The Lighthouse

by Amy Cross

  I stop, staring at the door and waiting for someone to emerge from the mist. Footsteps are definitely getting closer, crunching over the frosty grass between here and the line of trees, but there's still no sign of anyone coming, even though the steps seem to have almost reached the entrance by now.

  Finally, just as it seems impossible for someone to not be visible by now, the footsteps stop. Whoever's out there, they just stopped walking.

  I wait.

  The only sound comes from the generator equipment behind me, still chugging along.

  “Hello?” I call out, although I immediately feel pretty dumb. I wait a moment longer, before stepping forward and then stopping again in the doorway. Looking out at the mist, I half expect to see a figure somewhere close, but there's no-one.

  I take a step outside, immediately hearing the crunch of grass beneath my feet.

  “Hello?” I call out again. “Is someone there? Matthew?”

  No reply.

  “Colin?”

  I look both ways, but I can only see a short distance in each direction and even the nearby trees are out of sight. A moment later, the beam from the lighthouse appears in the distance, briefly cutting through the mist and illuminating the very top of the forest before turning away again. From any one direction, the lamp's warning is only visible for a few seconds each minute, but I guess that's enough.

  For a moment, I swear I can see swirls of mist curling through the air.

  “Is someone else here?” I ask, feeling a tightening sense of anticipation in my chest. “Are you...”

  I take a deep breath.

  This is beyond ridiculous, but still... My thoughts turn to the woman in the house, and at the train station. It's been a long time since any of my hallucinations came with sounds, but these footsteps seem to fit a growing pattern. It'd be pretty typical if my pills stop working just when I come to a place where I can't get easy access to a doctor. At the same time, I know it's easy to overreact, so I tell myself to just calm down and remember that an occasional mild hallucination isn't really too bad. I'm still a lot better than I was a few years ago.

  “Hello?” I call out, even though I feel dumb. “Is anyone here?”

  Again, I wait.

  Nothing.

  “Okay,” I say finally, “I guess maybe you're not here after all.”

  I wait.

  The lighthouse's beam cuts through the mist again, but only for a few seconds and then it's gone.

  Suddenly there's a loud bumping sound over my shoulder. I turn, startled, and I immediately realize that the noise came from the wooden trapdoor. Before I even have time to doubt myself, there's another bump and this time the door visibly shudders, as if something hit it hard from below.

  “Hello?” I whisper, taking a step closer. “Is... Is someone down there?”

  As I reach the trap-door, I can't help but notice that the padlock appears to be very modern, and it seems strange that even though everything else around here is falling apart, the padlock is new.

  “Can you hear me?” I ask, crouching down and placing a hand against the wood. “Is there -”

  Before I can finish, I hear footsteps outside again, coming closer. I turn and stare at the door, telling myself that maybe it's some kind of wild animal,that my mind is probably playing tricks on me again, but suddenly I see something moving in the mist and a human figure becomes visible, coming straight to the doorway. I hold my breath, and then I let out a sigh of relief.

  Stopping suddenly, Colin seems surprised – and not particularly pleased – to see me.

  “Hey,” I stammer. “I thought I heard someone.”

  He mumbles a response, but it's clear that he's not in the mood to talk. Instead, he's already focusing on setting his tools out.

  “Is something down here?” I ask, looking back at the trap-door. “I heard a bump.” I wait for a reply, but when I turn to him I see that he's already examining a set of wrenches. “I heard it twice,” I continue. “I saw it move too, like it was hit by something.”

  “Generators,” he mutters, taking a look at some different wrenches.

  “It sounded like -”

  “Just generators,” he continues, interrupting me. “I'll show you some time if you like, but I don't have the key with me right now.” He heads over to one of the machines and examines a panel, before glancing in my direction. “Did you fix the connections?”

  “Yeah,” I reply. “No problem.”

  He steps over to the switch-box and talks a look, as if he expects to find that I screwed up. After a moment, he mutters something under his breath and leaves the connectors dangling as he goes back to look at one of the other machines.

  “Did I do it right?” I ask cautiously. “I think I did.”

  “You really don't need to come down here very much,” he replies. “Matthew likes to send new people on their first day, but apart from that there's not a lot to do. Not for you, anyway.”

  “You like to be in charge of the machines?” I ask.

  “I know what I'm doing.”

  “Sure.” I pause, waiting for him to say something, but he appears to have already got to work loosening some kind of valve. I want to offer to help, but it's clear he'd rather be alone so I head to the doorway. When I look out at the mist, I see the lamp's beam once again slicing through the air high above, and for just a fraction of a second the tree-tops are visible before fading once again into the gray void. The island is only two miles in each direction, but from here the lighthouse itself looks impossibly far away, almost as if it exists in another world entirely.

  Hearing a bumping sound, I turn and see that Colin is pulling a pipe out from one of the generators.

  “Were you here a few minutes ago?” I ask. “I heard footsteps just before you came.”

  “Can't have done.”

  “But I did.”

  He tugs on the pipe, pulling it loose, and then he glances at me. “There's no-one else on the island. Just us.”

  “I know,” I tell him, “but the thing is, I...”

