Island of the Forbidden

by Hunter Shea

  “Close,” she said. “It’s thirteen degrees cooler than it was on the dock in Charleston. It’s either the trees or EB air conditioning.”

  Paul chuckled. “EB air conditioning. I like that. Tobe told me that’s what you call ghosts. Sounds as good as any other name to me. Well, wait till you feel the EB central air in the house today.”

  True to his word, an icy draft went straight through their bones the moment they stepped into the deceptive colonial.

  “This is what my apartment was like when I came home from work one day in winter and forgot I had left a window wide open,” Eddie said. His expression morphed from his new standard—haunted—to concerned. “Is it always like this in the morning?”

  Paul shook his wooly head. “It’s been getting a little colder each day, but it took a big leap last night. You think it’s ghosts—I mean EBs—absorbing all of the energy from the atmosphere? They make cold spots when they’re around, right?” He seemed genuinely excited and not the least bit worried that he might be surrounded by the dead. Jessica jotted that down in her mental notebook. It was obvious he was a fan of the rash of paranormal TV shows, spouting the jargon like the gaggle of pseudo-experts that paraded on millions of screens ever week.

  “That’s one theory,” she said.

  They were led up the short spiral staircase, the wood gleaming with polish, and took a right down a hallway lined with doors.

  “Old Ormsby must have either had a lot of family or guests that stayed overnight. There’re a ton of bedrooms up here. The nice thing is they all have their own fireplaces. I stocked them with wood for you.”

  “Thank you, Paul,” Eddie said. He walked slowly, his head swiveling from left to right, seeing things, Jessica was sure, that neither she nor Paul ever could.

  Paul opened the doors to opposite facing rooms at the end of the hall. “This one is called the Yellow Room. As you can see, why it got the name is self-evident. Everything in here is the way the last Ormsby left it. We cleaned the sheets, of course.” The wallpaper was a rich yellow, as was the upholstery of the chairs, chaise lounge and linens on the bed. “Naturally, Jessica, I thought you’d take this one. Over here is the Blue Room for Eddie.”

  The Blue Room was furnished the same as the Yellow Room, just with an opposing color scheme. The blue on blue made the room seem much smaller.

  “I’ll take the Blue Room,” Jessica said. “I never was a big fan of yellow.”

  Eddie shrugged his shoulders. “Fine by me. They’ll both be dark by the time we flop down at night anyway.”

  Paul’s eyes rolled between the two of them, seemingly miffed that they had turned his plan for their accommodations upside down. Jessica threw her bags on the bed and said, “I’m done. Everyone is outside?”

  “Um, yes, they’re all on the patio.”

  Eddie was a little more careful with his bags. He closed the door to his room and said, “If you don’t mind, Jessica and I would like to walk around the house a little bit before we head outside. We’ll join up with you in a few minutes.”

  Paul hesitated, then said, “Sure, sure. I’ll be outside warming up. You probably want to do an initial sweep to get baselines and stuff like that.”

  Jessica had to fight from groaning aloud. “Pretty much,” she said with a plastic smile.

  His heavy footsteps pounded down the stairs, along the ground floor and outside. The catching of the door’s latch echoed up to them. Because there was no carpeting, objects on the walls and very little furniture, even the slightest sound in Ormsby House carried to all corners.

  “It’s going to be hard to tell what’s natural noise and not in here,” Jessica said. “If someone farts downstairs it’ll sound like a ghostly moan by the time it gets up here.”

  “That’s a pleasant way to look at it.”

  Jessica tried the doors to the other bedrooms as they walked down the hall. All of them were locked. “Who locks their bedroom doors?”

  “People who know strangers are staying in their house?” Eddie replied.

  The only door that was ajar was to the bathroom. A bronze, clawfoot tub dominated the room. The fixtures were old but everything looked as if it had just been installed.

  “Looks like all baths, no showers this week,” Eddie said.

