The Lighthouse

by Amy Cross

  “A million to one,” Colin replies, getting to his feet and hurrying to the stairs. He looks toward the hatch, and after a moment he turns to me. “We have to get to the generator. It's probably not a big problem, but we have to fix it!”

  “You guys go,” Matthew hisses, clearly in a state of panic, “I'll wait here and see if there's anything that needs doing.”

  “We should all go,” I tell him, hurrying after Colin. As I start making my way downstairs, I look back and see that Matthew is at the window, silhouetted against the darkness outside. “Come on!” I shout. “We have to get down there!”

  “It'll only take two of you,” he replies. “Just get on with it, okay? Every second the light's off is another second there could be a bloody disaster.”

  “Are there any boats in the -”

  “Move!” he screams, taking a step toward me. “Get the bloody lights on, you dumb cow!”

  I stare at him for a moment, before turning and hurrying down the steps. After grabbing a raincoat from the hook, I make my way out through the main door and see that Colin is already heading toward the dark treeline.

  “What the hell's wrong with him?” I ask as I run to catch up. “Why won't Matthew come to the generator with us?”

  “He never does,” he replies. “At least, I don't think so. I don't remember him ever going down there.”

  As we trudge through the ankle-deep mud, with rain pounding down all around us and drumming against the top of my rainproof hood, I turn and glance back at the lighthouse. I can barely see the tower at all against the night sky, but after a moment I realize I can just about make out the dark chamber at the top where the light should be turning. Even though I've only been at Culthorpe for a few days, it's shocking to see the lighthouse completely blacked out and I can't deny that there's a hint of panic rising through my chest.

  “Wait for me!” I call out, hurrying to catch Colin. My feet keep sinking slightly into the mud, and I almost twist my right ankle as I try to keep up. “Do you think you can fix whatever's wrong?” I ask as I reach him.

  “I have to,” he replies, his voice barely audible over the sound of rain hissing all around us. “I'm sure it's just another loose connection somewhere, it was probably damaged by all this wind.”

  We hurry along in silence for a few minutes, making our way between the forest's pitch-black trees, until finally I spot the dark shape of the generator building up ahead. When we emerge into the clearing, I hear a loud crashing sound nearby and I realize that the waves are particularly rough, washing over the rocks and spraying the side of the building. I take a few steps forward, and for a moment I'm transfixed by the void of darkness ahead of me and by the sound of a huge storm battering the Atlantic. I've never seen the natural world in such an angry state before, and for a moment I can't shake the feeling that the weather's trying to scrub us from the island, to wash us away entirely.

  And then I spot a light out in the darkness, red and blinking, twisting slightly in the storm.

  “There's a boat,” I whisper, feeling a flood of panic in my chest. Turning, I race to the generator building and see that Colin is already working frantically by flashlight. “There's a boat out there!” I tell him.

  “How far?”

  “I don't know. Not too close, but not far either.”

  “It'll probably be fine,” he mutters, pulling out some wires from one of the control units, “but we need to get the lamp working again. Don't worry, I think it's just the -”

  Before he can finish, there's a loud bump from beneath us, and I look down just in time to see the wooden hatch shuddering. A thin layer of rainwater is flowing across the concrete floor and leaking down at the edges of the hatch, and a moment later the wooden boards shake again. Something's down there, trying to get out.

  Turning to Colin, I see that he's noticed too.

  “In your journals,” I say after a moment, “you kept writing about how you needed to get the key and go down there.”

  He shakes his head.

  “Did you ever actually do it,” I continue, “or did you forget every time?”

  “I don't...” He pauses, seemingly frozen by the question. “I think... I think I got the key one time...”

  “And what did you find down there?” I ask. “Come on, you have to remember! It's not in your journals, it's not even in the torn-out pages!”

  He frowns.

  As the hatch shudders again, I hurry over and drop to my knees. The padlock is holding the latch firm, so I turn and grab Colin's tool box, rifling through the contents until I find a hammer.

