The Island

by Amy Cross

  Reaching down through the darkness, I feel mud and rotten wood on the forest floor and I'm tempted to eat some, just so that my belly feels full. I tell myself that tomorrow I can catch a rabbit or something, but I know that it's one thing to plan something like that and another to actually do it. The truth is, I've seen almost no signs of animal life since I arrived on the island, even though I was told that various species were introduced many years ago to provide a food source. I guess it's possible that they've started to die out.

  Hearing the sound of footsteps, I turn and see to my horror that the old man is walking this way. Just as I'm about to run into the darkness to escape him, however, he stops about twenty feet away and holds something up in his hand, and then he sets it down on the ground and walks back to the fire. I tell myself it's just a coincidence, that there's no way he realizes I've been following him, but at the same time I can't stop wondering whether, by some miracle, he's thrown away some trash that I could use.

  “Please,” I mouth silently. “Food.”

  Staying low, I crawl around the bush, making as little noise as possible. The man is back by the fire now, and I keep my eyes fixed on him. If he makes even one move in this direction, I'll run, but fortunately he stays still and I'm able to quietly fumble through the darkness until I reach the spot where he stopped a moment ago. It takes a few seconds, but finally I find a flat piece of rock with something hot and wet arranged on it, and when I lean closer and give it a sniff I realize it smells like meat. My first instinct is to eat it, but after what happened with the water bowls at the beach, I force myself to pull back slightly. Sure, the old man seemed different to Liam, but I have no idea whether I can really trust him so instead I wait behind another bush, watching his silhouette as the fire continues to burn.

  It takes an hour or two, but finally I can hold back no longer. I crawl forward and find the meat again, and I use my fingers to scoop it into my mouth. I can't deny that it tastes good, and the feeling of warm food in my belly is enough to send an actual shiver of pleasure through my freezing bones. I immediately crawl back behind another bush, to make sure I'm out of sight, and then I stop and keep my eyes on the old man. I'm certain he has no idea that I'm here, so I guess he just tossed away a little meat, even though that doesn't really make sense. It's almost as if he deliberately wanted to feed me, but I tell myself that's impossible.

  I was quiet when I followed him.

  Stealthy.

  There's no way he heard or saw me.

  For the next few hours, I stay rooted to the spot, watching as the man sits motionless by the fire. At some point I notice that his head has drooped forward slightly, as if he's asleep, but I still don't dare to go any closer, even though I'm already hungry again and I figure he might have some more meat. Finally the sun starts to rise again, so I pull back a little further to make doubly sure that I'm not seen. I know I should get out of here, but I tell myself there's a chance the old man might toss out some more scraps, so I decide to stick around and watch him for a little while longer.

  Eventually he gets to his feet and starts gathering his possessions. He glances this way and I duck down again, and then I watch as he starts climbing past a set of rocks, heading to higher ground.

  Against my better judgment, but keeping a safe distance, I start to follow him once again. When I pass his campsite, I see that he's left another piece of meat behind.

  Chapter Thirty

  Asher

  “I got water!” I call out as I carry the swollen canopy bag back toward the shelter. “It's rainwater, so -”

  Stopping as I get to the shelter, I find that there's no sign of Jude. I glance around, expecting to spot her nearby, but I can't see her anywhere.

  “Jude?” I shout, trying not to worry. “Where are you?”

  I wait, but there's no reply.

  After setting the canopy bag down, I step around the shelter and start looking toward the edge of the trees. I told her to stay put while I was gone, but it took me a couple of hours to find water and Jude has never been the most patient person in the world. If she's wandered off and then her head injury has caused her to collapse, it might take me hours to find her, or she might just be gone forever.

  “Jude!” I call out. “Jude, if you can hear me, let me know you're okay!”

  When she doesn't reply, I start looking around for some hint that might suggest which way she went. Finally I spot what appears to be a set of prints in the mud, so I follow the line and start making my way through the forest, while telling myself that there's no need to assume the worst. Jude might be injured, but she's also smart and I guess she can most likely look after herself.

  “She's fine,” I whisper to myself. “She has to be.”

  For the next half hour or so, I keep walking through the forest, long after the trail of potential prints has run out. I call her name every few minutes, but as I get to a ridge overlooking a dip in the ground, I can't help thinking that I might have come the wrong way. Figuring that she can't possibly have made it this far, I turn and take a different route back, while still calling her name regularly. She's most likely back at the camp, probably wondering what's taking me so long, and this wouldn't be the first time she's wandered off only to make fun of me later for worrying so much.

  As I make my way between the trees a little further along, I'm about to call her name again when I realize I can hear voices in the distance. One of them is Jude's, I'm sure of that, but the other is unfamiliar. I glance around, trying to work out exactly where they are, but there's no-one to be seen. Worried that she might be in danger and in need of help, I make my way forward cautiously while keeping low so as to remain hidden. I can tell I'm getting closer to the voices but I still can't quite work out where they are, so I keep going for a couple of minutes until I realize that the voices have stopped just as I'm getting close enough to maybe make out what they're saying.