  Pausing, I realize that there's no way he's actually going to listen to me. I've always thought of myself as something of a loner, sometimes even pretty hard to talk to, but Colin is in a whole other league. As he swaps out a section of pipe and reaches down for his tools, I can tell that he's just ignoring me and hoping that I'll get the message and leave. I take a step back, watching as he examines some screws, and then I turn to head out.

  “Can you use the radio?” he asks suddenly.

  I glance back at him.

  “The radio,” he continues, not looking at me, still focusing on the screws in his hands. “Do you know how to use it?”

  “I... No. Why?”

  “Has he offered to show you?”

  “Matthew? No, not yet.”

  He mutters something under his breath, but I can't quite make out the words.

  “Should I know how to use it?” I ask after a few seconds.

  He tosses the screws aside, while retaining a few in the palm of his hand. For a moment, it seems as if he's not going to answer. “I can't make proper repairs without the right parts,” he says finally. “I can make do, I can bodge it all together, but to really get it running right...” After a moment, he turns to me. “I need a seventeen inch carbon tube with diode ringlets, and I need two sets of the right screws to go with it, and I need a coil ring to fit an AB-57 generator input valve. There's a supply boat coming in two weeks' time, that should be more than enough time for them to find the parts and shove them on. If you could use the radio to let them know, that'd...”

  His voice trails off, as if he's shocked by the fact that he actually spoke to me.

  “Well,” he adds finally, “that'd be good.”

  “Sure,” I reply, “but... I'd have to write all that down, or you could just use the radio yourself and -”

  “No,” he says, shaking his head as he looks back at the generator. “Forget it. I can keep doing it like this.”r />
  Reaching into my pocket, I slip out my phone. There's no signal all the way out here, but at least I can make notes.

  “Tell me again what you need,” I continue, opening the note app, “and I'll get Matthew to radio it in later today.”

  “It has to be you.”

  I frown. “Why?”

  “I've asked Matthew before and he hasn't remembered.”

  “So why don't you use the radio?”

  “Forget it. Doesn't matter.”

  Realizing that something seems to be wrong, I watch for a moment as he gets back to work. “Tell me the parts again,” I say finally, “and I promise you, I'll learn to use the radio and I'll get them ordered today. One hundred per cent guaranteed.”

  He works for a few seconds longer, before turning to me again with a hint of suspicion in his eyes. “A seventeen inch carbon tube with diode ringlets,” he says cautiously, as if he half expects that I'm trying to trick him, “two sets of screws, and an AB-57 coil ring.” He pauses as I type all of that into my phone. “And while you're at it, get a replacement set of fuses. If they complain it's going to cost too much, tell them it'll cost a lot more if the whole lighthouse goes offline and they end up liable for an accident.”

  “Sure,” I reply, saving the note. As I slip my phone away, I can't help feeling pleased that I was actually useful. “Anything else?”

  “That ought to do it,” he mutters. “Are you good with technical things?”

  “I guess I can pick stuff up,” I tell him.

  “Then do me a favor. Try to work out how to operate the radio by yourself before you ask him for help.” He glances at me again. “Wait 'til he's out or something.”

  “Doesn't Matthew like anyone else using it?”

  He pauses, and I swear there's a hint of fear in his eyes. “I just think it'd be good if someone else knew how it works,” he adds, “that's all.”

  “I'll do it,” I tell him as he gets back to work. “I mean, it can't be that hard, can it?”

  I wait for a reply, but he's already fiddling with another of the tubes and I can't help feeling that it would be a mistake to push him. He's already opened up more than I expected, even if it's only about tubes and screws and bits and pieces he needs to fix the generator. Heading back outside, I look across the clearing and see that the mist seems to be getting stronger, to the extent that I can actually see faint swirls drifting through the cold air. High up, towering above the island's far side, the lighthouse can just about be seen, with its lamp slowly revolving and blasting its beam out to warn anyone in the area to keep well away.

  Trying to find the least muddy route, I set out back to the lighthouse.

  Chapter Ten

  One month earlier

  Standing alone in the hallway, I can still hear the sound of Mel's parents car heading along the street. I wait, listening to the sound getting further and further away, until finally it's gone altogether.

  I'm alone.

  Mel was a sobbing mess when she finally left, hugging me tight and leaving a distinct teary wet patch on my shoulder. I was the same, of course, and we promised to keep in touch all the time and to never drift apart like other people. Our other two housemates, Dan and Rob, had left about an hour earlier, so now as I head along the hallway and peer through into the empty front room, the house feels completely different.

  I swear, I've never heard it sound so silent before.

  “Hello?” I call out, half expecting to hear Mel shouting for me to join her in her room, but of course there's no reply.

  They're really gone. Our student days are officially over.

  Heading to the kitchen, I check the fridge to see what the others left behind. I told myself, and Mel, that I'd be absolutely fine on my own for the next couple of weeks, but the reality of the situation is finally starting to set in. Pretty much everyone that I know has left town now, leaving me to bounce about in my own world until it's time to head up to Scotland. I know I could go home to visit my parents for a while, but the thought of being around my drunk-ass father is enough to make me feel nauseous.

  No, being alone is fine.

