Title Page

Haunted

The isle of Mysteria has a secret, and Cameron Drake is about to find out how angry she really is

A. M. Keen

Publisher Information

Haunted - published in 2014 by

Acorn Books

www.acornbooks.co.uk

Converted and distributed by Andrews UK Limited

www.andrewsuk.com

Copyright © 2014 A. M. Keen

The right of A. M. Keen to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Dedication

For my friends Alex Duggan and Michael York, who helped inspire this novel. To Barry Fitzgerald and Bill Murphy, two of the greatest paranormal researchers in the field who gave me their time on this work. For Allan Welsh and Allan Shipham, my literary friends who came with me on this journey, and to Holly and Willow. I love you both.

Forword

Bill Murphy

Lead Scientist for SyFy Network’s Fact or Faked: Paranormal Files

As an investigator of phenomenon that defies conventional logic, I have read detailed eyewitness accounts of events that contradict mainstream science. When a witness statement does not conform to the tangible evidence related to their experience, there is cause to be skeptical. The process of corroborating all aspects of the cases I research is tedious, can at times be frustrating, but there is always a sense of adventure that perhaps the small steps gained will lead to bigger breakthroughs in understanding the nature of reality. It has been this way for thousands of years, and what is accepted as common facts today would have often been considered as inconceivable to our ancestors. Such is the path I have been on for over twenty years and has led to my work appearing on various broadcast networks and other forms of media.

Although I primarily rely on non-fiction science journals and traditional textbooks as a basis for all I do, I had the good fortune to read the work of Alan Keen in his book titled Haunted. Freed from the constraints of cross checking witness statements and reviewing endless recordings that can sometimes have multiple interpretations, I was able to just enjoy the dark but always thrilling ride that Alan crafted in his book. And what a ride it is.

From almost the very beginning, Alan sets the stage for events that unfold to reveal ever deeper plunges into the depths of the paranormal. I found myself at the edge of my chair, turning each page where he is adept at keeping the flow of surprises fresh with vivid descriptions of a location with events that seem surreal, yet somehow familiar. A moody, atmospheric world awaits those who find themselves on the island of Mysteria, a place that lingers in the psyche of his characters and ultimately in the mind of the reader.

Alan has pulled from his subconscious a place that can be fearful, yet intoxicating to the point you must pursue the story until the end, otherwise there is the risk the reader will remain prone to the linger like the characters he has created that have found themselves in the realm of the supernatural. I still find myself strangely attracted to want to visit the island he has conjured for the reader, despite the perils that may await those who do. He has done his research and has captured the challenges that are faced by those who work to unravel the mysteries that fall into the paranormal category, mysteries with irregular borders that make it difficult to separate fact from fantasy. I was never sure where he would lead his main character, and in the process I began to live vicariously through him. This shifted the weight of the story in unexpected ways. No longer was I just reading his book, in way I felt as though I was actually on the island myself.

I was aware of what Alan had accomplished but his ability to suspend his reader’s disbelief works well. I just let his words rise up from the pages and construct a place that I could feel, and his novel is immersive. Many people would close their eyes if actually faced by what Alan has presented, but I could not resist wanting to know more, experience more, and eventually reach a conclusion. It would not have been possible for me to begin his book without completing it, as it would have left me stranded on the island, forever contemplating what occurs in this damp, dark, and chilly place where daily life including dreams and sometimes nightmares merge into one.

Bill lives in Los Angeles, CA and has worked in various forms of media his entire life. He has been featured in over 100 broadcast including radio interviews, associate story producer for Biography Channel, special guest on Discovery Channel, and featured host for the SyFy Network. The majority of his work is focused on investigating claims of paranormal origin, along with emerging discoveries in neuroscience. His website is www.ghosttown.tv

Barry Fitzgerald

Lead Investigator for Ghost Hunters International

The art of storytelling is sadly today on the decline; nevertheless I was very happy to have been introduced to Haunted. From the moment the preverbal starting gate was opened I was suddenly whisked away within a story which possessed an abundance of body, which prevails in today’s declining tales of the supernatural, and delicately immersed myself within a story which my imagination was free to gorge itself on, brilliantly delivered descriptions and twisting plot lines blocking the outside world of limited perception and opening the inner world of imagination.

Barry Fitzgerald

One

Will Turley took to the helm of his 25’ Offshore and navigated a rare patch of sea fog descending across the ocean ahead. The small fishing boat sliced through the rough, rolling waves, their graying swells depicting the west coast season; cold, murky and with a shade of darkness that mirrored the approaching night fall. October was often known as the wet season to the local fishing town of Port Sandown, Oregon, and the prelude to the looming winter, the harshest and most inhospitable season that this small fishing community would have to endure. Fall had always been a time when optimism for the coming months was low, and present moods faded with the dark weather surrounding them.

The boat braved the freezing waters as it left the Port Sandown fishing port toward the small island of Mysteria visible from the harbor. This was his last job of the day, having agreed to transfer a passenger from the port on the mainland to the small harbor on the south-east coast of the island.

Cameron Drake stood rigid beside the sailor he’d hired to ferry him to the island of Mysteria where he’d brought a home-sight unseen-and hoped he wouldn’t disgrace himself by upchucking. Grasping the rails bolted to the side of the bulkhead he rolled with the waves, his knuckles white with the firmness of his grasp. The skipper of his ride bore a thick, turtle neck sweater and blue watch cap. His amused face looked like it hadn’t seen the best side of a razor for at least a week.

“What takes a rich and famous writer from England to a little island off the coast of Oregon?” he asked as the sea crashed around them, its spray lurching as high as the inverted windshield. Wipers removed the rogue droplets away that remained there.

Thought it was a good idea, at the time,” he replied in a strong, English accent. Cameron hoped the overwhelming despair he felt at the rolling sea would be short lived. He closed his eyes, squeezed them tightly and puffed his cheeks.

Will laughed. “Take it you haven’t travelled by sea much before?”

Cameron kept his eyes closed and shook his head. “Absolutely not,” he began, struggling with his speech the way someone usually does before their gut gives in and lurches its contents out in a violent manner. “The flight here was bad enough.”

“It doesn’t make sense for someone who can’t travel by sea to live on an island?”

“I thought that one trip was all I’d have to make, unless of course I need hospital treatment or something, but, I didn’t let that cloud my thinking when I decided to move here.”

“I have to ask, but it seems strange that someone from half way across the world should choose to move so far from his homeland, especially England?”

“Trust me sir, England wasn’t the place for me anymore. Where I lived, gangs of kids in hoodies terrorized the streets. I paid excessive amounts of tax to our government and never saw what it was being used for. It’s such an expensive place to live, and if you move out to the countryside, which, okay, isn’t that bad, you’re still paying excessive rates for the privilege of doing so.”

“I wouldn’t have thought that would affect a celebrity such as yourself?”

“I’m not a celebrity,” Cameron began, “I’m a writer. Just because I’ve appeared on a few shows to plug my book doesn’t mean I’m blessed to red carpet treatment and free meals whenever I hit the town.”

“But being a writer, I thought you’d be full of the old green by now?” the fisherman enquired. “I mean, I’ve heard of your books before, and we’re almost in the middle of nowhere out here.”

Cameron took a deep breath as his stomach churned and somersaulted with the passing waves. “It’s not easy, believe me. It took me years to build up a fan base. When I started out, the publisher published the book, I marketed it myself. No one these days is willing to give new authors a chance unless there’s money tattooed across the manuscript. There isn’t a huge amount of money involved in writing, unless of course you just happen to be Stephen King or J.K. Rowling. I had to knock out seven acclaimed books before I could afford to live here and write for a living. When books are guaranteed to fly from the shelves from the name of their authors, that’s where the money is, and that’s where I’m attempting to be. I’m getting there, but I’m nowhere near their league just yet.” He stopped a moment to hold his breath. The queasy feeling rolling inside became stronger. After a few seconds the discomfort passed, allowing Cameron to sigh. “When I decided to leave England, it was to get away from the rat-race. I wanted peace, so I could concentrate on writing that one great manuscript. My agent has been badgering me for about fifteen months now to create another bestseller, and I’m hoping this move will inspire me once more. Plus, I get to say I live on Mysteria Island, probably the greatest name ever for a place to live,” he added with an optimistic voice.

The boat crested a sudden wave and dipped down, causing both men to grip on to something to keep their balance. Some boxes and a rucksack at the stern slid across the deck toward the bow. Spray launched over them and more salt water splattered the windshield. The Offshore leveled and the roaring engine pushed them once more across the murky waters.

“Rogues,” Will began as he adjusted and got the vessel back on course, “there are a few of them out here from time to time.” Cameron nodded in agreement. If he opened his mouth, he’d do more than produce a sentence. Cameron watched as Will brushed a hand across his emerging beard. From the looks of the skipper, that may have just been a narrow miss. “So, what do you know about the island?” Will’s voice emerged from above the engines. Forcing the sickly feeling back down inside, or at least putting it to rest for a moment, Cameron sighed. “Not much,” he began, looking out in to the fog they were heading to. “My agent said it was a quiet little island where I could probably relax. I saw some pictures he sent and did a bit of reading on it. The house I’m moving to looks fantastic, and I just thought, what the hell?”

“Does he live on the island, your agent?”

“Ah, no. He lives back in Port Sandown. I guess he wants to keep an eye on me and make sure I write him another paycheck. What’s with the island, though? There was next to nothing on Google about it?” Cameron instantly recognized the blank expression his transporter responded with. “The internet,” he then added.

“Oh,” Will began, returning his attention to the waves. “‘Isn’t nothing but tall tales from there, my friend. The islanders? They’re a tight community and friendly too. Not many of them, either. Way back when, there were stories of people vanishing on there, just, gone. One minute they was there, the next they wasn’t. Fishermen and fishing communities like us is a superstitious lot, you know, and afterwards people just moved on. They weren’t going to stay there with people vanishing left right and center.” Cameron clasped the rail as the sickness emerged yet again. “Say, are you okay, son?” Will asked. “It won’t be far now.”

“Tell me more about the island,” Cameron groaned from his prepare-to-vomit-in-to-the-sea position. He was intent to concentrate on anything else except his sickness.

“Not much else to tell. The population is very small out there. They have two docks, the one we’re heading to on the south-eastern side of the island, and one up on the north-western. The docks back at Port Sandown are too tight for the big fishing vessels to maneuver, so they dock on Mysteria with their loads. They have a market on there, and the buyers from the mainland arrange for their goods to be distributed from there and back across to the west coast. Mysteria can be a very busy dock at times, sir. It’s the fishermen that keep the few businesses on the island alive. There are groceries and supplies, a few bedrooms for rent, even a damn book store,” he said with a smile. “I don’t often travel there these days, but when I have, I liked what I saw. It’s a nice island. You get most of the islanders in Port Sandown, taking major supplies back and things like that. Lots and lots of old stories there, too. I’m sure you’ll find your inspiration out there.”

“About the disappearances?” Cameron asked.

“Yeah, just old stories, you know, legends and lore, that kind of thing,” Will coughed twice, covering his mouth with a clenched fist. “Here we are.”

The Offshore approached a wooden dock reaching out from the falling fog towards them. Cameron heard the crash of waves upon the pebbled coast and sighed with relief.

“Are you going to be okay, you know, returning to the mainland in this fog?” he asked, gaining some composure over his sickness. He was winning in the battle with his body.

Will smiled. “Don’t worry, friend, I can turn the navigation system on,” he replied, tapping a small box to his right. “Besides, I’m just dropping you off. I should be able to outrun the fog before it catches me.”

The fishing boat pulled up close to the dock. Cameron took his blue rucksack that had wandered across the deck when the ocean had dropped out from beneath them. Will moored the boat quickly and jumped across to the wooden platform. With the engines switched off, Cameron’s ears rung with the welcome tranquility of the crashing waves. He’d also kept his lunch where it had meant to be, and felt proud that his dignity had remained intact, even if the only audience was an old fisherman he was unlikely to see again.

“Well, thank you for bringing me here.” Cameron offered a hand to his first acquaintance.

Will grasped it firm and shook it well. “There’ll be no more boats out this way while the fog is down,” the skipper replied, looking up in to the patches of cloud falling from the sky, “but take this, it’s my numbers, home and cell. If you need any transport, call me. The ferry from the mainland runs here twice a day, morning and evening. You need a ride at any other time, you let me know.” As the fisherman released his grip Cameron found a piece of paper within his palm. “You got transport now your here?”

“Yeah, I have a Liberty parked up at the end of the dock,” Cameron said, reaching inside his pocket to produce a set of keys.

“And I was almost buying your story about an author on a budget,” Will chuckled.

Cameron returned it. “It’s not a new one, believe me.”

“Ah-huh. You ever need to reach the mainland, and if it’s possible, I’ll come get you.”

“Thank you.”

Will saluted as he returned to the Offshore, removing the mooring and jumping down a foot or two on to the bobbing deck. After the engine started with a thunderous roar, Cameron turned towards the deck and began his journey. A gravel area where a small harbor hut resided appeared in the poor light first. A light rested above the doorway that faced out across the deck. Any harbor master working this end of the island surely must be on a part time basis, if at all. Only one other powered boat, which just happened to be an Offshore, almost identical to the one he’d arrived on, and a handful of small rowing boats secured safely within the dock.

The fog was now descending on the island, and the ocean had fast become hidden behind the thick element. He heard Will’s boat thundering away in the distance, wondering if the seasoned fisherman had in fact turned his navigation system on after all.

Cameron crossed the border to Mysteria. The sound of his walking boots changed from the dull thud of wooden planks to the loud crunch of gravel and stone. From the fog he noticed a stationary vehicle emerge in to view. The Liberty was exactly where his agent had said he had left it. It was silver, and even in the poor light he could see it looked immaculate. It seemed as though the weather had looked on in awe and passed the vehicle by, so as not to contaminate its polished surface.

Cameron smiled to himself. The sickness he’d suffered previously now all but gone. He loved four by fours. His first had been a Suzuki Jimny back in the UK, and when the recession hit not long after, he’d had to sell it. Running a jeep on a budget was impossible back home in England. This was one of the things he remembered when deciding to make the move to Oregon.

To Mysteria Island. Mysteria Island...Cameron smiled once more. “I can feel the inspiration already,” he said to himself.

Two

The interior of the Liberty was unbelievable. Full leather. Air conditioning. Cameron had thought about just sitting there and enjoying the car but was too excited about seeing his new home, a four bedroomed, isolated house within the woods of the island. He was feeling like a kid at Christmas. The smile would have to be surgically removed from his face. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’ smiled and actually meant it.

After studying the map his agent had left on the passenger seat in which a huge red circle marked his current position, Cameron turned the engine on, then the headlights, and dropping the transmission in to gear set out to explore this new island he would call home. He’d docked upon the eastern side, just as Will told him, and according to the map Cameron could find his new home on the outskirts of the small town and harbor on the north-west coast. As was the way with small places like this, only a handful of roads connect the landmarks, and if he turned left, all roads led to where he was heading. They all led home. Roaring the Liberty on to the tarmac Cameron headed south along the straightest and quickest road toward the harbor.

The fog must have sent the locals inside, he thought to himself as he drove cautiously through the element. There wasn’t anything out here that signaled life, except the forest which engulfed the island drastically. There were pockets of civilization scattered across the island according to the map, but none in his area. There was nothing but trees, of which species he didn’t know, reaching in to the low lying fog above. It was late afternoon, and the light had dwindled down to the dull, overcast grey that accompanied the element, no matter who was seeing it or what part of the world it descended to.

Cameron had long since left the dock’s and guessed he was part of the way to the new house. “Mysteria Island,” he began, thinking aloud, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “Mysteria Island...” The Liberty passed deeper in to the forest. “A quiet place. A very quiet place. What would happen here?” Cameron sighed, puffing his breath out in to bursts. “A man, no, a woman. A woman of the sea. No, not the sea, the trees.”

He turned the windscreen wipers and removed the moister that was settling on the glass in front of him. “The trees? No. Trees? Forests? Sounds like we should be in Averon. That thing has been done to hell already. The sea? What like a mermaid or something?”

The Liberty approached a long bend running to the right. “Could be? It’s a fishing island, after all. Will said fishermen were superstitious. No. It’s called Mysteria Island. Nothing is mysterious about mermaids. How about a detective? What about-”

A woman appeared in the headlights and screamed. Her hands flew out toward him as she lurched out to protect herself.

“JESU-!” Cameron smashed the brakes and swerved to the left, noticing the woman jump to avoid collision. The screeching vehicle failed to stop and crashed straight in to her. Cameron screamed. She vanished from his vision. The Liberty swerved as he lost control and veered on to the verge, coming to an immediate standstill. Cameron grasped the wheel as tightly as he had the rail back on the Offshore.

He breathed harshly. “Oh my God,” he whispered as realization of what had just happened set in.

With trembling hands he reached down and released his seat belt from its buckle. Thrusting the door open he jumped out in to the cold air and ran around to the front of the car. The engine still purred to itself as it rested motionlessly in the forest. Cameron looked in to the tree line to search for the injured woman. She had to be injured, he was travelling at a safe speed, but it was fast enough to injure her, and probably seriously. There was nobody on the roadside, and the bushes and foliage between the trees showed no sign of any disturbance.

“Shit!” he whispered and ran to the back of the car. He hoped his agent had left an emergency kit in the trunk. He yanked the door and opened it quickly. A small, black bag rested in front of him. Cameron quickly emptied the bag as he poured its contents in to the boot. He saw batteries, a poncho, various leads, a first aid kit and, there, a flashlight. He snatched it by the handle and clicked the button on. A bright beam of light exploded in to his eyes, temporarily throwing him back and forcing him to squint.

“Damn it,” he said, and with huge, multicolored blotches within his sight looked for and took the first aid kit.

Cameron ran back to the bonnet of the car and jumped the bushes to the trees. His heart pounded with fear and anxiousness. The body wasn’t beside the road. He must have launched her deep in to the forest he thought fearfully. Slipping on the damp bracken he moved in to the trees, shining the torch in all directions to look for her. He ran further in before stopping in a small opening. His breath panted rapidly and expelled into the cold air, fogging his vision as well as the light burns from the flashlight he’d almost blinded himself with.

Cameron spun in a circle looking for a body, a body he most certainly must have injured. The white beam jumped from one tree to the next, illuminating one shadow to another. The Liberty rumbled distantly from the roadside.

Cameron became conscious of the vehicle and turned back. Judging from the beams he saw cutting through the fog, he guessed he’d run about seventy feet in to the forest. Anything he’d hit wouldn’t have landed this far from the impact, considering he skidded for ten feet or so beforehand. The wind gusted gently, swirling the fog and roaring the evergreens as it passed impatiently between their branches. A bird cried somewhere in the hidden depths. It was then that he remembered. She passed underneath the vehicle. She wouldn’t be this far away.

With a quick curse of his own stupidity he ran back to the car. Why the hell hadn’t he checked the rear when he went to the boot? She could have been lying in the road. Why hadn’t he remembered he hit her further back along and skidded to a standstill here? And why was he carrying a small first aid box? She was going to need more than a bandage and an alcohol wipe with the impact she had to have taken.

Cameron arrived at the Liberty and swiftly ran past, heading out in to the foggy road. Shining the light across the area he found nothing, not even a small trace of the woman he’d hit. He investigated the trees again, but again found nothing. The tire marks from his huge skid through the fog weaved like two Siamese snakes across the surface.

He quickly backtracked to the car, throwing the first aid kit forcefully inside as he reached to the bag for his cell phone. Pulling it from its pocket cameron pressed the touch screen to reveal two text message alerts, one from his agent, the other from a number he didn’t recognize. Sliding the lock and opening the phone he dialed 911 and raised it to his ear. After what felt like an hour, and with no answer, he looked at the phone screen. No coverage.

“Shit,” he shouted again, throwing the phone in to the opposite seat. Now he had no idea what to do.

Panic set in. The very reason he wanted to live on Mysteria was now the curse. Isolation. “All right, all right, all right,” he muttered, regaining composure.

Cameron took a deep breath and returned to the front of the Liberty. His torso cut in front of the headlights as he investigated the area again, this time peering in to the fog on the road ahead. Cameron looked down at the bonnet before moving in to the road. As he moved he noticed how uncomfortable his jeans had become in the cold...

Cameron stopped. Slowly he turned back to the jeep, and out of habit shone the torch beam back upon the bonnet. “What the...” Cameron gasped as he slowly moved back to the vehicle.

Running his free hand across its smooth surface, then down to the bumper, he noticed how pristine it was. Not a dent and not a scratch. Cameron looked up. There was no damage to his vehicle. She jumped in front of him as he swerved, he remembered that vividly, and then vanished underneath him. Cameron lurched down, and resting his right side upon the cold road shone his flashlight up in to the car’s underside. He squirmed in a small puddle that smelt strongly of sea salt. He didn’t know what he was looking for under there, not being mechanically gifted, but one thing noted was the lack of anything falling apart or hanging from where it should have been.

He shone the light back and forth, but saw nothing out of place, at least not to his eyes. Cameron lay there a moment longer, his anxiety now replaced with confusion. He pushed himself up quickly, wiping down his jeans as he did so. The flashlight jumped up and down within hands.

Cameron stood still. What did he do now? He hit a woman; at least he thought he did. She jumped in front of him, the vehicle went over her. Wait. The vehicle swerved across the road, but did it jump up as it ran her over? He racked his brain.

“I don’t think it did,” he replied aloud. Sighing, Cameron shone the flashlight one last time in to the trees. The woman stood obscured by the branches as his light passed by. Adrenalin fluttered in to his body as he returned the light. She had gone. “Hey!” Cameron shouted, running in to the trees after her. “Hey!” he jumped the foliage and stood where she had been. Shining the flashlight in to the trees he scoured the forest for her.

“Hello?” he shouted, shining the flashlight again in all directions. “Hello? Are you hurt?” Nothing but the humming of his vehicle responded. Dew dropped from the leaves. The wind danced gently around the trunks. Whoever she was, she had vanished.

Cameron sat securely within the Liberty after locking all of the doors. He didn’t know how long he’d been out there searching, maybe five minutes or so, but he’d found the woman he hit able to walk away from their collision. He’d seen her standing in the tree’s, and after giving chase found her able to run quicker than he was able to. She wasn’t injured that badly. If she had been, she’d have been easier to find, and certainly wouldn’t have been able to out sprint him.

“Utinni!” Cameron leapt as his cellphone rang, screaming with the Jawa cry from the Star Wars movies. “Jesus,” he said to himself, reaching on to the passenger seat to pick it up. “I get coverage now,” he quietly muttered. ‘Phil Henderson’ appeared across his screen. He swiped the answer slide to the right.

“Cam? How you doing? How you liking the house? Awesome, isn’t it?”

“Phil,” Cameron began slowly.

“Jesus, Cam! What’s going on? You sound like you wiped your ass with a razor blade? You okay? Is it the house?”

“I’m not at the house yet. Phil, do you think I’m crazy?”

“Crazy?” Phil barked down the line, “of course you’re crazy! All you writers are! That’s why I became a literary agent! Makes me feel normal. Seriously, are you okay?”

Cameron checked his mirrors and looked out the windows. Everything looked tranquil, as though nothing had happened out there. “Yeah,” he began, sighing loudly and shuffling in the seat, “I’m okay, just knackered from all the travelling, you know?”

“I don’t understand what the hell a ‘knackered’ is, but if it amuses you then yeah, I know.”

“Tired, Phil, it means tired.”

“Oh, gotcha, it makes sense now.”

Cameron smiled. “You know how to make me feel special, you know that?”

“And you certainly are, my transatlantic, tea sipping friend, that’s why I moved you closer to me. I want to keep an eye on you and your forthcoming projects.”

“No, I moved, you just suggested it.”

