The Island

The lobby feels too quiet, particularly when you’re alone with a bunch of medieval weapons. I’ve not even seen it in full life yet, but I know this isn’t what it’s supposed to feel like. There should be people behind the desk, the odd person milling about, laughter in the bar, and the clattering of plates and cutlery in the restaurant.

Shouldn’t I hear Will’s footsteps by now?

The information packet said the reception desk is staffed twenty-four hours a day, but no one is there. We’ve all been given Camilla’s and Reeve’s cell numbers for off hours this weekend.

I noticed that Malcolm didn’t give his up for emergencies. We have it from some of the paperwork we were sent. But the fact that he’s not on the emergency card makes me think he doesn’t want us to call him under any circumstances.

I do another lap, not that I need to get the steps in, while I wait for Will. The lack of any noise is starting to make me nervous. My eyes seek out every frightening-looking gargoyle around the arches and up toward the ceiling.

My heart thumps harder. This quiet feels like the start of the ghost train…and that doesn’t make me feel any better.

The doors in the lobby are never locked. There’s no reason for them to be, I suppose. It’s not like someone could walk in here off the street. And the sea has gotten progressively rougher. A storm will hit tomorrow night.

By Monday it’s supposed to be back to normal, but I’m sure Gibson’s boat can handle a choppy sea. We might just get more seasick than we did during the ride out here.

We’re lucky that while we’re here we’ll only catch the tail end of the storm tomorrow night. It would suck if we had to spend all day inside.

I do another lap of the lobby and ignore my watch telling me to take a minute to breathe. It must know I’m anxious.

There’s a door for staff only to the left of the reception desk. I can see from a thin arched pane of glass in the door that there are more rooms down there. Probably the kitchen, staff room, service room, and things like that.

Malcolm went that way when he headed to his room. I bet he has a massive suite out of the way of guests. Of course, that wasn’t part of the tour.

I can see my worried expression in that little slice of glass. Okay, if Malcolm, Camilla, Gibson, Kenna, or Reeve comes out of their room, I’ll be busted. Time to be a bit more discreet.

As I turn, I spot someone along the staff corridor. They’re wearing a long, dark robe. They’re too short to be Gibson or Reeve and I can’t see them walking around in pajamas.

Malcolm.

His head is bowed as he walks from one room and disappears into another.

I back up, my heart in my throat at nearly getting caught. Stepping behind the large fireplace that separates the restaurant from the bar, I decide to hide and wait for Will to make an appearance.

This is all over if I’m caught. I can’t believe I was doing laps as if I’m damn invisible. Not that anyone seems to be awake.

The park probably has a much different atmosphere after midnight. If my followers are right and there are ghosts of tortured victims here, maybe we’ll feel their presence.

Or maybe that’s all rubbish and we’ll just spook ourselves. I’m really good at getting inside my own head and convincing myself that a creak in the night is a murderer sneaking along the floorboards.

It’s a gift.

Blaine would laugh at me for even thinking I could sense ghosts.

I check my watch for the millionth time. The first thing I notice is that I’ve walked fourteen thousand steps today—no wonder I’m being told to take a calming breath—and the second thing I notice is that Will is currently seven minutes late. Unusual since he told me he’s always on time. This was his idea and he’s the one leaving me hanging.

I walk the length of the fireplace. Once. Twice. Three times. The opening is taller than me. I could walk right through it without ducking if a bucket of chopped wood wasn’t in the way.

Come on, Will.

After another ten minutes I figure he’s probably fallen asleep. Will’s not coming, and I have a choice to make.

What I should do is go up to my room, but if I don’t go out there, I might not get to see the park late at night. Liam might be up for sneaking out with me, but tomorrow night the storm hits, and then there’s only Sunday night left.

The last time I left something until the last minute, I got a C and my parents acted like I ripped up the test and spat at the teacher.

So, I’m going for it.

Before I can change my mind, I step around the fireplace and walk straight out the door without looking back. My skin prickles as the cool air hits my bare arms. The temperature has dropped a lot, but it’s not unbearable.

It’d still be hot at home, but there’s not a lot of protection from the elements on this little island.

I peer around the corner of the hotel. It’s dark out but the sky is clear.

Thousands of stars sparkle above my head.

Some of the tracks from the coasters at the other side of the park have disappeared into the dark.

What else could be hiding in the dark?

Nope, don’t think of that. I briskly move toward the park. I walk past the poltergeist train, step over the tracks, and try the door. It rattles as I tug but it doesn’t budge.