  Jessica’s fingertips glided over the tub and sink and mirrored medicine cabinet. “The Harpers said they haven’t done any renovation. This place was left to rot for two decades. How is this possible?”

  “The house maintained itself,” Eddie said.

  “That’s not possible. A house is a thing. It has no soul, no conscious mind. People talk about haunted houses but it’s not the houses. It’s the energy of the people.”

  “Maybe their energy is what keeps the place looking like new.”

  “But they let the outside decay,” Jessica said. Warning claxons were going off in her head but she couldn’t find the source of the threat.

  “Maybe to keep people away,” Eddie said.

  “Is there anyone with us now?”

  He stepped backward out of the bathroom, his head turning to the stairs. “Just the same two EB children from yesterday. It looks like they’re waiting for us to go downstairs.”

  Not for the first time, Jessica wondered what it would be like to live with Eddie’s ability. How long could a person go on until they lost the fine definitions between the living and the dead? The fact that the few people who had been genuinely proven to share Eddie’s gifts gradually lost their special sight as they got older was probably the mind’s way of protecting itself from going mad.

  “Are they saying anything to you?”

  Eddie cocked his head, listening. “It’s…it sounds like gibberish. Like baby talk. I can’t make out their faces. But I can feel one thing.”

  She walked to the head of the stairs, wondering if she was standing in the middle of their energy or if they stepped aside to let her through. “What’s that?”

  “They’re very interested in you.”

  Daphne Harper sat in an Adirondack chair wearing a sweater. She could hear water lapping at the shore behind the house but couldn’t see the undulating harbor waters through the dense foliage. Tobe had taken the children on a short nature walk.

  All walks are short out here, she thought. There wasn’t much to Ormsby Island itself, but it was grand in its seclusion.

  She sipped at her tea from a thin china cup she’d found in one of the cupboards. It felt like spun sugar in her hands. It surprised her the first time she poured coffee into it, waiting for it to crack or explode or even dissolve into tiny granules. It was heartier than it looked.

  “Hey Daph, Jessica and Eddie are here. Said they wanted to go around the house a bit before coming out.”

  The cup made a tiny plink when she set it down on the wooden arm of the chair.

  “That’s good,” she said. “I want them to get comfortable with the house.”

  Her brother sat heavily on a petrified tree stump. She wondered when he’d last bothered to bathe. Their mother, had she been alive, would have been very disappointed in her Bohemian son. Daphne did all she could to mother him, to keep him out of trouble with a roof over his head. It was taxing, but family was family.

  Paul did have his uses. The children loved him. Of course they did. Children enjoyed playing with children, even if one was an unshaven man-child. Their purchase of Ormsby Island wouldn’t have been possible, or necessary, without him, so she made it a point to overlook his deficiencies.

  “I was fixin’ to take the kids on the water this afternoon, keep them out of the way,” he said, pulling a leaf into shreds.

  “I wish you’d stop saying that. You sound like a hick,” she scolded.

  “Unlike you, I stayed in the south and this is the way we talk. All of us haven’t forgotten where we came from.”

  Daphn
e’s eyelids fluttered with impatience. “You came from an affluent family and attended some of the best schools in the country. It’s not like you grew up on a catfish farm in Louisiana.”

  Paul smiled. “Yeah, well, money doesn’t last forever, right? That reminds me, I still wanna try some of that catfish hand fishing. I have to call Pete and see if he’s up to it when I leave.”

  Her brother was impervious to her disappointment or anger. She was about to ask him to kindly find something else to do when the back door opened. Jessica, wearing a teal long-sleeved shirt and black jeans, and Eddie in his faded blue jeans and button down denim shirt, walked onto the patio.

  Time for the show to begin. Daphne willed her lips into a welcoming smile and rose from the chair to greet them.

  “Paul was right,” Jessica said, “this is the place to be to warm up.”

  Daphne said, “That’s partly why I’m out here. It was a frigid start to the day. I’m sure it’s nothing new for someone with your experience.”

