Amy Cross - Persona

“Good job,” Harold says suddenly, having come up behind me. He puts a hand on my shoulder for a moment, smiling at me as he makes his way past and heads over to the other side of the town. It’s not as if I need his support, but at the same time it’s good to know that someone thinks I’m doing a good job. Maybe, with Deckard gone, Steadfall can finally start to function properly again.

“It started with just one person,” the old man explains as we sit on the ground in the center of the clearing. “People used to get sick from time to time, but gradually it began to spread. I still don’t know what it was, not exactly, but it caused coughing and vomiting, and diarrhea, and then there was blood. At first we tried to tell ourselves it was nothing major, that we could ignore it, but we soon realized it was more serious. It was quick to kill anyone who got infected, and it seemed to spread through physical contact. I was one of the lucky ones, I managed not to get sick, but I watched a lot of good people die.”

His face twitches for a moment.

Still holding the knife up, in case he tries anything, I wait for him to continue.

“They used the sickness to manipulate us,” he says after a moment. “The three new arrivals, I mean. Looking back now, it all seems so unbelievably simple, the way they twisted us against each other. Harold seemed to be their leader, and he wormed his way in so well and so fast that within just a day or two everyone trusted him. Even when a few of us started to get suspicious, our concerns were ignored. We were treated as outcasts. Harold was manipulating everything, and he had his pals Leanne and Ben to back him up. Between the three of them, they managed to sow the seeds of dissent throughout the camp. People were arguing, the sickness was spreading, and finally…”

He swallows hard, before turning to me.

“Have you never heard about them before?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“Seriously? You’ve never once heard mention of a sickness on the island, or of the three people who bring death wherever they visit?”

Again, I shake my head.

“That surprises me,” he continues. “I thought word of their cruelty had spread far and wide by now. Harold was a master of getting into the minds of the people around him. I watched as he identified everyone’s weakness, as he exploited the tiniest fissures in relationships. He got them eating out of the palm of his hand and he erased anyone he perceived to be a threat, and then…”

I wait for him to finish.

“And then he destroyed everything,” he adds finally. “Oh, he had help from his two lackeys, but he was the driving force. He was the one who stood and watched, not even blinking, as flames consumed the huts. He was the one who smiled as the screams rang out. Later, he was the one who carried out all the torture. I know it probably sounds like I’m exaggerating, but I promise you, that man is pure evil. I only wish I’d had the courage to stand up to him, maybe even to kill him, instead of…” He sighs. “And now he’s out there still. I’m sure he’ll have other victims.”

Looking out at the darkening forest, I can’t help imagining this Harold person still wandering the island, searching for more people to kill. For the first time since I set out on this journey, I feel an overwhelming urge to get back to Steadfall, if only to warn Asher and the others.

“You’re a good person,” the old man says suddenly. “I can see it in your eyes.” He stares at me for a moment longer, before slowly getting to his feet. “Come on, I want to show you something.” He winces as his bones creak. “We shouldn’t stay here. Maybe I’m just getting superstitious in my old age, but the thought of spending time here at night… Well, even if those monsters don’t come back, there are still a lot of dead bodies here, bodies of people I once counted as friends. Please, I have a small camp nearby and I’d like to show you something important.”

I hesitate for a moment, before finally getting up. I don’t like the idea of trusting anyone, but in some ways this old man reminds me of the other old man I met when I first came to the island. He died so that I could escape from the cannibal camp, so I figure that maybe older people are more trustworthy. Dumb, I know, but that’s how my mind is working right now. Besides, I need to learn more about what happened, so I can warn the others back at Steadfall.

“Walter,” he says with a faint smile, reaching out a trembling hand for me to shake. “My name is Walter. Please, come with me. It might still not be safe out here.”

Another explosion rips through the building, bringing the ceiling crashing down on top of us. I turn and duck for cover, and a moment later I hear cries from nearby. My targeting systems aren’t working properly and I can’t see a damn thing, but I can tell someone’s hurt.

“Status!” I call out, although I quickly start coughing as thick, acrid dust fills the air. “Status!”

I wait, but the only response is a slow, anguished groan.

“I’m coming!” I continue, struggling to push a broken beam from across my chest. “Medic! Get a medic in here! Someone get a—”

Suddenly I sit up in the darkness of the hut, and I realize in a flash that I was dreaming. With sweat pouring down my body, I listen to the silence of the camp, with only the sound of the night fire making any noise at all. Everyone else is asleep, apart from the two people who are up for sentry duty tonight.

Realizing that I won’t be able to get back to sleep any time soon, I get to my feet and head over to the doorway. As I look out at the fire in the center of the clearing, I can’t help replaying that dream over and over in my mind. I don’t know what changed, but over the past twenty-four hours I seem to have more and more of these strange memories, as if some inner barrier has begun to break down. There’s a chance that they’re not memories, of course, that they’re just some kind of fantasy thrown up by my subconscious mind, but deep down I feel as if I really lived through these things.

For some reason, my medically-induced amnesia is slowly starting to wear off. I’m remembering parts of the war.

Making my way outside and around the side of my hut, I wander to the fence and look out at the dark forest. I wait, hoping that more memories might start to resurface, but after a moment I realize that they seem to come only during sleep. I have no idea what might have triggered this sudden change, but deep down I can’t shake a sense of fear. I’ve spent so many years hoping that I’d remember the war, convinced that there was this yawning chasm in my mind that I had to refill. Now, however, I’m starting to realize that the memories might do more harm than good, that some of the things I remember might be better left forgotten.

Just as I’m about to turn and head back to my hut, I spot a figure hurrying away from town, heading out into the forest.

Keeping low, I make my way through the undergrowth, while keeping an eye on the figure up ahead. There’s just enough moonlight for me to be able to make her out, but I can’t quite identify her, not from this far back. It’s definitely a woman, though, and for some reason she seems to be hurrying through the night.

As I continue to follow her, my first thought is that maybe it’s someone who simply wants to leave Steadfall, and who prefers to do so under cover of night rather than making a fuss during the day. After a moment, however, it occurs to me that something more sinister might be happening. What if Deckard didn’t really leave? What if he’s out here somewhere, and he has a little network of informants who are taking him food and water, and filling him in on what’s happening in the town? If that’s the case, he might be planning a triumphant return to overthrow me. Paranoid, perhaps, but still possible.