  “What are you doing?” he asks.

  “I'm going to get it open.”

  “We should just get the key from Matthew.”

  “Fix the light,” I tell him. “If I can help with that, let me know. Otherwise, I'm getting this hatch open. I think there's someone -”

  As if to prove my point, the hatch shudders again, and this time I'm certain there's someone banging from down below.

  “Fix the light,” I say firmly, before turning and trying to slip the hammer's claw side under one of the wooden boards. “I really think there's someone down here.”

  I manage to force the claw beneath one of the hatch's wooden boards, but when I try to pull it open I find that the damn thing is stuck fast. I shift positions and try again, but no matter how hard I push on the hammer's handle, the boards seem to be held firmly in place. Glancing over at Colin, I see that he's still working to rewire the damaged control panel, so I pull the claw out and wedge it into a different spot right at the hatch's corner, hoping that maybe I'll be able to start lifting it from there. Shifting around, I place my right foot on the hammer's handle and start pushing down, straining as I start to feel the hatch moving just a little. I finally manage to break a small panel away, but it's too dark to see inside so I start again, trying to pull up some more wood.

  “You should let Matthew do that!” Colin tells me, sounding agitated. “He's the one with the key!”

  Ignoring him, I try to summon the strength to get the hatch open, but finally my foot slips and I fall back, slamming hard into the concrete floor and letting out a grunt of pain. As I do so, I let go of the hammer and watch as it slips through the hole in the hatch and disappears into the darkness below.

  “Great,” I mutter.

  “We need to get back,” Colin mutters, shoving his tools back into the bag. “I've switched the power relay to a back-up board, so hopefully the light'll come back on once we manually change the system to the secondary system.”

  “Can you help me get the hatch open?” I ask. “I really think there might be someone trapped down there.”

  He turns and looks for a moment, before shaking his head. “There can't be anyone. And even if there was, Matthew's the one with the key.”

  “I know you've seen what's in there,” I tell him. “Please, can't you try to remember?”

  He pauses, as if he might be on the verge of a breakthrough, before muttering something and hurrying out into the rain. I consider staying for a moment and trying to use brute force to get the hatch open, but finally I start following him, figuring that it'll be quicker to get the key. As we make our way across the clearing and back into the dark forest, I can't help glancing back toward the generator building. If someone's down in the hatch, they might be at risk of drowning if this rain keeps up for much longer. At the same time, I'm starting to think that simply asking Matthew for help might not be the quickest solution, but I've seen various keys hanging next to his bed and I'm sure one of them must be for the padlock. If there's nothing down there and I'm wrong about everything, he never even has to know that I looked.

  “What do you need me to do?” I ask Colin as we get back to the lighthouse.

  “Keeping out of my way would be a good start,” he replies, hurrying through the doorway, “and maybe -”

  Stopping suddenly, he turns to me with a blank expression in his eyes.

  “And maybe what?
” I ask.

  He frowns. “What... What we were doing just now?”

  “The light,” I reply, realizing that his memory is getting worse than ever. “You fixed the light and now you have to manually change something so the lamp comes back on. Don't you remember?”

  He pauses, and then I see a flash of realization in his eyes. He mutters something and turns to hurry up the stairs, which I guess means that it's coming back to him. I follow him to the pitch black living area, and fortunately there's no sign of Matthew so while Colin goes up to the top of the lighthouse, I slip into Matthew's living area and make my way to the keys. Fumbling as I examine them, I search for one that might fit the padlock, but so far they're all too big and -

  “What are you doing there?” a voice asks suddenly.

  Turning, I see that Matthew's watching me from the shadows a few feet away.

  “I...” For a moment, I can't think of an excuse. “I was just... I mean...”

  “Did you get the light fixed?” he asks. “The power still seems to be off. I don't like that.”

  “Colin's fixing it,” I tell him cautiously.