“Yeah, well, same thing. Anyways, I left you a present in your lounge when you arrive, and I stocked your kitchen with your beloved PG Tips. You know how much those teabags cost to ship in? Oh, by the way, had a publisher contact me today to discuss you. Looks like we may have a deal, but I’m not getting too excited just yet. It’s looking like we’ll be setting up a lunch meeting in the next few days, so don’t get too comfortable in your new home.”

“Whose it with?”

“Not telling you so soon in to the talks. Just get your inspirational head on out there, Cam, they’re really interested in you. Got it?”

“Yep. Got it. Just give me time to settle, okay?”

“I’ll see what I can do. Enjoy your home! Ta ta for now, me old mate!”

“Piss off,” Cameron said, and with a smile hung up the phone. Phil always signed off with a false, English accent, and Cameron always responded the same way.

He placed the phone back on the passenger seat, grabbed hold of the steering wheel and pushed himself back in to the chair, puffing his cheeks as he did so. He gave one last look around in the darkening fog for the woman. He was on his own out there.

“Inspiration, huh?” Cameron said as he reversed the vehicle back on to the road. “Think I may be on to something.

Three

Cameron’s new home with impressive. After following the directions Phil had left he found the small lane from the road that lead to the property relatively easily. The lane had solar lamps dotted either side as the Liberty passed between them and toward the building he would be residing in. Slowly, the house appeared from the fog, illuminated by decorative lamps in the small court.

After bringing the car to a standstill he finally turned the key and killed the ignition. The car stopped and the headlights vanished as Cameron twisted the indicator. He left the car, grabbing the rucksack from the passenger seat as he did so, and slammed the door shut.

The lights flickered as the central locking engaged, and there he stood, looking at the front of his new home. The front was filled with glass he could see would lead in to a large hallway when entering the door. Some lights were on, and open planned kitchen in the back there appeared through the glass.

To the left huge windows wrapped around the building, its exterior walls painted white, with the odd piece of decorative wood here and there, and to the right a porch emerged from the side of the house, again decorated effectively with wood to give it a natural feel. The first floor appeared above the hallway and the windows, and being a four bedroomed house he guessed the rest of the first floor must exist above the kitchen at the back. Surrounding the impressive structure was the calm, tranquil forest that lived abundantly upon the island.

The smile returned to Cameron’s face. He loved it. Fumbling for the door key upon the chain with his car keys he wandered over the gravel courtyard. Finding the yale he plunged it quickly in to the lock and opened the door for the first time.

A rush of wind passed Cameron as the door opened, ruffling his hair. It felt as though the house had been air locked and he was opening it for the first time years. The hallway inside was immense. Bathed by the light from the kitchen across the way, a huge, wooden staircase on the left wall spiraled around and up to the next level.

Cameron stepped inside, closing the door behind without turning. To the right a huge lounge with an open fire place existed. The furniture he ordered had already been delivered and arranged by Phil, who personally oversaw the move while Cameron was in the air. A forty two inch flat screen television was mounted upon the fire place, the standby light twinkling in the shadows and ready to go. The lounge reached down the length of the building and merged openly with the kitchen. A door across the kitchen leading out to the porch stood beside a counter..

To the left, another huge room existed, this time hidden by the wall and the staircase. Cameron thudded over the floorboards and opened the squeaking door, finding his tower system and monitor upon a desk looking out in to the trees. The dull Oregon fall partially obscured by semi opened blinds. His memorabilia was all there; the American Werewolf in London poster signed by David Noughton, the shelf full of bobble head statues, the signed Jaws pictures from Stephen Spielberg and Roy Scheider, and his personal favourite, the signed photo of Christopher Lee about to embed his fangs in to a damsel in distress. Bela Lugosi would always be the best Dracula, but Christopher Lee? He rocked as the prince of darkness too.

Cameron scouted around the kitchen and the lounge, found the champagne that Phil had left and looked out across the porch to his small lawn. As he admired the new surroundings he finally felt the ordeal of the travel he had succumb to in the past two days. Tiredness had subtly overwhelmed Cameron, and he’d been too full of adrenalin to notice before now.

Wearily, he ignored the bag in the hallway and climbed the sturdy staircase to the first floor. Having to walk the entire way around the hall to reach the upstairs rooms, he noted for the first time the paneled walls on the upper floor, varnished and vibrant. It appeared that the two en-suite bedrooms lived above the kitchen, and for a brief moment he toyed with the idea of ripping the staircase out and building one that lead directly to the rooms instead of winding around the hall.

As he suspected, a corridor lead to two more rooms above the study where his memorabilia now lived, but he wasn’t interested in exploring the en-suites down there. Phil had already explained where the master bedroom was located. The first door he wandered to revealed a huge room decorated in pale blues. The queen sized bed looked comfortable and inviting as it bathed in the low light of a standing lamp.

Without thinking anything of it, Cameron slipped of his boots, dropped his coat, stripped to his pants and climbed in to the huge bed, leaving his pile of clothes right there where he had stood. He’d explore the building and investigate the other three bedrooms tomorrow. Now, he just wanted to sleep. The journey had been arduous and testing, and the woman he’d seen was probably just the images of a tired, creative mind.

As he lay there, his body aching from the tension it accrued over the past few days, he felt at amazing ease within the house, considering of course that he’d been in there only a matter of minutes. Everything felt right. He felt right. The move felt right. He felt at home. Leaving England and leaving Tanya behind was the best decision he’d ever made. All he needed now was his friend and companion, Akando, and he’d be complete.

Cameron’s eyes closed firmly, and as he drifted gracefully in to unconsciousness a whole host of random thoughts entered in to his mind. His writing career played on his mind, the family he left behind also passed through there, the flights he took, his next idea, the woman in the road, and before he knew anything else he had fallen in to a well-earned and comfortable sleep.

He awoke momentarily in the middle of the night. His left arm had fallen out beneath the duvet, now numbed by the cool temperature outside the bed. The room had chilled drastically and goosebumps tingled through his skin. Pulling the bedding over he turned and settled, noticing the shadow stood beside him. “You coming to bed yet?” he asked before drifting back in to another slumber.

Four

“Damn it, Phil, I haven’t even left the house yet. Can’t you let me settle for just a day or two?”

“Cameron, these people are real. There’s a great deal here for you. You need to build up one hell of a lunch appetite, and you need to do it now.”

Cameron looked out of the window from his kitchen, forcing two fingers between the blinds with his free hand. He inspected the wet weather currently making the islands acquaintance. “It’s chucking it down here. There’s no way I could get a boat back in this weather, anyway. The ferry would have left by now. I can’t get a fishing boat over with the sea rolling so wildly.”

“Damn it Cam, I don’t care if you have to don your pair of speedos and swim here! You need to be there, you understand? This deal won’t come around again.”

“I know Phil, but I just got here. I want to see where I’m living. I want to visit the harbor, get my bearings, you know? Can’t you re-arrange it again to happen in a few days’ time?”

“You know something? I don’t think you pay me enough for this shit. All I get from you is shit, crap and, what do call it? Boolo-”

“Bollocks.”

“Yeah, that. If you pass this up, they’re going to look somewhere else. Now, I’m your agent, and I placed you with some of the biggest publishers in the literary world. It’s my job to offer you help and advice, and listen to me when I tell you to get your ass to the mainland! Make this lunch date they want to arrange with you!”

“I just don’t want to at the moment, Phil. I came here to relax and let my creativity become more natural, like the first few books I wrote. You start hitting me to attend meetings, then I’ll start working, then you’ll suddenly throw in dates and deadlines, and the creativity goes from what I’m working on. Suddenly I’ll be replacing my natural ideas with the first, most convenient ones I have because it’s less time consuming, whether It’s shit hot or piss poor. That’s not writing, at least not to me. I don’t need the money, and you certainly don’t need it. Unless their willing to wait a few days, I’m not interested.”

“Ah c’mon, Cameron! What the hell?! This is potentially a three book deal. Right up your street!”

“Sorry Phil. They wait, or I don’t.”

“Gees... Are you okay, I mean, seriously? You sounded like frightened kid yesterday, and now this? You’d never turn this down before the divorce-”

“This is nothing to do with the divorce. I want time to rest, is that too much to ask? I mean, shit, Phil! I’ve been writing these poxy books for you constantly for eight years, no breaks, promotions, marketing events, travelling backwards and forwards across the Atlantic like I was going to and from school, chatting happily with Piers Morgan and the Loose Women! I mean, when did you think I was going to need a break? The ink isn’t dry on my divorce papers and you think I’m suddenly ready to commit to a three book deal? What should we call them? The Tanya Drake Chronicles; book one: Other Men for the Long and Lonely Nights?”

“Cameron-”

“No, Phil! Just, no, okay? I came here to forget about her and re-find myself. I came here to relax and start a fresh, alright? My mind is just not in to writing something immediately. It’s started throwing ideas together, but that’s all. I just can’t deliver something anywhere near my usual best, and certainly not of the quality it would have to be to find print. I’m sorry, but the answer is no.”

“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Alright, I’ll see if I can put the meeting back a week or so. How would that sound? Can you live with that? I don’t want to have this argument again with you in a week’s time.”

“That’s fine. I just need a few days to settle in, that’s all I’m asking for.”

“Okay, but Cam? Seriously, I’m worried about you. I don’t normally have close friendships with my clients, but you’re giving me a massive cause for concern. You just haven’t been yourself since-”

“Yeah, I know. It’s been difficult, and I’ll admit it. And, I’m missing Akando like hell. I hope quarantine pull their finger out and release him soon.”

“You leave quarantine to me. I’ll let you know as soon as he’s to be released, okay? Just keep your chin up, alright? Go explore Mysteria, it’s amazing. It reminds me of one of those quiet fishing towns over in your native homeland. You’ll feel right at home there. I know that some of the locals are thrilled you’re taking up residence with them. Don’t forget to take your sharpie when you go there today.”

“No, I won’t. Now, will you piss off and let me enjoy my break?”

“Kiss my ass you limey turd. I’ll call you when Akando’s out, okay?”

“Alright. Now-”

The line cut and began beeping. “Cheeky git hung up on me before I could insult him.”

Five

Cameron pushed the Liberty through the falling rain and down toward the harbor he would now call home. The fog bank that hung over the island on his arrival had lifted quietly during the night, but unlike a happy story which would find him driving through a vibrantly colored forest, full of rainbows, rabbits and butterflies that would signify his moving on from the divorce, he found himself travelling through immense dark clouds, sharp, chilly winds and moderate rainfall.

Beggars couldn’t be choosers, and Cameron was happy enough with the day he decided would be the first day of the rest of his life. He felt rejuvenated. He felt new. As the trees passed by and the harbor loomed, he felt optimistic and for the first time in a long while; happy.

The Liberty descended a steep hill that overlooked Mysteria, the harbor, that is. If he was back home across the world in England, he’d have called it a town. If you visited the towns and villages of the south-west in Cornwall, they would be known as harbor towns or villages, and he was struggling to adjust to the correct terms he would be using out here off the west coast.

Not being native to the US he knew he would struggle with this, and had been let down once or twice during his promotional events by reverting to the English terminologies he was used to. It could be confusing if you weren’t used to it.

A larger than expected harbor connected the sea to the mainland away to the left. The waves out there were rolling heavily, and he briefly noticed a small fishing boat bobbing up as they passed forcefully below its keel. He also remembered his own sickness on the Offshore that Will had brought him in on yesterday, and was thankful that he hadn’t decided to travel here today instead. Those waves were nothing compared to the ones throwing the boats around out there on the swells now. The road he was traveling became a links road. A huge pebbled beach leading to the harbor ran away to the left. Across the opposite side of the road a host of buildings looked out across the beach and toward the waves as they crashed to the stones that broke them. More buildings stretched away behind the road, all facing out in various directions, and that was about it.

Nothing much to explore, except maybe the road as it passed through the sleepy harbor, but that was what he wanted and what brought the smile back to his face. Peace, tranquility, isolation and silence. There were more areas on the island for exploration from the look of the map that Phil had left, but he guessed they’d be residential properties that were unavailable to the general population.

‘The whole population of about ten,’ he thought as he approached the harbor.

Cameron pulled the Liberty in to a parking bay that overlooked the ocean. The biting cold and bitter rain hit immediately as he left the car, closing the door sharply as all proud car owners do to stop the rain blowing inside and soaking the upholstery. Across the port various vessels rode the waves; small fishing boats and yachts mainly, and one frigate away in the distance, the miles causing it to stand as a grey shadow against a horizon only slightly darker. The boats in the harbor bobbed up and down and side to side as their masts swayed upon the ocean beneath them.

A sense of depth forced the clouds in to the distance as the darkened masts rolled against the turbulent skyline. A bell echoed on the wind from a channel marker, bobbing across the distance as it crested the unsettled waves far out beyond the harbor.

“My own little Amity,” Cameron whispered before heading across the deserted road and towards the buildings.

The rain battered his waterproof jacket as Cameron walked quickly along the sidewalk, his collar upturned to protect from the elements. He passed a barber’s shop which appeared empty. Cameron expected to see an old, grey haired gentleman clad in whites, sitting on the movable chair reading a newspaper as he waited for a paying customer. Next was a hardware store which he most certainly would be visiting in the near future. It appeared to have a little more life to it. There was a light glowing from inside there, and that was all. Guess it was used mainly by the fishermen visiting the island to repair their rides.

Finally, on this block, an old, darkened building advertised itself as the ‘Mysterious Island Book Store.’ The building certainly lived up to the name, at least from the outside anyways, appearing pointed and gothic, as though it had been pulled straight from a horror movie. He stopped as he looked inside at the excessive window display:

Buy the Award winning Fantasy Novel

City of Life

By our new resident author

C.P. Drake!

Cameron decided to pop in and pay a visit to whoever had made this huge advertisement. He needed groceries to take back with him from this little jaunt to the harbor, but also wanted to find a new book to help settle as he become more comfortable in his new home. Turning back along the sidewalk he hopped up the single step to the door and rattled the old world bell resting above it as he entered.

The shop itself was as gloomy as the Oregon day, and amazingly gothic he thought as he entered. Two rows of shelves stood freely at above his head height down the center of the shop. To the right side a huge wall filled from top to bottom with multicolored spines, depicting names and titles. It was probably bolted to the walls to allow it to hold more stock. It ran the short length of the shop to the counter, which in turn reached entirely across the width of the building. To the left, two more windows allowed the dull light from outside to pass in to the musty building. Cameron frowned. Dotted here and there along the walls were traditional old candle holders, all holding various sized, white waxed candles.

He noticed that drips had run down from the naked flame and dried solidly over time. They must have been lighted at some stage it would seem. “Strange,” he whispered as he inspected this wonderfully atmospheric store that felt like he had crossed a threshold leading from the west coast of Oregon to Victorian London. Cameron emerged from his imagination and began looking for the title he wanted. It was only a matter of seconds before he realized that the spines he searched over were not arranged in to any specific order or genre.

“Well hello!” a chirpy voice greeted from behind the counter. Cameron turned to see a woman stood there smiling emphatically toward him.

“Hello,” he replied, mirroring her mood and expression. “I’m-”

“I know exactly who you are, Mr. Drake,” she said politely. “I’m a big fan of your work, and was absolutely thrilled when I found out you were moving here.”

“Really?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. The lady looked like she should be the harsh school headmistress at a girl’s school. Her blouse had been tucked in to a grey skirt, from what he could see, and a dull, pink cardigan wrapped around her to hide it. She had those glasses, the ones that point at the edges and only look half the size of regulars, with a neck chord attached on their arms to stop her from losing them if they should fall. If ever there was a stereotype to be had, this was it. The librarian, the head of the book club, this was her alright. “Don’t take this offensively, but you don’t strike me much as a lover of fantasy or horror novels?”

“I am a lover of all books with a great story, Mr. Drake.”

“Oh please. Cameron. My name is Cameron,” he replied, walking to the counter and extending his hand.

“And my name is Esther. Esther Marple,” she informed him, taking his hand and shaking it gently. “And what can I do for you, Cameron?” she then asked, releasing his hand. Cameron briefly noticed her aged palms upon the dark counter. “We have a wide range of books here, probably the best you will get on any island anywhere in the world.”

“I’m a bit surprised to find one here, I must admit. Most towns and villages I visit rarely have any store dedicated to books that its people can go to.”

“And a damn shame it is, too,” Esther replied, the smile easing from her face. “These days it’s all television, internet and video games consoles that entertain the people of our world. It saddens me to know such classic books will go unknown by a world more interested in taking the easy option out and losing their imagination. Was a time, you know, when books were read by anyone and everyone. Today, books are only popular if their made in to movies. Look at the Potter books and the Twilight series.”

“Oh, don’t get me started,” Cameron sighed, rolling his eyes at the very mention of the Bella and Edward saga.

“Bram Stoker must be turning in his grave,” Esther continued, shaking her head as she did so. “He created a monster that was feared for generations. The very hint of a nosferatu lurking in the shadows was enough to send a reader in to sense of apprehension. Now, the readers can’t wait to find out about his glittering skin and tight six pack.”

“But I bet you stock it, don’t you?” Cameron added, raising his brows.

“One copy of each book on the first shelf to your left, two copies of each out back,” she laughed.

“You must sell a lot here to have such a large store that looks so well stocked?” Cameron asked, looking thoughtfully around the shelves.

“Not really. Most of the residents here enjoy reading, which is a great thing, but there aren’t many of them living here!” she laughed. “It doesn’t affect me, though. I’m not in it for the money, but more the love of a good read.”

“Well then, let’s see if I can help you out. I’m looking for a book myself.”

Esther pushed herself away from the counter and raised her hands to the side. “What can I get for you? If we don’t have it in stock, I can get it in within the week.”

“The Averon trilogy?” Cameron asked optimistically.

The smile dwindled on Esther’s face. “Oh. Oh, no. I’m sorry, I sold our only copy of that the middle of last week. I can order it in for you if you want?”

“That would be great, thank you.”

Esther nodded. “All I need you to do is leave your number and I’ll call you when it’s in, if that’s okay?”

“Okay, but I can’t remember my home number. Is my cell okay?”

“Mr. Drake, we have cellphones which have coverage across most of the island. We have the internet and cable television, and we even get Wi-Fi when we need to. Your cell number will be fine.”

Cameron knew he’d had been put in his place. He wrote down his number on a slip of paper she handed to him, and then handed it back. “And it’s Cameron, okay?”

“Sorry, Cameron,” Esther replied timidly. “I hope you enjoy your time discovering our island, and if you need anything you just come right back in here and ask.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.”

Cameron stepped out of the Victorian book store and in to a lighter rain. The sky looked a little brighter and the air felt a little warmer. His optimism was increasing. He’d made a friend already, which was something he hadn’t expected to do so soon. Turning back along the sidewalk he headed toward the grocery store, or as its sign proudly advertised it, ‘Benny’s Store and Supplies.’ He crossed the empty road and walked the slope leading to the entrance. His mind wandered as he hurried inside, fumbling for the wallet that resided in the back pocket of his jeans. The automatic door slid to his right and he entered. Yes, an automatic door on this tiny island.

Long isles of groceries greeted him. The counter, unmanned at this particular moment, lived on his left. He picked up a basket and headed down the first isle. Fruit? No, not really. Vegetables? Maybe he’d pick up a few potatoes to bake, which was an old English favorite, and some tins of mixed vegetables to go with them. He wasn’t fussy. As he walked down the first isle he wondered if Mysteria had a pizza delivery service.

“Maybe crabsticks, but not pizza,” he thought as he took a slow stroll down through fresh produce.

He came to the bottom and faced a stretch of large freezers with doors as tall as him, and a range of refrigerator’s that ran the width of the store where the freezers ended. Opening one, he took out some frozen fries and threw them in the basket. The door thudded as he pushed it shut. The store appeared empty. No patrons and no one filling shelves or working the checkout. The shiny white floors reflected the bright lights hanging above them.

Cameron continued on his shopping adventure, his first upon the Island of Mysteria, copyright C.P. Drake, 2014. The next quest in his own bestseller, finding the elusive tuna fish that resided in a mythical can.

Down the next isle the adventurer headed, entering the forbidden realm of tinned fish. Away in to the distance, way, way, up there, the front of the store signified the one and only exit. Like any good adventurer he’d have to dash for the sliding door when he removed his prize from its place. It would almost certainly trigger some kind of trap that would attempt to take his life for the outrage of stealing the prized possession, and he’d sprint as fast as he could, praying he got there before the door closed and sealed him inside forever. It wouldn’t quite be a tomb though if he failed to escape. There were plenty of supplies to last him a long, long time.

His boot soles squeaked a little as the dampness they retained from the rain outside met the generic, shining floor. “Don’t make your presence known, Drake. Tinned fish can be very territorial and dangerous if startled.”

Looking the shelves up and down and from left to right, Cameron scanned the vast treasures for his coveted prize. “Shit, Cam. You’re plotting an adventure novel set in a grocery store,” he thought as he amused himself around the aisles.

A whisper blew past his ear. Cameron startled and jumped back. He looked left and right again, this time looking for people who may have rushed past behind him. His heart began thumping in his chest. There was a whispering voice floating invisibly down the aisle around him, quietly speaking something he couldn’t understand. He remembered the woman in the road and his anxiety sored. The whisper gently vanished. The long light above him buzzed. A soft breeze gently touched him. The store was silent. The store was empty. No one had entered and no one had left. The cans stood firm upon the shelves. Rumbling emerged from the first aisle he had just traversed. It grew louder and louder like the sounds of soft objects tumbling to the solid floor. One last thud and the store fell silent, bringing the thought of falling potatoes to Cameron’s mind. It sounded to him like someone had pulled out the only potato supporting the display and caused them to fall.

Breathing rapidly Cameron stepped out in to the middle of the aisle he was investigating, desperately seeking someone else who may have caused this. “Hello?” he asked nervously to the empty store. “Hello?”

A thud from the freezers jolted him. And again. Someone slammed their padded doors with great force. Cameron looked across in their direction. Silence. Perhaps someone had followed him inside and they too were stocking their supplies, wrecking the displays and slamming the freezers as they went about their business. Cameron went to go check. ‘No!’ he thought to himself. ‘What happens in your books when people check out strange noises?’

“It’s not strange,” he replied, it was a door clo-”

Cameron stopped as the thud of the freezer door jumped down the aisle once more. He felt his breath become shallower and could hear a faint pulse in his ears. He looked up to the checkout behind him. Still empty in here... He didn’t notice his breath becoming visible. A noise jolted him to turn back. It was a strange, rattling type noise he had heard before but couldn’t quite place. From the bottom of the aisle he saw movement.

As he peered intently in its direction he saw a can roll past and slowly come to rest at the base of the shelving. It looked to be a can of the same vegetables he picked up on his way around. Looking in his basket, he saw that it was. Peering around, he noticed the store illuminated in full light. It was dull outside, but still daytime out there. It was daytime. He was in a public building and he was getting spooked.

“What...” he began, again toying with the idea to head back to the freezers. He went to walk but stopped. “Don’t be such a wimp,” he whispered sternly, “its fully lit.” Pushing the concerns to the back of his mind he began walking towards the wandering can. “What the...”

The sound of trickling water emerged from the silence. Puddles of water began flowing past the aisle as though someone had left a powerful tap leaking somewhere near the fresh produce. It rushed past quickly, streaking in to two separate streams as it ran away.

Cameron came to the end of the aisle and focused on the moving water. He followed its trail and looked up to see it emerging from the freezer he had only just pulled the fries from. The liquid pulsed out rapidly from the bottom of the sealed door, cascading through the seal intended to stop the cold from escaping. He looked up at the thick door window retaining the temperature of the chilled food inside. All but a few patches had frosted white and obscured his view. Cameron splashed in to the puddle he had been inspecting.

