The Island: The addictive new YA thriller from the Sunday Times bestselling author of STRANGERS

by C. L. Taylor

  She shakes her head, not daring to look at him. ‘I… I was having a nightmare and then… then all of a sudden I was awake and Danny was slapping me and shouting and I heard the word spiders and I freaked out.’

  ‘Did you see them?’ I ask again. ‘Any of them? Did you see a single spider?’

  She shakes her head. ‘I… no… I didn’t. I thought he was telling the truth.’

  ‘I was telling the truth,’ Danny shouts, making her jump. ‘I was, babe. They’re lying. They’re all lying. Meg’s got to them. She’s turned them against me. But I didn’t imagine anything. Jefferson fell off the cliff. I wasn’t the only person who saw him fall, Jessie did too.’

  ‘Yes, Danny,’ I say. ‘I did. But no one pushed him. It was dark. He didn’t have his glasses on, he couldn’t see where he was going. It was an accident.’

  ‘There was someone in the bushes.’

  ‘No one was in the bushes.’

  ‘It was Meg.’

  ‘It wasn’t,’ Honor says. She pushes her hands through her hair but they only travel a few inches until they catch in the tangled, dirty mess at the roots. ‘She was lying right next to me the whole time. She was still there when Jessie screamed.’

  ‘But… but…’ Danny says desperately. ‘What about Anuman? Someone took of his boots.’

  ‘Anuman’s boots are still on his feet,’ I say. ‘I saw them earlier. They’re poking out from the tarpaulin, just like they have been every day since he died.’

  ‘Jessie’s right,’ Milo says and Jeffers and Honor both nod.

  ‘But… but…’ Danny presses a hand to the side of his head. He screws up his eyes and roars as though something is slicing through his brain.

  My eyes fill with tears and I press my fingers over my mouth, stifling a sob. This is tearing him apart.

  ‘Our phobias haven’t come true, Danny,’ I say softly. ‘Jefferson fell off a cliff but the other stuff – the snake, the spiders, the fire, the message, the blood. None of it happened. Meg’s not making our phobias come true. You’re not well, Danny. The things you saw are all in your head.’

  Chapter 34

  DANNY

  It all began on the second night on the island. He was drunk, stumbling away from camp, feeling the warmth of the sea breeze on his skin as he neared the boat. The others were asleep, knocked out by the vodka and rum; most of them in the shelter and Jessie curled up on the sand, a safe distance from the fire. Even Anuman was flat out on his back, mouth open and snoring softly. But Danny couldn’t sleep. Honor’s voice was on a loop in his head.

  ‘I’m going back tomorrow. I don’t want to be here.’

  He didn’t want her to go back to the hotel where she’d shut herself off from him with a book or avoid him completely. There was no way they’d sort out the issues in their relationship if she did that. They needed to do it on the island, where there were no distractions and where they could fall asleep in each other’s arms at night and wake up to the sunrise each morning. They could walk hand in hand down to the beach or swim in the waterfall pool. The island was Danny’s best chance of getting Honor to fall back in love with him again. If she left he’d never get the opportunity to put things right.

  The idea to cut the engine starter cord had come to him in a flash – quite literally – as he sat alone at the fire and drained the last of the vodka. But it wasn’t the tiny sparkling flames that lit up the darkness that had caught his attention, it was the glint of the knife lying on top of Jefferson’s rucksack. Danny couldn’t see the boat in the distance but he knew it was there, bobbing around on the sea, taunting him, reminding him that tomorrow it would carry Honor away from him. Anger bubbled in his belly. It wasn’t fair, not when he was fighting so hard to save their relationship. He reached for the knife and stood up, swaying slightly as he fought to keep his balance. He hadn’t been able to stop his mum from leaving him but he could stop Honor.

  Less than five minutes later the starter cord was severed, the pull handle lobbed far out to sea. He woke up the next day, foggy and confused. His head hurt and everyone was moaning about being hungover. It wasn’t until he saw the empty vodka bottle in the sand that he remembered what he’d done. By cutting the starter cord on the boat not only had he forced Honor, and everyone else, to remain on the island, but he’d pretty much single-handedly destroyed Anuman’s livelihood. He’d pay for the starter cord to be fixed, he told himself. He’d borrow some money from Honor’s mum and pay her back when they returned to the UK.

