islanders, and then they could move on.

  Just this one last thing to take care of…

  He had a déjà vu moment. Hadn’t he promised that same thing to himself last night? He tried not to think about it as he dressed and headed to Elder Alkoff’s home.

  The elders were trickling in slowly when Mattli arrived. A few were still absent when Alkoff approached him. “A word,” he said and walked to the library, down the long hall from where the others were gathering.

  As Alkoff was the head elder, his home was the nicest on the island, a mansion by most standards. He openly admitted he didn’t use most of the rooms, which was a constant source of irritation for him, as he was the biggest advocate against waste on the island. He was always asking others for suggestions for uses of the rooms. In the winter, a few of them were filled with food stores from the summer. His match was particularly good at canning and drying fruits to give islanders just the right taste of summer in the middle of a harsh winter.

  Mattli followed Alkoff into the library. Often islanders, most frequently Ashley, could be found reading the various books, imagining times before when people had the resources to print and conserve volumes. Of course, the first elders had removed portions of the books thought to be detrimental to life on the island—sensitive information, things that islanders might find upsetting, and writings relating to the time immediately before the migration—although there weren’t many of those. The elders also kept loose records of the happenings on the island—always taking care never to put down too much detail, closely guarding their secrets—but there was no fiction created on the island. There wasn’t time or paper to be wasted on frivolity like that. Still, islanders were allowed access to the fiction that had come before, a rare indulgence.

  Mattli had always liked the room. It was somehow calming to be surrounded by the words of those gone past. Like they might bestow their wisdom upon all who entered.

  Alkoff shut the door behind him. “What are your thoughts?”

  Mattli struggled. His mind was foggy from exhaustion and the exertions of the last twelve hours. He wasn’t his young, spritely self anymore, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was struggling to stay one step ahead of the passage of time.

  “We will have to tell them something. They’ll begin assembling at the pyre for the execution ceremony soon.”

  “I’m aware. But what will we tell them?”

  “Would it be so bad to tell them the truth? That Mason was offered amnesty to complete a task for the betterment of the island? If they both return, he will be welcomed back to the community as a normal citizen, and those that disapprove will have to come to terms with the agreement we made. She can possibly head up a colonization effort. Wouldn’t she love that? If he comes back alone…” Mattli paused, not wanting to consider the scenario. “We’ll deal with that if it happens. Either way, this scenario eliminates the need for further lies if—when—he returns.”

  “It’s an option,” Alkoff said, revealing no preference.

  Mattli sat heavily in a chair near the window. He’d sat there many times before, watching the birds fish and the waves roll gently ashore. In fact, he’d been sitting there when Alkoff first told him he was to be second in command.

  Alkoff sat in the chair across from Mattli and poured a tumbler of shine for him. Mattli normally didn’t indulge, but he knew better than to refuse his friend. Assuming they were about to toast Alkoff’s recent appointment as head elder, he swirled the dark liquid in his glass, trying to prepare his body for the burn to come.

  “Mattli, I have something to tell you,” Alkoff said, and then took a long drink from his own glass. “I’ve named you second in command.”

  “You what?” Mattli’s head spun before he could even take a swig of the shine. Second? “Surely Elder Burton is next in line for this position. Particularly after being passed over for head.”

  “Elder Burton is next in line, yes. But I don’t trust him.” He said it like there was nothing more to it. No reason for further discussion.

  “Jim, I’m not sure I’m comfortable with this. It will create dissention among the elders.”

  “There’s already dissention among the elders. It’s there plain as day.” He put his drink down and looked at Mattli. “It’s you I trust. You who I’ve always trusted, you who’s always been by my side. I need you there now.”

  Mattli looked away and took a drink from his own glass, feeling the burn as the shine made its way down his throat. “You know that Mueller will side with Burton.”

  “I do.”

  “And every decision will be a battle.”

  “Better to fight them with you by my side, than constantly wonder if Burton is trying to manipulate me. Or worse.” Alkoff didn’t have to fill in what might be worse.

  “You don’t think Burton is that stupid, do you?”

  “No. But sometimes, there isn’t much of a difference between being stupid and being angry,” he said, taking another sip from his tumbler.

  Mattli swallowed hard, hoping he wouldn’t ever have to learn the difference, but fearing he would.

  That had been years ago. Before Ashley and Mason were even born.

  Mattli longed for those simpler times as he brought himself back to their conversation. “I’m not ashamed to tell you, I’m not sorry we’re skipping the ceremony. I’ve only had to do two of them, and I hated them both. The way we parade the truth right under their noses and expect them not to notice. Why do we bring out the box anyway? We don’t even use it until we’re out of sight of the islanders.”

  “Sometimes, it’s easiest to hide the truth in plain sight.”