“Shit,” he whispered, looking down at his boots, more out of surprise than of anger. His attention turned again to the frosting. He drew closer, hearing the door crack as the ice spread and glisten from the frozen abyss within. It moved around the window as though alive, following no particular path to where it was spreading, freezing and resting. The water poured from the door. The ice cracked. The water trickled.

“Hear me!” A pale face plunged against the window and screamed. Cameron flew back, slipped on the water and crashed instantly to the floor. Its dark eyes peered wildly upon him from the ice, screaming horrendously and surging his ears with sheer terror. “Hear me!”

“Christ,” came a voice from somewhere a million miles away. A man bounded over to Cameron and squatted beside him. “Are you okay?” Cameron shifted his glare toward him, his expression one of terror. He looked back at the door. The obscured features were gone. “Sir?” the man asked, his voice almost certainly concerned.

“The...freezer...” Cameron stated erratically.

“I know. I’m sorry; this damn thing looks like it has a mind of its own. Guess I’m going to have to contact the engineers and get them to cross over from the mainland to fix it. Are you okay now?”

Cameron looked around for a moment, sitting in the huge puddle, his mind full of apprehension. Feeling the wet coldness his ass had fallen in to returned his sanity. The smell of sea salt once again appeared. “Yes. Yes, sorry, I’m fine, I think.”

“Here, let me help you.” The man helped Cameron gently to his feet.

Cameron’s boots slipped once and he almost tumbled again, but after some reassuring words from his savior he managed to rise to his feet unaided.

“That was a hell of a fall you took, son,” the man said, swiping some water droplets from Cameron’s jeans with a swift palm, “you’re not going to sue, are ‘ya?”

Cameron kept his gaze upon the freezer. It was frosted and leaking as it had been, but the face had all but disappeared. “Son?”

Cameron emerged from his concentration and turned to face his assistant. “Oh, no, don’t worry. It was my own fault, I shouldn’t have come back here,” he replied, wiping his hands on his already damp jeans.

“Are you new here? The author fella we’ been hearing about?”

Cameron offered a false smile. “Yeah, that’s me. Cameron Drake.”

“Well, pleased to meet you, son! I’m Benny. Benny Lieberman. I own this store.” The two men shook hands. “I’m really sorry about all this,” Benny said again, gesturing to the floor surrounding them, “this piece of crap has been promising to give out for a few weeks now. Hold on.” Benny left Cameron and carefully traversed the treacherous surface to the freezer.

Cameron’s heart leapt. “Don’t!”

Benny reached to the handle and opened the door. Swirling, freezing air plumed and escaped as the door opened, revealing a whole host of chilled potato products and packaging. “It’s okay; I’ll have to record the temperature. Damn it, I gotta get the rest of this in to the other freezers too before it warms up.”

Cameron noticed the basket he had been holding had been launched somewhere during his fall. Scouring the floor he found it in the aisle he had investigated from. ‘I really must have jumped back,’ he thought as he wandered over and scooped the handle with his hand.

Benny closed the door and scurried past. “If you get what you want, I’ll have it delivered to you. We have a delivery service on the island, and I guess I owe you for all this.”

Cameron smiled and nodded. “Thanks.”

Benny headed down the aisle, now on the important mission of saving his stock. Cameron watched as the red fleeced, silver haired proprietor wandered up towards the checkout. Taking a deep breath when he was out of earshot, Cameron glanced back towards the frosted door, his anxieties settling but mind racing in to overdrive. What the hell was going on? He turned and followed Benny, his boots squealing loudly on the dry surface. If he’d looked closer, his mind might have seen two dark, obscured eye sockets appearing from the door once again.

Six

Cameron pulled in to the tight lane leading to his home having spent many hours exploring the island and its stony beaches. As he approached a white Kia Soul loomed in to view upon the driveway. He recognized it instantly as Phil’s car.

After locking the Liberty cameron crossed the gravel to his front door and noticed it ajar. The rain was still falling and looked like it was running in to his hallway. “Shit, Phil! You could have closed the damn door!” Cameron shouted as he entered, wiping his feet on a small mat absorbing the surface water running in from outside. “Phil?” he shouted as he unzipped his coat and closed the door.

Turning to the coat hooks beside him he found the loop in the one he had been wearing and hung it. His mind raced with his first day on the island. A woman in the road? A woman in the freezer? The one in the freezer shouted to him, he remembered that clearly. Was it the same one he ploughed through on the road? And how did she shout from inside the frozen potato product shelves?

Cameron had started to become unnerved. Twice he had witnessed these distressing apparitions. Were they ghosts? He didn’t know. He didn’t really think so. Maybe he was suffering from the whole divorce and the sudden change of the move he’d just made. He didn’t feel one hundred percent to start writing books just yet, so something was still unsettling him up there, up north in Cam-land.

Come to think of it, when he saw the first apparition in the road he was plotting aloud a basic synopsis of something that could happen on Mysteria Island. When he was plotting Drakes Adventures in Grocery World, which he came to remember it as, he saw an apparition in a freezer.

Cameron sighed with a little relief. It seemed that whenever creativity took hold of his open mind he saw the unwelcome guest. He was imagining it. A low growl emanated from behind him. It rumbled across the hallway and sounded like a lion ready to pounce. The deep, primordial belonged to an animal, that he knew without even seeing the creature. Cameron stood motionless as the growl became louder. Within his mind a werewolf lurked, ready to tear flesh and feast upon him without any remorse. The front door was open. Could it be a bear, or even a cayote? The forest could hide any animals, native or not. Slowly Cameron began to turn. His gaze rested on a beast, stood on all fours, staring back at him from across the kitchen. It’s fur was white with grey markings spreading across its head and body. Its pale blue eyes fixed upon Cameron.

“Akando!” he shouted and fell to his knees. The huge malamute launched across the hallway and in to his owners arms. He knocked Cameron over and began licking him on his cheeks. Cameron embraced his pet and instantly felt comfort at having his companion finally on the island with him.

“Well, you’re just tugging on my heart strings,” emerged a voice beyond the affectionate canine. Cameron pushed himself upright, still petting his friend. “You owe me for this, Cam, and I mean really. You know how hard it is to get an Alaskan malamute in the back of a Soul? It was like trying to push a submarine in to a microwave. And, I had to hold my breath for half an hour after he cut the cheese. Christ, I’m lucky my eyebrows are still here.”

“Phil,” Cameron said as he stood up, shaking his friends hand. “You manage to catch the last ferry in?”

“Just,” Phil said releasing their grip. “I had to get this bad boy from quarantine, and they nearly didn’t let me because I wasn’t you. I spoke to a few people, made a few calls, and bam! Phil’s your man.”

“I appreciate it, thank you.”

“Ah,” Phil said, waving his hands. Two men and an Alaskan malamute wandered in to the designer kitchen. Akondo jumped gently at his owner, causing Cameron to reach down and stroke him some more. “You mind if I stay here tonight? I can’t get the ferry back to the mainland now until tomorrow, and I sure as hell can’t hire a fishing boat to take me back now, not even that money-grabbing son-of-a-bitch fisherman Will.”

“Its fine, you know that,” Cameron replied. He looked his friend over. Phil was five years Cameron’s senior, bore a body like a pear and proudly displayed his receding, black hair that was thinning on his crown. Wearing a light blue jacket and khaki shorts, he looked a little out of season too. “What’s with the shorts?” Cameron asked as he made his way to the coffee maker.

“This is summer for me my friend,” Phil replied, “and I intend to make the most of it. What about you? Aren’t you used to the heavy rain or fog back in London?”

“Stereotype. You’ve been watching too many Hammer movies. You want a Coffee?”

“Sure thing,” Phil responded.

The two men sat outside on the sheltered porch, watching the rain fall against the pine trees that surrounded them. Cameron also noted the smell of the fresh pine that seemed to emerge during the rains. Phil relayed that the meeting with the publishers had been rescheduled for a later date. It was still only a few days away, but it was better than the alternative. Phil had recalled that this new publisher was stricter than a prison warden with a baton up his ass. “There in to you big time,” Phil had relayed to him as they discussed events during the twilight.

As the evening drew onward the beers emerged from the refrigerator and the discussions continued. “It wasn’t just because of Akando I came here,” Phil said, pointing a stubby finger at the canine laying at Cameron’s feet, “I wanted to check on you. You know, you gave me a scare yesterday when we spoke. You sounded different. You sounded afraid, or scared of something?” The images of the apparitions flashed through Cameron’s mind, and the voice he heard in Benny’s store echoed in his ears. ‘Hear me...’

“I’m fine, mate,” Cameron replied, finishing the sickly drops of alcohol that rested at the depths of the bottle. “My creative mind is going in to overdrive since I moved here, which is what I wanted. The vision’s I’m having are so strong that I may start writing in a day or two, you know, get them all down on paper before they vanish.”

“Visions?” Phil asked, reaching down and placing his own bottle on the decking.

“Ideas, I mean. Their so vivid though, they sometimes feel as though their right in front of me, right there,” Cameron responded, placing a palm in front of his face as though it was the apparitions he was seeing.

He was distracted by the headlights of a rust colored Chevrolet Silverado traveling along the driveway. Phil looked to Cameron and gave a questioning frown. Cameron thought a moment. “Ah, Benny,” he said, answering Phil’s expression.

Just as Cameron suspected, Benny killed the Chevy and jumped out carrying two bags of the goods he had promised to deliver earlier. “Quick!” Cameron beckoned, causing the fifty plus delivery driver to jog through the rain and up the steps to the porch.

“One delivery, as promised,” Benny said happily as he entered the shelter.

“Thank you, sir,” Cameron replied, taking the bags from him. “Beer?” he offered as he headed to the kitchen through the exterior lounge door.

“Um...”

“Come on,” Phil growled, slapping and empty fold away chair that stood unused.

Benny looked over his shoulder at his Chevy. “Okay. Why not? The roads between here and my place are usually dead about now. Only thing I can hit is a deer or a tree.”

‘Or a woman,’ Cameron thought as he heard Benny’s comments before the door closed. He put the groceries away and emerged with three more bottles.

Phil and Benny were acquaintances, with Benny and a few others having helped move Cameron’s belongings to his new home whilst he was in transit. Robert Fleck, the part time deputy police officer for the island had also helped, along with Janet Reed, a local woman who worked in the fish market on the harbor. Cameron had no idea this handful of people had helped with the move, and offered his heartfelt thanks to Benny for the assistance he had given.

The night soon descended upon them as they sat there, forcing Cameron to switch on the light that resided on the outside wall of his kitchen. The three of them sat there in a comfortable glow that beamed hopefully out in to the night-time darkness. Akando took himself off for a quick exploration of the small grassy area, probably to crap, Cameron thought as he watched his dog prowling the lawn. For a hulking malamute, he was such a softy when it came to rain or thunder, and only ventured out if need be.

“So, what do you think of our little island, Mr. Drake?” Benny asked, finishing his last gulp of beer.

Cameron nodded. “I think it’s going to be the best decision I have ever made,” he replied. “I’m creating some great ideas for a manuscript already.” Akando began barking. Phil jumped.

“Akando!” Cameron snapped from his chair. The malamute stood facing away from the three men, barking toward the dense, gloomy tree-line. “Akando?”

The canine continued. “What’s with him?” Phil questioned, looking to Cameron.

Cameron frowned. “I don’t know... Akando!”

The malamute continued ignoring his master. The dog sighed quickly and let off a single bark, as if defeated. The rain was falling heavier than it had been, and the fact that this weather-hating pet had stood so long in the downpour brought a sense of doubt to his owner. Akando turned to join them but quickly span back and barked at the forest once more, his deep roars echoing thunderously between the trees.

Cameron stood up and rested his hands upon the wooden barrier on the edge of the porch. “Akando!” he snapped again, more from concern than emotion.

The dog ignored him and continued to bark, louder and quicker than he had before. Cameron noticed how sodden his dog had become underneath the rain, a sight never seen in the four years he had owned the malamute. Something was definitely catching his attention out there.

“Hold on,” Benny said and rushed out to his vehicle. Phil joined Cameron as they peered out at the distressed animal.

“Weird?” Phil said, half asking, half stating.

Cameron simply nodded. “Akando!” he snapped once more. Akando ignored him again. He was focused on one area of the forest, intently directing the men’s attention the way he was facing.

Benny closed the door to his Chevy. A huge beam of light erupted from a powerful flashlight he clasped in his right hand. The three men darted in to the rainfall and stood beside the malamute. Akando sighed once more and ducked his head down, circling Cameron and resting beside his right leg. He began a series of barks once more before his voice whimpered away in to a cry, the one most dogs do when they are startled or afraid. Benny illuminated the swaying branches and greenery at the edge of the forest, allowing Cameron to peer in to the treeline better than before. An image of the woman he ran through flashed within his mind. Akando was still crying.

“It’s okay,” he reassured his companion, stroking the matted pet between the ears.

“You think something’s out there?” Phil asked.

“I don’t know,” Benny replied. Cameron noticed the curiosity in his voice. He squinted his eyes to shield them from the rain.

“What animals do you get here?” Cameron then asked him, peering in to the trees and reassuring Akando at the same time.

“Deer, rabbits, that kind of thing. Nothing that would work your dog up in to a frenzy like this, I would have thought?”

“No. Akando’s used to those animals from back home in England, anyway. He’s never reacted like this before to another animal, except other dogs.”

“Maybe someone’s dog has got loose?” Phil suggested as they stood in the cold downpour.

“Maybe, but most of the community live down near my store in the harbor. That’s a hell of a trek for a dog to make it out here, navigating this forest and all,” Benny added.

“The other houses on the island?” Cameron asked.

“No pets. I know, because I’m one of them.”

Akando barked once more and decided to call it a night. He bounded over the steps and lunged up on to the porch, shaking his fur to release the water it had trapped.

“Come on, whatever was troubling him isn’t doing it anymore,” Cameron suggested, gesturing his head toward the house.

Cameron had found towels for the three of them to dry their hair with and mop up any rogue raindrops that had run in to places it shouldn’t have. Away in the distance, a gentle clap of thunder rolled. Benny looked up as he heard it across the miles. “I better be on my way,” he said, handing the towel back to its owner, “I don’t want to get stuck out in the open in this weather.”

Cameron and Phil watched Benny pull out of the drive and in to the now torrential rainfall. He beeped the horn twice, prompting the two friends to raise their hand in unison and wave farewell. As they entered the building Cameron closed the door, and after a moment of hesitation turned the key and locked it. The woman in the road? The woman in the freezer? Akando behaving completely erratic and barking continuously out in to the night? What the hell?

“I might be gone by the time you’re up tomorrow. I gotta head to Portland to meet with another client. I’ll be gone a few days, but I’ll call you when I get back.”

Phil began to climb the stairs to the first floor. “Phil,” Cameron said, looking up at him from the locked door. Phil stopped and turned to him. “Thanks, you know, for everything.”

Phil shook his head and dismissed him. “Just get that mind in to gear,” he responded before continuing with his travels. Cameron nodded. ‘Think I’m getting there,’ he thought.

Seven

Akando flopped across the back seat of the Liberty as Cameron jumped out. He parked up in the same parking bay again, just off the perimeter of the beach, and after securing his dog inside he headed back towards Benny’s. He greeted Esther who had stood on the shop doorstep to smoke a cigarette, and crossed the road to his new friend’s store. Up the ramp he wandered, and this time entered during a busy period. Well, busy? He guessed this would be busy for Mysteria; two people shopping and a police officer speaking with Benny at the checkout.

“Cameron!” Benny greeted, beckoning the author toward him with an open palm. The police officer turned to him and extended a hand.

“This must be our new resident,” he said, smiling from beneath a Stetson. The officer looked young, maybe no older than twenty five, and reminded Cameron of the Rick Grimes character from the comic book and television series The Walking Dead. “Robert Fleck, I’m the deputy on Mysteria.” Cameron shook another hand and introduced himself yet again.

“Thanks for helping, with my move and everything.”

“Not at all, not at all. Happy to help.”

“Hey, we’re all meeting tonight at the bar for a get together. You want to join us?” Benny asked.

“Where’s the bar?” Cameron asked, having yet to explore the whole of the town on this side of the island.

“Just up the block there. You’ll get to meet Janet, too. She’s Robert’s bride to be, you know,” Benny told him.

“Oh, congratulations,” Cameron said to the officer, who nodded and smiled back.

“It’s called ‘The Pondering Crow.’”

“Wow,” Cameron said, “that’s a great name for a bar. I might have to use that in my next book.”

“Just make sure you get Cassie’s permission. She owns the place,” Fleck replied.

“Be there at seven,” Benny informed him.

“Sure.” Cameron was enjoying meeting the islanders here and wanted to settle in as quickly as possible. “Now, where’s your beer?”

Eight

Cameron arrived back at his home a little after noon. The clouds rolled by above the trees and threatened aggressively with rain, but were yet to deliver any to the island since the early hours of the previous night. The rain that had drenched them during that time had petered out during the early morning, but the still soaked grass at this time of the following day served as a reminder at just how much of the element had fallen. Catching the local radio from across the waves at Port Sandown, storms were supposed to brew over the coming days and last throughout the weekend. His first full week within the new home would be a wet one, but at least it wouldn’t get much worse than that.

Cameron messed around in his new home for the remainder of the afternoon. He switched his television on for the first time and attempted to get his head around the channels. Having only ever visited the US on business trips, signings and things of that nature, he never really paid much attention to a screen.

His first sense of a culture change came through the television channels. CNN, NBC, Fox, he’d heard of them all before but struggled to cope with what they were presenting. CNN, that was Sky News to him. Fox must have been Sky 1 possibly? NBC? Which ones were classed as BBC1, BBC 2, ITV 1, Channel 4 and Channel 5? Mesmerized by the amount of channels his cable provided, (yes, they even had cable on Mysteria), he finally came to settle on one he recognized, and on a programmed he absolutely adored. Squidward Tentacles was relaying a terrifying story to SpongeBob Squarepants as they worked a lonely night shift in the Krusty Krab.

Allowing the cartoon to play in the background, Cameron paced here and there for no reason, made himself a cup of tea and slumped in front of Nickelodeon next to Akando who had been patrolling his new grounds outside. His cell then began to ring. Cameron reached to the end of the leather sofa and grabbed the handset from a small coffee table.

“Hello?”

“Hey! How’s my second favorite client?” Phil chirped from the other end of the line.

“Feeling pretty much second rate, asshole, that’s how.”

“Ah, come on! I rescued your beast from the airport and personally delivered him to your home. I had to fend off Matt Moneymaker and his team who were about to haul him up in front of the scientific world.”

Cameron smiled and reached over to stroke Akando. Akando just lay there with his eyes closed. “What can I do for you?” he then asked, slumping back in the extremely comfortable sofa he had recently purchased.

“Alright, okay. I know you said you wanted some time to settle, right? I understand that, and I promote that as your agent and as your friend, but I spoke to the publisher earlier, not about you to begin with I might add, but we strayed on to the conversation of C. P. Drake, and I really think we should get you to the mainland as soon as, their tabling a very attractive offer for a three book deal.”

Cameron sighed. He had expected to be given a little longer from his friend to adapt to island life, but truth be told, he had settled a little quicker on the island than he imagined. With Benny, Esther and now Deputy Fleck all friends he’d made, and having been in his home for a few days now, maybe it was time to start moving on. The house was ready for him when he arrived, Akando was now present and making the house his home and Tanya was almost as far away in his thoughts as she was across the world. The apparition’s he’d seen on his arrival now felt like a distant memory too.

Cameron knew as soon as he started thinking of a synopsis the visions may possibly return, but that was the curse of ‘the author.’ He’d heard stories of writers living their characters or plots to make their words jump from the page with realism, and maybe this was what he was going to endure. Maybe he should write a novel about a ghostly woman who appeared from time to time and made some kind of connection with the lead character he would create? Besides, Phil had explained that the meeting would only be postponed for a few days at most.

“Alright,” Cameron responded, his arm finally twisted up behind his back.

“Fantastic! Right, your publisher is Sheperd Bay, and their emerging as a fantasy, sci-fi and horror publishing house.”

“Yeah, I know them.”

“Then you’ll know just how popular their becoming, my friend. Alright, they’re interested. Very, very interested, no, that’s the wrong word. Basically, Cam, they want you to sign on with three books, and they can be any genre of the above. The contract is up for negotiation, but were talking about a big one here my friend, bigger than anything you ever had before.”

Cameron raised his brows. “Really?”

“Yes, my legal alien of a friend, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Now, their top commissioning editor is out this way on, let me see...” Cameron heard the rustling of papers from Phil’s end of the line. “Friday. She’s in town Friday. She’s out here on some other business but asked if we could all meet to discuss the possibility of having you work for them. Now, I know your settling in and all that, but I think this is the last opportunity you’ll have at taking this deal. Think of it like this; your beloved Liverpool soccer team-”

“Football team,” Cameron interrupted.

“Soccer team. In the real world, football is a contact sport where real men smash each other to pieces.”

“No, Phil, that’s rugby.”

“Yeah, well, whatever, I’m trying to help you with this, okay! Now, your beloved Liverpool football team,” he said sarcastically, “is in for, I don’t know, a top striker, the best in the world, let’s say. Now, Liverpool have been waiting for a hell of a long time as he’s not given them a firm yes or no answer, what do you think is going to happen?”

Cameron knew exactly where Phil was heading with this.

“You see, your silence says it all. Sooner or later Liverpool are going to start looking to someone else to fulfill that role, aren’t they? They’re not going to wait around forever while he stumbles over a decision. Cam, you’re that striker. Sheperd Bay is your Liverpool soccer team. You need to be here on Friday so that the meeting can go ahead. Bring your beast, he can stay at my house, so can you, and you can both catch the first ferry back on Monday morning if you want? It’s simple!”

Cameron looked toward his slumbering companion. “Alright, I’ll be over Friday. I’ll call you when I’m on route, how’s that?”

“Music to my ears.”

“Right, now sod off and let me enjoy the piece.”

“Sodding off as a happy man!” and with that, the line cut.

Cameron cut the line his end and placed the cellphone on the table. It was Wednesday tomorrow. He thought a moment about packing his rucksack ready for the trip. “Nah,” he said, dismissing the idea. He had plenty of time to do it.

Cameron sat a while longer watching his favorite cartoon before receiving another phone call, this time from Benny, who offered to pick him up and drop him off after their get together later on. Cameron accepted and finally felt that he could let his short hair down, if that was possible. He settled back in to the sofa and grinned. He had his home and he had his pet. He had his new life, and now it looked like he had a publisher chasing him. He had new friends, and a new start.

What he didn’t know was that events on the island would soon wipe that smile from his face.

Nine

The Pondering Crow was everything Cameron hoped it would be. A long bar stretched down the length of the building on his right, with tables and booths opposite on the left. It was dark but not sleazy, decorated in fishing ropes, old lanterns, signs, and pictures of fishing vessels crashing through waves. There was a wooden stairway at the far end leading up in to the higher levels.

Benny introduced Cameron to the few people there were inside. He met Cassie, an extremely attractive woman with red, curly hair. She wore a green turtle necked sweater and gave him the impression that fishing was extremely important to her. Could it run in her family, maybe? She owned the place and seemed genuinely thrilled to meet him.

After having his first beer on the house, the author joined Benny in greeting some local fishermen who lived on the island. After meeting Howard, Mark and Jim, the three guys who brought fish in for the market on Mysteria every week, he sat with Benny in a dull booth and spoke about this and that over his beer. Benny lived with his wife over the opposite end of the island, near to the small harbor where Cameron arrived.

Benny explained that a small ferry, one big enough to hold four moderate vehicles, crossed to the island twice a day, once in the morning and once in the evening, and just once on a Sunday. Usually, fishing boats from Port Sandown were willing to make money and transport people from the mainland, as Will had done with Cameron a few days ago now. Cameron thought momentarily about the contact numbers the fisherman had given to him, and remembered the pot he’d placed them in a decorative bowl on his kitchen counter.