  Only Anuman never discovered what he’d done to his boat. He died and Meg discovered that the starter cord had gone. Danny couldn’t admit what he’d done, not then as they panicked about getting Anuman help and not later when the reality of their situation sunk in. He could never, ever, tell any of them what he’d done. They’ll never forgive him. And he doesn’t blame them. He doesn’t forgive himself.

  Honor. He glances at his girlfriend, crouched at Jefferson’s feet like a frightened child. She looks at him, only for a split second, but it’s long enough for him to register the fear in her eyes.

  How has his life gone so horribly wrong? He was happy once, wasn’t he? He had a girlfriend who loved him and friends who laughed at his jokes. When he clambered into Anuman’s boat six days ago did they sail into a nightmare? Is the island a dark force that will destroy them all? Or is he dreaming? Is that what this island is – a dark, twisted fragment of his imagination where all his worst fears come true? But if it’s a nightmare why can’t he wake up? He’s already jumped off a cliff. Nothing happened. Is it hell? Did the boat sink when it left the harbour and his bloated rotting body is floating out to sea? Because it feels like hell, with his pounding heart and his bleeding feet and the grotesque twisted faces swimming in and out of his mind.

  He clutches his head, stumbling forward now, not running, as a lightning bolt of pain tears through his head. His eyeballs burn behind his screwed shut lids and he feels as though he is flying and twisting, turning and landing and there’s the pain again. And the voice, the voice he’s spent so long trying to push out of his head.

  Danny! Danny! Oh God! No! No! Danny! Danny! Hold on!

  He sinks to his knees, his hands over his ears but he can still hear it, his mum’s ear-splitting scream.

  Chapter 35

  JESSIE

  As Danny drops to the ground Milo rushes forward and gathers Meg into his arms. He half carries, half pulls her back to the safety of the edge of the jungle. At the same time Jefferson scoops Honor up and, lifting her over his shoulder, carries her back to the trees.

  ‘Jessie!’ he shouts. ‘Come on!’

  But I don’t follow.

  ‘Jess!’ Milo’s yell follows Jefferson’s. ‘It’s not safe.’

  He continues to shout after me as I walk slowly across the clearing towards Danny, still crouched low beside the cave, one hand pressed to the side of his head, the other clutching the flaming torch. His eyes follow me as I duck down to pick up the knife and throw it behind me, but no emotion registers on his face. He stares at me blankly – not afraid, not curious, not relieved, nothing. It’s as though he’s looking straight through me.

  ‘Danny?’

  He flinches at the mention of his name but he doesn’t speak. He just keeps on staring.

  ‘Danny, I want to help you.’

  I glance over my shoulder, to check on the others. Jefferson’s set Honor back on the ground and she and Meg are clinging to each other and sobbing. Jefferson and Milo are watching me, their hands clenched at their sides.

  ‘Danny,’ I say again. ‘Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. Let me help you.’

  His shakes his head. It’s the tiniest of movements but it’s enough for me to know that he’s listening.

  ‘You don’t want help?’ I ask. ‘Or you don’t believe me?’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’ His voice is a low guttural moan.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘You’re all in it together.’ He stands up suddenl
y, making me jump, and waves the torch in front of him. The flames dance and spark in front of his face.

  ‘What is it we’ve done, Danny?’

  ‘YOU’RE ALL LIARS!’

  The force of his scream makes my heart gallop and I tense, prepared to turn and run if he attacks. But I don’t turn and I don’t run. I stay rooted to the spot, my hands hanging loosely at my side.

  ‘It’s OK to be scared, Danny.’

  ‘I’m not scared of you.’

  ‘What are you scared of?’

  ‘Whoever’s behind all this.’ He waves the lit torch from side to side. ‘Whoever wants to punish me, to make my phobia come true.’ I pause. He’s never told me what he’s scared of but I’m starting to guess. ‘Why did you tie Honor up?’

  ‘To protect her. I had to keep her safe.’

  ‘You thought someone wanted to hurt her?’