  Jessica slowly shook her head. “I can’t say I’ve ever been to or heard of a house that retains such a low temperature.”

  “Really?” Daphne said, a curious look on her face. Eddie wasn’t sure what to make of her reaction, so he did what came natural—tried to poke into her mind.

  “Really,” Jessica replied. “Almost makes me think it’s something more on the natural side of things than supernatural. I have a remote assistant who can look up records on the island, see if anything about the island itself or the harbor can explain it.”

  “I’m not sure if you’ll be able to access anyone outside the island. Even cell phone service is practically nonexistent.”

  There goes Swedey, Eddie thought. Jessica’s remote PI could be handier than a pocket on a shirt. From what she’d told him, he was a master at digging up information, even if it had been officially been sealed.

  Daphne continued, “It’s so strange. Do you honestly think it could be something as mundane as that?” She did little to hide her disappointment.

  If her call was to get them to, in a sense, cleanse the island of any preternatural phenomena, why did she seem so reluctant to hear that the cold may have nothing to do with ghosts? Eddie closed his eyes, feigning a pause to savor a deep breath of the fresh air. He tried to push his way into her conscious, but there was so much interference in the atmosphere, he couldn’t navigate his way through. He couldn’t make sense of what was coming to him. The voices were everywhere. For the moment, he couldn’t see them, but they were there, as steady as the current of a swollen river.

  “I was hoping we’d get to meet your kids,” Jessica said.

  “Oh, they’ll be here any minute. My husband took them out to look for leaves, rocks, you know. In fact, I think I hear them coming now.”

  Tobe Harper emerged from behind a row of hedges that lined the concrete patio. He gave them an odd, borderline effeminate finger wave.

  “Good morning Jessica. Good morning Eddie,” he said. He turned around, stooped out of sight and reemerged with his daughter in his hands. He lifted her over the hedges. She was a very pretty girl with wheat colored hair braided down her back, wide, aquamarine eyes and a tiny nose above a smile that would melt a curmudgeon’s heart.

  “Hi,” she said in a very small voice.

  Her brother came next. His hair was like his sister’s, all one length that went past his shoulders. His cheek was smudged with dirt, as were his pants and shirt. He had the mischievous look of most boys his age, though his eyes still held the innocence of a youth shielded from the negative influences prevalent in today’s world.

  He probably doesn’t even know what YouTube is, Eddie thought. Looks more content to search for frogs in the swamp than surf the net for porn or videos of teens acting like dumb asses.

  “Hello,” he said, his voice not much deeper than his little sister’s.

  “Alice, Jason, this is Ms. Backman and Mr. Home. They’re the people your father and I told you about.”

  “It’s nice to meet you Ms. Backman and Mr. Home,” they said in unison. Eddie had to think fast and remember if they were twins. No, Jason was older by almost two years at age eleven. They sure could pass for twins.

  “Hello Alice and Jason. You can call me Jessica.”

  Before the children could speak, their mother interjected. “If you don’t mind, we prefer they not. It’s a matter of respect for one’s elders.”

  Eddie nodded. He’d lived in North Carolina long enough not to be surprised. Manners went a long way in the south. “We understand.” He wasn’t sure Jessica did, but it was best to go along with them since they had to spend the week living with the family.

  “Now that you’re here,” Tobe Harper said, “consider our house, your house. You’re free to go as you wish. If you need anything at any time, just call out for myself or Daphne. I’m curious to see what you’ll discover on our island.”

  Alice wrapped her little hand around Jessica’s fingers. “Come with me, Ms. Backman.”

  Jessica looked to her mother to make sure it was okay. Daphne smiled. “Don’t keep her too long, dear. Ms. Backman has work to do.”

  Eddie walked up to Tobe. “Do the kids know why we’re here?” he said as low as he could.