Benny lectured Cameron on how he’d been a resident of the island all his life and didn’t ever imagine leaving it for the mainland. Cameron spoke of his decision to move to the island and how happy it had made him so far.

“Hey!” came a voice over the light conversations filling the bar. Cameron turned to see an off duty police officer and his bride-to-be heading towards them. He stood and shook their hands, and again thanked them for helping him move. Janet offered him a warm smile and expressed that it was no trouble. He then headed to the bar and brought the four of them more drinks, and even got a wink from Cassie.

Back at the table they focused on Cameron and his work. It wasn’t everyday a celebrity moved to your town. Well, Cameron wasn’t quite a celebrity having chosen to live a life outside the public eye as best as he could. He was quizzed for nearly an hour by his new friends about the life he had taken. They were absolutely intrigued by the creative genius whose books were selling steadily across the globe.

Cameron had started writing when he was twenty one, after a visit to the movies with his best friend. Graham his name was, and they’d met in the dorms of the university college in Worcester. It had been a big jump for Cameron, leaving his home in Northampton and moving across the UK to the west midlands, and it had happened at a later stage too.

Most people Cameron knew had gone to university when they were eighteen, having completed successful A’ levels in their further education. When he arrived at his dorm, he’d felt a little bit out of place as most of the students had been three years his junior, and he wasn’t as in to their immature behavior as they were. Another student who shared this sentiment was Graham, situated down the end of the hall almost out of earshot.

The two struck up a friendship almost instantly, and it was after a visit to the movies that Graham spoke about his passion for writing. Both unimpressed by the movie they had seen, they decided to rewrite a version each to see how their vision of the movie would change and appeal to them. One week later they were exchanging manuscripts and criticizing each other’s masterpieces. Suffice to say, Cameron found the writing bug there and then and wrote two further manuscripts for novels when in fact he should have been studying. In March the following year Cameron left his studies as he was too far behind with his work. He’d spent the study hours writing novels instead of dissertations, and paid the ultimate price. Returning home he wrote on and off, balancing his hobby with his work.

At twenty nine years old his first book was published, City of Life, a novel about a city that drained energy from its inhabitants to feed an army of demons dwelling in an underworld below. It succeeded with critics across the world, won an award, and launched the aspiring writer to his chosen career. Now, six years later, he was living on a quiet island with no financial worries, and a further three book deal pending on a meeting with the publisher in a couple of days’ time.

“It was as simple as that, then?” Robert asked, seemingly impressed with how easy it had been to break in to the literary world for him. Writing was a very difficult occupation to do on a full time basis, and Cameron had appeared to enter it with fewer problems than most other would be authors usually encounter.

“Nothing more,” Cameron answered factually.

“They must have smelt the money on you. I always thought it would be difficult to break in to that line of work?” Janet asked him.

“It is, and I’ll admit I’ve been so lucky with how it’s all worked out. I’ve met people at book signings, workshops, and things like that, and they’ve been writing thirty or more years and never seen their words go to print.”

“There’s no substitute for talent, though,” Benny added, patting the writer on his shoulder.

Robert and Janet brought in the next round, and the subject changed to the island. Robert said working as a law enforcer on Mysteria was probably the easiest place to fulfill the duties of this line of work.

“We both work at the fish market on the harbor.” Robert began, gesturing towards Janet. “I deputy on a part time basis here, we’re only an island of thirty, believe it or not.”

“You’re kidding,” Cameron asked from across the table. He knew Mysteria was isolated, but not as much as this.

“I kid you not, Mr. Drake. Most people work on the mainland from here, and we’ve found over the years that they pack up and move there. A lot of these houses you see in the harbor are empty. People move out, and they don’t move in.”

“I think the economy had a part to play in that,” Benny chimed. Since the market slump of 2008, travel to the island became more of an inconvenience. The vessels had to raise their prices to cross back and forth which they then passed on to their customers, much like any business that has since operated. Mysteria too was an expensive place to live.

“All of us here are islanders, Cameron,” Janet told him in the gloomy bar, “we lived here all our lives. It seems that no-one else can afford it out here, except you, of course,” she laughed. Cameron smiled.

“Our biggest income is fishing. The trawlers and boats moor up in the harbor docks and take their catch to the market. From there, we distribute it to various companies on the mainland,” Robert explained before knocking back part of his beer.

“Do you have a lot to police on such a, well, empty island?” Cameron asked him.

Robert nodded and pulled a strange face as he swallowed his beverage. “Yeah,” he hissed as he drew a breath afterwards. “Well, I’d say so. Usually the trawlers dock, unload their catch and leave, but sometimes we get a few fishermen here at the same time. Cassie has some rooms here that she rents out to some, and as you can imagine it gets pretty rowdy at times,” he smiled. Cameron nodded. “Kids travel to the mainland for school in Port Sandown, not that there are many here, mind, so we don’t get many pranks to deal with. I guess the busiest we get is when,” and he raised his voice to almost a shout, “local drunken fishermen drink over their limit and need a ride home!”

The three fishermen at the end of the gloom laughed and cheered. “Warm the car up, we’ll be ready soon!”

Robert smiled and lifted his bottle in acknowledgment. “There’s just me and sheriff Harman patrolling the island, and not even on a twenty four hour basis. He works full time, because you need someone representing the law out here, you know, just in case, but at the moment he’s sitting at home with all emergency calls diverted to his cell.”

Cameron sat back in the booth. He truly was in a quiet area. This was the best move he had ever made. “How about Esther? She has a book store here?” he asked, leaning forward again to take his beverage.

“Esther,” Benny began, “is a wonderful woman. She lives above the store there. Her old man left her a lot of money when he passed on, so she brought the building and converted it to the store you see. Have you been in?”

“Yes, first place I went,” Cameron told him. Of course it was. What other store would an author enter first if not a book store?

“I don’t think she has a full can of beans, if you know what I mean? We all have our interests, but I wouldn’t open a golf shop on the island even if I had a million bucks burning through my pocket to do it.”

“She’s lovely,” Janet said, drawing Cameron’s attention. “I visit her regularly. She’s a big fan of yours, too. So anyway, enough talk about us. Tell me about your next project. Can I be a character?” She too was a good looking young woman in a plain way, if that makes sense, he pondered as he drank from his bottle.

“I don’t know if there’s really an idea yet,” he began, placing the darkened bottle upon the tacky surface he was leaning on, “but I think it will be set somewhere like this.”

“See you soon.”

“Take care,” The fishermen bid farewell as they passed the table.

“Don’t forget my crab sticks,” Robert jested, turning to them and shaking their hands.

“Ha! You want those camera loving pussies from up the coast in Alaska. You know, the ones on the huge boats that always complain about how hard they have to work? We catch real fish on small boats. But if I find a crab, I’ll deliver it to you,” Howard responded, shaking the deputy’s hand. “Nice to meet you,” he then told Cameron.

“Likewise,” Cameron replied cheerfully.

“Don’t scare him,” Howard laughed before slapping Robert’s shoulder. The three sailors made their exit peacefully. The gloomy bar fell silent as they left, announcing that the party tucked away inside the booth were the last ones in there. Cassie followed the three men and locked the door behind them. She returned to the bar and found a wine glass. Cameron watched as she poured herself a tall red, of what wine he couldn’t see.

“What did he mean by that?” Cameron asked as Cassie joined them, pulling a small wooden stool from the booth next to them and placing herself at the head of the table.

“What, scaring you?” Benny asked. Cameron nodded. “Ah, don’t worry about that! Howard is an islander, as we all are. We have our superstitions and our tales,” he laughed.

“It’s a fishing island, Mr. Drake, need I say more,” Cassie added.

Cameron had a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. Please don’t say it’s anything about an apparition, he thought. He was almost afraid to ask, but the writer in him demanded it. This could be his big idea. “Like what?” he asked cautiously.

“Are you going to steal or stories?” Janet mocked.

Cameron shrugged. “I’m a writer. We’re all influenced by some stories we hear. If it’s good enough, though, I’ll make you a character.” Janet clapped her hands together with excitement.

“What do you think? Do we accept this new resident as an islander? You know, we can be very fussy with who we speak with?” Robert mused. “Didn’t you ever watch The Wicker Man? How’d you know we’re not harboring a secret that will cost you your life?”

“Robert!” Janet snapped and slapped his thigh.

“I’m just kidding; we’re not like that at all.”

“It’s okay, I brought my personal body guard,” Cameron responded.

“Oh yeah, you gotta see him. What is his? A husky? A wolf hound?” Bennie asked.

“An Alaskan malamute.”

Cassie placed her wine glass on the table. “You got a malamute? I love those dogs!”

“Not just any, believe me,” Benny began, putting on his best dramatic voice. “That dog, swallow you whole.”

“I know were in a fishing town, Benny, but come on!” Robert laughed.

“What’s his or hers name?” Cassie enquired.

“Akando, and he’s patrolling my home as we speak. I hope to hell that anyone doesn’t break in, that’s all I can say.”

Robert looked to him. “If someone breaks in I’ll kiss your ass!”

Benny then turned on the seat to face Cameron better. “But do you think he can protect you from our legends? That’s the question?”

“Depends what they are,” Cameron replied.

“Well, we got a lot of stories here. Everyone has a story to tell.”

“Not everyone,” Robert interrupted.

“Okay, some of us don’t, but most do. This island, it has a secret, you know?”

“I feel like we should be huddled around a campfire,” Robert sighed.

“Shut it!” Janet ordered, “this is serious.” Robert looked to Cameron and raised his brows. He had been told.

Benny continued with the speech, his voice now deep and serious. Cameron had known him only a couple of days, but he was surprised at the intensity that Benny spoke with.

‘He must really believe what he’s about to say,’ the author thought.

“Years ago, I don’t know how long it was, turn of the century maybe, the island was, I don’t know how to put it, literally wiped out. No one knows how or why for sure, just that the people who lived here all vanished; gone, without a trace.” Robert opened his eyes and shook his head, smiling as he did so. It didn’t look like he brought in to this one bit.

“There were more people living here back then,” Cassie told him, “and for everyone to just vanish was just so, you know, unexpected.”

“Some sailors came over from the mainland and discovered the island here. The buildings still stood, the boats were still moored up, but everyone had gone. A heavy fog settled across the town, and as much as they explored, they found no-one. They found signs of life, like pots boiling on the tops of stoves and baits on the docks ready to be placed upon the boats, but the people that were using them? No.”

‘Alright, this sounds intriguing,’ Cameron thought. So far so good. A little Dean Koontz, but with a creative change here and there, it could be interesting.

“People from the mainland arrived to search for the islanders. The scoured the entire island, the forests and all. They hunted on every coast line we have and still failed to find anything. The fog didn’t make it easy, mind, but they searched for a week and were still no closer to finding out what had happened. It was a mystery,” Benny continued.

Cassie continued. “People were reluctant to venture back here, believing the island was now cursed. It sat empty until the early fifties when finally the government decided to restore it. It was used as a fishing port between the mainland and various other routes. Back then it was easier for the fishing vessels to unload their cargo here and have locals transport it back to the mainland, that’s why we have two harbors. The one you came in on, and the one right outside.”

“Slowly, the fishermen began moving back across to the island to work. They brought their families, families suggested it to others, and so the events slowly became pushed from reality to legend. But the island still kept something from the story. That’s how it came to be known as Mysteria.” Cameron honestly believed that Benny was fully in to his storyteller role. “Now, someone that most islanders are familiar with is a lady by the name of Doctor Irene Grosse. Back in the sixties, she was one of these, what do you call them, you know, one of them that studies people’s minds?”

“Shrinks,” Robert informed him.

“Yeah, that will do, I can’t remember the proper name. Anyway, she was applying her trade in an institution on the mainland, I can’t remember where, and she found this woman there, as crazy as that guy from your book.”

‘Brubaker.’ Cameron recalled the crazy preacher he’d created for his first novel City of Life.

“Turns out this woman was from the island here, and she was also here when everyone went missing. She was only a girl back then, but managed to hide in some crappy little boat in the harbor to the mainland. Now, Grosse had heard about Mysteria and had a little bit of a personal interest in it, and so she decided to work directly with this woman now within her care. She tried right up until the woman’s disappearance to find out what had happened here, but got nothing more than the same answer. Whether they implemented all these techniques to open her mind or when they hypnotized her, no matter what they did she simply told them ‘she will make herself known.’”

Cameron took a deep breath. Apparitions? “Who will?” he asked, his voice no higher than a whisper.

“No one knows. When that lady vanished from the institution, the secrets of Mysteria went with her. All except of course for that one warning.”

“The fishermen, being superstitious sea farers, moved from the island when the news of this story hit,” Cassie began, herself now sounding as menacing as the story teller, “and with them took the trade that the island had needed. Everything went with them. Vessels had to venture along the coast, making it further for them to travel and less cost effective. Strange thing was their cargo would sometimes be dead by the time they hit port. Each vessel took so much care to preserve their catch ready for sale, and most of the time it was no use, the catch would be dead. The poor captain’s would spend so much more in fuel and have nothing but dead fish to show for it.”

Benny sighed. “And so the curse of Mysteria hit. No vessels came within touching distance of this place. Of course, it’s different today. New generations of fishermen emerged to take the helm. They questioned the legends, and when no certain answers could be given, the stories became myths. We have Howard and his crew who’ll get out there and bring in a catch for the island, but he is certain that the legend of Mysteria is true. Fishermen are still superstitious these days, but less so when it comes to such farfetched ideas.”

“Sorry, Benny, but I think it’s all absolute bullshit.” It was clear that Deputy Fleck did not believe any of these stories. Janet slapped him again.

“What do the islander’s think it was, or is, that made everyone vanish?” Cameron asked, his mind thriving with a thousand ideas.

“There are many different stories out there,” Cassie began, “some talk of mermaids-”

“Mermaids?” Cameron frowned. How could they cause these strange events?

“Oh yes, not like your Disney type mermaids, but the whaling, death bringing creatures that lurk beneath the waves, ready to pull and unknowing fisherman to his death.”

“Fairies is another,” Janet added. “I’ve heard stories of life-sized wooden sculptures of people being found within the forests on the island. The legend goes that when a fairy kills a human, it leaves a wooden sculpture behind in their place.”

“But you know what I think it is?” Benny asked rhetorically. “I think its ghosts. Back at the institution, that woman vanished from a locked room with nothing more than a bed and a sink in there. When the nurses and doctors got in, the plastic mirror above the sink had shattered, and the floor was soaked with water. Turns out, it was salt water.”

A picture crashed to the bar, scaring them all senseless. “Shit!” Robert shouted, not expecting the crash in the least.

Cassie spun round. “Where the hell did that come from?” she unknowingly questioned herself. Shards of shattered glass that once belonged to the frame twinkled in the dim light. They had scattered out across the bar and on to the varnished floorboards towards them. Cameron watched as the hostess rose from the table and wandered over to the picture, carefully grasping the frame between her thumb and index finger. As she turned it over more glass fell to the counter.

“Careful,” Janet warned, “don’t go cutting yourself.”

Cameron watched on with interest as Cassie studied the picture, her expression revealing her confusion.

“What is it?” Benny asked. It appeared that the ageing man was slightly un-nerved. Having been a man born of the island, Cameron could tell that he was extremely wary of the legends that surrounded it.

The painting was of the harbor outside. The day depicted a storm with rolling waves crashing against the boats and harbor walls. White spray leapt upwards as the seas and the land collided, reaching high above in to the stormy skies. On a harbor wall looking out to sea was a shadow, probably a woman as a mass of long hair appeared to be blowing in the gales. “I don’t recognize this,” Cassie said, presenting the picture back to the table.

‘Great! This is exactly what I need!’ Cameron mused.

“Can I look?” Janet asked her.

Cassie brought the frame to her guests. “Careful,” she warned as she lay it on their table. Cameron and Robert moved their bottles to make room as the work in question appeared before them.

Benny moved shoulder to shoulder with Cameron. “Are you sure it wasn’t tucked away somewhere above the bar?”

“No, not that I remember. All the pictures I have in here are around the walls there,” she replied, gesturing to the dark, stoned walls that separated the bar from the outside world.

“It’s a strange picture,” Cameron thought aloud, “the main focus is the figure on the harbor walls. Even with the seas rolling and the boats swaying, that’s where your attention is drawn.”

Cameron noticed Janet bight her bottom lip lightly. “It’s so realistic too. It could almost pass as a photograph,” she added.

“Weird,” the ever skeptical Robert said to them. “Maybe it’s your ghosts.”

Benny let out a single laugh. “Maybe,” he replied, “ but in any case, I better get my butt in gear and get going. Martha’s going to read me my rights again.”

“Yeah, me too,” Cameron added. “Benny’s my ride. I may also take an early night as I’m thinking about heading to the mainland tomorrow too. I’m due there on Friday for a meeting but might get there a few days early to prepare.”

Benny slapped him on the shoulder. “I’m heading over tomorrow. I’m meeting the wholesalers over in Linster. Might catch you on the ferry if you’re going?”

Cassie pinched the frame once again and placed it back where it had fallen. The friends began shuffling from around the table to their feet. “If you want to find out more about our island I’d suggest speaking to Esther over in the bookshop. She’s done a lot of reading about it over the years, she’s probably the best,” Cassie said to Cameron as he stood.

“Thanks, I’ll do that.”

“And bring your dog down soon, I’d love to meet him!” she added.

“Sure will,” he said with a smile.

***

Benny pulled up on Cameron’s driveway under the falling rain. “They think we’ll be getting storms this weekend,” he said as he dropped the gears in to neutral, “that means the ferries will stop until it passes.”

“What happens in an emergency?” Cameron asked, watching the rain splatter against the windshield. It streaked downward in rivers and swiftly vanished as the dark wipers flashed by to remove them.

“Helicopter, if it’s life or death, otherwise we fend for ourselves. I have the store; Cassie has emergency supplies if we need it. We’re pretty much self-sufficient out here.”

“Real isolation,” Cameron thought aloud.

Benny nodded. “Yes, I guess we are. Anyway, I better let you get out; I’m in for hell when I get home.”

Cameron smiled and opened the door. “Thanks, mate, I may see you tomorrow.”

“Maybe. Take it easy.”

Cameron jumped out and ran over to the small porch overhanging the main entrance. Benny span around on the driveway and peeped the Chevy’s horn as he drove back along the tight lane and out on to Hillcrest. Cameron raised his free hand to the vanishing tail lights as he fumbled in his pocket for his keys, quickly yanking them from his jeans to find the yale that would allow him entry. Quickly opening the door he jumped inside the hallway and slammed it closed.

“Jesus,” he said as he locked the door, “does the rain ever let up here?”

Looking at the kitchen he saw the lights had remained on. Even though the chances of being broken in to on the island were slim to none, he still didn’t like the idea of Akando moping around in the house in complete darkness.

“Kanee?” he asked as he turned the hallway lamp on, illuminating the shadows around him.

Kanee was the nickname he’d had for Akando since the day they came together nearly four years ago. Akando wasn’t waiting by the door where he usually appeared whenever Cameron came in. “Kanee?” he asked again, removing his shoes and leaving them where they were.

Cameron turned in to the lounge, grabbed the remote and turned the television on. Some news report was on, but he didn’t care much to listen. “Where are you?” he asked the house, throwing the remote back down on the couch.

Cameron crossed the open area in to the kitchen, opened his fridge and pulled out a chocolate bar. Akando still hadn’t made his presence known. Cameron tore the wrapper off, buried half the bar between his teeth and chewed with an open mouth, doing exactly the opposite to what his mother had taught him. He frowned and began mounting a little search operation for the hefty dog. Turning the light on in his study Cameron looked around. The head bobble statues were motionless on their shelves. The computer was off and the pictures were still. As he was about to leave Cameron noticed his chair had been moved slightly. In the foot well of the desk Akando had curled up in to the gap.

“Kanee?” he asked, confused as to why his companion was settling there. Akando rose to his feet and gently trotted over to Cameron. “Hey buddy, what’s up?” he asked as the malamute circled him.

Cameron reached down and petted the hulking beast. Akando seemed somehow withdrawn. When he went quiet like this he was either ill or afraid. Cameron ate the second half of his chocolate and placed the wrapper in his pocket.

“Come on,” he said, and both man and beast went through to the kitchen.

Cameron found out a can of dog food and placed it in Akando’s white bowl. He had brought a brand new trash can which he filled with dry food for his dog, and using an old cup, scooped some out and threw it in the bowl, too. He then grabbed a fork and mixed it all together. Akando now jumped on to his hinds as Cameron prepared the meal. After mixing it well he placed the food down on the floor and let the canine begin eating. He patted Akando’s head twice and left to sit in the lounge.

***

Nothing much played out on the TV. Cameron wasn’t really watching it anyway; it acted more as a background distraction than anything else. Akando joined him for a while as he dozed in front of the flat screen, and a little after one in the morning he decided to retire upstairs. Akando swiftly ran outside and watered the flowers, so to speak, even though it was raining, and swiftly ran back.

Cameron secured the house and followed the malamute to the top of the stairs. The dog stopped suddenly. Akando froze on the landing. A subtle growl emerged against the weather outside. Cameron climbed the final step and looked at him. The dog stared at the open door which led to Cameron’s bedroom. Akando’s chest rumbled low and deep as he stood there, fixated on something up ahead. The rain was rattling against the windows and briefly reminded Cameron of bacon sizzling in a frying pan. Akando stood firm, his glare focused upon the empty room.

“What’s wrong?” Cameron asked the growling canine.

Akando looked over at him, barked, and turned back to the open door. He followed Akando’s glare in to the darkened room. The curtain at the far end was swaying as a breeze passed through from his open window. His en-suite door creaked gently with the breeze. Akando barked once more.

“Kanee!” he snapped, now slightly unnerved.

Cameron joined his pet in the hallway and stood beside him. Both of them looked down in to the darkness. The only light was from outside, that blue, nighttime light that makes everything seem more threatening.

“Come on,” he said to his pet and began walking towards the darkness. Akando let out three anxious cries. Cameron stopped and turned. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

He turned back to the bedroom. “The author stood in apprehension, his canine friend firmly placing doubt and anxiety within his mind,” Cameron began, whispering quietly. He slowly walked forwards. “Drake had been in the grip of a writer’s block for a few months now, and every step he took towards the darkened room brought about it a thousand ideas. Shadows grabbing him and dragging him in to their terrible world, masked killers hiding behind the bedroom door, every stereotype the silver screen had produced in horror history passed through his racing mind. Each step moved him closer, and his huge, beastly guardian that was supposed to protect him during his hour of need, cowered far away in the distance,” he said, turning back to Akando. Akando looked at him blankly.

“Idiot,” Cameron whispered. He reached the open door. The rain rattled the windows. The curtain’s bellowed. A cold breeze raced through to him, it’s only visible presence that of the flowing curtains reaching out from the window. “Drake dare not enter the ominous room. His imagination had now taken full control of his creative mind. The only option he had was to feel around the door frame and switch on the light. He knew something would grab it, in fact he was certain. He knew he wasn’t the only one fumbling for the switch. He imagined something slimy or scaly taking hold of him, and even though he’d be petrified he knew he could fight that. The one fear he had was if something strong took hold of him, something so powerful he couldn’t escape its grip. That was fear; knowing you that you were caught and knowing you could never escape.”

Cameron sighed. “This book is writing itself,” he added with heavy self-sarcasm. He stepped slowly in to the room and switched the light on. His eyes quickly adjusted to the brightness, returning the room to the shade of blue that Cameron enjoyed. His bed rested to the right, its foot running past him and pointing towards the en-suite door that was slightly open to his left. The bed looked welcoming. It wasn’t disturbed as he imagined it may be if ghosts or monsters lurked within the room.

