The Dead Room Trilogy

by Stephanie Erickson

  “What are you so happy about?” Ashley asked, seeing the goofy look on his face.

  “What if we stayed here?” He couldn’t keep the dreamy tone from his voice.

  “What? Why?”

  “Why not? We could build a shelter easy enough. Sure, it would be roughing it, but we’d never be subjected to the island’s rules again. No matches, no rules, no ceremonies, and no secrets.” He emphasized the last item, trying to hook her.

  “But we still won’t know the truth.”

  “Ashley, it’s a suicide mission. If we stay here, we could be happy.”

  “It’s not a suicide mission for you. If you want, you can go back and tell them you did as they asked. I’m going to continue onward. I’d rather not go it alone, but I will if you really don’t want to come.” She looked out to the ocean. “The mainland is out there. I’m going to find out what’s on it.”

  “Ashley…” He trailed off. He knew her well enough to know it was a losing battle. “It’s not that I don’t want to come. It’s that I don’t want you to go.”

  She frowned and went to her pack. “Where’s your sense of adventure? Don’t you want to know what the rest of the world holds for us?” After slinging the pack over her shoulder, she stood next to her canoe and stared at him, her hopeful expression boring into his soul.

  Mason sighed, exasperated with her. “Can’t you ever stop antagonizing life? One of these days, it’s going to get you killed.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ll finally find answers to all my questions.”

  He shook his head and stood up, joining her by the canoe. “Knowing you, there’s another set of equally burning questions behind the ones you’re chasing now.” He took her pack, slinging it over his shoulder “When do we leave?”

  9.

  Burton knew he had a problem… or maybe an opportunity. He could feel things starting to unravel, and it was all that stupid girl’s fault. She’d set this into motion, after all. But he couldn’t be too mad at her. This might be the opportunity he’d been waiting for—his chance to take what was rightfully his.

  Burton sat back in his plush leather executive chair—one of his prized possessions salvaged from the time before. He’d spend hours oiling the leather, making sure it was still supple after all these years. The morning sun streamed in through the nearby window, painting part of the chair’s arm a brighter red than the rest.

  He frowned at the sunbeam as he brought his tented hands to his mouth. Alkoff and Mattli should have never been put in charge. It was his position by right. What difference did it make that the islanders didn’t like him? Since when did they have any say in what the elders did? It was an injustice he could never forgive. And he intended to make everyone pay, starting with the two who were in charge.

  He thought about his undeserving superiors. Mattli was getting soft. Alkoff couldn’t afford a soft number two. But then again, Alkoff had always been a little soft himself. And while he had something Burton didn’t—the respect of the islanders—it was something he didn’t need. Fear would do just fine.

  But what was the best approach? That was the question. Branneth was an idiot, too quick to anger and prone to rash decisions. Mueller was only slightly better. Meade was an intriguing variable—loyal to Alkoff to a fault, yet easily frightened. Burton thought he might be able to use that to his advantage.

  He certainly couldn’t just off them in the night. It would provoke too many questions. Their deaths would need to look like an accident. Such a scenario would be complicated. He needed a solution so simple it was foolproof, since he was surrounded by fools. Something more elegant than pushing Mattli down the stairs, but less complicated than strangling him in the night.

  Additionally, if both of his colleagues were to die at the same time, suspicions could arise. No, his plan would require careful thought and patience.

  Mattli would be the easier one to eliminate. The island was loyal to him, but only because of his allegiance to Alkoff. It was Alkoff the people truly loved. They would mourn his loss tremendously. Burton nearly vomited at the thought of feigning sympathy for the man.

  Fine. He would start with Mattli.

  They left in one canoe, leaving the second upside down on the edge of the woods. Mason had argued they’d cover more ground if they both paddled a single canoe. They had enough supplies to paddle east for no more than a day. If they hadn’t found anything within that time frame, they’d turn back to collect more supplies and reassess the situation.

  Ashley was dead set against turning back, but she didn’t want to die out on the water any more than Mason did, so she’d reluctantly agreed to his terms.

  Mason turned, watching the tiny island grow smaller and eventually disappear into the distance. “You know, if we’d stayed, I could have our dinner cooking on a spit right now.”

  “Quit your whining. This is why I wanted my own canoe.”

  He splashed her, and she let out a rather satisfying shriek. “By Ashby, that’s cold.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Mason said smugly.

  Ashley used her paddle and flipped water behind her, soaking him too. He gasped when the water struck him, and then he wiped it from his face. “Quite refreshing.”

  She couldn’t help smiling, probably for the first time in days. She was glad she wasn’t making the journey alone. More than that, she was glad she was doing it with Mason. There wasn’t anyone on the island she trusted more than him. They’d been through so much together in the past. It felt right to face the future together.

  They’d gone fishing together often when they were kids. They rarely caught anything, but that wasn’t the point. Even if they had caught something, they would have been required to throw it back. They weren’t supposed to deprive other islanders of a potential meal. They received their fish rations just like everyone else did.

  The fishing trips were just an excuse to shoot the breeze, be outside, and spend time together. How she’d needed those trips, particularly after her father died and she felt so alone.