  “Doesn't he need your help?”

  “No, I...” Pausing, I can't help feeling as if he's eying me with a hint of suspicion. Still, I figure I'm probably just being paranoid. “To be honest,” I continue, “I was looking for the key to the padlock on the hatch. I heard a banging sound coming from down there and I thought maybe...” My voice trails off as I realize that I can't tell him about my worst fears.

  “You thought maybe what?” he asks.

  “I just thought...”

  “What did it sound like,” he continues, “this... banging sound?”

  “I don't know, that's why I wanted to -”

  “Take a guess,” he adds, leaning forward a little in the darkness. “I mean, come on, what could be down there?” He pauses, as slowly his smile grows. “Colin's seen under the hatch.”

  “Has he?” I ask, trying not to panic.

  He nods. “Why don't you ask him?”

  “I did,” I reply. “He doesn't remember.”

  “Figures. I swear, that guy'd forget he's alive sometimes.” He pauses for a moment. “If he was alive, I mean.”

  I wait for him to laugh, but he doesn't. He simply keeps his gaze fixed on me, and after a few seconds I notice his right hand reaching down and picking something up from the floor. It takes a moment before I see the blade of a knife glinting in the low light.

  “He's taking a while up there, isn't he?” Matthew continues, stepping toward me. “Then again, I guess we can forgive him. He's had a lot to deal with lately.”

  Stepping back, I keep my eyes fixed on the blade. This is a joke, it has to be, but at the same time I can feel the panic in my chest and I can't ignore all the warning signs.

  “Why don't we sit down and have a chat?” Matthew asks, taking another step toward me. “Colin'll have the lights on soon and then we can discuss anything that's on your mind. Maybe you'd like to start with a few questions about Colin, yeah? Like... Well, I'm sure you'd like to know when he died. Don't worry, you didn't miss anything, it was long before you showed up. The poor guy's been slowly winding down for a while now, fading away a little more each day. Of course, the process'd be a lot quicker if he realized what was happening but -”

  Suddenly he lunges at me, lashing out with the knife but missing by inches. I duck to one side and he crashes into the desk, which gives me a chance to pull away. Before I can run, however, he comes at me again, slicing the knife toward my chest. Again I manage to step out of the way, and this time I grab a chair from nearby, raising it above my head and then swinging it at him with all the force I can manage, slamming one of the legs into his head. Dropping the chair, I stumble back in the darkness.

  “That's good,” Matthew says, pushing the chair aside as he comes toward me, “I like it a lot better when they put up a fight.”

  Looking around for something I can use as a weapon, I spot a broken lamp on one of the desks. Grabbing it by the base, I swing it at Matthew, missing him by inches. He lunges at me, flashing the knife toward me and catching the back of my hand, slicing the skin. I almost drop the lamp, but I manage to swing it again and this time I hit the side of his head hard, sending him stumbling back.

  Not waiting for him to attack again, I turn and race to the stairs, almost tripping as I run down as fast as I can manage. I don't even know where I'm going, but I have to get away from this maniac, and when I reach the bottom I suddenly realize that I have to find the woman I've seen several times on the island. She must have been trying to warn me, so she might know how I can get away. I hurry to the door, determined to get to the generator, but I trip and fall down the steps, landing on my knees and then tumbling onto my shoulder. Rolling across the gravel, I try to get up, only to feel a sharp pain in my right foot. I push through it, limping forward through the heavy storm, quickly learning how to run even though my ankle's broken. By the time I reach the dark treeline, I have to stop for a moment to catch my breath, and after a couple of seconds I turn and look back toward the dark, unlit lighthouse.

  Rain is crashing down all around and the moon is hidden by storm clouds, but I don't see anyone coming after me.

  Not yet.

  Feeling a rising tide of panic in my chest, I turn and hobble between the trees, trying to ignore the sensation of broken bone grinding against one another in my ankle.