“But Michael Myers doesn’t hide in beds, he hides in the background,” Cameron thought aloud. “Christ, I gotta stop with the movies.”

A new sense of calm emerged within the investigating home owner. He wandered confidently to the window and snapped it shut, closing the curtains and thwarting the breeze. He sighed. Akando wandered in and leapt on the bed.

Cameron removed his shirt. “You’re welcome,” he said, throwing his garment at the dog.

Akando yawned and made himself comfortable. Cameron peeled his socks off and dropped them on the floor. The rains still rattled on the now hidden glass behind him. Cameron wandered over to the en-suite door.

“What the...” he said quietly.

His bare feet stood within a sodden carpet, his body weight seeping water to the surface. Opening the door he turned the light on and saw the darkly tiled floor of his bathroom situated under water. One spot across the room near the bath was dry, but the rest was soaked. Within the water he noticed thousands of glittering objects twinkling back at him. The mirror above his sink had been smashed, its shards scattered freely within the room.

“Shit, Akando, what have you-” The face rushed upon him and screamed.

Cameron jumped and fell back in to the bathroom. His ears filled with the curdling scream of the wailing apparition, its wild eyes leaping prominently against the black skin in which they existed.

“Soon!” a voice screamed throughout his mind.

Cameron looked up in horror as the woman descended upon him. Her arms reached out with long, skeletal fingers. Her legs vanished behind a flowing dress that waved gently around her as though she was trapped deep down beneath flowing water. Her flesh was pale and rotting, her lips wasting away in to the toothy grin of a skull. Cameron screamed out. Akando jumped up on the bed and barked. The bathroom was empty. The rain rattled the windows from outside. Cameron panted heavily. Akando looked at him from the bedroom, his head tilted to one side as if questioning his master what was wrong.

Cameron lay in the water looking back at him. He checked around the room once more as he lay in the pungent saltwater. Except for him, it was empty. He looked down at the floor as he gained composure. He felt sweat emerging on his forehead. Akando let out a gentle bark.

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay,” he replied, pushing himself carefully to his feet. He noticed he’d been cut a few times on his bare arms. He checked his feet too. A few scrapes but they seemed okay. “You didn’t even see it?” he asked Akando, who by now had flopped back down upon the bed.

Akando lazily looked over to him. Cameron’s heart rate slowly began to decrease. “You didn’t see it, or you’d have barked. You wouldn’t have rescued me, but you’d have definitely barked if you saw her. I was narrating myself through a story, and it happened. It happened yet again. Just like in the car, and just like the store.” Akando continued to watch him. It didn’t matter what he said to the malamute, he wouldn’t reply.

***

Cameron spent the next while tending his cuts and then cleaning the bathroom. He didn’t climb in to his bed until a little after two, and literally had to push Akando to the floor in order to climb under the duvet. The rain still fell outside, and although a little anxious, Cameron managed to settle in a darkened room. Akando was now sleeping at the foot of the bed. Anything untoward would alert him, but as he’d found out tonight, that was all. It had to be his imagination, it just had to be. He only saw her when he was plotting his ideas.

He looked up at the ceiling with his hands resting on his stomach. Tanya had often said she knew when he was thinking because he always lay like this. And, to be fair, she was right. This was often how he lay when he was thinking. Who was she? What was she? Why did she only appear when he was plotting his ideas?

“Save them!”

Cameron shot up in the bed and looked around. The room was empty. Akando was snoring on the floor. He’d heard the voice as clear as crystal. It was the same voice he’d heard before. The woman’s voice.

For a terrible moment he thought she would appear again, reaching out with her wrinkled, boney fingers, only this time she wouldn’t vanish. He closed his eyes and sighed. He wondered if he was going crazy, by seeing people that weren’t there and hearing voices that belonged to no-one. Maybe the whole divorce and move was affecting him more than he wanted to accept. Maybe the move had been too quick and was now playing on him. He slumped back down in to his pillow.

An idea crossed his mind as he lay there. Before he left for the mainland on Friday he’d pay a visit to the book store and speak to Esther. Maybe he could find out something about the island. He wasn’t superstitious, or at least he hadn’t been, but one thought crossed his mind; if he wasn’t crazy, then he was really seeing her, and really, in the real world, not in one of his works of fiction.

Slowly Cameron fell in to an uneasy sleep. He couldn’t remember dreaming but awoke the next morning feeling as though he’d spent a night out on the beer. Akando had jumped on to the bed and pushed him to the side during the night, and the rain had only eased a little by the time the dull light crept in through the cracks in the curtains. Blurry eyed, he lay in comfort and listened to the rain falling against the windows of the house. His bedroom door was wide open and transmitted the patter of rattling rainfall from the windows on the floor below.

‘Living on an island in the middle of the ocean, you better get used to the rain,’ he thought to himself as he wiped the sleep from his eyes.

Akando rolled to his stomach, looked across the mound that Cameron had cocooned himself underneath with the duvet and out through the open door. Cameron reached over and petted his grey fur. The malamute barked. “What?” Cameron asked with a brief surge of fear speeding through him.

Three dull knocks emerged from the hallway. Akando leapt from the bed and out of the room, barking deeply as he sprinted out of sight.

“Shit.” Cameron jumped from his bed.

He grabbed his black gown from the back of the door and threw it on, tying the belt as he descended the staircase. The rain was much louder down here as it rattled against the greater volume of windows on the ground floor. Akando was stood barking at the home’s main entrance.

“Get back!” Cameron ordered, leaving the final step of the staircase. He rushed over to the wooden door and opened it.

“Mr. Drake?” a huge police officer asked. He must have towered in at six foot four, give or take, Cameron initially calculated. The officer appeared in black from head to foot. His black waterproof jacket which, at this moment in time didn’t look at all waterproof, appeared instead to be made of leather rather than of a material used to repel the harsh rains. The black Stetson he wore cascaded with falling water from its rim. Although he looked young, silver hair poked out from beneath it.

“Yes,” Cameron answered, reaching down to reassure Akando.

“Sheriff Harman. May I come in?”

Akando had given up with his bark and now wagged his curled tail. Cameron saw just how hard it was raining outside. Looked like the sound it made on the windows gave it no justice. “Certainly, come on in,” he said, stepping to the side and allowing the soaked law enforcer to enter.

“Thank you. Does he bite?” Harman asked as he entered, marveling at the dog staring up at him.

Cameron swiftly closed the door behind the officer. “Not yet. Moving here seems to have had a calming effect on him.”

Harman reached down and placed a huge hand between his ears. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

Cameron frowned. “Um, no, I guess not. This isn’t a social visit then?”

“I’m afraid not, Mr. Drake-”

“Cameron. Call me Cameron.”

“Sorry, Cameron. I’m here to ask you about last night.”

Cameron took a quick breath. Was it about his vision? “Okay? What can I do for you?”

Sheriff Harman reached in to a pocket and pulled a small notebook and pencil from it. He began flicking open the off-colored pages. “Benjamin, err, Benny Lieberman,” he began, finding his next blank sheet. Cameron watched as the Sherriff began writing something before returning the gaze. “I understand that last night you met with him and a few others down at The Pondering Crow, and that you got a lift home with him afterwards. Can you tell me what happened, after you left?”

“Err, sure. He gave me a ride home, and, that was about it.”

“Okay, and how long did it take you to get here after you left?”

Cameron wrinkled his nose as he thought back. “Not long. Only about five minutes or so. I’m not too far from the town-”

“Port,” Harman quipped.

“Sorry, port,” he quickly corrected.

“And what happened when he dropped you here?”

“I got out; he turned around on the drive and peeped the horn as I was coming in.”

Harman nodded. “What did he say to you during your ride? You know, small talk, any plans he had, that sort of thing?”

Cameron gently shook his head from side to side and looked upwards. “Not much, just that his wife was going to kill him for being so late. He told me the forecast for storms this weekend, and about how you deal with an emergency on the island. He did mention about going to the mainland as we were leaving, but that was all. There’s nothing else really, that was it.”

“So he said nothing else to you? Wasn’t acting out of the ordinary, nothing that you thought may be odd or strange, said nothing else about the mainland?”

“No. Really, it wasn’t that long a trip. He didn’t say or do anything that I thought was strange. Sheriff, what’s this all about?”

Harman closed the notepad and placed it back in his pocket. “Benny didn’t appear to make it home last night. We have nothing as of yet, but he didn’t get there according to his wife. She hasn’t seen or heard from him since he left for The Pondering Crow yesterday evening. Martha, his wife, contacted me about three am this morning. It appears, Mr. Drake, that you were the last known person to see him.”

“Shit,” Cameron said gently, his mind racing back through the previous evening and back to the ride he took home with the store owner. “Has he not headed to the mainland already?”

“He doesn’t appear to have done so. The morning ferry has only just left and he wasn’t aboard. Wherever he went he took his Chevy too.”

“The vehicle’s gone?”

“Yep. I’ve had to pull Robert from his duty at the fish market to help mount a search of the island. Got a few others helping out, as well.”

“I could help, if you wanted? I’m not doing much here at the moment. I’d like to, if you’ll allow me to?”

“That would be a great help, thank you. We’re going to concentrate from here and then out along his route home, or at least his suspected route home. The quickest and most convenient way for him to get back is on Hillcrest, the road that winds up in to the forest between here and the east harbor. I’m hoping this is the route he will have taken. In fact, I can’t imagine him taking the longer route around the top of the island towards Cape Tate and then back down. Anyway, would you mind if we based ourselves on your property? You’re quite close to the area we want to search through from here.”

“No, not at all.”

“Well, thank you Cameron. I’ll return to the port and organize the search party. We’ll be here within the hour.”

“No problem. I’ll be ready.”

Harman left Cameron’s home and headed back to town. The rain cascaded heavily from the skies and showed no signs of easing. Akando looked at him as he closed the door. Cameron returned the look. “If I’m going out in this shit then you’re coming too.”

Ten

Harman had given all volunteers their directions. They were focusing on Hillcrest, the road that lead from Cameron’s home to the port in which he arrived a few days ago now, and also the road that led up in to the dense forest where he’d first encountered his vision. Cassie had arrived to help, as had Janet, Esther, Howard and Robert, who now stood official as the island’s deputy. Cassie fell instantly in love with Akando, who himself found it hard to leave her from the fuss he was receiving. The malamute looked over towards his owner.

“Judas,” Cameron had said bluntly.

Most of the islanders had left the island by now on their daily jaunt across the waves to work on the mainland. Mark and Jim, the two fishermen drinking with Howard in the bar last night had already left to begin their long day trawling the seas for food to bring back. Tom Booth, the manager of the market had stayed there to deal with the vessels that would be dropping their cargo and those that would be transporting them to the mainland. Howard and Esther joined a group of seven other locals who had volunteered to help, while Cameron, Janet, Cassie, and of course Akando were set to work with Robert. They were sent by the sheriff to sweep through one side of the forest near the road, Howard and Esther’s team the other. Sheriff Harman would be patrolling the road in his Chevrolet Suburban. Each group had a radio they could stay in contact with.

The rain had been falling steadily throughout the morning, and by the time they got out there in the wilderness it had become fairly hazardous. The uneven slopes and wet debris of the forest floor made it treacherous to traverse in certain places.

Akando had headed out on his own, exploring the forest for himself up in the trees ahead of his owner. For once, the rain hadn’t seemed to bother him. Maybe the outdoors, the real outdoors out here on the island, had struck a chord with him and reminded the malamute that he was in fact a creature of nature. Cameron could see his companion actually enjoying this event as he bounded over the mounds and between the tree trunks.

“He loves the outdoors, doesn’t he?” Cassie asked from beneath a multicolored raincoat. Cameron noticed her enjoyment a she watched the dog running back and forth, sniffing the ground and investigating the bushes.

“Yeah, he does. It’s one of the reasons why I moved out here. I guess it’s calling to him. Usually he hates the rain, but since we’ve been here it hasn’t seemed to trouble him as much. Guess he’s getting used to it.” Cameron looked up at the leaves and held out his arms like some kind of messiah.

“It doesn’t always rain here, you know?” Cassie told him from beneath her rattling hood.

“Really? You could have fooled me.”

“Get to May and June next year, you’ll be tanning yourself out on your lawn there.”

“Not me. I’m not in to-” Akando barked ahead in the distance. He was stood by the roadside. Something across the way was catching his attention.

“Kanee?” Cameron shouted out to him. Akando turned briefly and looked back, wagging his tail. He barked once more. Cameron and Cassie hurried steadily across the ground towards the investigating dog. They stumbled over the heavily saturated debris under-foot.

“What is it?” Cameron asked his friend as they arrived, stroking him gently when they got there. Akando looked up and barked. “Okay, okay.”

“What’s that?” Cassie asked, pointing in to the road. Cameron followed her finger and found two sets of tyre markings swerve across the tarmac.

“Skid marks,” he said , looking them over. He stood for a moment or so assessing the dark tracks. Something wasn’t right. The marks were deep in shade, indicating that the brakes had been hit heavily. They carried on for about two feet and stopped. “Odd,” Cameron mused under the falling rain.

“What is?” Cassie asked him. Her pale face and red nose indicated she was now beginning to feel the effects of the cold, fall day that had emerged over the island.

“Err, just wait here a mo. I’ll go have a look.” Cameron left the dense greenery and hopped up on to the road. Akando barked once more under the rain and lurched up on to his hinds. Robert looked over from his place deeper inside the trees.

“Kanee, it’s okay,” Cameron responded as he turned to his dog.

Cassie reached down and petted him. Cameron made his way over towards the marks. Akando barked again, this time finishing with three anxious cries. Cameron shot a quick glance back over his shoulder but continued forward on to the road. The rain thundered in his ears as it bounced heavily away from his rattling jacket. The rain had drenched his red Liverpool FC hat completely through, and water droplets now seeped from the visor in front of his eyes.

“What’s he found?” Robert asked as he approached Cassie, his own jacket rustling as he passed between ferns.

“There are some marks up there on the road. Akando doesn’t like it.”

Robert looked down at the malamute and over to Cameron. “Wait here,” he ordered, and followed the writer on to the watery surface.

“Look at this,” Cameron said, pointing to the marks as the deputy approached through the rainfall.

Robert saw the heavy shades of the marks swaying on the surface. He squatted down and placed two fingers in to the cold water that had formed in puddles upon the road. “Their wide,” he began, as he investigated the scene. He moved his fingers through the water and across the markings. “I’m no expert, but I guess they could be P245’s. They look about the same, but that’s just a guess.”

“What’s that?” Cameron asked from above.

Robert looked up toward him. “Tire size. My Pa was a mechanic and I used to help him when I could right up until he died. Usually I’d fit the tires when they became too heavy for him to lift. I fitted the ones on Benny’s Chevy a numerous times. Now, I’m not one hundred percent, but these markings look as though they could have been left by them, or some that were of a similar size.”

Cameron nodded. “Do you notice anything strange, though?”

Robert looked back at the rippling surface. Invisible rain splattered in to it as it hit the water. “Like what?” he replied, studying the road he was squatting on.

Cameron lurched down and squatted next to him. “You see how deep the color is?” he asked, pointing at the marks.

“Yeah?”

“That would indicate that these tires were hit pretty hard, you would say? Like the brakes were smashed down on whatever vehicle they belonged to? I guess that the car was travelling at a good speed to leave marks so deep in color?” Robert accepted the theory so far and nodded.

“Look,” Cameron emphasized as he pointed to where they finished, “they just cut off. There’s no color fade at the end of the skid.”

Robert frowned as he watched Cameron’s finger pointing out the area where the marks ended. “They don’t end gradually, they just stop. And look at how they end. In a clean cut line. Now, a vehicle travelling fast enough to skid this harshly and leave these marks so heavily, won’t stop in just two feet, will it?”

Robert followed his line of thinking. “My God,” he said deeply as he examined the road.

Cameron nodded. “Exactly. These marks should be reaching at least another foot or two in my estimation, but they don’t. They just stop dead, right here,” Cameron added, clasping his hands together.

“It’s like the damn thing just vanished,” Robert said, mystified by the scene unfolding in front of him.

“Yeah, but where? What the hell could this vehicle do to just vanish? It didn’t leave the road nor did it stay on the road, if you believe what you see. Where the hell has it gone?”

Robert sighed and wiped some rain from his chin. His short bristled scratched loudly as his fingers ran through them. “You sure your mind isn’t running away with you in to another book idea?” he asked, trying not to understand the sense that the fantasy specialist appeared to be making.

“It may very well be, deputy, but prove me wrong on this. Show me where it is.”

Robert shook his head. “You know what, Cameron? I can’t. I...I have no idea where it is. Where the hell has it gone to?”

“Everything okay there?” Janet shouted to them. She had joined Cassie and Akando on the outskirts of the trees.

“Yeah...yeah we’re okay. We might have found something, though,” Robert shouted, turning back over his shoulder to face them. “I better call the sheriff.” The deputy turned his attention back to Cameron. “I wouldn’t mention the whole ‘disappearing’ thing to him, though, at least not yet. He’s purely a facts kind of guy.”

Harman arrived a few minutes later and strode across the road almost completely unaware of the thrashing rain drenching his uniform. The sheriff looked over the marks that deputy Fleck and Cameron had reported back to him as he had scoured the furthest reaches of Hillcrest from the comfort of the police vehicle. He studied them for a minute or so before squatting down, just as the deputy and the volunteer had done when they had investigated the surface. In his mind they were certainly odd, as Deputy Fleck and Cameron had both quietly agreed. The length, the color, the abrupt end, something just didn’t add up somehow. They looked like they matched Benny’s Chevy, or at least came close enough to warrant some serious interest in them from a factual point of view. He listened to Robert who had the experience in this area. They had little else to go on. The other search party had found nothing further back in the forest on the opposite side.

“So he was here?” Harman asked Deputy Fleck as they began to place a small theory together. The five of them were stood at the roadside next to the Suburban. Akando sat beside his master.

“I believe so, sir,” Robert informed him. “Those tire tracks are just too close to discredit. Where he went afterwards, I don’t know. Something’s wrong here, but I don’t know what.”

***

The search continued further in to the day, and then in to the dull twilight of the approaching nightfall. They found nothing else to help in their search for Benny Lieberman. The night soon emerged and became too dark to continue searching, and the event was called off. Sheriff Harman had to return to Martha and tell her there was no sign of her husband. There were no suspicious circumstances yet, and they were no closer to the truth than they had been when they set out that very morning.

Akando won a meal date for Cameron at The Pondering Crow, who excitedly attended with his pet. He wasn’t looking for a relationship this close to his divorce. Hell, the ink he signed the divorce papers with was probably still drying back across the world on some desk in London, but the company of a pretty lady on this strange day was too good to turn down.

Akando ate a better meal than he did, finishing the offcuts that Cassie had from the kitchen of her business and then decided to spend the night at the feet of his hostess. Cameron would cuss him a few times for being un-loyal, and when they left he got a quick kiss from his date. Akando refused to be left out and licked her cheek gently, and the pair left feeling happy and contented.

As Cameron lay in bed that night he thought about the road and about Benny. He had vanished, of that there was no doubt within his mind. How or why, he seriously didn’t know. Could he have feigned this himself? Possibly. Perhaps he couldn’t take the thought of returning home to his wife and just thought, sod it, I’m off? No one really knows what goes on behind closed doors. No, that still wouldn’t explain the...

“Cammmmmeron...”

Cameron lifted his head from the soft pillow it had been denting. Half asleep he expected to see Tanya walk through the doorway at any moment. There was nothing unusual happening in the room tonight. The rain had fallen lighter towards the end of the day but had since been replaced by the occasional gust of wind.

‘At least the rain is letting up, now. Guess those storms Benny spoke of are beginning to swirl, though,’ he thought as the only thing worth concentrating on was blowing outside.

Cameron relaxed within the darkened room. His night sense revealed nothing out of place or nothing to cause him concern. The voice he believed had just been heard was quickly forgotten and softly Cameron fell back down in to the pillow. He moved around a bit, coughed once, moved again and then settled. He lay there, drifting in and out of consciousness. The wind vanished and emerged in his ears as sleep slowly began to creep over him and awareness diminished. Something gently clattered across his room, across the miles...

A breath caught on the palette of his mouth as he drew in slowly, bringing him slightly to consciousness. Cameron squirmed under the duvet. He felt Akando standing beside the bed, dribbling on to the mattress. He heard his saliva patter to the linen cover. Moving his left arm Cameron placed his hand in to a huge patch of uncomfortable wetness.

“Urgh,” he began as he slowly woke up. The bed was drenched. “Akando, you minging little sh-”

The pale face lurched down upon him and screamed. Cameron rolled across the bed and fell upon the floor, the duvet tangling around him as he launched from the mattress. He pushed himself upright and immediately saw the scraggly, long hair of the apparition slowly flowing within the air across the room.

Slowly she approached, her wide, pupil-less white eyes staring down as she floated slowly closer. Cameron’s heart pounded against his ribs, trying mightily to escape his body. Goosebumps pushed themselves across his skin. The apparition grinned maliciously as she descended, the rotting lips revealing the decaying teeth of someone long since departed.

“Kanee?” Cameron whispered fearfully, his voice no louder than a raspy breath. The phantom ascended over his bed, her flowing dress dancing wildly in the air around her. Water dripped from her hair, her garment, and from the outstretching arms reaching toward him. “Kanee?” he stuttered once more as emotion kicked in and took control of his body. The apparition terrified him. She suspended gracefully in the air as though it was a deep, invisible ocean.

“Hear me, Cameron. Help them. Save them.”

Cameron quivered. The fear she caused was nothing like he had ever known before. He noticed her study him with her terrible eyes as he cowered underneath a saturated duvet before her. This time, though, the apparition would not vanish as she glided above him. Cameron had previously seen her for a second, no longer.

Now, she hung in front of him and showed no sign of leaving. She was not transparent, nor fully formed. She was created of shadows and light, and nothing more. “How?” Cameron asked from his place upon the floor. He was petrified beyond belief, but still he asked.

“Cameron...” The wind gusted from the window ajar behind him. The curtain opened to reveal the dark, natural light from outside. As it passed across the scrawny apparition she vanished, dispelled by the dim light that had emerged from the curtains.

He sat there a while longer, his heart pounding heavily as sweat poured copiously from his pours. Resting against the wall he rolled his head back. It was becoming too regular, now. It wasn’t just when he was thinking of ideas. It was happening at night, during the day, on the road, even in the damn store.

He looked over towards the foot of the bed and saw Akando looking at him. He didn’t look nervous at all. In fact, he looked his usual self. No cowering, no crying, he was there acting as a tired dog normally would. Cameron held out his arm and Akando immediately wandered over to him, settling his huge body down in to the twisted duvet. Cameron took hold and hugged him tight.

“What the hell is going on, on this damn island?” he asked as Akando settled. The malamute gave his response. He turned to his master and licked his face.

Eleven

Cameron awoke where he had fallen asleep, seated against the wall with Akando beside him. Something was shouting within the bedroom. The Jawa from Star Wars was letting him know he had an incoming call on the cellphone. cameron jumped up quickly and dived across the bed to the table it was charging on. The bed was damp with water that the apparition had left behind, forcing him up to his knees instantly. The smell of saltwater was pungent in the air. The carpet on this side of the room was also dark with the strange, retained water. “Shit,” Cameron said, swiping the tab on his phone without even looking who was calling. “Yeah?”

“Jesus Christ Cameron you know what goddamn time it is?” Phil barked angrily from the other end.

“Phil, you just blasphemed twice in the same sentence! Is that all you’re calling me for?” Cameron looked at his watch. The digital display showed 09:47. Cameron was pissed. “For God’s sakes you just woke me up!”

“Yeah, I can tell that! I guess you didn’t catch the ferry then?”

“Ferry? Phil, what are you talking about?”

“The goddamn ferry to the goddamn mainland, so you can have a goddamn lunch meeting with the goddamn editor at Sheperd Bay! Is that enough goddamn blasphemy for you?”