  I can handle this.

  There's no -

  Hearing a bump from upstairs, I look at the ceiling. I'm the only person here, so the place should be pretty much silent, but I swear it sounded as if someone or something nudged the wall in the room directly above the kitchen, which is Mel's old room. Telling myself to stop imagining things, I take some salad from the fridge and head to the counter, but a moment later I hear another bump, just like the first, and I realize that maybe I need to go check that she didn't leave anything behind. After all, it'd be just like Mel to organize a little surprise to freak me out. In fact, I'd be surprised if she didn't.

  When I get to the bottom of the stairs, I look up at the bare landing.

  “Hello?” I call out. “Anyone?”

  Silence.

  “Mel? Are you trying to mess with my head? That's kind of a mean thing to do to a girl who's on pills for bipolar.”

  Figuring I should check for certain, I trudge up the stairs and then head straight to Mel's room. The door is already open, and I feel an instant twinge of sadness when I step inside and see that there's nothing left except her stripped-down bed and the empty wardrobe. Even the fairy lights are gone, which somehow feels like the saddest thing ever. I can feel tears in my eyes, but I tell myself that there's no way I'm going to cry. Heading over to the window, I look out at the street and for a moment I figure I should maybe go out for a few hours, before realizing that I have nowhere to go and no-one to hang out with.

  “Great,” I mutter, spotting my own reflection. If I'm not careful, I'm going to start feeling really sorry for myself, and that's something I hate in other people. If I just -

  Suddenly I spot a flash of movement behind my reflection, and a pair of eyes looking straight at me.

  I turn, buoyed by the brief hope that maybe Mel came back, but when I look across the room I see that there's no-one.

  “Hello?” I say cautiously, checking the wardrobe before heading to the door and looking out into the hallway. “Is someone here?”

  I wait.

  Silence.

  I pause, trying to convince myself that the image was just a trick of the light, but for a moment I really thought I saw someone standing behind me, reflected in the window.

  Wonderful. I've been alone in the house for all of five minutes, and I'm already starting to go crazy. At this rate, by the time I finally leave in a few weeks' time I'll be totally nuts. Unless...

  It was Mel.

  It had to be Mel. She's trying to mess with my mind.

  “Okay,” I say finally, trying to stifle a smile, “I guess there's no-one here, is there? No-one hiding and trying to freak me out?” Stepping over to the wardrobe, I pause for a moment before pulling the doors open.

  Nothing.

  Still, she's here, she has to be. It's just like Mel to pull a stunt like this. She probably got her parents to drive around the corner while she snuck back inside to scare the living daylights out of me. She's been lurking somewhere all day, ready to spook the living hell out of me, to take her latest gag to fresh extremes. I just have to find her.

  “I must be alone, then,” I say with a smile as I head back out to the landing. Deep down, though, I know I'm not really alone. Mel is waiting, hiding, ready to leap out and scream “Boo!” at any moment.

  Chapter Eleven

  Today

  “Culthorpe lighthouse to base,” I say into the microphone, hoping that this time I might have got the radio working properly. “This is Culthorpe lighthouse, can anyone hear me?”

  I wait, but all I hear through the headset is more static. I try twisting a few of the dials, but nothing seems to be helping and a moment later the static flares up and I quickly pull the headset off. Leaning back in the chair, I can't help sighing as I stare at the various buttons and switches, trying to work out which of them are wrong. Sure, I've
never operated a radio like this before, but I figure it must have been left with more or less the proper set-up from last time it was used, and everything is clearly labeled.

  So why can't I get in touch with the mainland? It's almost as if we're completely isolated out here, as if the rest of the world is either impossible to contact or no longer even there.

  “Having trouble?”

  Almost jumping out of my skin, I bump my arm against the desk as I turn and see that Matthew is watching from the doorway.

  “I just...” I start to stammer, “I mean... I was just...”

  I watch as he comes over to join me, and I can't help noticing the hint of suspicion in his eyes. The usual playfulness and amusement seems to have sunk from view for a moment, leaving his features expressionless and blank.

  “I just wanted to see how it works,” I explain, trying not to sound panicked. “Colin mentioned that he needs some parts for the generator and I figured maybe I could let the mainland know so they could put them on the next shipment of supplies.”

  “You did, huh?” he asks, flicking a few switches on the front of the radio before leaning across the table and changing some of the leads at the back. “They'll love you for that. The company's always happy to spend more money on things it doesn't think matter. Next thing you know, they might actually get around to updating the main system here, make our lives a lot easier.” He flicks a couple more switches with the casual nonchalance of someone who knows this equipment inside out. “There,” he adds, taking a step back. “Now it'll work. Sorry, I had it wired different from the other night when I was listening to the shipping channels.”

  “Shipping channels?”

  He smiles. “Some nights I like to tune in to the boats out there, the ones setting out across the Atlantic or just getting over here after being out at sea for weeks. You hear their crews talking to each other sometimes, all these lonely people in the middle of the night. I never chat myself, of course, but I like hearing them. It's like ghosts of the real world passing us by in both directions.” He pauses for a moment. “I can show you some time, if you like. I mean, you seem so interested in the radio.”