  ‘Not hurt her! Kill her! And if she dies I may as well die too! But I get to decide that. Not you! Not them!’ The flames jump and leap as he waves the torch from side to side. It hasn’t rained in Thailand for weeks and the jungle is tinder dry. If he sets fire to one plant the whole island will go up in flames.

  ‘OK, OK!’ I hold up my hands. ‘Please be careful, Danny. Just watch the torch.’

  ‘What about it?’ He waves it from side to side, making the flames dance in the air. ‘It’s not real.’

  ‘What isn’t?’

  ‘The torch, the jungle, the island, us. None of it’s real.’ He presses the flat of his hand against a palm tree and rubs it up and down. ‘Look.’ He holds his palm out, showing me the red raw skin. ‘It doesn’t hurt. You can’t feel pain in dreams.’

  ‘So that’s what this is, a dream?’

  ‘No, it’s a nightmare!’

  I fight to control my breathing. To slow it down. I need to keep him calm until help arrives.

  ‘OK,’ I say. ‘Let’s say it is a nightmare. Now you know that you can control how it ends.’

  Danny frowns. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s called lucid dreaming. You can take control of what happens. You get to decide.’

  ‘So…’ He shrugs. ‘If I decide to cut my own throat I’ll still wake up?’

  I feel sick. This was a terrible idea.

  ‘No, no. What I mean is, if the dream is making you feel scared or stressed, you can choose to be happy or peaceful instead.’

  ‘I want to be happy,’ he says flatly.

  ‘OK. Good.’

  ‘It’s not working.’ His expression shifts. ‘You know why, Jessie? Because everything I touch turns to shit, everything I do ends in failure and everyone I love leaves me.’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ he shouts, spreading his arms so wide that the flames from the torch lick at the trunk of the nearest palm tree. ‘Honor wants to leave me! My mum left me. Eight years! She hasn’t been to see me once in eight years! What kind of woman walks out on her son and never sees him again?’

  A terrible wave of fear crashes over me. It’s the same fear I felt when Tom talked to me about death – that I’m completely out of my depth. I just want to ignore it or run away but I can’t do that. If I leave now he’s going to hurt himself or set the whole island alight.

  ‘Dan,’ I say hesitantly. ‘Why haven’t you seen your mum?’

  ‘Because she’s with him. John. The arsehole she left my dad for.’

  I take a steadying breath but my heart is ricocheting off my ribs. ‘That’s not true, is it?’

  ‘Yes it is!’ His eyes rage. ‘She lied to me and said she and dad were splitting up because they’d grown apart when all the time she was sleeping with John from work! Dad said she’d been having an affair for ages before he found out. I tried to make her stay. I begged her. I screamed at her that I was her son and if she moved out that meant she loved John more than she loved me. I was nine years old. NINE YEARS OLD and my mum left me behind.’

  Instinctively I reach for the soft skin of my forearm. But I don’t twist it to numb the pain I’m feeling for Danny. Instead I stroke my fingers over my rough burnt skin. You can still help him, Jessie, Tom’s voice says in my head. You can do this.

  ‘Where’s your mum, Danny?’ I ask softly.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Yes, you do!’

  ‘No.’ He presses a hand to the side of his head and winces, screwing his eyes tightly shut. ‘Don’t. Please. Don’t.’

  ‘What happened to her, Danny, after she left to move in with John?’

  He shakes his head and loosens his grip on the torch. It dips down to the ground and the flames lick at the parched earth. ‘Stop it! Stop asking me about her! I’ll burn the whole island down. I will! I swear!’

  ‘What happened to your mum, Danny?’

  ‘None of this is real.’

  ‘You’re real. I’m real. And what happened to your mum is real. Tell me what happened to her, Danny!’

  He starts to cry, silently at first, then loud, broken sobs that make him jerk and twist.

  ‘What happened to your mum?’

  ‘No… no… I can’t…’ He crumples and sinks to his knees, one hand gripping the torch, the other slapping himself on the side of the head.

  ‘Say it, Danny.’

  There’s a pause, a terrible weighty pause that seems to go on for ever and then Danny throws the torch away from him and doubles over, hugging his head in his hands.

