Brandon Enns - Islanders

He staggered around to the main entrance to find the doors had been ripped out. He hesitated and looked around to make sure no one was going to pop out. When he stepped into the place, mice scurried, causing him to stiffen up. He hated mice. There were cobwebs everywhere, an old soda machine from the 70s, and strange mounted animals on the walls that he had never seen before. They were antelope maybe? Though they had fangs and oddly shaped antlers pointing in different directions, like it was maybe some freak show custom job.

Ashton jolted to the right, nearly screaming in response to the sound of a thud. Someone was inside. Not a word was said. The same thought kept rolling in his head over and over again, and he couldn’t get it out. It was like a virus, spreading out of control like wildfire. S tay a while.

Another thud came from the corner, where it was darkest, hiding from the moonlight and the stars.

What was that sound? Stay a while. Stay a while.

He inched closer and closer. Another thud sounded. Closer yet, slowly but surely, the light leaking in as his perspective changed. S tay a while. He was transfixed. There was no turning back. An object flew across the room, making the same thud again. Then… music? He swore he could hear the droning sound of a guitar settling quietly in the background. The moon was at the correct angle, poking partially through the vacant window frame and a hole in the ceiling.

The object burst forward from the dark, but it was no object at all. It was a young boy, and he was just as frightened as Ashton was, eyes shifting back and forth after he gasped and appeared ready to run away. He was a teenage kid, backwards snapback hat, button-up Hawaiian shirt, and he had headphones in his ears that he now pulled out. Ashton realized that the boy had been throwing darts.

Ashton was leaning against a picnic table, catching his breath. “Hey, hey! It’s all good! Not a ghost, not a ghost.”

The kid bent over in relief and groaned from the startling moment. “Shit. You gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry.” Ashton burst out laughing. “That was the weirdest thing. Where the hell are we?”

“Lost tourist?”

“Yeah, bro. A little lettuce and beer and I’ve gone rogue.”

He looked at Ashton with confused eyes.

“Sorry I scared you, small fry.”

“It’s okay.” He collected the darts off the board.

“What are you doing out here? With headphones in yet. That’s a terrifying night out, buddy.”

“Just felt like being alone for a bit.”

What was this kid doing out in the bush? He thought they were the only ones out on this island.

“I’m Jhett.”

“Ashton. What’re you doing here, Jhett?”

“I help out around here.”

They shook hands. “You’re from New York, right?”

“How’d you know that?”

“Stefan told me. Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“What’s it like there? At night with all the lights and clubs.”

Ashton tossed his bottle of tequila over. “How old are you?”

“Old enough.”

He laughed. “Fair enough.” A 101 class on getting laid seemed to be on the docket.

Skye walked down the lonely beach, water rushing up to her feet. When she had arrived back at her room, Ashton was not there. She didn’t want to bother Erin and Trevor, so she went for a stroll by herself to look for him. She figured that he had maybe smoked and drank too much and wandered over to the cliffs—not a great location to hang out in that condition. He loved the half day they had spent there cliff diving, water sliding, and relaxing in the hot spring. They had decided against going for a longer hike that Stefan mentioned they should try out. Maybe he had gone to complete that trail?

She arrived at the rocky wall. Ocean water pushed into the shelf; the breeze was tunneled, concentrated on her. She crossed her arms, hands in her armpits. The wind roared, making her more anxious than she already was.

Skye stared at the daunting ridges. Just as she was about to start her shaky climb, a light caught her eye. It was coming in off the water, against the rocks.

She walked toward it slowly. It danced back and forth. She dipped her feet into the warm ocean, and she slid her feet along the sand. The light expanded as she neared. She could hear a splashing noise. Her feet slid over slimy and smooth rocks. She reached the corner and placed her hand on the rock, ready to peek around the corner at the beast that waited for her. The rock on her hand was slick with moss. As she leaned forward, she slipped, clumsily losing her balance and falling into the shallow water, near the mini cave. She jumped to her feet, a scream lodged in her throat. A man stood in the corner hunched over, his back wide and thick with muscle. He was a beast.

The man yelled, standing waist deep in the cave with a flashlight. “Jesus!” he bellowed. “I thought you were a shark. Or a… vampire.” He released a high-pitched whine of relief.

The wind had been vacuumed out of her lungs. “Why are— Who are you?!”

His chest was deep with curly chest hair, and he had short black hair up top and brown eyes. He appeared to be in his mid-forties.

“I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else!” Skye said.

“Oh, well, it’s just lonely ole me.”

His smile was hunky. Everything about him was hunky. He was no beast. He was gorgeous; like a sexy lumberjack. From what she could see with the flashlight still on, his face had a nice outline of stubble. She couldn’t take her eyes off his defined chest. He ran a hand through his dark hair that was salted with gray and in doing so, his pec flexed.

Her concern for Ashton had evaporated into the humid air.

“What are you doing down here?” she asked.

“Looking for my car keys.” His straight-faced delivery made her laugh.

“Oh, really?”

“I’m always misplacing things. And then I became so relaxed I figured I’d stay a little while.”

“It is nice. I’m Skye.” She felt like a flustered schoolgirl. Her instincts should have told her to leave the potentially dangerous stranger and go back to the duplex, but there was no damn way that was happening.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“I didn’t realize there were other guests here.”

“Not really a guest. I have a business in Belize, but I also help out around here with various exciting chores.”

“What’s your business?”

“Just a little beachfront restaurant. Less sealife, more burgers and fries.”

His voice was deep and soft. She wanted him between her legs.

“Why Belize?”

“Oh, let’s just say it moves at a slower pace here. A little more forgiveness.”

“Yeah, it’s bonkers beautiful here.” She had never said bonkers in her life.

“And you. Where do you live?”

“New York.”

“Really?” He sounded dramatically surprised.

“Why?”

“Well…” He stopped himself, perhaps trying to be coy.

“No seriously, what is it?”

“I’m just surprised you’re from anywhere I guess. Just a feeling I get.”

“Are you saying I don’t seem rooted, or do you just get me?” He wasn’t necessarily wrong. She wasn’t a true New Yorker.

His beautiful smile was still on display. She wanted to grab his square jaw and kiss him roughly.

“I suppose I do. So… What do you like about New York?”

It was a good question; one that she had never even asked herself. Was the art and culture her only answer?

The bottle of tequila was almost completely drunk, the kid taking in his fair share. He thought about cutting him off halfway through, but they were having a good time. Jhett was quite the conversationalist for a fourteen-year-old. The laughter was hearty, the dialog easy, talking about life in the Big Apple, the women, the drugs—trying not to place too much glamour in association with using. He seemed like a smart kid. A good kid.