  “Help!” I shout as I stumble through forest. “Where are you? I need your help! I get -”

  Suddenly my right foot sinks several inches into a patch of mud, catching and twisting with such force that I drop forward onto my hands and knees as a searing agony ripples through the marrow of my leg. The pain only increases as I pull my ankle free, but I know I can't stop. I have to get to the generator room.

  Chapter Eighteen

  One week earlier

  “Okay,” I say out loud, even though I'm all alone, “I guess this is goodbye.”

  It's a little before 6am, and I'm standing in the dark hallway with my backpack slung over my shoulders. The house is dead quiet, even the dishwasher and washing machine are switched off, and I'm finally ready to leave for the long journey north. I know I'll be fine, but at the same time, this place has been my home for so long. I remember all the crazy nights with Mel and her friends, and I honestly thought for a while that it never had to end.

  Taking the keys from my pocket, I set them on the ledge and then open the front door. It's freezing and dark outside, and I pause for a moment, wondering whether I'll see the woman again when I turn to take a final glance into the house. I pause, giving her a chance to appear, before turning.

  Nothing.

  Three weeks living alone in this place after Mel left, and I almost went stir crazy. Heading out onto the step, I pull the door shut, and then I make my way across the garden path and onto the pavement. This journey up to Scotland is going to take forever, and I have to do it all alone, but still... At least I'm doing something positive, and I'm going to get paid for an actual job.

  This is my only option. I have to keep telling myself that.

  After taking one final glance at the house and feeling a twinge of sadness, I start making my way to the train station. The rest of my life starts now.

  ***

  “The 18:02 stopping service to Caithwick departs from platform two,” the announcer buzzes. “That's platform two. Doors close twenty seconds before departure.”

  Turning, I look up at the boards and try to find my train. I'm far from being some city-phobic country girl who can't handle big crowds, but at the same time Glasgow's main train station is packed and I feel as if I could get trampled to death at any moment. If the world was trying to remind me why time on a remote island is a good idea, it's doing a great job.

  I quickly scan the various destination lists before spotting a train that's heading to Port Logan, and then I turn and start trying to make my way through the crowd. With a heavy ba
ckpack over my shoulders, every step is difficult.

  By the time I find the entrance to platform nine, I'm exhausted. Since leaving the house twelve hours ago I've been on three separate trains, most of which have run more or less on time, and all I can think about is getting to the B&B I've booked for tonight in Port Logan. Tomorrow I'm due at the main office of the company that runs the Culthorpe lighthouse, and then they're going to put me on the next ferry that can drop me off. After planning this move for so many weeks, it feels good to be actually on my way, to be moving forward instead of sitting around still waiting for life to start.

  When I see that the train hasn't pulled in yet. I slip around the corner and drop my backpack to the ground before crouching next to it, relieved to get some weight off my shoulders. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I find a message from Mel wishing me good luck and calling me crazy, but that's all; fortunately, it seems Mum and Dad have finally accepted my decision and have chosen to give me the silent treatment rather than attempting to change my mind. They probably think I won't go through with it. That's fine, I don't need their permission or approval, and I guess I won't contact them now until I've finished my first tour at the lighthouse, or maybe even my second. It all depends how long I need to save up a decent amount of money.

  I can't fall back and rely on my parents, and I refuse to take out more loans. I have to support myself and keep going forward. I need a life of my own.

  Feeling a sudden sense of being watched, I turn and look out at the vast, swarming crowd. I guess this is the last time I'll be around so many people for a while, and I can't say I'm sorry. Still, as I look at the faces of people hurrying to catch their trains, I can't shake the feeling that someone's staring at me. I know I'm probably being irrational, but the more I search the sea of faces, the more convinced I feel that I'm about to make eye contact with someone. In fact, the sense is getting so strong now, I almost feel as if I'm on the verge of a panic attack. Finally, hearing the sound of a train pulling in at the platform, I grab my backpack and swing it over my shoulder before turning and following the crowd.