“What? Phil, that’s like a day away! Why are you hounding me for it now?”

“Get your damn normal head on, idiot, if you have one! It’s Friday! You’re supposed to be en-route!”

“What?” Cameron asked, his senses falling in to a panic. “It can’t be,” he added, jumping to his feet, running out in to the hallway and down the stairs. He passed a note pushed through his letter box, and in his stride stooped down to collect it.

“It is, my friend. Barely my friend at this point, I might add,” Phil snapped.

The note was from Cassie, just asking him to call. He passed in to the lounge and grabbed the remote, turning the TV straight on to the news channel. There it was. Friday, October 4 th, 09:49 this time. Cameron looked back over his shoulder in confusion. He looked over to the trash can containing Akando’s dried food and noticed it had been pulled over with its contents spilt across the floor. “No way,” he said in astonishment.

“Yes way!” Phil shouted back, “and you need to be here, soon!”

“Shit, what am I going to do?” he asked, rushing back upstairs in the huge state of panic he felt whenever he overslept or was late for an appointment. He brushed past Akando who was on his way down.

“You know that fisherman that brought you in? Will? He’s on his way over right now. I had to pay him double what he’d earn normally to stop him heading out fishing this morning. Get your ass cleaned up and meet him at the dock, you got it? You can pay me back later.”

“Yeah! Yeah I got it!” he said, running the taps in the sink.

“See you soon, and don’t forget to dress sharp!” Phil hung up.

“Shit,” Cameron said again as he poured out his shower gel and washed up quickly. Akando emerged at the en-suite door. “Why didn’t you wake me?” he asked the malamute as he washed vigorously. Akando replied with a stare. Could he really have slept for a whole day? Well, he couldn’t dwell on it now; he had a meeting to make.

Cameron peeped the horn and pulled up outside The Pondering Crow. Cassie emerged and waved. “Cassie,” he said, jumping out of the vehicle, “do me a favor? Can you have Kanee for me please?”

Cassie looked shocked. “Yes, I suppose.”

“Thanks,” he replied, opening the door for the malamute to exit.

“Where’ve you been?” she asked, petting Akando as he trotted over to her.

“Long story. Look, I’ll tell you tonight, okay? I’ll swing by and pick him up when I get back. I’m headed to the mainland today, and I didn’t want to leave him in the house by himself.”

“Okay. You want me to make you dinner or something?”

“That would be great, thanks. He’s eaten already this morning, so he should be okay until I get back. And you behave, okay?” he ordered, pointing to his pet. Akando let out a single, happy bark that brought a smile to his owners face. “Alright. I’ll see you both tonight.” Cameron jumped back in to the Liberty, span it around and headed back out towards the east side harbor. The harbor, the port, the town, whatever the hell it was Sheriff Harman wanted to call it. He watched Cassie wave in his rear view mirror and peeped the horn. “Christ,” he said as he drove along Hillcrest, “this could have been serious.” He could have lost the contract, but due to Phil’s quick thinking they were on schedule, only just, mind you. Let’s hope the boat that Will arrived in doesn’t crap out or he would certainly feel the wrath of Phil.

Cameron pulled in to the small harbor and saw Will there, waiting for him. This was it. The rest of his life would now be hanging on this one, important meeting. For a moment he wondered why he’d worn his expensive M & S suit, considering he was bound to smell like a fishes anus when he reached the mainland. Cameron decided not to think about it, there was nothing he could now anyway. Except maybe order the fish when he got there. He locked the Liberty and greeted Will.

“How you settling in?” the fisherman asked as they glided the swells and headed to the mainland.

“Alright,” Cameron replied, reminded for some strange reason of the apparition that had haunted him since his arrival. She did however quickly vanish from his thoughts when another feeling passed over him. “This ocean doesn’t get any easier to cross, does it?” he wondered, his breath becoming shorter as the sickness slowly began to return.

Twelve

Cameron made it. He met Phil in an expensive coastal restaurant looking out over the calming ocean. The two men met Kathryn Pliski, the head commissioning editor at Sheperd Bay. She was a young woman, which kind of threw Cameron a little. In his experiences, editors were usually experienced characters who had a very clear idea on what exactly it was that they wanted from their existing clients as well as anyone new they may decide to take on board.

Cameron was emerging as a leading author in the fantasy and sci-fi genre, and was beginning to gain recognition for his works. They weren’t critically acclaimed though, but they were well reviewed and received by the target audiences. It was leading to the position that every aspiring writer dreamed to achieve; a publisher contacting them for submissions. This was his first, and hopefully would now cement him as a world class author. He didn’t need the money, he’d already made everything he’d needed on the seven previous books, and could afford to settle comfortably even if he never turned on a computer to write again. However, the boost from receiving a contract from a publisher who hunted him was the final thing he’d set out to achieve within his career.

The three of them sat at a window table looking out towards the open ocean. Somewhere on the horizon, Mysteria loomed in the dull daylight. The wind continued to thrust through in fits and gusts, but the rain had finally stopped. In fact, this was the calmest that the weather had been since Cameron arrived, more or less a week or so ago.

Cameron finished his Lasagna and dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin. The first thing he’d asked Phil was if he smelled of fish, his paranoia revving in to overdrive, and Phil had told him to shut up and get a grip. “So then, Mr. Drake, what would you have in mind for a horror manuscript?” Kathryn asked as she sat beside him.

“Please. Cameron. Call me Cameron.”

“Okay.”

“Well, what were you looking for?”

“Same as everyone, I guess. I’m looking for a well written manuscript with a new and winning formula combining story, characters and twists.”

“What kind of horror did you want? Are we talking zombie apocalypse? Serial killer? Classic horror?”

“Cameron, the idea is completely yours. Just provide us with a story that will sell.”

“Oh, he will,” Phil jumped in, “you have my word. This is the award winning author of City of Life, Midnight Black and Leviathan Rising. His stories will sell.”

“I’m sure they will.”

“Is that everything?” an approaching waitress asked the editor.

“Yes, thank you. May we have the bill?”

“Of course,” she replied, piling their empty plated on top of one another and scurrying away to the kitchens.

“So, do we have a deal?”

Cameron thought things over for a moment. “How long before you require the submitted manuscript?”

“We’ll be looking for a December sixteenth release date. Marketing will be pushing a campaign from the end of November. We’ll need a completed copy by then. It’s a push at this stage, I know that, but we have confidence that you can deliver something to us by then that we can use.”

“You’re throwing him against the big guns on a Christmas release?” Phil asked with a hint of optimism.

“At Sheperd Bay we see Mr. Drake as a long term project. We’ll be throwing everything behind him.”

Cameron looked at Phil’s comical expression and almost laughed. The waitress reappeared with a small black dish, three mints and a curled piece of paper. Cameron reached in to his pocket. Kathryn quickly held up a hand. “Compliments of Sheperd Bay, for your time,” she said, pulling a purse from her bag and then an American Express. “So, can I report that you will write for us, Cameron? Salary negotiated before you sign, of course.”

Cameron smiled. “I’m sure both you and Phil can come to an agreement,” he replied, extending his hand. Phil stared at the handshake with dollar signs in his eyes and a very, very large smile.

Thirteen

The last ferry arrived at the east harbor at a little after five. Cameron left on foot, followed shortly by Phil. It was time to celebrate. He’d agreed to a contract with a good publisher, and one who believed in him. He had little time to complete the manuscript that was required, but with no plans or events to attend, Cameron remained confident he could get a finished submission ready by the beginning of November. At his peak he could write ten thousand words a day, and with the amount of time now on his hands knew he could achieve this. Cameron had invited Phil back to the island for a mini celebration. Alcohol, fishing and, well, that was it. What a weekend. Finishing the week on a high was an amazing feeling.

Cameron handed Phil the house key, forgetting his friend already owned one. “How long you are you going to be?” Phil asked through and open window as he creeped slowly beside in the car.

“I don’t know,” Cameron responded, noticing how low the clouds were becoming. The sea had also become choppy on the journey over, but this time he had not noticed it. The ferry was much better for crossing the ocean than the fishing boat. “I’ll pick him up and, oh shit, I said I’d eat there.”

“Eat there?” Phil asked with a sly smile.

Cameron noticed the way he was being looked at. “It’s not like that,” he said, justifying his actions.

“Didn’t take you long at all, did it?”

“Phil. You want to join us?” he asked in an attempt to dispel any romantic thoughts that Phil may be having about his client and the hostess.

“No, no. I’ll throw together a sandwich and sit in front of a movie. I want you back by ten.”

“Get outta here! What are you now, my mother? We’ll be back before then anyway.”

Phil vanished up on to Hillcrest as Cameron stood reaching inside his pocket for the key to the Liberty. The ride rested exactly where he had left it, but Cameron didn’t really expect anything less on Mysteria. The thought of the apparition though crossed his mind a number of times on the journey back. He felt better knowing Phil was there with him for the weekend, but dare not discuss what he was seeing, just in case of sounding a fool. Cameron opened the driver’s door and slumped down in to the seat.

“Cameron!”

Cameron jumped out of the vehicle and span around. There was no one there. The harbor was empty. The Liberty was empty. A howling wind whistled past. The coat collar fluttered against his neck.

“You can hear me now! Accept it! Embrace it!”

“Who...who are you?” Cameron asked the empty harbor, his heart pounding yet again. “What do you want with me?”

“Save them! Save them!”

“From what? Save them from what?”

“Wait. See them before...”

“See who?”

The voice vanished as the wind raced past. Cameron’s chest heaved with each anxious breath. The voice was hers. The tone rang vividly in memory of the apparition seen back at home. It was the same voice. Sweat tickled as it ran from the hairline down the side of his face. Nothing but an empty car remained there, as empty and undisturbed as when he’d arrived. Luckily, she’d remained out of sight. Nothing was more terrifying than the gaze from her rotting face, her prominent teeth grinning from the tattered flesh where lips once existed. Something else was troubling Cameron, though, something more sinister. The voice sounded like it came from inside. It sounded like it had emanated from deep within his mind. Inside of him. There was a possibility that he himself had created the voice, and if that was the case, he had created her.

Cameron stood in the gloomy evening as the storm formed slowly above the island. The reality of craziness frightened him as much as the apparition. He remembered what the islanders had said about Esther, over in the book store. She knew everything about the island; maybe she could help him.

Cameron had to do it. He had to know if he was crazy or not. Regardless of what she would say, he would speak with her. He jumped inside the Liberty and turned the ignition over. It gently trembled to life. The dashboard lights appeared as normal and he turned the headlights on. Cameron headed back to the town, or to harbor, he still hadn’t decided what to call it yet, but before he picked up Akando and ate with Cassie, he’d pay a visit to the book store and see what Esther could make of his recent problems.

***

“Mr. Drake, how nice to see you!” emerged Esther’s voice as he entered the strange, old book store lost convincingly to the modern world. She had appeared to be closing up, but made time for her favorite new resident.

“I told you, it’s Cameron,” he reiterated. What was it with everyone addressing him as Mr. Drake?

Cameron noticed Esther’s deminor change immediately as he made his way across to her. “What’s wrong?” she asked, reaching out a hand and placing it on his arm. The stresses and paranoia caused by his apparition had slowly begun to take their toll.

“Esther, I admit that I don’t really know you so well, but I’ve been told you may be able to help me, at least, I hope you can?”

“But of course, Cameron, if I can help you I will. Come with me.” Esther’s hands wrapped round his back making Cameron feel almost like a lost, homeless man being led to a warm drink inside a shelter. The despair he felt must surley be clear if she could see that something was wrong. Esther guided Cameron behind the counter where three simple chairs stood. “Here, sit down, sit down,” she gently ordered, reaching down and pulling one of the seats out slightly for him to sit upon. Cameron sat down and looked up at the headmistress, or at least in his eyes that’s how she appeared. “Now, I have tea in the back, proper tea, how would you like a cup?”

Cameron hadn’t had a proper drink since yesterday. Well, longer than that after his day long sleep. He didn’t count the beers either that had passed his lips during the evening at The Pondering Crow, or the Pepsi he had taken during his meeting, so it really had been a long time since he’d taken on any decent liquid for hydration. To this Englishman, tea was the only decent drink in the whole world. “That would be great, thank you. White, no sugar.”

Esther offered nothing more than a comforting smile before vanishing through a darkened door. She returned a short while later with two mugs, both of them steaming with a hot beverage. She handed one to Cameron who thanked her and took a sip. The hot drink burned his lips and tongue with the small amount he took, as it always did when he began a hot drink, but it felt so homely and delightful that had he known better he’d have thought it was at least a year or so since his last drink of proper, English tea.

The tea comforted Cameron and soon he felt closer to his former self. There was a saying where he came from, that anything could be solved over a cup of tea, and for the first time in his life he actually felt it.

“Now, what’s troubling you, Cameron?”

Cameron lowered his mug and sighed. “I really don’t know how to tell you,” he began, wondering if this old store owner would think him crazy.

Esther reached over and placed a cold hand on his. “Anything you say will go no further than this store.”

Cameron looked at her and blew through his lips. “I was told to speak with you about, well, the island, and it’s history. They said you were the best person to talk to.”

“I wondered how long it would take our fantasy author to start exploring our history. Who told you to come to me?”

“Benny, Cassie, Deputy Fleck and Janet.”

“Benny. Poor man, and poor Martha too. I wouldn’t even like to guess how she’s feeling at this time.”

“No word on him, then?” Cameron asked before taking another sip.

“No, nothing. Nothing since the search was called off. Robert called in only this morning to let me know that Martha had caught the ferry to the mainland to see if he had somehow made it across there.”

“I have no idea where he went. It’s like he just vanished,” Cameron added.

“Maybe.” Cameron looked at her. She noticed and smiled. “Sorry, you said they told you to speak with me? Well, you could do worse than falling in with that crowd. All of them are good people, and I have good relations with each of them. So, is it our past that’s worrying you?”

Cameron shook his head abruptly. “No,” he whispered, taking another sip from his drink.

The anxiety returned quickly at the thought of the spirit, the woman, the apparition, the whatever-the-hell-she-was. Her rotting face was clear within his mind’s eye. Goosebumps pushed across his skin as he remembered the floating dress swaying across the bed toward him. The voice was there too, so clear, so vivid...

“Esther, I don’t want you to think I’m crazy, but since I’ve been on the island, I’ve seen and heard, well, I don’t know. It looks like a woman.” The shopkeeper showed no emotion at his admission. “This woman, she just keeps appearing, like a hallucination or something, only more real. It doesn’t feel like a hallucination, not that I would ever know how one would feel, but my dog, Akando, he growls and barks at things that aren’t even there.”

Esther slowly nodded as Cameron poured his feelings out to her. She showed nothing other than compassion.

“I’ve seen him with my own eyes, watching things I can’t see. The last time, he didn’t even sense her. He didn’t sense her and he didn’t see her. I saw her, and she spoke to me. She keeps speaking to me, even when she’s not there. When she last appeared, Akando, he just carried on as though everything was normal. She was there when I awoke, she followed me across the room as I tried to get away from her, and then she vanished. She warned me. She keeps warning me. She tells me to save them.”

“So, you’ve seen her as well?” Esther began. Cameron glared with shock upon his face. “No,” she added, rubbing his hand before removing to lean back on her chair, “I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re urban.”

“Urban?”

Esther nodded as she took a drink. “Where do you come from, back in England I mean?”

“Northampton. A town about a two hour drive from London, give or take.”

“I take it Northampton is nothing near as isolated as Mysteria?”

Cameron shook his head. “No. It has a few villages and towns located right out in the middle of the vast countryside, but they’re nowhere near as isolated as this.”

“Think back in history, Cameron. Now, England has a very rich heritage. You can read back centuries and centuries if you wanted to, and if you had the time, that is. Back then, in early civilization, anything that happened in those primitive years that was mysterious or unexplained was usually blamed on legends, is that the right word?”

“We say folklore more than legends, but yes, they pretty much mean the same thing.”

“And why do you think these legends were blamed?”

“Because there was nothing else to blame them on,” Cameron asked rather than told.

“No, Cameron, they were blamed because they were real.” The confused advice seeker looked at her, unsure whether she was leading him on or telling the truth. “Now, I don’t think things like witches curses that destroyed crops were real, I’m talking about other things.”

“Like what?”

Esther leaned forward. “Like ghosts.” The wind outside roared around the store. Perfect timing.

“Ghosts?” Cameron asked, his own voice now as low as hers.

“Believe me Cameron; they walk the earth just as we do. They are very real here on Mysteria, as they are across the world.”

“What?” he asked, his mind slowly clouding with further confusion.

“I’ve studied them now for many years, Cameron, many, many years, as I too have seen the woman you speak of.”

“You have?” he blurted, now a little more excited. If Esther had seen her too, it meant he wasn’t crazy. “When? When did you see her?”

“Not as often as you I’ll admit. I have seen her once, when I was a girl of my teens.” Esther looked towards the ceiling that hid behind the low beams and long shadows forged of the poor light. “I saw her in the distance, stood on the harbor walls looking out to sea. She never spoke to me, she never saw me, but it was her, I knew it was. Her dress bellowed around her as though she was floating underwater.”

“Yes! That’s her!” Cameron said excitedly. He was certain from Esther’s admission that he was completely sane.

“Believe me Cameron I’ve seen her, you’re not on your own. But who she is, I don’t know.”

“And why would she ask me to save them?” Cameron asked.

“Well, if you’re open to the suggestion and belief in ghosts, I may as well tell you what I know.” Cameron’s excitement soon turned to curiosity. “Ghosts are beings trapped between our world and the spirit world.” Cameron looked to her and raised an eyebrow. “Just hear me out,” she added, holding her palms up to face him. “All of us now existing here as we are, human life, earth, this life were in, we evolve around the sun. Most of us work during the day, right? The world goes about its business during the day, crops grow from the sunlight, you know what I’m getting at?”

Cameron nodded. “I think so. Our lives revolve around the sun.”

“Exactly. Now, are you familiar with other realms?”

“Um...you mean like dimensions, a parallel universe, something like that?”

“That’s it, we’re on the same level. Now, imagine a world that revolves around the moon. I’m not sure what a world living by the moon would do, but I most certainly believe it to be the exact opposite to ours. Existence must balance itself, so you would think, light and dark, and if we’re light, they have to be dark, Cameron, they have to be.”

“I’m getting a bit confused,” Cameron told her truthfully. Light and dark he understood. How it affected him, he didn’t.

Esther placed one arm in her lap and stretched the other out towards him. “I’ll tell you what I believe. There are two dimensions on this planet. The first one is ours, the realm of light and everything good, and theirs, well, theirs is a realm of darkness and evil. And because we’re separate, we never cross paths, not often at least.”

The wind picked up outside as they continued their strange conversation. Gentle rain had slowly begun to flutter to the island, and grey clouds heading across Mysteria brought with them the promise of the storms that Benny had spoken of.

“Often? You mean, we have done?”

Esther nodded. Her expression told him she knew something he didn’t. “Glen Miller? The Mary Celeste? The Bermuda Triangle? The occupants of this island back at the turn of the twentieth century? The early nineteen hundreds? Ring any bells?”

Cameron slowly lurched upwards in his chair. In Esther’s mind it made sense, and in a strange way it did to him, too. “Dimensional gates, right? Tears in the fabric of time, only their not, their actually tears in our realm which lead to the other? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Not inter-dimensional tears, but gateways. Do you know much about ghosts, Cameron?” she asked politely.

“A little bit. I researched them for The Great and Damned a few years ago but went with a different idea instead. I watched a ton of those ghost hunting documentaries as well.”

“You ever hear of a vortex?”

“I think so, I vaguely remember those hosts talking about them. Aren’t they the gates that ghosts are supposed to use to pass in to our world?”

“Exactly they are. Is this making sense now?”

Cameron thought about it. It made perfect sense. Why hadn’t anyone thought of this before? What a hell of a novel! “It makes perfect sense. Ghosts are the creatures from the dark realm, the other side, that’s why witnesses only catch a glimpse of them.”

“And that’s why they appear mainly during the dark hours. It is their advantage. They are capable of amazing things when the darkness has fallen on our earth. They can vanish from sight. They make themselves visible only when they wish to, usually when they want fear. It’s what makes them thrive when they pass in to this world of ours. Fear and terror. Our own world is full of destruction and death. We have evil dictators slaughtering their own populations, whether it’s innocent bystanders, women or children. They kill with little or no remorse. We have mass murderers and serial killers stalking our cities, protected by a system that could probably see them hitting the streets within a few years as long as they repent their sins and find God. Then, you can add to that the corporate businesses governing our world by scaremongering and violence, forcing our populations to buy needless products or face the risk of serious harm to your health. We are the world of light.

“We are the realm of good. When a person dies and cannot pass to the spirit world due to reasons unknown, how angry do you think they become? They stay in that realm and pass in to ours to attempt to finish whatever it is they set out to do. When they see the living, their anger increases further more. Can you imagine the hatred that exists within that realm? Can you imagine the terrors the realm of darkness must live within?”

“No, not at all,” Cameron replied. His mind was swirling with a million ideas. Sheperd Bay, watch out! This would be his new book, beyond any question.

“The realm that they emerge from is nothing like the spirit world we’re lead to believe from books and bad documentaries. The spirit world is almost, well, a limbo you might say. The spirits that haunt our world are those of the departed living, but those who left our world under extreme anger or grief.”

“You mean like the old stories of people that died before they were supposed to? Like being murdered?” Cameron wondered.

Esther nodded. “Those that had unfinished business before they departed. But the problem is, when this happens, they don’t cross truly to the spirit world. They always want to rectify what had wronged them before they cross over, or sometimes they just don’t accept that they’ve died. That’s when they enter the limbo, if that’s what you want to call it, and it’s there that their grief festers over time and slowly turns to rage and anger. When spirits reach that stage of malevolence, hauntings take a turn for the worst.”

Cameron thought a moment in the gloomy store and took another sip of tea. “The Amityville Horror? The Enfield ghost attacks back in the seventies? Poltergeists?” he asked the strange old woman who entertained his thoughts.

“All of them documented from an attack of evil entities. Imagine what would happen if a whole army of these spirits passed in to our world?”

Cameron looked deep in to space as his mind thought over the possibility. “I don’t think I’d want to.”

“Now, this woman that’s haunting you,” Esther began, changing the subject only very slightly, “I believe she may be a messenger. No, not messenger, that’s the wrong word. I think she exists within that realm or that limbo, and she’s sending out a warning. From what you say, she shares some kind of connection with you, or at least she appears to.”

“But how? I’m no psychic, and there’s no history of it in my family.” If history was correct then usually these types of psychic gifts were passed down through the generations.

Esther smiled. “Ah, but you’re a writer. When you think of a great and fantastic story that would no way exist in our world, you lose the barrier of reality that your mind conforms to. You have an open mind where anything it can create is possible.”

“You think I’m opening my mind to suggestion? That maybe arriving here triggered something to reach out and be contacted by ghosts and spirits from the other side?” Cameron asked. He began to piece the recent events together. “Every time I saw her in the beginning I was plotting a manuscript, you know, things that would happen in my book. Then after the first, what, three times, she began appearing randomly.”

“Then that must be how she’s reaching you; you’re just more damn creative than anybody else. You’re open to suggestion, and she has used it. That’s why your dog doesn’t see her, she’s channeling herself through you and your mind.”

“If Akando isn’t seeing her, then what is he seeing in my home?”

“The rest of them,” Esther whispered coldly, “the real ghosts from the other side. The ones who pass in to ours and vanish back through the vortex gateways. He sees them, as most animals do, but unless they choose to reveal themselves, they remain hidden to the human eye.” Cameron felt a chill run up his spine. Moving to a haunted island, who’d have guessed it? “The fact that she told you to ‘save them’ must also hold some meaning. Sounds like a warning of some impending doom or danger, or so I would imagine.”