  “Oh, yes. You’ll find they’re not as tentative as other children their age when it comes to this subject. They’ve spent considerable time with us overseas, living in much older locations with, ah, rich histories.”

  Interesting.

  Eddie felt a tug on his pants. “We should go, too, Mr. Home,” Jason said.

  “If you haven’t returned by lunch, I’ll send Paul to get you,” Daphne said.

  He waved back at them as little Jason led him around the house to the path to the dock. The sun was at their backs, presumably, and the tunnel of trees and brambles was almost dark as night.

  “Come on,” Jason insisted.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “Is it where your sister and Jessica—Ms. Backman—are going too?”

  He nodded with unbound enthusiasm.

  One thing about the Harper children, they weren’t shy. How many other kids would traipse off with a couple of strangers a minute after meeting them? Daphne and Tobe need to talk to them about stranger danger. Growing up in a city like San Francisco, he was taught at a young age to avoid contact with any adult he didn’t know. Maybe things were different for kids who traveled the world, though Eddie suspected that message would be hammered home even deeper, going from one new place to another.

  They stumbled down the path. Midway down, Jason crouched and darted into a cut in the bushes. “This way,” he said.

  Eddie had to get on his hands and knees to fit. He followed the boy as closely as he could. Sharp sticks and needles pricked his skin. It was even colder here than in the house. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear he’d stepped into the middle of a late fall day.

  The small passageway made several sharp twists and turns. At one point, Eddie used his telekinetic ability to lift the cover over his head enough for him to get by without scraping half the skin off his scalp and forehead. The boy didn’t notice the soft, mental nudge he’d given the overgrowth.

  Jason suddenly disappeared. Eddie quickened his pace, his knees aching.

  He popped out of the path into a circle of bright, warm sun.

  Jessica was standing with Alice. He got to his feet, swatting the knees of his jeans clean.

  “Uncle Paul doesn’t like us to come here, but we thought it would be okay as long as you were with us,” Alice said.

  Eddie followed Jessica’s downward gaze to a patch of scorched earth over twenty feet wide. Nothing grew within the irregular circle. The black earth was littered with the brown husks of desiccated ragweed fronds. Though there was no lingering scent of a blaze, it looked lik
e one hell of a bonfire had taken place in the hidden patch of land.

  “What the fuck?” Jessica whispered, though loud enough to get a giggle from Jason and Alice. Eddie rolled his eyes. She bent down to grasp a handful of dirt and ragweed. It crumbled to a fine dust that filtered through her fingers. “It feels weird,” she said.

  He did the same. She was right. The texture was completely off, like something synthetic gone to waste.

  “This is the place where the Last Kids live,” Jason said.

  “Last Kids?” Eddie said.

  “Yes. There were lots of them on the island. This is where the last ones went to sleep.”

  Eddie’s heartbeat quickened.

  “Did your mother or father or Uncle Paul tell you that?” Jessica asked, kneeling so she was eye level with them.

  They shook their heads. “Mommy and Daddy don’t know about this place and Uncle Paul is too afraid to talk about it,” Alice said. “Sometimes we come here to talk to the Last Kids. But most times, they come to see us. A couple of times, they came as fireflies. It’s really pretty. They’re not scary at all.”

  Eddie looked over at Jessica. She did a great job of keeping her cool, not showing her concern to the kids.

  A feathery sensation, like walking under cobwebs, fingered across the back of his neck.

  When he looked back to the strange clearing, he could no longer see the barren land.

  The entire space was filled with the luminescent bodies of the dead. Dozens of young, tortured faces stared back at him, soundless, breathless. Many had high, sloping foreheads with small, crescent-shaped eyes. Some had stunted limbs, arms that ended where the elbow should be, useless digits flopping when they moved. He saw a boy with a severe cleft palate, a teenage girl with teeth in desperate need of braces, a baby—dear God, a baby!—crawling on the ground, missing its feet.

  A flood of emotions washed over him, through him, almost bringing him to his knees.