  After a few moments of silence passed between them, Mason stole a look at her.

  “What do you think happens when you die?” she asked.

  He shifted. “Jeez, Ashley, I don’t know. Why can’t you ask me a normal question, like what kind of lure works best out here?”

  “Because I already know the answer to that. It’s a grub. I want to know what happens after.”

  “What makes you think anything happens?” Regret flashed across his face as soon as he’d said it. He must have realized after the fact that she was thinking of her father.

  She didn’t respond for a moment, chewing on his sentiment. What did make her think there was anything? She watched the clouds float in the beautifully bright blue summer sky. “What makes you think it doesn’t?”

  “Ashley.” He said her name quietly, clearly hoping she’d drop the subject. “What if this is it? This life is hard, and frankly, it’s not all that great. Maybe this is some hell we’ve been relegated to for transgressions in past lives? Or maybe there’s no such thing, and this is it. We die and become worm food. The end. Anyway, why would you want to go on, if this is all there is?”

  Mason’s theory was not at all in line with what the elders had taught them. It was perhaps the only aspect of his existence on the island he didn’t accept without question. The elders believed in an afterlife, and they told the islanders that Bennett Ashby would be waiting there for them with open arms. Of course, exclusions were made for those few murderers and poorly behaved islanders, and the elders took a fearful approach to try and keep everyone in line. Their constant motto was to be kind, contribute, and always benefit others so you too could meet Ashby and thank him for your life.

  Rather than react to Mason’s creed with anger or tears, Ashley turned wistful. “Because I don’t think this is all there is. I’m not so sure Bennett Ashby is waiting for us at the gates of heaven, but there has to be more, something wonderful or terrible… ju
st something. Something to let you know this life was worth living.”

  He didn’t respond. Ashley left him to his thoughts as he stared out at the vast ocean.

  “You’ve been quiet for quite a while,” Mason said, his arms beginning to feel the burn of the repetitive movements. In truth, he was enjoying the peace. It was one of the things he enjoyed about Ashley—she didn’t feel the need to fill the space between them with words or interaction of any kind. Some people would’ve talked just to talk, but not her. She didn’t talk unless she had something to say.

  “I was just thinking about when we were kids, and everything that led us to this moment. Remember when we got our work assignments?”

  “Mmm,” Mason said. Of course, he remembered that day as well as she did.

  Ashley had always been his steadfast friend, even when he was a total jerk to her, and those times weren’t few and far between at first. When they started school, he was very angry. So angry, his teacher had to isolate him. But Ashley was isolated in a different way. He supposed it was their situation that mashed them together, but it didn’t matter.

  When he’d been selected to be a welder’s assistant, he’d been so excited, he ran all the way to the group home where she was staying. Ashley, being the older of the two, had already gotten her assignment a few months earlier.

  “I’m going to weld,” he said, his excitement leaking through as he danced around, waving his card with the word WELDER stamped on it. He’d have to give it back eventually, so it could be given to the next generation of selected welders. But in this moment, it was his, his ticket to greatness.

  “Come on, let’s go tell my parents!”

  They’d never shown any interest in his efforts before, but maybe this time would be different. Welding was viewed as a very respectable trade on the island. Surely, they would be proud.

  Mason and Ashley clambered up the stairs to his front porch and burst into the house.

  His mother was in the kitchen, washing vegetables for dinner that night. “Oh good, you’re home. I need you to run to the ration distributor to get some more meat. We’re nearly out.” She didn’t look up as she said it.

  “Mom, I got picked to be a welder!” He held the card out to her, but she didn’t so much as turn to look at it.

  “Isn’t that great, Mrs. Hawkins?” Ashley said.

  At the sound of Ashley’s voice, Mrs. Hawkins finally turned. “You brought her over again? I suspect she’s the reason we’re out of meat already. Frankly, we should be getting part of the group home’s rations since she eats over here so often.”

  Ashley straightened. “Actually, I don’t eat over here at all, for your information. I sit at the table to keep Mason company while you eat, since you both ignore him.”

  “How dare you,” Mrs. Hawkins said, leveling Ashley with her most intimidating glare. But she wasn’t one to be intimidated.

  “You’re nothing but a selfish bully, are you? I’m sorry Mason was burdened with you,” Ashley said, and she walked out of the kitchen.

  Mason watched her go, too stunned to move until he glanced at his mother. All it took was one look at her face to send him running off after Ashley.

  “I’m sorry your mom wasn’t more excited,” she said. “And I’m sorry if what I said to her makes things hard for you later today.”

  “It’s okay. It was all true.”

  They walked to the shore and sat in a companionable silence, watching the birds fish.

  The memory made Mason sigh out loud. He’d thought he would be a welder forever. He’d never dreamed of setting foot off the island, let alone like this—paddling aimlessly into the unknown.

  The sun settled low into the sky as they paddled east. They’d been going for a few hours and were heading into evening. Ashley hoped they wouldn’t have to spend another night on the open water, that soon they would see something. Some glimmer of hope, of life, of land.