“But from what, though? Save who from what?”

Esther shook her head. “I have no idea. I guess the only way you could find out is to open up to her again.” Cameron felt a flutter in his stomach. Seeing her again was the last thing he wanted at this moment.

He laughed to himself within his mind. ‘Your cursed, Cameron. Every time you open your mind and write a book you’re going to be haunted. How does a writer, who writes for a living, get around that?’

“If it made you feel better, I could be with you when you do it?” Esther suggested. “It may be a way to stop her from contacting you afterwards. Perhaps if you know what it is she wants or is warning you of, she will leave?”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“You don’t know unless you try.”

Cameron thought it over. The old store around them had the feel of a haunted building. Maybe she was right? Maybe she was wrong? He wouldn’t know for sure, unless of course he made contact. “I have a friend staying with me for the weekend. I don’t think it would be good to do this kind of thing with an audience, if it works. I’ll try it, as I really want to lose this vision and this, well, haunting, but you have to understand just how difficult I find it. The fear she has over me is immense. I’ve never felt fear like that before, not ever in my life.”

“You won’t be alone, Cameron.” Esther reached out and patted his leg. “Oh, here,” she added, standing from the chair before fumbling around along the counter. She reached down and began filling a paper bag with some sort of flower stored in a larger bag. “Take this.” Esther handed it over to him. Cameron took it curiously and peered inside. “It’s St John’s of Wort. Heard of it?”

“Only for medicinal purposes. What’s it for?”

“Hang it in your home, in front of every window and every door. Evil spirits don’t like it, for reasons I have yet to discover. Well, at least they’re not supposed to. I keep some in the store here, just in case. You hang that around, you’ll protect your home.”

“Damn, have you seen how many windows I have?”

“Better to be safe than sorry, Mr. Drake,” she replied sternly. There was the headmistress he had created.

Cameron looked over the yellow, star shaped flowers embedded in the bag. “Will it work in cars?”

Esther shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

“But what if I hang this up and she doesn’t appear?”

“Then I guess she’s an evil spirit not to be trusted. We may be limited in our understanding, Cameron, but limited knowledge is better than none. Whenever you’re ready, you come and find me.”

***

Cameron left the store in to a blustery wind and noticed how the weather was changing. He walked over to the Liberty and opened it, ready to drive the vehicle the short distance to The Pondering Crow to collect his dog. “What a week,” he sighed as he turned the ignition over and brought the Liberty to life. He had found a new home and new friends since he’d arrived on Mysteria, but vanishing people, ghosts, vortexes and a day lost to a deep sleep was deeply concerning to the island’s new resident. The synopsis for his new book was falling together nicely. He wouldn’t have to do too much research on the story.

Perhaps, he should keep a journal and publish it from the writer’s point of view. Maybe?

Anyway, go get Akando first. See Cassie, go home and celebrate with Phil. If the apparition appears again, take note and start writing. It was as simple as that. If only it would work like that. Cameron decided to go with the flow. He’d worked himself up so much over the past few days that now he was tired of it. If the apparition was trying to make contact, she probably didn’t mean any harm. That was a comfort, if only a small one. She still scared the crap out of him, friendly or not.

But that fear would be nothing in comparison to the terror he would soon feel.

Fourteen

Cameron half expected Phil to have vanished through a vortex by the time he got home. Akando pushed in through the door he opened allowing the sound of the TV playing away to itself to be heard. The wind had become more vicious as the night drewn on, and Cassie had said that a storm was brewing.

Cameron recalled what she had told him as he removed his coat. Fishing had been part of her life since she could remember. Her father had done it and her brother worked on a huge trawler up north in Alaska. She could read the clouds like an open book.

When Cameron pulled up to collect Akando, the waves had begun rolling towards the island, their spray visible as they launched from the crests with invisible force. The channel marker rang out in the darkness as they swelled beneath it, ringing hauntingly back up to the desolate harbor. The bar had been empty when Cameron arrived, and Cassie locked the place up when the signs of a patron went from slim to none.

He had sat at the bar with Cassie who stood leaning on its surface opposite. She had with her a glass of red wine that he now noticed she often enjoyed on their social gatherings and meetings. The vibrantly colored drink was probably the only thing that separated her from the rest of the fishing community. There had been no word on Benny while he’d been attending the meeting over in the mainland, not a damn thing. Sheriff Harman was working tirelessly to find him, and had even made contact with various agencies in Port Sandown to keep a lookout for him, you know, just in case he had orchestrated the vanishing act himself. No one heard or knew anything fresh about the case, except maybe Cameron, if you considered the reality of ghosts and alternate worlds.

He’d wanted to offer Cassie to stay with him, but stopped himself from asking. He enjoyed her company and liked her very much, but didn’t know if this was the rebound from the divorce. He didn’t want to rush it as he’d probably screw it up with her at some point if he didn’t take his time, and he did want this relationship with her to continue. He was worried about Cassie being on her own in the bar, but knew that Esther was not far away, and Robert and Janet were just a bit further ahead along the block if she needed them. She’d be fine, at least until tomorrow.

“Well, well, how did it go, Romeo?” Phil asked, grinning his usual, excited grin as he emerged from the kitchen. This publishing deal with Sheperd Bay would be the making of Cameron and would catapult him to great heights, but with a twenty percent stake in all of Cameron’s earnings, it would make Phil too.

“Screw you,” Cameron replied as he strolled in. Akando went straight to his food bowl and inspected it for another meal. His owner reached the porch door and opened it, allowing the blustery night in to the home.

“Jesus, Cam! Why don’t you just put the air con on?”

“Akando,” Cameron nodded towards the door. The malamute trotted across the kitchen and out on to the decking. His owner watched as he descended from the steps and on to the patch of grass.

Cameron felt the force of the winds as they powered through the doorway. “I don’t think we’ll get much fishing done if this keeps up.”

“Doesn’t matter if we stay inside all weekend, I’ll be returning to the mainland a happy man!”

Cameron looked over his shoulder at the agent as he moved forward and leant on the open doorframe. “You don’t even know how much they’re going to offer.”

“Trust me, Cam, deals like this don’t come along often. Three books? Shit, I doubt if Stephen King would get that type of request.”

“Hmm, how about Dark Tower?”

“You know what I mean!” the agent snapped. In fact, Cameron didn’t. He said nothing just to keep his friend happy. This tantrum throwing, snappy workaholic was a mystery at times, almost eccentric, Cameron thought, but his quick wit and one liner’s were a talent you just couldn’t learn. Cameron liked him.

Akando pawed the damp grass after fouling on it and cantered happily back inside. “You heard from them yet?” Cameron asked, closing the door behind the beast.

“Not yet, but I got my email account and cell at hand,” Phil explained, pulling a Blackberry from his pocket and shaking it from side to side. “We’ll know.”

During the course of the evening Cameron told Phil all about Benny. He told him everything from their get together at the bar to the tire marks now fading up on Hillcrest. Phil seemed genuinely concerned. He’d met Benny a few times, and they’d all shared beers a few nights ago when Akando went crazy at the forest surrounding them.

Cameron retired to bed in the early hours of the morning, leaving Phil to watch some war movie in the lounge. Akando had stayed downstairs keeping the company of his guest. Cameron always remembered how his pet would never settle until everyone was home and all tucked up in their beds. Many times Tanya had arrived home from work at ten, ten thirty, sometimes even later when Cameron had been in asleep, but Akando had always waited for her to come in. He’d wait for her to go up to their bedroom before he would climb the stairs, and wouldn’t lie down to sleep until she nestled under the duvet. Likewise, he’d do the same thing if Cameron was out and she was in.

Cameron lay awake in his bedroom. The water had dried from the carpet and he had changed the linen on the bed before he climbed in. It was dry, as was the mattress, but he was a man of cleanliness and wouldn’t dare contaminate himself with water that could have emerged from beyond the grave or from another dimension. The room still smelt faintly of the element, though, enough at least for Cameron to spray some of his deodorant around like an air freshener. So much had appeared he was sure it would still take a day or so for the smell to completely vanish.

Why saltwater, though? Cameron had never really thought about it until now. Whenever she appeared, she did so drenched through. ‘Has to be something to do with the ocean,’ he thought, but if that was the case, that would likely mean she wasn’t from a parallel universe like Esther had suggested. Unless, of course, the other side was situated under a real ocean that she just happened to be swimming through?

You just never knew what would happen when it came to other worlds and things of that nature. The tire marks that they found out on Hillcrest intrigued him. For a vehicle to skid for a few feet and suddenly just vanish was something right out of a movie. It seemed like an old tactic used to create suspense and intrigue in a horror picture, and was as regularly used in these types of flicks as the Luton Bus technique was to create false terror. He wanted to go back there, back up to the marks and have another look around.

Cameron thought a strange but believable thought whilst laying there, listening to the wind howl around his home. If Esther was right, and it was a big if, maybe Benny had been driving home when noticing something in the road. Let’s say that what he noticed was a vortex, a gateway to the other side. If it was big enough Benny would probably not understand what it was and hit the brakes instinctively if it was in his path. His Chevy would skid because he was probably travelling at speed. If that vortex was large enough he would pass right through, Chevy and all. And those tire marks on the road? Well, he guessed they would be cut clean right where the vortex emerged.

Cameron stirred uneasy underneath the duvet. That made a lot of sense. That was almost possible. If these gateways, ghosts and alternate worlds existed, it would make a hell of a lot of sense.

He rolled on to his side and closed his eyes. Tomorrow, if the bad weather continued, he’d venture up there, maybe with Phil, and have another look. Maybe he’d take Esther and get her opinion. Maybe not. He didn’t know exactly what would happen, but felt it was owed to Benny to at least attempt to piece together what had happened. Maybe this was all just crazy.

Cameron lay there in the comfortable bed with these thoughts swirling within his mind. No. A gut instinct said that something seriously wasn’t right, or wasn’t what it seemed. He turned to the digital clock on his side. 00:47.

The gentle patter of the falling rain began tapping gently at his bedroom window. Well, if he didn’t get out fishing or doing anything he planned with Phil for the weekend, he could at least start giving some serious thought for his first book with Sheperd Bay. The most prominent and best idea would be an account of what he had been subjected to since arriving on Mysteria.All that was needed now was an ending. Part of Cameron knew he would have to make up something exciting to keep the audience reading, but the other part said to just see out this strange story he’d become embroiled in, and the end would provide something fantastic, if he survived, of course.

“Idiot,” Cameron whispered and rolled over to his other side.

The rational part of his brain quickly engaged. It told him he listened far too much to wild stories and watched too many stupid movies. It told him that Esther was just a little crazy. After all, she had opened a book store on an island with a population of about thirty. He was gullible, and he knew it. The floating woman was created of his own mind, at least that’s what he hoped. He wasn’t crazy, just creative. She might actually be a real ghost, but not one of these spirits that Esther spoke of, creeping in and out of our world through inter-dimensional gateways, but one instead that exists like they always fail to find on Ghost Hunters. He’d much prefer that. At least with a regular haunting, if the worst came to the worst he could just wave goodbye to the island and leave, maybe head back to the mainland or even back to England and live there.

There were stories about spirits following the people they haunted to their new homes, but decided that as he hadn’t seen his tormentor whilst on the mainland, she probably wouldn’t follow him. What about that story though? The one Benny had told him about the woman in the institution back in, whenever it was, the one that had vanished and left nothing more than a puddle of water and a smashed-

Cameron opened his eyes immediately. A puddle of water and smashed mirror? They were exactly what he had found in his en-suite when arriving home that night. He’d blamed Akando for it, but thinking about it now, how would a malamute smash a mirror mounted on his bathroom wall? Alright, he was a big malamute, but still, there’s no way he could reach that mirror over the sink, not a chance.

Cameron’s mind began roaring in to overtime. Mirrors? There was something about mirrors in the lore of ghosts. He couldn’t remember what it was as he lay there in the darkness. Eerily the rain and gales felt more threatening. The darkness seemed to hang heavier. Cameron felt a thousand eyes looking from the shadows. The more he had dismissed the unthinkable the more it made sense. He could well be in his own horror story, and there may be nothing he could do about it. The thought of a return to England now appealed.

He pined for the green grass and heavy rains, the busy M1 and the crowded tube stations. As he lay there reminiscing about his homeland, the more it seemed like the right thing to do. Maybe it was what he should do. The people he met on Mysteria were all fantastic, and none more so than Cassie, but if the visions persisted and Esther was right, this could be a very dangerous place to be. But still, if the incident in his bathroom mirrored the one that Benny had spoken of, he could run half way across the world and still be cursed. A sense of hopelessness passed over him. How the hell did he get out of this? All he knew was that these terrifying visions needed to stop and allow him to live the normal life he was used to before he coming here.

As the thoughts entered and left his mind, Cameron drifted in to an easy slumber and finally fell asleep. Phil moved up to the guest room at a little past two that morning, and just as Cameron had thought, Akando made sure he was settled before returning to his master’s side. The dog jumped up on to the right side of the bed, which had always been the side Tanya had slept on, rested his head down next to Cameron’s covered feet and closed his eyes.

The wind subdued a little while later, but the ever present rain on the island continued to fall through the darkness. Akando raised an ear when the sound of snoring emerged from Phil’s room along the hall. At a little after four, the rain fell heavily and hissed as it drenched the island. Akando raised his muzzle and peered out of the open bedroom doorway. He wasn’t unsettled or nervous as he had been previously to the odd and strange noises he’d heard emanating within the house, they were mostly becoming natural now. The regular rains, the gusting winds, the sound of footsteps crossing the wooden hall downstairs.

From the darkness the malamute concentrated on the sound of slow, thudding steps as they emerged from the ground floor. They started then stopped after three or so steps had been taken. After a while Akando rested his head back down on the duvet but immediately rose once more when the footfalls began again. They sounded to be walking with no comprehension, just back and forth upon the varnished floorboards downstairs. They continued for forty minutes or so, stopping and starting, louder and quieter as the minutes passed. Cameron stirred at one point, rolled over and stroked Akando before returning to sleep.

Akando could sense some type of evil with the subtle noises drifiting through the house, but felt content that whatever was making them was keeping its distance away from the first floor and away from the bedrooms. Slowly they vanished, as mysteriously as they started, and the apparent threat that Akando had felt vanished with them. Placing his head upon the duvet once more he closed his eyes, and he too fell asleep.

Ten minutes later Cameron was wakened by his companions snoring. He wandered to the toilet on autopilot, used it and jumped back in bed without washing his hands.

Had he paid more attention, he may have noticed the figure standing in the hallway outside his room.

Fifteen

“What the hell were you doing last night?” Cameron asked as he handed Phil a fresh coffee.

The storm was picking up outside. The wind was blowing forcefully, and the rains, although lighter than expected, were still falling as harshly as bullets as they rode the speed of the gusts and smashed in to the house.

“What do you mean, what was I doing?” Phil began, taking the steaming mug from Cameron, “I watched a movie and came up to sleep afterwards.”

“Look at this,” Cameron said as he pointed to footprints forged of dry, watery mud on the floorboards by the porch door. They weren’t formed in to any particular shape and didn’t give away any tell-tale signs of a toe or an arch or anything. It was clear though exactly what it was. “Did you let Akando out before you came up?”

“Hell no, I wasn’t going to brave those winds out there. I figured he would run in to you, and thought if he shit there in your bedroom you’d have to deal with it. I didn’t go outside, Cam, not last night.”

Cameron’s mind began producing paranormal theories. Ghosts? Creatures emerging from another dimension? No, not this. It couldn’t be. Not this footprint sat solidly upon the varnished floorboards staring back at him. He probably left this print himself when he arrived home yesterday. Besides, there was only one of the soiled marks on the floor in the kitchen, it wasn’t like the house was full of them. Cameron returned to the counter standing in the middle of the kitchen, pulled out a stool and sat with his friend.

“Looks like we’re grounded for today,” Phil said, looking through the open blinds at the falling rain. “The sea will be rolling like shit out there.”

“Uh-huh,” Cameron grunted as he picked up his tea and took a drink. Akando rattled his food bowl as he chowed down on his own breakfast. “Phil, I had a thought, last night. How’d you like to go up on Hillcrest, where the skid marks are, you know, the ones that vanish?”

“Christ, you sure know how to show a fella a good time,” Phil replied sarcastically before sighing.

“Its research, for my new book,” the author began, lying through his teeth to his best friend. Something was urging him to go back there, but he had no idea what. Curiosity, probably. It was that deep feeling he had to know more which kept the isolated road running through his mind.

“What do you expect to research up there? How wet rain can become during the month of October? How fast the winds can blow on the island?”

“Phil!” Cameron snapped, his patience wearing thin, “you’re a guest up here, don’t forget! With the damn weather like this I have nothing else to offer! You pushed me in to this book deal! You pushed me in to this damned weekend even though you’d heard the reports of a storm! I mean, Christ, what more do you want from me? You think I can just walk outside, open my arms and clear the clouds, settle the seas and make rainbows, like some kind of messiah? All the time, Phil, it’s you, you, you, you, you! You wanted this deal to line your own Goddamn pockets! You don’t give a shit that I just left my wife and my homeland! You have no idea what I’m going through at the moment, do you?”

He sighed and looked away. Finally, Cameron had broken, and his cool had been successfully lost. Akando was looking at him from across the kitchen, almost in disbelief at his owner and this uncharacteristic outburst.

“You know something, Cam?” Phil replied in a soft, calm voice, after a moment of rain interrupted silence, “I was worried about you, not only as my client, but as my friend. You know that? As a friend. You ever heard of the old saying, ‘you fall off your bike, you get straight back on and continue riding?’ That’s what I was doing for you, or at least what I was trying to do. If you have too much time to dwell on this shit you’ll just fall apart, and it seems like you already have.”

Cameron sighed and instantly regretted his outburst. It had been the truth, at least in his mind, but that’s what they always said. In the midst of an argument, the truth always comes clean.

“I work hard for you, and always have done, since that first manuscript you sent me all those years ago. I saw something in you, Cam, and I was right. You’re on the verge of hitting the big time, and I mean the really big time, and I thought motivating you would be the right thing to do. I’m sorry, man. I’m sorry that I didn’t see just how this whole thing was affecting you, and I’m sorry that I put you out by coming here.”

“Phil...”

Phil smiled and shook his head. “I thought you wouldn’t want to be on your own. I thought you’d like the company. I’ll, go and, I’ll go get my things.”

Phil rose from the stool. “Phil.”

“Uh-uh. You need your time, and you need to find an idea for your book.”

“Phil!” Cameron snapped.

“Cameron! Just let me be, okay?”

“So what? You’re going to go back to the mainland now, is that it? In a Goddamn storm? Look at it out there! It’s like a hurricane!”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“What damn boat is going to take you back to Port Sandown, eh? I mean, look at the rain! Can you hear that gale outside?” He was right. The storm was beginning to rage once more, and the forecasts across the TV and radio reported that it wasn’t going to go away anytime soon.

“I don’t know, Cam. I’m going to go flash a whole load of money at them, you know, the money you earn for me? If I can’t get a ride back with that then I’ll lay it all out and build my own damn boat. After all, paper floats, and the amount you get for me I’ll be able to build a cruise liner.”

Phil stropped out of the kitchen and crossed the hallway to the stairs. Cameron heard the slam of his heavy feet as they thudded one after the other all the way to the first floor. He looked over to Akando who was still watching him thoughtfully.

“What?” he asked abruptly. Akando turned and left, following Phil across the hall and quickly ascended the stairs behind him. “Just, just great! Great!” Cameron shouted, angered at the events unfolding around him. He reached out and pointed to the stairs with an upturned palm. “Why not take the fucking dog as well?”

Five minutes later Phil emerged in the lounge. Cameron was slumped on the sofa watching SpongeBob. “I’ll contact you when I hear from them. From Sheperd Bay, I mean.” Cameron watched as he fumbled through his khaki short pockets for keys. “I’ll leave my car down at the dock and head back over to collect it on Monday.”

“How the hell are you going to get across?” Cameron asked, his attention firmly fixed upon the flat screen.

“My old friend Will is heading out here. He says the waves aren’t so bad between here and the mainland just yet. Looks like I caught him in time. Well, enjoy your weekend, Cameron. I’ll be in touch soon.”

Cameron didn’t even offer a reply. He heard Phil speak to Akando and moments later the door open and close. Muffled by the storm the engine of Phil’s motor awoke as the ignition was turned. Suddenly he felt an immense sense of sorrow.

‘What the hell is wrong with me,’ he thought as the cartoon played out continually in front of him.

He’d just allowed his best friend to leave in an attempt to cross the ocean in a storm. Finally Cameron sighed and gave in. The situation had now caught up. This whole thing was wearing him down. The apparition, Benny vanishing, the island, it all rested on his shoulders. At that moment he wanted to leave so very badly, but knew he couldn’t. He knew he’d have to help find Benny first, and then attempt to contact the apparition, to find out why she was haunting him. It had all taken its toll, and for the first time since he arrived, now truly felt it.

Akando arrived silently and rested his jaw on Cameron’s lap. The malamute looked up at him with huge eyes questioning his master. Cameron felt that Akando knew something was wrong. Hell, it was probably affecting him as well. The time he stood in the rain, barking in to the trees, the time he stood at the top of the staircase, growling at the bedroom and refusing to move, the events were adding up.

Cameron placed a hand between his ears and ruffled his fur. Akando’s tail wagged. “Yeah, I know,” Cameron said in a gentle voice, “we’re going to have to solve this together, you and me. What do say?”

Akando barked and licked his hand. That was it. From that moment on, Cameron had made the decision. He was going to find out what was happening on the island, and he was going to find out everything. He was going to contact the apparition and find out where Benny had vanished to. And, when he was done, he was going to write a horror book that King would be proud of. Reaching over to his cellphone Cameron attempted to ring Phil. It was switched off.

“Dammit.” He quickly decided to call Cassie instead.

“Hello?” she asked after the line rang for almost a minute, sounding as though she’d just been woken up.

“Cassie, hi, it’s me,” he greeted her. The malice and anger he had attacked his agent with had all but disappeared.

“Cameron, do you know what...oh, okay, maybe I over slept,” she said as she became more conscious. “What’s up?”

“I want you to help me if you can. Would you mind coming over here today?”

“No, but what can I help you with?”

“Listen, I don’t want you to think I’m crazy but I’ll tell you when you get here, okay? I want to go back up on Hillcrest and take a look at those tire tracks again.”

Cameron heard the line rustle as Cassie moved, probably to sit on the edge of her bed. He imagined her placing a hand on her head and looking across to a bedside alarm clock. “But why?”

“I don’t know, Cassie, I honestly don’t, but I want to go back. Maybe we’re missing something up there, I’m not sure.”

“I’ll be over in a while, but Cameron, don’t turn in to one of those crazy guys, okay?”

“No, I’m not crazy. I just, well, it’s strange, and I just feel like I should head out up there, looking for Benny. I don’t know why. Maybe it was because I was the last one to see him, but I feel that I should be out there looking for him. Maybe it’s my conscience telling me I’m not doing enough, but I want to be up there, helping out, you know?”

“That’s the police’s job, Cameron, but I don’t suppose another look would harm. Even if it is during the middle of another island storm.”

Cameron smiled. “Bring your waterproofs,” he told her before hanging up.

Sixteen

Cameron brought the Liberty to a standstill in the roaring forest surrounding them. The wind was flying over the higher parts of the island as the rain continued to fall heavily through the evergreen forest. He jumped out with Cassie, leaving Akando in the backseat. Cassie joined him at the front of the bonnet.

“Well, were here,” she said, her tone clearly expressing just how un-impressed she was to be there, “do what you have to.”