  Mattli harrumphed, thinking of Ashley. “You know, if I weren’t an elder myself, I’d probably be asking questions too. Just like Ashley.” He thought of her paddling out to sea, and wondered where she was, if she were still alive, and what she’d found.

  “Indeed,” Alkoff said as he stared out of the window, watching the sun paint the sky in beautiful shades of pink and purple.

  “I’ve called you here this morning to decide what to tell the islanders about Mason Hawkins,” Alkoff explained to the group of elders seated in his living room. “I’ll open the floor to suggestions.”

  Branneth was the first to speak. “We tell them he killed himself in the night and be done with it.”

  “And if he returns?” Lehman retorted.

  “We deal with him then,” Mueller said with finality, as if the decision had already been made.

  “I’m not sure about that. We promised him amnesty,” Lehman said.

  “So what is your solution?” Branneth asked, arms folded across her rather flat chest.

  “I’m not sure. More time is needed to consider the options.”

  “Time is not a luxury we have,” Mueller said. “As we speak, the islanders are gathering for the ceremony. The longer we keep them waiting, the more they will begin to suspect something. Suspicion leads to questions. Questions lead to unrest. Unr
est leads to anarchy.”

  Mattli held up his hands. “I agree that time is of the essence here, but I don’t think a hasty decision is the answer.” He ignored Mueller and Branneth’s glares. Burton hid his own glare in the shadows. “I propose telling the islanders most of the truth.”

  The elders cried out in shock, as if telling the truth were the worst possible thing they could do.

  “Now, hear me out. We tell them that Mason will be granted amnesty if he completes an important task for us, in which case he is to be welcomed back into the community with open arms.”

  “You don’t think this raises too many questions?” Lehman asked.

  “I think it raises fewer questions than if he returns from the dead in a few days,” Mattli retorted.

  Mueller frowned. “No. I don’t like this. Mason Hawkins is the convicted killer of an up-and-coming elder. It’s as good as killing one of us. He deserves to die for what he did, one way or another. If he returns, we take care of it then. If he doesn’t, well… our work is done.”

  “You just won’t let that go, will you? He’s innocent, and we all know it. The islanders probably know it too. We all agreed to give him amnesty, so tuck in your bottom lip and move on,” Lehman said, but she didn’t offer a solution to their problem.

  “I never agreed to give that murderer amnesty,” Branneth complained quietly.

  Alkoff ignored her. “Are there any other ideas?”

  Burton had been strategically quiet up until then. “What if—” he paused, waiting to ensure everyone was listening, “—we tell the islanders that he escaped? If he returns, they’ll kill him for us. Then we won’t be burdened by having to find a place for a convicted killer in our delicate society.”

  Branneth lit up. “It’s brilliant. Their fear will make them more compliant than ever, and if he comes back, they will do the dirty work for us.”

  “But it questions our integrity and our ability to keep the island safe, which will inevitably weaken their trust in us. Is that a sacrifice we’re willing to make?” Mattli asked. He glanced at Alkoff. They couldn’t allow Mason to fall victim to a mob mentality, particularly not before they had the chance to learn what he and Ashley had discovered on their outing.

  Burton frowned. “It’s not their trust we need. It’s their fear. If they are afraid enough, they won’t ever question us.”

  Finally, Alkoff spoke. “But it is not us they will fear. It’s Mason Hawkins.”

  The short statement rendered Burton speechless.

  “None of these suggestions are foolproof. They all present their own problems. However, I am a man of my word. We promised Mason Hawkins amnesty, and if he returns, he shall have it. Elder Mattli will present his half-truth in place of the ceremony. If the community raises questions about what his task was or where he went, they will be answered with our standard response— ‘You do not need to concern yourself with that information. You have enough burdens.’”

  The decision was met with gasps of disapproval from a select few of the elders. Alkoff ignored them, raising his voice a little louder when he continued. “This is my final decision. As elders, you are bound to support it.”

  “And we do,” all but three responded. Mattli couldn’t help but notice which three.

  8.

  The shadow grew as they closed the distance to it, but not much. It turned out to be a tiny island.

  The waves were gentle around it, whether due to the tide or the geography of the island, they weren’t sure, but they easily paddled to shore.

  “Do you think this is what the elders meant for us to find?” Ashley asked.

  Mason shrugged as he pulled his canoe through the sand, out of the way of the lapping water.

  They both stood and assessed the island in the dim morning light. The beach wasn’t very wide, swallowed almost immediately by wild greenery and woods. It wasn’t all that different from their home, just smaller and wilder.

  Birds cawed in the trees, making the island feel more alive.

  “What do you think?” Mason asked. “Rest here for a bit?”

  Ashley nodded absently as she looked around the small land mass. She didn’t know what to think. She’d known all along there was more out there, beyond the shores of the island. But this was an even smaller place. It didn’t feel right. It wasn’t what they were looking for.

