The Island

I scream into a thick leather glove and thrash my body from side to side in a desperate attempt to get him to release his grip.

Robert lifts me off the ground with ease, squeezing my chest so tight it’s hard to breathe.

Panicked, I kick the heel of my Converse hard into his shins. He’s prepared for violence and doesn’t flinch as I repeatedly kick out. He has both of my hands pinned to my sides with one arm. He’s so damn strong I don’t stand a chance.

My heart stops when I realize that it’s not working. I’m not hurting him.

I always thought adrenaline would kick in and I would be able to get away, but I can’t move in his death grip.

He’s too strong.

I scream until my throat is raw, but I don’t make much sound against his hand. I wriggle my body in the hope that I’ll make it too difficult for him to keep hold of me.

This is not how I’m dying.

Fight, I order myself.

I need to think, but the pain in my chest intensifies. If he squeezes me any harder, he’ll crack a rib.

Then I remember that he’s armed, and the knife must be on him somewhere. My arms are stuck by his thighs. So that he doesn’t realize what I’m doing, I continue to wriggle in his grasp, but at the same time I use my arms to pat around his pockets.

His trousers are thick, and there’s something odd about them that I just can’t place.

Hurry up! My vision blurs, and just when I think I’m losing, I finally feel what I’m searching for. A handle.

A flicker of hope spurs me on.

Bending my back, I lift my shoulder, and he chuckles in my ear. The sound is menacing, devoid of emotion, and sick. But it’s working. He thinks I’m fruitlessly trying to get away. He thinks he’s winning.

If your escape isn’t working, try something else. I’m doing just that.

“Gibson!” My scream is muffled, but there’s a chance he will hear the noise.

I can’t breathe.

Robert goes to walk forward, but he suddenly realizes what I’m doing and halts. Probably because he feels me draw the knife out of the holder.

I hear his gasp as I grip the knife and twist my arm to stab him in the leg. He lets go and leaps back as the blade comes into contact with the thick fabric of his cargo trousers.

The sound of a light tear in the material makes me shrink in terror. No! I didn’t get him. Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone else, someone wearing dark clothing. It’s just a flash of black and then gone as if I’ve imagined it…or seen a ghost.

I don’t have time to figure it out because Robert puffs his chest out.

I’ve not frightened him with the knife. All I’ve done is piss him off.

I spin around and point the knife toward his cowardly face. “Back up, asshole!”

Now I’m the one who’s armed. And I’m more pissed off.

His eyes crinkle as if he’s smiling. This is fun to him, a game. Well, I’m going to give him one hell of a fight.

It’s kill or be killed, and I don’t plan on dying today. I give myself permission to do whatever is necessary to survive.

My heart beats a new rhythm, and in one swift movement, I launch myself forward, aiming the knife at his gut.

I hear his gasp through the small mouth hole cut from the black material. He leaps back, raising his hands into the air and arching his back like a cat. I miss.

For a millisecond I hesitate. I almost stabbed him then. There’s no going back: either he dies, or we all do.

It’s now or never.

I grip the knife harder, grit my teeth, and run forward.

But he’s ready for me. He swings his fist at my head. With a thud, I fall into the wall. Pain slices through my skull and the world turns into a black smudge.

I blink to focus. When I look up the next second, Robert is gone and the knife I’m holding is buried in a fake torso.

“Paisley! Paisley!”

Gibson runs toward me. He drops to his knees and holds my cheeks in his palms. “God. What the hell happened? Are you okay?”

“He was here. Kenna’s dead. She’s dead. Her throat…He had me and…”

He swears, then ducks his head. “I can’t believe this.”

“He sliced her throat, Gibson.”

He swears again and then shakes his head. “Okay. All right. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.” He checks me all over, seeing if I’m injured. “You’re okay. You’re not hurt.”

No, I’m not safe. Who’s he trying to convince? None of us is safe here.

He strokes my cheek. “Hey. Breathe. What happened?”

“I have his knife. I tried to use it, but he was too fast. He punched me hard, and I fell. He’s so strong, Gibson. If I hadn’t grabbed his weapon, he would’ve killed me.”

I press my hands to my sore ribs and feel an ache in my chest. There’s no searing pain, so I don’t think I’ve broken a rib.

Gibson spins, looking over his shoulder and into every corner and hiding spot in the serial killer room. Robert could easily be in here as it’s so dark, but I don’t think he is anymore.

“He’s gone. He was probably shaken up that I was able to escape from him and take his weapon. I don’t think he expects any of us to be able to do that. It must have damaged his ego. He’ll regroup.”

“I’m so sorry I lost you. I turned around and you were just gone. I looked, but…”

“It’s okay. He was in the room, between you and the door. There was no choice. I had to go the other way.”

“You’re okay now, but we have to get out of…What’s that?”

I hear it too. A mechanical click. Then another.

The haunted house bursts to life. A creepy jingle blasts from the speakers and the serial killers begin to move. Low light flashes, some at the body parts covering the walls, some focused on weapons, and some illuminating the evil faces of killers.

“Hell no.”

“Gibson,” I say, gripping his shirt.