Locked.

Good call, really.

Maybe I could convince Reeve to bring me out here at night. By the looks of it he has a key to practically every lock on this island.

Walking through the tunnel would be awesome. I could get up close and personal to that ghastly-looking killer who jumped out of the wall and made me scream.

I would love to whack him.

A shiver rolls down my spine, and I let go of the handle. Big mistake. It creeped me out before, and I was with someone during daylight hours.

Harper said the thing I felt was just a gust of wind.

A few blasts hit us along the ride, so that’s not impossible, but this was different. I felt fingers curl around my shoulder. It was only a second, but it was there. I know I didn’t just imagine it.

One of the horrible characters that pops out could have a curled hand, designed to make people think a person was grabbing them.

It’s a good and effective trick.

Blaine would laugh his ass off if he knew I was skipping walking a ghost train because I’m paranoid.

He’ll never know about this.

I take my phone out of my pocket and snap a few pictures of the park at night as I walk away from the ghost train.

A gust of wind sweeps my hair in front of my face, and I don’t know why I jolt like I’ve been seen because there’s no one else out here.

Dammit.

I’m so over wind.

Looking over my shoulder, all I see are rides and darkness.

Being alone in the dark already has me paranoid and I’ve only been out here for five minutes. I’ll be certifiable in an hour.

Note to self: don’t stay out longer than an hour.

The live oak trees lean to the side. The stupid wind is picking up a little more now; we’re too high up from the sea to get wet from the spray, but I bet it would be different if a storm rolled in. I guess I’ll find out tomorrow night.

Malcolm must have something in place for that.

No one would want to come here if you were constantly drenched.

I’m kind of looking forward to the storm. I’ll be snuggled safely in the hotel and watching the rain from the window. Footage of a storm will create an awesome atmosphere for my videos too.

Large gray clouds begin to circle the island above me. I watch as they roll in and steal the stars away. The sound of the ocean crashing against the cliff is oddly calming but also like a warning.

I shudder, the skin on my arms bobbling, and look over my shoulder.

Is someone there?

I open my mouth to call out and instantly decide against it. I’m not supposed to be out. Malcolm was still awake, but why would he come out here?

Unless he saw me. But if he did, why wouldn’t he call me out for breaking the rules? His rules.

No one else is here. If Will had snuck out, he would come to me. If Malcolm was out here, he would scold me.

Against my better judgment, I walk toward the jetty. The closer I get to the cliff’s edge, the more the air stings my skin.

Gibson did say the temperature drops considerably at night, but I didn’t expect it to get so cold so soon. It must be ten degrees cooler than when I stepped outside just minutes ago.

There’s something beautiful about being here alone at night. The island is quiet and sleeping. I take in the view of moonlight bouncing and rippling off the ocean. It won’t be long until the clouds steal that too.

Behind me something scrapes on the ground.

I jolt and spin around. What the hell was that?

My heart lurches as I scan the immediate area.

Empty.

What could that have been?

Or who?

“H-hello?” I say, mentally kicking myself.

Blaine, the guy who doesn’t believe in coincidences, ghosts, or anything that science can’t back up, would say that there’s an explanation for everything. He’d tell me that it was a gate rattling in the wind or a flag flapping. Anything that would put his mind at ease.

The world just isn’t that easy.

Yes, Blaine, that noise could be an axe-wielding murderer who sailed over while we were eating dinner.

Someone on Reddit worked out, with some mathematical formula that made my brain hurt, that statistically we will walk past thirty-six murderers in our lifetime. Give or take, depending on lifestyle.

It’s quite fascinating in an absolutely frightening way. How many have I been close to already? Have I said thank you to one for opening a door or bumped into one at the mall?

I could have served one during my summer job at the Olive Garden.

Here’s a breadstick to go with your homicide.

Sometimes even the briefest encounter could imprint on a killer, and they could come after you. A small smile, a simple gesture, could be enough to seal your fate as some crazy’s next victim.

That kind of murder is rare—usually victims know their killers personally—but it does happen.

Thankfully, there doesn’t seem to be anyone here. No Malcolm catching me out at night or murderers wanting to chop off my head.

I’m not sure what made the noise but there is nothing else here. It’s just me, the wind, and my overactive imagination. It was probably just the rattling of a gate. Like my brother would say.

Despite the dark vibe of the resort, this is the first time I’ve actually felt afraid.

