Brandon Enns - Islanders

“What did you say?”

“I said stay a while, Trevor. Why would you wish to leave?”

Bruce reached into the bag and pulled out wire clippers, placing them around Sebastian’s pinky toe. “This little piggy? Should it go to market?”

Bruce’s hand tightened around the handle.

“Okay!” Sebastian laughed with relief. “She’s with your brave and noble owner, in his eyesore of a home.”

“Good. We assumed as much but appreciate your cooperation. Next, your clan. Where are the others positioned?” Bruce looked to Trevor. “This one might be a little trickier.”

Without giving him time to answer, he clipped his toe off, and it hit the floor. The sight of it rolling around made Trevor feel sick.

“Your blood will taste sweet in the shadows of—” Bruce had already pulled out a short blade and thrust it into Sebastian’s leg. His scream was so loud, it echoed, like it came from another place.

“My blood is old dust. And yours is on the floor. Where are they?”

Sebastian contorted his face in disgust, pure disdain. “The children are on the other side. Teresa could be anywhere.”

“Oh, brother…” Bruce squeezed the handle of the knife in his leg.

“She’s waiting to intercept the boat! The boat!” Bruce pulled the knife out.

Bruce looked at Trevor. “Gut up, soldier.” He slapped him in the shoulder. “I’ll take care of the crazed woman. You get Erin and meet me on the south side at the dock. Come hell or high water, you make it happen. All right?”

“You’re fools!” Sebastian hissed.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m not going anywhere, princess. I’d never leave you.” Bruce turned to Trevor. “Got that gun of yours still?”

Trevor felt around his waist and touched the handle. “Yeah.”

“Good man. You go get your woman now.”

Trevor left feeling queasy, his legs like jelly.

Sebastian’s veins bulged in his forehead and sweat dripped from his chin. “You know the truth. Isn’t that right, Trevor? But you tell yourself that I’m the monster. Go on. If it makes you feel better, you go ahead.”

Trevor remembered that night clearly. It had never left him. Standing at the end of the dock, looking out at the beach… Behind the first set of trees, there was a man, shovelling dirt into a pit. A grave. He had just stood there and watched. That man was him.

Trevor stepped out of Bruce’s cabin. The rain was still coming down hard.

Had Ashton fled from Stefan?

Erin arrived at the top of the stairs. Stefan was back on the couch where she had last seen him. He was motionless, but still breathing. He had something in his hands. It was the folder.

“What is this?” He opened it up and flipped through it, looking at the photographs of the dead policewoman.

“Where’s Ashton?” she asked.

“He’s not in my room?”

Erin shook her head, waiting for a reaction.

He lowered his head. “It’s this place. It’s this… place!”

“How did they get to him?”

“I don’t know, Erin. I don’t know how it works.” He sounded like such a defeatist. It was all over based on the tumbling tones of his dry voice.

“Why was the wine room door sealed off?”

He rose to his feet with a grimace. “I. Don’t. Know. Why am I finding a folder here with pictures of a dead cop and a note that I can only assume was for you?” He was staring straight through her. “You’ve seen this already…”

“It was a long time ago.”

He threw his hands up in the air along with the folder, sending the photographs everywhere. “Oh! Well that’s fine then. Let’s mosey on out of here. Doesn’t seem like anyone is trying to use this against you or anything.” His eyes shifted and he stared at his feet, a picture of the dead cop next to them with blood smudged on the corner from Stefan’s hand. “What did you do?” he asked. He seemed fearful, staring at Erin like she was a dangerous killer.

She couldn’t begin to explain.

“Well?”

“I don’t expect you to understand. I don’t want you to.”

“You’re the reason this is all happening. Help me understand. How can this island have anything to do with this?” He looked down at the photographs again.

“I don’t know, I don’t know, I just—I…” She exhaled. “This is my punishment.” He opened his mouth to ask another question but fell silent as he studied her despairing face.

“This is my reckoning. I’ve been waiting for it for too long.”

“Good. I thought you were going to say something to scare me more,” he replied.

She shook her head. “It was an accident.”

“You murdered a cop?”

Then, a bang at the door made them both flinch. “GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR!” It was Trevor. Bang . Bang . More gunshots fired. Trevor pulled his gun and stepped in front of Erin. Is he going to kill us both?

Trevor’s eyes were red, his skin white, and he was soaked, covered in sand from head to toe. The lunacy of his entire being was terrifying. His eyes darted back and forth with both confusion and rage. Stefan held out his hands to block Erin, and a staring contest ensued. “Just let her go,” said Trevor.

“You should leave.”

Trevor assessed the arrangement, Stefan blocking her as if protecting her. “Just let her go.” His dumbfounded look locked in on Erin. “Erin, come with me. We’re leaving. We’re going home.”

Trevor glanced at the blood-ridden kitchen floor.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” The words were not even understood, like he misheard her. He looked dangerous, paranoid, obsessed. His shaking gun was raised uncomfortably at Stefan, making uneven circles in the air.

“He’s doing this to you. The island is doing this to you!” shouted Trevor.

“Drop your gun, Trevor,” she said.

“Not until he drops his.”

“We know what you did.”

“I didn’t do that!” he snapped like a sick dog foaming at the mouth. “That was him. It was all part of his sick games. Can’t you see that?”

“I see that your honestly confused, but—”

“You’re going to get us killed, Erin.”

“Listen to me. This isn’t you. This is this stupid place, Trevor. Let go of whatever it is. You’re in control. And we can go home. But you have to slide over your gun.”

Trevor shook his head in frustration. “He’s filling your head with complete nonsense.”

“Tell me the cheating wasn’t your choice.” His head bobbed back as though the suggestion was ludicrous. She continued. “Please tell me that nothing happened before we got here.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Not a clue. Erin, I love you and I just want to go home with you.”

The words hurt. He was only saying them out of desperation. He had never told her he loved her. It was a lie.

“No, you don’t. And that’s okay. Just put the gun down so nobody else gets hurt.”

His shoulders rolled forward in defeat as he lowered to the ground. “We’re all dead.”

Heavy footsteps came crashing into the living room as Bruce charged up with his rifle pointed straight at Stefan. “I’d keep that gun up if I were you.”

Erin sidestepped around Stefan and raised her gun at Bruce. “We all need to calm down,” he said.

She glanced to her left. Stefan looked poised to fire, as did Trevor. “You two are family. Without any guns, let’s share what we know… Like the photograph I found.”

“What photograph?” asked Trevor.

“I have one in my pocket.” She reached in slowly and pulled it out. “I can take you to the rest of them. In the cabin.” She scowled at Bruce.

“We don’t need to see anymore pictures.” urged Stefan. “We have evidence. We know that Trevor killed Skye.”