  And then, there it was. Just a tiny shadow at first. Nothing for Ashley to get excited about. But as they paddled toward it, it became larger, more distinct.

  Finally, she gathered the courage to breathe the word out loud. “Land.”

  10.

  I was right all along. The thought hit Ashley like a ton of bricks. She paddled with new fervor, and Mason struggled to keep up with her pace. She imagined the looks on the elders’ faces when they learned the truth. Especially Branneth. The land was still here. Which meant there could be people. Civilizations. Homes. A future beyond their small island.

  Then, another thought occurred to her as they closed the distance to the land—she wouldn’t be trapped on that tiny island for the rest of her life, held prisoner there by the elders’ desire for her extermination. She could settle on the mainland, where she would be free of all the secrets and lies. Excitement drove her arms to paddle faster.

  At first, Mason thought he hadn’t heard her correctly. But as they got closer, the land before them spread out across the horizon. It was undeniable. The shore stood out against the expanse of ocean like a promise. But a promise for what? What glories and terrors awaited them?

  As it grew larger and more distinct, he could make out the rocky shore, and a new question came to his mind. How were they going to make landfall?

  Ashley watched the waves crash against the cliffs as she and Mason maneuvered their canoe so that the bow was pointing southward.

  “Let’s just keep paddling. We’re bound to hit a sandy spot at some point,” she said.

  “But how will we find our way back to the small island if we need to?”

  She looked around, searching for some kind of major landmark. There wasn’t anything. The cliffs looked the same as they did to the north—treacherous, rocky blockades standing between her and the end of her quest.

  She snorted out loud at the thought of making it this far, only to be kept a hundred yards offshore because of a few rocks. “I don’t know. Maybe we can keep track of how much time passes until we go ashore. That way we can estimate how many miles down the coast we’ve gone.”

  “But the currents will change the return journey, and the sun is already setting. We won’t be able to use it to track time,” Mason said.

  “Mason, it’s the best I can do. And hey, maybe we won’t have to go back,” she said. Sticking her paddle into the water, she dragged the back end of the canoe behind her as she scanned the shoreline, searching for a sandy place to land.

  They paddled south in silence for what felt like ages. As much as they both fought it, they were getting tired, and it was making their strokes less efficient. A distance that would’ve taken them thirty minutes if they were well rested took almost an hour. Eventually, Ashley stopped and started digging around in her pack. She held a ration bar out to Mason.

  His stomach growled, but he hated to take more of her supplies.

  “Oh for Ashby’s sake, just take it, Mason.” She tossed the bar over her shoulder. It landed with a thud, probably the same way it would land in his stomach. But according to the elders, what they lacked in taste, they made up for in nutritional value.

  Ashley pulled out another ration bar and turned to the cliffs, straining to see past them. “How far do you think we are from a settlement?” she asked.

  “I hadn’t really given it much thought.”

  “Well, now’s your chance,” she said with a smile.

  They bobbed slightly as a wave passed under them and crashed against the cliffs a few minutes later. As they chewed their ration bars, Mason thought about her question.

  Before he’d laid eyes on the land, he’d believed the elders’ stories without question. He’d really thought there weren’t any other people in the world, that there wouldn’t be anywhere for them to live. Everything had been destroyed in the apocalypse. But now, it seemed foolish. What type of event could completely destroy the mainland, leaving nothing behind?

  “If they’re anything like us, they’d live off the sustenance of the ocean. So I’d imagine any settleme
nts would be close.”

  “Why do you suppose they never found us?” she asked quietly. He almost didn’t hear her over the crashing waves.

  “Maybe they didn’t know to look.”

  She didn’t respond to that notion, simply took a sip of water from her water skin and picked up her paddle. “I hope it isn’t much farther. I could use a rest.”

  “Why don’t you take a break? I can paddle while you rest. If we still haven’t found a spot to go ashore after a few hours, we can trade places.”

  She shook her head. “Let’s keep going for a little while longer. Maybe the ration bars will give us a boost. If we don’t find something soon, we can reassess.”

  “If that’s what you want,” Mason said, not fully listening. His mind was still on the mainland. It presented a new opportunity for them both. He thought about what she’d said a few hours earlier. Maybe we won’t have to go back. If they stayed here together, he wouldn’t have to return to find out what exactly the elders’ definition of amnesty was.

  They paddled silently, both in their own worlds, both searching desperately for a sandy patch of land that would lead them home.

  As they continued on their way, Ashley absorbed the new world around her. The land was immense, and almost overwhelming to an island dweller like her. The rocky shore went on and on, as far as the eye could see.

  She watched a pelican dive for a fish and float out into the water. A noisy group of seals gathered on a rock formation a few yards from shore. The birds circled, landing on the rocks that stuck out of the water, but none landed on the cliffs. In fact, though the waters teamed with wildlife, none could be seen on the actual shoreline.

  “Don’t you think it’s funny that the animals are staying offshore?”

  Mason studied the cliffs for a moment and frowned. “Probably shouldn’t speculate too much. The cliffs are too high for the seals to get over there, and the birds… well, who knows? Maybe they can’t grip the rocks right in that specific spot.”