  Suddenly Jude appears from behind a ridge, making her way back toward the campsite until she sees me and stops.

  “Hey,” I say cautiously. “Where have you been?”

  “Just looking around,” she replies, with a hint of concern on her face.

  I make my way over to her. “Who were you talking to?”

  “No-one.”

  “I heard you.”

  “As if.” She forces a smile. “Who the hell would I be talking to?”

  Stepping past her, I head to the top of the ridge and look down, fully expecting to see someone either waiting down there or walking away. There's no-one, however, so I turn back to Jude and immediately see a hint of guilt in her eyes.

  “I heard you,” I tell her.

  “I was singing,” she replies. “Sorry, I guess that's what it was.”

  “There was another voice.”

  “There can't have been.”

  Staring at her, I try to believe her explanation but I can't. I know I heard two voices; one of them was hers, but she definitely wasn't singing and, besides, the other voice was someone else.

  “Why would I lie to you?” she asks. “There's blatantly no-one else around for miles. You'd have seen them.”

  “I know what I heard,” I tell her.

  “And I know what I was doing,” she replies, sounding a little exasperated, “and I sure as hell wasn't talking to anyone. I was walking alone, just singing and minding my own business. To be honest, I kind of wanted to clear my head a bit. I'm still not feeling completely well, and I feel like I've been cooped up in that shelter forever. I'm not quite as sick as you seem to think.” She pauses, before stepping toward me with a smile that seems more genuine this time. “You believe me, don't you? You must know I'd never, ever lie to you.”

  “Sure,” I reply, “it's just...” Staring at her, I see that the pupils of her eyes are a little more normal now, although they're still slightly different sizes. “I guess I must have been wrong,” I continue, forcing a smile. “The last few days have been pretty crazy.”

  “Tell me abou
t it,” she replies, taking my hand and leading me back through the forest. “I'm really glad you've accepted that we need to settle down. Have you thought any more about how we're going to organize things? I mean, there's just the two of us for now but what if someone else comes along and wants to join? How are we going to expand? How do we make buildings? What about food?”

  “It'll take a while to figure all of that out,” I tell her.

  “Which is why we should get started,” she continues enthusiastically. “I mean, the longer we wait, the bigger the risk of something coming along and surprising us. I'm feeling stronger now, so I can help you, and we can get our little place properly established. Face it, right now it looks like nothing more than a rickety fence and some branches tied together to make a basic shelter, but we can achieve a lot more if we really put our minds to it.” She glances over her shoulder for a moment, before turning to me again. “I believe in you, Asher. I believe in us. We can set up our own little town with our own rules, and we can really make a go of it. I mean, sure, there are no laws on the island, but anyone can set some up in their own area and try to enforce them.”

  “You're starting to make it sound a little official,” I point out.

  “There's no point doing something if we don't do it properly,” she replies.

  “And your head's really feeling okay?”

  “Stop fussing,” she continues. “It aches a little, that's all. Right now, I want to throw myself into a real project, and I think I'll start with that fence. Don't take this the wrong way, Asher, but your attempt could be improved. Then we need to chop some trees down and get wood ready to build an actual little building, and we should also start thinking about setting out a few permanent traps. I'm assuming you still prefer rabbit meat to human?”

  “Do you really think we can make this work?” I ask.

  “I know we can,” she replies, letting go of my hand and hurrying on ahead. “We don't have any time to waste, though. Come on, let's get started! We need to prove that we can do this!”

  “Prove to who?” I ask, but she's already too far ahead to hear me. As I make my way after her, however, I can't shake the feeling that something has changed.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Iris

  He's done it again.

  Crouching behind the bush, I watch as the old man carries a flat piece of rock toward me. He stops just ten feet away and sets the rock down, before heading back to the campfire he's been nurturing since mid-afternoon.

  Leaning around the side of the bush, I see that there's another piece of meat on the rock, this time with some berries as well. He can't be leaving it for me deliberately, there's no way he can possibly know that I'm following him, but I guess maybe he's some kind of lunatic and he thinks he's making an offering for some god.

  Frankly, I guess I don't care why he's leaving food out, I'm just glad of it. My belly is burning with hunger, but I don't dare go close enough to take the food, not yet. If I did that, he might spot me.

  I'll wait until night comes.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Asher

  “It's...”

  Pausing for a moment, I take a step back and admire our day's work.

  “Yeah?” Jude says with a smile. “Go on.”

  “I mean, it...”

  “You're lost for words, aren't you?”

  “No, it's just, I...”

  “It's a goddamn miracle,” she continues, “that's what it is. The two of us, working alone, have built a whole goddamn wall! Like, an actual wall!”

  She's right. We have. Having used our knives to cut up a series of damaged tree trunks that fell during the storm, we worked remarkably quickly to get the resulting chunks of wood lined up and embedded in the ground, and then we tied them together with vines. The finished construction is hideously ugly, and the wood itself is still wet, and I'm worried there might be problems with rot, but I can't deny that we've built an actual real wall.