  She got out her tarp and started to spread it out on the beach. “Do you think there are people here?”

  “Who knows? If there are, there sure aren’t many. I could spit across this thing,” he said as he grabbed one side of the tarp, spreading it flat. “Let’s just try to get some rest. We’ll be better suited to understand the situation when we’re not so exhausted.”

  “Mmhmm,” she said automatically as she settled down next to him. She’d been awake for almost a full day, but she had trouble quieting her mind.

  Mason started snoring almost immediately. She looked over at him, wondering why he’d been given the opportunity to avoid his dark fate. Was it that important to the elders to get rid of her? Or had there been some other motivation for sending him after her?

  There weren’t many executions on the island, though she’d been required to attend one when she was younger. They were held in the same place as funerals. The convicted person was usually tied to the pyre, and the elders recited his or her crime for the crowd. One elder, usually Mattli or Alkoff, held a mysterious black box. It was never opened, just carried around as part of the ceremony.

  Once, she’d asked Alkoff what was in the box, and he’d told her, “You do not need to concern yourself with that information. You have enough burdens.” It was a phrase she’d heard many times.

  Then the elders gave the person a chance to speak, either to apologize for what they’d done or justify why they’d done it. Most stayed silent.

  After that, the elders said a prayer for the deceased, and for the soon-to-be deceased, and carried the person away to meet his or her fate. No one ever knew how the convicted was killed or what happened to the body. And no one ever asked. Not even Ashley.

  Executions were uncomfortable for everyone involved. The man whose execution she’d attended had killed his neighbor over a rations dispute. Certain that his neighbor was stealing his rations, he’d gone to retrieve them. It went downhill rapidly, ending in two families being torn apart—one by murder, the other by execution. In the end, it turned out a family of raccoons had been responsible for the theft, but that wasn’t discovered until both men were dead.

  Ashley understood the need for swift and severe punishment for such crimes, but in the end, when she looked at the grieving families that day, she had to wonder why.

  Watching Mason sleeping peacefully next to her, she wondered what fate he’d escaped by being sent after her. She hoped the executions were quick and painless, but she couldn’t be sure. She knew the elders well enough to know most of them weren’t to be trusted. And the few she had trusted seemed to have betrayed her.

  She rolled onto her side as the light of day fully crested the horizon. It didn’t penetrate the overcast skies, so it cast a gray tinge over the tiny island. She sighed and closed her eyes, finally letting sleep take her.

  By the time they both woke up, the sun was high in the sky.

  “Glad you were able to get some sleep,” Mason said.

  “You didn’t seem to have any trouble.”

  He folded the tarp, not thinking her comment required a response. Ashley went to her pack, pulling out a water skin and a ration bar for them to share. “Better eat sparingly, since it’s hard to say how long we’ll be…” Be what? Without food? Resources? On the small island? Mason wasn’t sure what she meant, and he could tell that she didn’t really know either.

  “Well, I think we’re probably alone out here,” Mason said between bites. He hadn’t eaten since Branneth had quite literally tossed some slop at him the previous night. Most of it had gone to waste because he hadn’t been willing to pick the dirt and leaves out
of it. Now, his growling stomach made him wish he had.

  He pushed his hunger aside as he polished off the rest of the ration bar, knowing it would have to be enough. Ashley needed her rations for herself. He swallowed the last of the water in the skin the elders had given him. They could fish if it came down to it. Despite the fact that they didn’t have nets, there was more than one way to catch a fish. He looked around the small island. Heck, they could trap fish in the tide pools if need be. They wouldn’t starve; they just might be a little uncomfortable at first.

  “If someone lived here, they would have stumbled onto us by now.” He paused, scanning the tiny island. Maybe, just maybe, they could stay there and live out their lives together, untouched by the scheming of the elders. Hope tugged at him again.

  “Let’s look around,” Mason said, standing up and brushing the sand from his pants. He held out his hand to help Ashley up, and she took it. Whatever was next, they’d face it together.

  There wasn’t much to the island at all. It consisted of a copse of woods in the center and beach around most of the perimeter, dotted with some rocks along the shoreline. There were birds a plenty and fish in the shallows, but no deer or larger animals… and no sign of civilization as they knew it. It couldn’t have been more than a mile all the way around, and within just a few hours, they’d crisscrossed it, walked the circumference, and explored just about every inch.

  When they returned to their canoes, Mason could tell Ashley was feeling a bit numb. For him, though, the tiny island was the solution to all their problems. They could stay there forever, if he could convince her. There was enough wood for them to build a nice shelter, they could rig up some rainwater collectors for fresh water, and there were plenty of fish. They’d be fine. A giddy smile spread across his face as he thought about how easy it would be.