Brandon Enns - Islanders

“I’m comfortable.”

“It’s best not to be angry. You should be grateful.”

“Grateful?”

“Do you know how many people they’ve tried?”

Tried? As if they were sampling crackers at the supermarket. “They’ve chosen you, Erin. You’ll be reborn. You’re their holy grail.”

“Lucky me.”

He stepped forward. The knife tucked in her back waistband was waiting. She wanted to reach for it but it wasn’t quite time yet. Erin had grabbed it from the kitchen back at Stefan’s after she knew they were being hunted. She backed up to the wall, portraying fear, desiring revenge. She looked down to see a gun holstered at his side, but that was moot; he’d never see it coming.

“There’s no need to be scared. You’re home.”

“What will you do with Trevor?”

“He’ll be disposed of like the others.”

“Ashton?”

“Oh, of course. He’s been gone a while now.”

She cringed.

“Don’t worry though. We are delicate with our executions. Well, maybe not Stefan. But the rest all went without pain. Trevor will go without pain.”

She tilted her head and wiped her wet nose with her finger. “Thank you,” she muttered.

He inched closer. That’s right. A little more.

“It will be clearer to you soon. And you’ll feel right as rain.”

Right as rain… “So what’s the deal with you? You’re like a servant to them then?”

He sighed. “I’m still paying my dues in flesh, but my time will come soon enough. I’ll need to be replaced.”

“How’d you get here?”

“Pure luck.” A big greasy smile took over his wrinkled face. “Backpacking. I was a writer. A journalist. A very terrible one at that.” He chuckled. “I couldn’t be what everyone wanted me to be. I was a stain on my family, an outcast at my core. There’s great shame in that. It brought me here, though. I was the first to find them. I set them free and they welcomed me in like family. Helped me see things the way they should be seen.”

One more step. Her hand grabbed hold of the knife and she pulled it out and attacked in one fluid motion. His eyes lit up and the knife missed his face and slashed his arm. Bruce grabbed her wrists and squeezed. She tried to push the knife towards his face, but he was too strong. He wrenched the knife from her hand as it clanked on the floor, so she threw her head into the bridge of his nose. His gun dropped to the floor.

She ripped her hands free and got to it first. Erin backed up against the far wall, gun pointed straight at his chest. “Don’t think about going for that knife,” she commanded.

“I wouldn’t dare.” The fear had abated and was replaced by a sly smirk again. “You know that old story. Don’t bring a knife to a gun fight right?”

Her hand was on the trigger.

“You’re not going to kill me, are you, Erin?”

“Let’s not find out.”

He touched his puffy nose and sniggered.

“I will do this. I will,” she whispered.

He staggered slowly over to the knife, bent over, and picked it up. “I wish you had the flare for taking a human life, but sadly, you don’t. You’re going to be a doctor, Erin. You don’t take life. You’re supposed save lives.”

“Drop the knife and face the door. Please, just do it.”

He stepped toward her, looking down at his feet as he did so.

“Drop it.”

“No.” He took another step.

“Stop!”

“You’re where you belong. Don’t you want to stay?” He took another calculated step.

“Don’t move!”

“You’ve got it. No more moving.” He placed a finger on his left nostril and cleared out his right onto the cement floor. It left a green stain on the cement. “I’ve been around long enough to know cowardice. Don’t take it personally. It’s something that built into you; both from birth and your environment when you were of an age too young to control it. We’re often erased before we have a chance. That’ll never change. Not with the way the world is.”

“I’m not a coward.”

“No?”

“No.”

“What are you then?”

“I’m half a second away from shooting you.”

He chuckled. “I’m afraid not. I have a speech about a lion. Care to hear it?”

“I’m sure I’ve heard it before.”

“Right. Well the takeaway is that you are not a lion. You are something else.”

“The one with the gun. Yes.”

“I wonder what you will be like…”

“What?”

“After we drain all the blood from your body.”

“Dead. I’d be dead.”

He sniggered and ran his hand through his scruffy facial hair. “You’re charming.”

“Get up against the door and turn around.”

Bruce’s face collapsed. Any resemblance of the human condition was now gone. He jolted at her with the knife cocked back. She pulled the trigger. He fell to the floor. Keeled over against the wall, he put a hand to his bloody chest.

Erin tried to exhale but it was more like short vibrations of her vocal cords. The shimmer of keys caught her eyes. She reached around his belly and snagged them without touching any of the blood. She stepped over his body and out the door. Standing in front of the other captive room, she slid the key in the lock and it turned. Yes, yes. Thank you, God. She pulled out the chains from the steel handle and swung open the door. Trevor looked awful, but he was alive. “Are you okay?” he asked.

He hugged her tightly and she hugged him back, despite everything. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“Come on.”

Trevor followed Erin underground to the wine room. It had been boarded up, the wood thick and unbreakable. They were trapped with only one direction to go. Bruce’s cabin. The yacht would be their escape, if they were able to find the keys, or perhaps attempt to hot-wire it. She assumed such a task would be beyond Trevor’s skill set, but one step at time was the best approach moving forward.

She led Trevor by the hand back to the green door until she felt him pull back. He had stopped. “You know now that I didn’t kill Skye. And I did not sleep with her. Never even a chance in hell. There’s no magical spell on me. You see that, right?”

His tone was final and somber. It was the truth. Erin nodded subtly, not wanting to waste time with words that would still taste bitter. “We have to go through the cabin. It’s the only way out. No matter what happens to me, just get to the boat.” His eyes lifted at the implication. “If we can’t find the boat keys… Find a screwdriver, something that might give you a chance to turn it over.”

He grabbed hold of her hand. “I should be saying the same to you. So how about we just both get the fuck out of here, okay? Leave no man behind. What’s that from?”

She stepped into her captivity room to find Bruce still there in a pool of blood. She stepped around his body to pick up the gun. She handed Trevor the knife, and the corner of his mouth tightened. “What? You’re stronger in close. You know, hand-to-hand combat. Knife won’t do me any good. Plus, I saw your shooting,” she said.

“Fair enough.”

“Okay.”

He tried to take the lead, moving past her, but she stopped him. “I’ve got the gun. Unless you plan on throwing that knife?” He stepped aside.

She crawled up slowly, gun in her right hand, her left pressing against the uneven concrete step. She could feel pebbles molded in with the cement. It was cool and bumpy. As her hand reached up to the knob on the green door, the image of her bloodied hands rolled right before her eyes like a projection screen.

She shook the image loose and twisted the knob slowly, waited, then charged through.