This house is about to let ghosts, goblins, and serial killers leap out at us in every room. One time it might be Robert and we won’t see him coming.

We should not be in here.

Gibson’s face falls and his sudden loss of confidence is petrifying.

I need him to believe that we’re getting out of this.

“Go,” he says. “Go.” This time he grabs my hand tight and we run together.

We don’t have time to look. The characters that are now alive move and scream and jump at us, but we don’t slow.

The ghosts are a blur, white flashes zooming all around us. I don’t remember them zooming around that fast yesterday.

Some of them have faces, but I don’t look up.

I swallow the urge to scream.

Gibson shoves the door open, and we pour into the daylight. “We’re okay,” he says. “You said he punched you.”

“I’m fine,” I reply. “How many exits are there here? He could be coming from anywhere. We have to get to that jammer.”

“Breathe.” Still holding my hand, he backs up and tries to find the best way to go.

“Ava,” I say. “Where is she? She didn’t warn us!”

She would have…unless he got to her.

He knows exactly what I’m thinking and pulls his radio out of his pocket.

“Ava, it’s Gibson, come in.”

I chew on another nail as we wait for her reply.

“Ava?”

“He killed her,” I say. “We need to get over there.”

“Whoa, we don’t know that. The jammer is the most important thing right now. The killer was just with us, so if Ava didn’t warn us because she’s dead, there’s nothing we can do.”

“We should still check!”

He starts running, taking me along with him. We’re going in the opposite direction of the restaurant where Ava is. Hopefully still safe.

“We will, but for now we need to destroy the jammer.”

“There!” I say, spotting Harper dashing into the hotel. I put the brakes on, and Gibson almost pulls me to the ground.

We’re all due to meet there in ten minutes, but I guess they’re early.

“Paisley, we know where the jammer is. We’d be crazy to not go for it.”

“We also know where the killer is. I didn’t see anyone with Harper. We can’t leave her alone. I’ve escaped twice now. He’ll make sure he doesn’t miss again.”

Gibson groans, relenting. “We’ll meet up with the others and all go to the jammer now that we know where it is.”

My feet hit the ground heavily as we run without trying to hide ourselves now. We’ve officially reached the hysterical part of the weekend. It’s not a fun place to be.

“Harper!” I shout when Gibson and I enter the lobby.

She turns around, alone, and runs toward me. “Oh my god! Paisley, I’m so happy to see you.”

Harper doesn’t seem like the hugging type, but she squeezes me for a good five seconds. Her breathing is erratic as if she’s ran a marathon. “You’re alive. Gibson’s alive.”

“So are you. Are you alone?” I ask.

She stands back and nods, teary-eyed. Then she swallows. “I’m sorry. I was so scared. I just ran and ran. I…I…”

Gibson steps between us, his face drained of color. “Where’s Reeve? Is he…? Harper?”

“He’s fine. I don’t know. I think he’s fine, at least. We got split up, but the last time I saw them, he was alive.”

“Why did you split up?”

“We heard a noise coming from inside the haunted house. Reeve and Liam went inside.”

Gibson and I exchange a look. They heard us in the haunted house.

“They went inside?”

Nodding, she wraps her arms around her stomach. “Yeah. I was supposed to be a lookout. If I saw the killer, I was supposed to throw rocks, so he thought we were near the coffee cart. But I couldn’t see or hear them. Then I heard noises coming from around the back, then running and I got…scared. I thought the killer might be outside chasing them, so I ran too. The hotel was closer to me. From there I was going to go back to the restaurant. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. Did you hear anything from Ava?”

She shakes her head. “No. Nothing at all.”

“Dammit. I don’t like that, Gibson. No one’s heard from her. We need to go see.”

Harper gasps. “You think she’s dead?”

“She didn’t warn us and she’s not replying. I know the outcome won’t change if she’s already dead, but we have to go to her.”

So many people have died already.

We need to find Malcolm too. He was last with Camilla. At some point she went out to find her son and left him behind.

The sun is overhead now. My watch is dead, but it must be somewhere around midday. We’ve still got a full day before anyone would realize we’re missing. I can’t imagine my parents would let another twenty-four hours go by without hearing from me and think everything is okay.

They will surely try to contact the island and then raise the alarm.

We run out of the hotel and toward the Black Tulip.

I let Gibson and Harper go in first because I can’t discover another body. I’ve seen enough.

“Ava!” Harper calls, looking around the dining area.

Gibson goes into the kitchen.

I should help them and check out the bathrooms. Bile rises in my throat as I step deeper into the room.

My feet are heavy.

Leaving it up to Harper and Gibson would make me a coward again. I vowed to not let that happen.

So I take a breath and force myself to move around the restaurant.

Outside it’s bright and quiet. As I’m glancing around, I see someone. Crouching down, I watch the dark figure, a dot on the horizon, walk past a roller coaster.

My fists curl beside my thighs.

When he’s gone, I do a double take.

Wait.

Was he wearing a hoodie or a long coat?

“She’s here!” Gibson shouts.

I spin around in the direction of Gibson’s voice.