  “Three more of these babies,” Jude says, nudging my arm, “plus a roof and a floor, and we've got ourselves a home!”

  ***

  It takes me a while to get to sleep, despite having worked like crazy all day; even when I start to nod off, I end up drifting in and out of listless, uncomfortable dreams. In one of the dreams I'm back at home, talking to my parents and listening to their tired concerns, while in another I'm alone in the old neighborhood, climbing over a barbed fence into the yard of the abandoned house on the corner. As I walk along the path, I look up at the windows above the front door and see a figure watching me.

  Making my way up the steps, I stop at the door and run my fingers over the silver plaque next to the bell.

  “Steadfall,” I whisper, reading it out loud, before reaching down and turning the handle.

  The door swings open, revealing the darkness inside. I went to the old house hundreds of times as a kid, of course, but I was always alone. This time, as I stare up at the stairway, I can feel a presence, and a moment later there comes a faint scratching sound from one of the rooms above. I take a deep breath, telling myself I should turn back, but for some reason I step forward instead, and I don't even flinch as the door swings shut behind me, sealing me in the darkness. The scratching sound continues, and somehow I can tell that someone is trying to get me upstairs.

  Unbelievably, I head over to the steps and start making my way up, even though I can see a figure at the top now, waiting for me, silhouetted against the window with a head made of thorns and -

  Suddenly I open my eyes and find that it's still pitch black, and as I sit up I realize that moonlight is streaming down across the clearing. I blink a couple of times, still partly in the dream, still partly climbing those steps toward that thing, but the sensation passes and I remember that I'm on the island. Nearby, our first wall is still standing, which I guess is something, and there's a pile of wood waiting for us to resume our work in the morning. Something feels off, however, and it takes a moment before I realize what's wrong.

  Turning to look over at Jude, I realize that there's no sign of her. I sit silently, listening for some hint of movement. After all, she might have gone to pee in the forest, but after a few minutes I realize that if that was the case, she should be back by now.

  I get to my feet and take a few steps forward in the moonlight, and I swear I can feel a sense of unease rising through my chest. I've never been the kind of person who believes in instinct, not really, but alarm bells are sure ringing somewhere deep in my psyche. Making my way across the clearing, I turn and look all around, waiting for some sign of Jude coming back, but there's no hint of her anywhere and when I get to the treeline on the far side I realize that she must have gone a fair way into the forest.

  I'm about to call her name, when I realize I can hear her voice in the distance.

  Ducking down, I make my way between the trees, hoping to get close enough to hear what she's saying and, more importantly, who she's saying it to. The trees are filtering the moonlight, spreading vast shadowy fingers across the undergrowth, bathing the forest in blue and making it look like a vast criss-crossed prison. Finally I stop when I realize I can make out Jude's voice more clearly, and I hold my breath.

  “Don't come tomorrow,” she's saying. “Leave it to me.”

  I hear a male voice replying, but I can't quite hear what he's saying. He doesn't sound pleased, and it's almost as if he's giving her some kind of warning.

  “I mean it,” she continues, and I hear footsteps in the distance, as if she's coming this way. “Come in two days. I should know more by then.”

  Realizing that I'm in danger of being spotted, I turn and hurry back between the trees. By the time I get to the clearing, my mind is racing and I feel as if I need to ask her what's really happening, but equally I don't want to make any rash decisions. I hurry to the shelter and get back into position, pretending to be asleep, and it's several more minutes before I hear Jude approaching.

  When she climbs into our makeshif
t bed, she crawls close to me.

  “Hey,” I whisper, wide awake but pretending to be drowsy. “You okay?”

  “Just went to the toilet,” she replies, pressing her body against mine. “Give me some of that precious heat. Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you.”

  “It's fine,” I reply, forcing myself to keep from asking her what's really going on. She'd only lie, and frankly I'd rather let her think that I'm not too suspicious. I need time to figure out what she's doing, and who she's speaking to out there in the forest, and whether I can trust her.

  People always betray you in the end. I learned that many years ago, in a crumbling old house on the street corner, at the top of the stairs after a crusty hand touched my shoulder, and I've learned it several times again since I came to the island. I'd begun to hope that maybe Jude was different, but now I'm starting to realize I was just being dumb. Even my best friend in the whole world seems set to turn on me.

  And on the island, betrayal always means death.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Iris

  Waking with a shudder, I turn and look over my shoulder, convinced that I just heard somewhere nearby. I wait, every sense tingling in anticipation, but slowly I come to realize that I must have been wrong.

  I start to sit up and find that morning has come once again. Looking around, I spot the old man sitting by his latest campfire, getting ready to set off once again. He always works so slowly and methodically, and I can't help noticing that he's unusually calm given the fact that he's living from day to day on a remote island. At the same time, sometimes I can tell that he's way more tired than he wants to admit. Like now, for example.