  ‘She’s dead!’ he sobs. ‘She’s dead, she’s dead, she’s dead.’

  I hold Danny as he cries, his head on my shoulder, rocking and shushing him as though he were a tiny baby, the torch – extinguished – lying blackened and burnt on the ground beside us. I cry too, silent tears for Danny, for his mum, for Tom, for my family, for me. I didn’t think Danny and I had anything in common but we are more similar than I ever could have known. We are both broken, shattered by grief, carrying the shards of what could have been in our hearts.

  I close my eyes and listen to the sounds of the jungle, the caws and calls, the whoops and wails carried on thick, humid air that wraps us like a blanket. We are lost in death but surrounded by life. I have never felt so small or so insignificant as I do right now, a tiny speck on an enormous planet, but I have also never felt more grateful to be alive.

  The gentle squeeze on my shoulder doesn’t startle me. I heard the footsteps growing closer, the snapping of branches and the swish of leaves.

  ‘Jessie,’ Milo says softly. ‘Our parents are here. They’ve come to rescue us. Someone overheard Josh and Jack talking and they realized we were in trouble. Jefferson’s dad hired a boat. We’re going home.’

  Chapter 36

  DANNY

  Three weeks later

  ‘She’s dead. She said she’d never leave me but she did. She said she’d never love anyone as much as she loved me. She said I was her everything. She said a lot of things and none of them were true. She’s dead. And she’s a liar.’

  The psychiatrist leans forward in her chair, her gaze not wavering from Danny’s face. ‘That’s how you felt, after your mum died?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He stares down at his hands, twisting almost of their own accord in his lap.

  ‘You felt betrayed? Angry?’

  He shrugs. ‘I don’t know how I felt. I was nine.’

  ‘Yes,’ she says softly. ‘You were very young.’

  ‘I saw her die.’

  The psychiatrist’s brows knit together in sympathy. ‘I can’t begin to imagine how awful that must have been.’

  ‘She was screaming my name, when she lost control of the car. We were hurtling towards a truck. It was like everything was suddenly in slow motion, kind of jerky like someone was pushing play then pause, you know?’ The psychiatrist nods minutely. ‘And I was shouting to her to turn the wheel but…’ He pauses. ‘Maybe that was just in my head. The car flipped over. I don’t know how many times it turned in the air but I can remember the seatbelt cutting into the side of my neck and h
ow much it hurt.’ He presses a hand to his collarbone, nursing the scar with his fingers. ‘When the car finally landed on the motorway Mum screamed and it was…’ He shakes his head. ‘It was…’

  The psychiatrist hands him a box of tissues but he shakes his head and swipes roughly at the tears on his cheeks.

  ‘It was the worst sound I’ve ever heard in my life, but… but what scared me more was when…’ He stares at the ceiling, tears clouding his eyes, and takes a deep, juddering breath. ‘What scared me more was when she stopped.’

  The psychiatrist says nothing but Danny can feel her eyes on him from across the room and the wave of sympathy that wraps itself around him.

  ‘She was… she was taking me back to Dad’s house and I spent the whole journey going on at her, trying to make her feel guilty for leaving me, telling her that John didn’t love her the way I loved her and that she’d broken my heart. The last… the last thing she heard me say was that… was that… I hated her.’ He crumples forward, tears streaming down his cheeks, and cradles his head in his hands. The pain of the memory rips through him, tearing at his heart.

  ‘She knew you loved her,’ the psychiatrist says softly, which makes him cry harder. ‘I didn’t know her and I didn’t know you then, but I am certain of that.’

  ‘How?’ He looks up at her. ‘How can you know that?’

  ‘Because all children say they hate their parents at some point in their lives. As children we throw all kinds of emotions at our parents because we feel safe doing so. We know that, no matter what we say to them, they’ll still love us. I’d be more worried if you hadn’t been able to tell her how frustrated and angry you were.’

  ‘So you’re worried about me?’ He swipes at his tears again then laughs dryly. ‘I didn’t know you cared.’

  The psychiatrist smiles warmly. ‘Tell me what happened after the accident, Danny. You mentioned earlier that you saw things as a child, dangerous things.’