Is she dead or alive?

Harper moves over to me while I totally freeze up as if my muscles have turned to stone.

Gibson emerges from the kitchen, scowling, as he drags Ava along. She shuffles her feet, clings to the radio, and stares down at her pink Converse.

I release a breath. She’s alive.

“She was hiding,” Gibson spits. “While we were searching for the jammer, watching Camilla getting stabbed, finding Kenna’s dead body, and being attacked, she was hiding in a cupboard!”

What?

He’s thoroughly disgusted with her.

“I was scared!” she shouts.

“Camilla and Kenna are dead?” Harper asks.

I nod. “Robert stabbed Camilla. I just saw him outside, but he’s over by the big roller coaster, so we’re okay for a bit.”

“At least we know where he is,” Gibson replies.

“Yeah. Thing is, I could only really see the top half of him.”

“Why’s that a problem?”

“It was only a couple of seconds, but I don’t recall seeing a hood.”

Harper frowns. “So?”

“So I don’t know if it’s Robert in a hoodie or Malcolm in his long coat.”

Groaning, Gibson shakes his head. “My brain’s going to explode, Pais. Stop adding suspects.”

I laugh because he sounds so ridiculous.

“Sorry,” I say, and it’s a rare lighthearted moment that actually makes me smile.

“I’m sorry. Can we back up a few minutes?” Harper asks. “Robert killed Camilla, who is his mom. We’re sure on that?”

“They were talking before he stabbed her. They have the same last name, but we can’t be sure they’re mother and son. She definitely knew him, looked like she was trying to reason with him. You can’t reason with a psychopath, and she found that out a little too late.”

“This is way too much,” Ava says.

“What happened to you? When we left, you were happy to find something you could do to help,” I say. “We needed those warnings. Reeve and Liam still do.”

She bows her head lower, refusing to meet our eyes. Shame isn’t something I thought she could feel.

Gibson scoffs. “Forget about her for now. We’ve got to get Reeve.”

“And Liam,” I add.

“They’re not together. Well, they weren’t when I left them, anyway,” Harper says.

Gibson stiffens. “You said they both went into the house.”

“They did. I saw them part ways just before the door closed.”

I can’t judge them too harshly, because Gibson and I got split up.

“Why would they do that?” I ask.

Harper shrugs. “There was a lot of noise in there. I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from, so I guess they couldn’t either.”

Gibson scrubs his hands over his head. “Okay. First, we go for the jammer. Then we go for Reeve and Liam.”

That’s not at all what I expected him to say.

“You don’t want to get Reeve first?”

He drops his arms by his legs. “Yes, I want to, but our best chance is to get a signal, Paisley. I know my battery is almost out. How’s yours doing?”

“Gone.”

“I don’t even have mine, and Ava’s died last night,” Harper says. “We should get to the jammer, like Gibson says. We’ll get the others after.”

“They might even be there,” Ava says.

“Shut up!” Gibson snaps. He takes a breath and puts a bit more distance between himself and Ava. “Let’s go.”

I shelter my eyes with my hand as we go back outside. The hairs on my neck stand on end even though I don’t see anyone creeping around.

“Anyone else feel like we’re being watched?” I mutter as we move swiftly, four pairs of eyes searching for one man. He could easily have gotten over here from where I saw him by the coaster.

“Don’t go there,” Harper says.

I don’t want to go there.

She sticks close to me and lets Ava hold her arm. We haven’t heard a thing from Ava since she tried to defend her actions in the restaurant.

I can’t say I was all that surprised that she hid, but somehow it still feels like a betrayal.

Then again, is it right to expect her to risk her life for ours?

We all get to make that choice.

“No!” Gibson shouts.

I look around his shoulder and immediately see why he’s so angry.

The jammer is gone, leaving behind a squished patch of grass.

“We’re always one step behind!” I snap at the same time Ava cries out.

“He…” Before she can finish her sentence, she’s running.

Robert is closing in on us. This time he has a goddamn sword from the lobby.

“Run!” Harper screams.

We sprint after Ava and almost instantly the killer starts to run too.

“We’re…getting farther from…jammer,” I pant. My lungs scream for more oxygen. I gulp air and push harder. Robert came from the opposite direction of where we’re headed. He likely came back to the jammer from the haunted house and moved it.

“Range,” I say as we fly across the park.

“What?” Gibson’s reply is a breathy scramble.

There’s no time to reply, though, as we run through the gate and follow Ava toward the cliff and the service jetty.

I run down the stairs and that’s when I realize our mistake.

“The rowboats,” Gibson says. He looks around as if they’ve just gone for a nice little sail. “They’re gone.”

“Asshole sank them too,” Harper replies.

Would it even be safe to take them?

“Um. Guys,” I say. “We’re screwing ourselves here.”

“He was coming for us. We couldn’t stay there,” Harper replies.

“We can’t stay here either. It’s a dead end!”

Robert’s ski-mask-clad head pops over the top of the cliff and my blood turns cold.

He takes the first step down toward the jetty.

“He’s still coming,” I mutter, my stomach turning inside out. “And now we’re trapped.”