I’m alone, one of eleven on the island, and I’m as freaked out as that time when I went for a solo run at night.

Time to return to the hotel and hopefully convince Will, James, or Reeve to come out with me on Sunday. Or maybe Harper. I’m sure I can trust her. I think more than anyone else on the island, to be fair. We’re not supposed to go into the park at night, but she was the one asking if we could steal some beers.

I turn around and follow the path toward the hotel gate with a gnawing in my stomach. Snapping more pictures, I get a couple of the sea as I retreat.

Another gust of wind takes my long hair and blows it in my face so that I’m momentarily blind. It’s at that exact moment that a flash of black whips past in my peripheral vision.

“Will?” I call. He could have come out to find me and is now having some fun.

Wouldn’t it be hilarious to scare the one fascinated with murder? Out of everyone in the group, I would mess with me too.

It has to be him. He’s the only one who knows I’m out here.

“Okay, that’s funny. You got me,” I say, lowering my phone. “You can come out now, Will.”

It’s completely silent besides the wind, but I don’t feel alone.

Clutching my hair in my fist, I glance around. What explanation would my brother have for this?

My stomach cramps.

A bird. He would tell me it had to have been a bird. Definitely not a person running. And I feel like there’s someone else here because I’m freaked out.

I spin again, my breath catching in my throat.

“Will, you’ve had your fun. I’m going back in now. This was only amusing for two seconds….” I look over my shoulder. Nothing. “Are you coming with me? Will?”

In the back of my head, a little voice is screaming that it might not be him. But why would anyone else want to scare me?

Ava and James, maybe.

If Malcolm or one of his staff saw me, I don’t think they would walk on and pretend I wasn’t there. I feel the first drop of water on my nose as I scan the area, making a note of the places a person could hide.

Trash cans, rides, food stalls, to name a few of the places a murderer could be watching me from right now.

God, maybe I should take a break from the crime podcasts and vlogs.

Enough of being ridiculous.

It was a bird.

I turn my back on the paranoia and walk away. The sky darkens further as the clouds claim it all. My instinct is to look over my shoulder, but I know I’ll only sink back into my imagination.

The hotel is still deserted, but I feel much safer as I walk through the lobby door.

My shoulders slump. I shoot him a quick text.

Paisley:

Thanks for standing me up. You missed all the fun 😉

No reply.

I’m tempted to go knock on Will’s door so I’ll know for sure if that was him out there, but he’s between Ava’s and Liam’s rooms. Knocking could potentially wake up two more people and then I’d need to convince them to not tell on me.

Liam would be fine, but it wouldn’t surprise me if Ava tried blackmailing me. Despite the fact that she sweats money.

I creep along the lobby and take the stairs back up to the second floor. The oak carvings look more sinister at night, despite the low glow of soft lighting. Shadows of claws cast on the walls up high. I walk under two archways before I reach my door.

The lock clicks, yielding to my card, and I let myself in. Unfortunately, I’m not as quiet closing the door as I was opening it. I feel like the echo of it ricochets across the whole floor.

I cringe and close my eyes, as if not being able to see will somehow stop everyone from waking up.

Even if I disturb anyone, they won’t know it was me. I brush my teeth in the bathroom big enough to house a family of four and change into pajamas. It’s late but I’m still not going to skip my skincare routine. I just do it fast instead and scrub my face, splash some cold water on, and then dry. That’ll have to do tonight.

I can’t wake up looking like I have two black eyes or I’ll be questioned on whether I slept well.

I’m not great at lying.

Hitting the light switch in the bathroom, I’m descended back into darkness. I use the light from my phone to guide my way.

Now that I’m locked behind my door, a rush of excitement replaces the fear. My heart has returned to a steady beat. Before getting into bed, I walk to the large window in my room and peek out of the window facing part of the park.

My view only covers the entrance and the first smaller roller coaster, so there’s not a whole lot to see, especially at night.

The park is still. It’s sleeping—like I should be—and there is no evidence that anyone was out there with me.

Because there was no one!

Drawing the thick black curtains, I get into bed and sink between the soft white sheets. The pillow instantly molds to my head.

It makes me wonder how much Malcolm would charge me if I slipped it into my suitcase.

I was hoping to switch straight off and fall asleep. Doesn’t seem like that’s happening tonight. I plug my watch and phone into their chargers and resist scrolling through TikTok. That’s never helped me sleep before.

If there was someone out there, I doubt they would hang around.

Will is a dead man tomorrow if that was him.