Cameron had forgotten to wear his hat on this rainy occasion, and this time had to shelter his head and face from the sharp elements that attacked with the flimsy hood on his rain coat. Both of them wandered over to the marks in the road. They were still there, much as Cameron had guessed. They saw that the wavy lines had faded slightly as the weathering had continued, but were still both visible, and still bore a huge question in the writer’s mind.

He squatted down as Robert had done a few days before, looking down on the dark marks underneath the settling puddles.Cameron looked at them deeply as his mind opened and began theorizing with a thousand ideas.

“What are you thinking?” Cassie asked, having taken the position he had during the search.

“It looks like they just vanish, that’s what I can’t understand. It looks like there was something here, like, I don’t know, some sort of opening that they skidded in to,” he replied, playing it cool.

He didn’t want to pitch the idea of a vortex opening up and swallowing the Chevy to her just yet, because then she would most certainly believe that he was way off his rocker. Off his rocker. Brilliant. He hadn’t thought of that phrase for years now, but if he spoke about these paranormal theories to Cassie, then off his rocker was probably how she would describe him.

“These clean cuts here, where the tracks end, they’d suggest that something was here, something that stopped the car skidding further along the road.”

“What about another vehicle or something?”

“Maybe, but I’m sure we’d have found signs of the other vehicle when we were up here last. For something to stop a car traveling at such speed, we’d have found glass, plastic, other tire marks, that type of thing when we found these,” Cameron explained, referring to the marks that he reached down and touched.

Something caught his eye. It looked like a line of raw electricity flickering upward from the edge of the marks. Lightning exploded from the road to his hand and thrust him backward.

“Shit!” Cameron shouted, jumping to his feet. Cassie stepped back. “Did you see that?”

“What the hell...” she whispered.

Cameron shook his hand. The force of the lightning had been powerful and painful. Around the tidy end of the tire marks two flashes of static popped from the surface. Akando began barking in the Liberty. The brown October leaves caught a huge gust of wind that swirled along the lonely road.

“It begins,” said the voice surging through Cameron’s mind. The voice was so intense and loud that it shook his head, causing him to stumble and regain his balance. He span around and looked in all directions for the apparition.

“What the hell is going on?” he shouted, worriedly looking to Cassie. She returned the look with greater fear and apprehension.

“Oh God! Help me! Help me! Please someone, help me!” a voice echoed from somewhere beside them. The voice was clear over the heavy rain. “Please! Someone! Someone, oh God! Oh God help me!”

Cassie backed away. “Do you hear that?” she asked, her voice trembling with fear. Her hand’s clasped together over her nose and mouth.

“Help me! Help me!”

“Benny!” Cameron asked, looking toward the terrified woman. Her wide eyes looked back to him as she nodded gently. “Benny?” He shouted out in to the rainfall.

“Oh God! Oh my God!” the voice screamed. It sounded tortured and horrific. Wherever the voice was emerging from, the terror in the screams clearly portrayed a horrendous fear that its owner was subjected to.

“Benny?” Cameron shouted. “Shit! Where’s it coming from?”

“I don’t know!” she cried back. Akando barked deeply in the car.

“Benny? Where are you? Where are you, buddy?” Cameron shouted, his emotion’s breaking at the pure terror in Benny’s voice.

Lightning flickered from the puddles. The sound of whispers glided and swirled by on the wind. Whispers, groans and chants grew louder and louder as they stood there in the swirling storm.

“Help me please! Oh, Cameron! Help me!”

Low, rolling groans emerged. Lightning crackled from the road and shot upward high in to the dull sky above, cracking with mauve edges and thunderous snaps. Powerful electric surges merged with the whispers and chants. The trees swayed wildly in the storm. Rain pounded the ground. Leaves flew past on the wind. Thick electric forks reached out and flickered in to the stormy air.

“Get in the car!” Cassie ordered.

“But Benny-”

“Get in to the Goddamned car!”

‘Cameron? Cassie? No! God no!’

They sprinted back toward the Liberty. Akando was barking tirelessly from the rear seat of the vehicle. They jumped in and slammed the doors, quickly locking them as Cameron turned on the ignition. It started first time. Akando barked and barked at the world outside. The pounding rain obscured the windshield.

“Get us the hell out of here!” Cassie shouted.

He turned the headlights on. He dropped the transmission in to reverse. The windscreen wipers cleared their view. A row of pale shadows stood underneath the falling rain ahead of them. Cassie screamed. Goosebumps tingled through Cameron. They stood in a pale mass, each one formed like the apparition that was haunting him. The windshield wipers flashed across the glass and they had vanished, the road now standing empty within the dense forest.

The Liberty flew backwards along the wet road’s surface. The shadows had gone but Cameron was taking no chances. He smashed the brakes and turned the steering wheel. The rear wheels left the road and crashed in to the shrubbery along the side of the tarmac. Cassie began screaming.

“Cameron!” Akando turned to the side she was glaring through and barked again. “Cameron!”

“Damn it!” he shouted and pulled the transmission in to gear. Whispers emerged around the vehicle, swirling in a vocal storm around its body. The chants became louder, gothic and drawn from an era long since passed. The rear wheels span in the soaked grass as Cameron stomped down on the gas. The chanting grew louder. Terrible groans emerged from the mass of voices.

“Cameron!”

Forgetting everything and throwing caution to the wind he slammed the gas pedal down to the floor and lurched the Liberty back on to the road and away down the hill. They sped through the beginning of the approaching storm. A clap of thunder echoed in the distance. The skyline illuminated with the flash of lightning. The rear windshield wiper cleared the window, and in his rearview mirror Cameron saw nothing following and nothing chasing.

“God, look!” Cassie said, peering in to the forest on her side. Lightning jolted between the trees as it emerged from the ground.

“What the hell is it?” Cameron whispered as they raced along the saturated road, the treacherous surface now firmly ignored by the distracted driver.

“What are we going to do?” Cassie said, her voice trembling.

Cameron thought for a moment. He remembered the box of flowers Esther had given him. “I have an idea,” he said as they sped around a curve.

Breifly he remembered the woman in the road. Were the shadows they both saw appearing in the road the same as the one haunting him? Electricity pulsed from both sides of the forest as though teslars lived between the trees.

“We get back to my house. I have something there which we I think we can use, at least I think I have.”

“Go back to your home? Are you insane?”

“You have any better suggestions?” Cameron shouted back. “There’s nowhere else to go. Those, things, whatever they were, they could just be back there. They might not make it down toward the harbor.”

The storm approached ever closer and thunder crashed away across the ocean. Cameron noticed Phil’s car in the drive when they skidded in to the driveway. The day was so dark that the solar powered lights were all powered and beaming from the sides. Cameron screeched the Liberty to a close stop next to the door of his home.

“Quick!” he shouted as they leapt out.

He slammed the door after Akando and locked it, crashing through the door and slamming it behind the hulking malamute. Without even drawing breath he began his preparation, finding the bag Esther had given him by the stairs.

“Cameron? Cameron! My God,” Phil said as he emerged from the lounge. “You see the storm that’s brewing out there?”

“Sorry Phil we were too busy engaging with something else,” he responded harshly. Unnerved and panicked, Cameron fumbled with the paper bag. “Here,” he added, throwing clumps of the St John’s of Wort to both Phil and Cassie.

Phil appeared confused. “Flowers?”

“Don’t ask questions! Just place them on all the window ledges and in front of the porch door. Cassie, run through to my study and do the same! Make sure all the windows have one of these on the sills!”

“What are they-”

“Just do it! I’ll explain afterwards,” he said, instantly calming his tone. Cameron sprinted up the staircase as the two others did what he asked, filling every window on the ground floor with the yellow flower. He ran around the rooms upstairs and did the same. Every window was protected.

“...at Cameron’s. Quick, though.”

“Who’s that?” Cameron asked as he entered the lounge. Cassie clicked her cellphone off. “Robert. He’s on his way here now. He has Esther and Howard.”

“What the hell is going on?” Phil asked.

A flash of lightning made them jump. Cameron’s heart leapt as the thought of the lightning from out on Hillcrest crossed his mind. Those shadows had emerged not long afterwards, and the thought of them re-emerging near his home suddenly troubled him. He felt a little calmer when thunder clapped out in the distance, signifying that it was only the electricity of the storm and nothing more.

“I don’t know, but I’m playing it safe,” Cameron responded.

Cassie folded her arms and looked nervous. “What’s with the flowers?”

“It’s for protection,” Cameron informed her. “I did some research in to it. Hanging this flower in all the windows and in front of every door is supposed to stop them from entering your home.”

“Stop what from entering?” Phil asked. “Have you suddenly become an overnight expert in botany?”

Cameron decided enough was enough. “Ghosts.”

The storm raged wildly outside. Rain pounded the windows. Thunder rumbled generously to itself in short bursts away across the darkened sky.

“Really?” Cassie asked him.

Cameron nodded. “I think so.”

“You mean like, souls of dead people wandering around, shaking chains and wailing from dark houses?” Phil mused.

“I don’t know much, but I know someone who does. Esther, the book store lady.”

“Damn it, Cam, you’re crazy!” Phil scoffed. “I had my concerns for a while now, and now you’re confirming it to me. I mean, shit! Ghosts? You’re nuttier than a squirrel turd! You just lost all sense of reality, you know that? Listening to that crazy bitch in the book store! Cam, she’s insane. She’s been on this island longer than anyone. Sounds like she’s been filling your head with her bullshit? Next thing you’ll be telling me is that you buy in to this whole civilization vanishing from here crap, back in the early nineteen hundreds?”

“A lot of people believe it,” Cassie replied. Her tone was one of anger. Cameron knew immediately she had been offended by Phil’s dismissive approach of their history.

“Not me, I think it was just a story. Something like Cameron here would conjure in one of his books or something.”

Cassie was about to launch in to a full scale offensive when the sound of a car on the driveway took her attention. Cameron sprinted to the door. Robert jumped out of the police Suburban carrying a rifle and assisted Esther down the big step from the back, helping her gently to the ground.

Howard ran around from the passenger side. An idea passed through Cameron’s mind. He pulled a huge clump of the remaining flowers from the bag, and grabbing his keys, ran out in to the storm.

“Wait!” he shouted as Robert went to close the door. Separating the St John’s, he threw a large clump on the driver’s seat. “Trust me,” he said to the deputy when he noticing his glazed expression.

Running over to his Liberty, he opened the door and threw the remaining handful inside. The heavy rain pounded his jacket and soaked his hair as he carried out his strange routine. “Shit,” he said as he felt the cold water saturating his skin where his coat had been slightly opened.

“Quick! Get inside!” he shouted. Cameron entered after Robert and slammed the door closed, replacing the flower that blocked the entrance.

“I can’t stop here, Robert said as he stood within the hallway. “I gotta get searching this island. Janet, Tom and the sheriff are all missing,” he said calmly. “The market is empty, the office is empty, and I’ll have to head over to the east side and see if anyone headed to the harbor there.”

“What about the rest of the islanders?” Cassie asked.

“Gone,” Robert responded, adjusting the rifle across his shoulder. “I checked over on John Parker when the storm began. Didn’t get any answer when I knocked the door, so I used the spare he keeps under the mat out on his porch. When I got inside I found his wheelchair tipped on its side in his kitchen. I searched his property and nothing. He wasn’t there, nor was he in his garden or anything. His TV was on, and he had a cup of coffee still warm on a table next to his remote. That man, paralyzed from the waist down, has managed to do one of two things; one, get up and walk away, or two, vanish from the face of this goddamned earth. Same with Emily Cleaver, Nicky Sarti, Ben Greaves, David Hazell, and again over at the home that Matt Bareford and Nicky Hayden share. She’s carrying too, so I wanted to check on them. Nothing. Not a damn thing. All of their properties empty. Hell, it looked like Matt was painting the nursery when he vanished. The paint brush was resting across an open paint tin.”

“Oh no,” Cassie sighed.

“You said Janet has gone, too?” Cameron asked as the thunder boomed across the dark clouds approaching the island.

“Yes, she wasn’t down in the market when I passed by, but she could be transferring a delivery across to the east harbor. Sometimes the suppliers ask that we take it over to save them navigating the coastline. Tom wasn’t there either. I can’t raise her on her cellphone, though. The damn thing is ringing, but I’m getting no answer. I’m going out to the harbor now to search for everyone. I can’t believe the sheriff has gone, too. It’s unlike him to just get up and leave without informing me what his plans are.” Robert turned to Cameron. “Can they stay here for now?” he asked, gesturing over to Esther and Howard.

“That’s fine,” he replied, “and I’ll go with you. Sounds like you could use a hand if you’re going to be searching the island.”

Cameron looked around. His home now housed the only people known to still be on the island of Mysteria. He hoped the St John’s of Wort would work and protect it from the strange shadow’s they’d quickly seen up on Hillcrest, as Esther had informed him it would. She looked over to him and smiled. He knew she was praising him for taking her advice and placing the flowers around the house.

“Alright, thank you Cameron,” the deputy replied.

“First, though, I want to get as much information on what we’re dealing with,” Cameron asked, turning to Esther.

“Like what?”

“Just bear with me on this,” Cameron responded, offering a polite smile to the law enforcement officer.

Phil looked over and rolled his eyes. It made sense to those that believed in the paranormal, anyway. The first thing was to get as much information as possible on the shades that had appeared in the forest.

In his mind they needed to speak with Esther and find out exactly what they were up against, that’s if, of course, she was right. Those things out there were walking around as clear as day, well, maybe not as clear as that but they were out there alright, even if they’d only appeared for a second or so. The lightning may have signaled the opening of the vortexes, allowing them to pass freely in to their world and on to the island.

If it was true, though, and a vortex had opened out on Hillcrest, there was no reason why that should be any different than a vortex opening up within a haunted castle or plantation that allowed spirits to pass freely between. The home seemed safe enough for now, but for how long he didn’t know, or if at all.

Esther had told him that these ghosts were capable of horrendous things, and maybe it was only a matter of time before they found a way in, but in most documented ghost investigations, there were little records of anyone being seriously hurt whilst investigating a haunted house. Of course, there was the chance of possession, if you believed in it that is, and a small chance of objects being thrown, but anything more serious was almost unheard of. Speak to Esther first and then decide what to do. That was his plan. It was the only thing they had.

“Okay, let’s find out,” he said to himself.

Seventeen

The storm rolled ever closer. The thunder dwindled but the rain persisted. The daylight loomed and the wind screamed. Phil and Howard checked the flowers regularly about the house, making sure they stayed on the ledges where they were protecting the inhabitants of the makeshift sanctuary established within Cameron’s home.

“So, what do we do?” Cassie asked as Cameron walked in to the lounge. He saw a small meeting of sorts had begun while he had been abscent. “Do we stay here and wait it out?”

“No,” Esther replied quietly. “They’ll find a way in, sooner or later.”

“How?” Cameron then asked. “As long as the flowers are there, they can’t cross in.”

“These are spirits we’re dealing with, Cameron. You ever heard of poltergeists?”

“Yeah, I know them. They’re the loud ones, aren’t they?” Phil told rather than asked. “They throw shit around and stuff, don’t they? And believe me, a lot of shit is being thrown around in here.”

Esther shook her head. “What makes you think they won’t find a way to do that in here? They’re powerful entities, and it would only be a matter of time before the St John’s was launched. As soon as that happens, well...” the store keeper fell in to a tell-tale silence.

“But it will keep us safe in the meantime?” Cassie asked. Cameron sensed a glimmer of hope in her voice.

Esther nodded. “We’ll have to find a way to protect ourselves properly, though.”

“Esther, if I may?” Robert asked politely. “I’m with my friend in the khaki shorts over there on this one. I don’t believe in anything like ghosts or goblins, poltergeists or whatever it is you say are haunting this island. Whatever is happening out there is something natural and explainable.”

“Robert,” Cameron began as he moved closer to Esther, “I know how it sounds, but just hear her out. I know you’re a facts guy, just like up on Hillcrest with the tire marks, and I respect that, but I saw the apparitions today, exactly where those marks were. Now, I know it will be hard to believe until you see it yourself, but trust me, please. I believe that what she knows is the truth. I believe that what’s happening on the island here is paranormal, and that we are way out of our depth in dealing with it.”

“Me too. We both saw them up there,” Cassie piped, confirming Cameron’s story. Cameron felt relieved that he had the backup of at least another person beside Esther.

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Phil sighed from across the room. He had never been a believer in the stuff Cameron wrote about, and he was intent on showing it.

Robert snapped his head toward the agent. “Mr. Henderson, I may agree with you on certain subjects, but don’t ever show my fellow islanders and friends the disrespect of our history and their belief’s ever again, or I will lock you up in our cell downtown and leave you there. Maybe see if being on your own in an empty building in a deserted town will bring you around to their line of thinking. Please, if you’re not going to say anything helpful then just shut the hell up!”

Phil shook his head and sat down on the third step of the staircase.

Robert turned back to face Cameron. “Alright, now I’ll admit something on this island is surely not normal, what with all the people vanishing and crap like that. All the places I investigated seemed normal. TV’s were playing, work was being done, food was being prepared but there was no one there doing all those jobs. Now is it strange? You bet your ass it is. But is it ghosts? That, I have to admit I’m not so sure of. I believe in Cassie’s and Cameron’s story, purely because I’ve known Cassie for many years now, and this is the first time she’s ever spoken of actually seeing these ghosts or whatever you think they are here on the island. But let me ask you this question, Esther. Just how the hell do you know so much about this? I mean, we all seem to be looking to you for answers about something that we know nothing about. Exactly what do you know?”

Esther stood silent for a moment. “Deputy, I’ve been researching these things all of my life. My father, he lost all his family back at the turn of the nineteenth on this island, and it devastated him. He recalled the stories to me and my brothers when we were nothing but kids, scaring us stupid. We spent our primitive years petrified of the dark and cowering away every October the thirty first. He truly believed that it was spirits who had taken his family, and he continued to believe that right up until the day he died. When I was old enough and had more of a sensible outlook on the legend, as well as being able to understand the story, I became intrigued. I have spent my years since then gathering stories and theories from hundreds of people about this island, and I firmly believe that we are haunted here, but haunted in the most excessive use of the term. Not your average bump in the night or sigh upon the wind, I mean real hauntings, like poltergeists, possessions and real terror.”

“So, if you’ve researched these happenings and, what, spirits or ghosts for so long, you must have found ways to make this building safer, I mean, long term? You said that we will only be safe here for a while. Can you do anything to make it inaccessible from these so called ghosts?”

“I believe the only things that will work in these events are spells, if you will believe me.”

Phil laughed from across the hallway. “Spells?” he asked, slapping his thighs with a hand. “Lady, you’re crazier than I gave you credit for.”

“Phil, not now,” Cameron interrupted. Ghosts were walking the island out there in the storm. Cameron had seen them with his own eyes, so why wouldn’t spells or witchcraft work?

“I think it’s worth a shot,” Howard said, breaking his long silence. “I always believed in this islands history, although I never truly understood what the hell it was I was believing in. It made me as superstitious as I am today. I guess if its ghosts that are really stalking the island, then witchcraft and spells have got to exist as well.”

“Let’s at least try it,” Cassie added, her desperation as clear as her anxiousness.

“That will be easier said than done,” Esther informed them. “In order to cast a spell, you need to have a spell book.”

“Great. Well, at least our witch is already here,” Phil whispered beneath his breath.

“But I have one, back at the store,” Esther replied, glaring at the agent. “If we can get the book, I can create a spell to protect us until the storm passes. Then, we can think about what to do next.”

“Shit,” Robert sighed, walking over to the window. He peered out in to the rain. “I knew it wasn’t going to be anything but difficult.”

“But we get the book and you can protect this place no matter what happens?” Cameron asked softly.

“I’m not one hundred percent, but yes, we would get more protection than we have now.”

The gale outside broke the silence of the hallway.

“Alright,” Robert said abruptly, turning back from the window.“We’ll go. Where is it?”

“No, no,” Phil began, standing from the stairwell. “Send Howard. I mean, he’s old anyway. If he vanishes someone doesn’t get a fish for the day. What harm is that?”

“Fuck you!” Howard shouted and crossed the hall.

“Alright, alright, alright,” Robert snapped, rushing between the both of them.

“Phil!” Cameron shouted, drawing the agent’s attention. He drew an imaginary zip across his mouth.

“No one is going to be forced to leave. Cameron, I’ll go with you both. I’ll show this little puke whose old,” Howard snorted, frowning at Phil as he walked away.

“Hey, shut your mouth! I’ll go too, show you how I roll.”

“No” Cameron began, “more than three of us and we’ll start getting in each other’s way. This is going to have to be quick, you know, in and out and back here as fast as we can.”

“Why back here? We can all go in both cars and hole up in the store?” Cassie suggested to them. Cameron mulled it over briefly. The idea made sense. Why risk the three men vanishing out there when they could all make one trip together.

“That will be extremely dangerous,” Esther warned. “I have lived in that building now for over fifty years, and, believe me or not, I have never lived there alone.”

“You’ve never been married or had any family as far as I remember, Esther?” Robert questioned her as another roll of thunder drifted from the miles and across the distance toward them.

“It’s not people she means,” Cameron replied, solving her clue instantly.

Esther folded her arms. “This island harbors a lot of secrets, deputy. There’s a lot of history here, lots of despair, and lots of death. The dead still walk upon the island, those tortured and tormented souls, and I have lived with them ever since I moved in to that old store there.”

Lightning flickered and another boom emanated from the skies.

“Robert! Robert! Come in! This is Sheriff Harman! Do you copy? Over!” Robert jumped quickly at the invisible voice and reached for the radio strapped to his holster. “Robert come in, dammit!”

“Sheriff! Sheriff it’s me! I’m here! Over!” Robert shouted in to the radio. Cameron turned to the deputy in amazement. There was someone else on the island beside themselves.

“Robert I need you here! I have Janet with me! There’s a whole storm of shit going down right here in the harbor! I don’t know what the hell is going on!”

“Janet’s with you?” Robert shouted in to the receiver.

“She’s here! We’re in the station! Goddamn I have no idea what the hell is going on! Just get here! We need you! Over!”

The radio fell silent. Robert tried to regain his superior. “Sheriff! Sheriff? Dammit! Shit! Right, we gotta go! Howard, are you ready?”

“you need to be real careful,” Esther said menacingly.

“It sounds like they have problems down in the harbor! We gotta move!”

“You need to be careful!”

“We’ll swing by and get your book? Where is it?” Cameron felt a heavy hand push on his shoulder as the lawman hurried both him and Howard along.

“Behind the counter there are two doors. The one on the left leads to the back, the one on the right leads to a store cupboard. In there is where I keep all the books and documentation I’ve gathered in my years researching the paranormal upon the island. There’s a huge book bound in black leather. It’s tattered and off color, and the pages are faded. You open the first page and there’s an odd drawing of a demon on there. That’s the one I want. It’s the one you need to find and bring back with you. It’s on a shelf towards the floor.”

Robert nodded. “Alright, if it’s there as you say it is then we’ll find it.”

Eighteen

The storm battered the Suburban as the three men arrived in the harbor. The rain shattered upon the sidewalks and road as it fell tirelessly from above. So much rain had fallen now that masses of puddles stretched out across the tarmac and slowly began flooding across the town. The buildings themselves stood ominous and eerie. A strange new atmosphere engulfed Cameron as they passed slowly through the harbor. The darkness, the abondonment, the apprehension, the foreboding. The legends now felt true. The island was earning its name.

The Suburban slowly hissed as it passed through the surface water and through the harbor. They passed Esther’s store, deciding to find her book on the way out. The clouds emerged so dark that the headlights were used to see clearly where they were heading. Lightning flashed far out to sea and thunder rumbled quickly afterwards. Wind gusted in fits and spurts as the storm loomed ever closer. The boats bobbed on the turbulent seas. Waves smashed violently against the harbor walls. The tide crashed over most of the beach, hiding the dark stones beneath their lofty sprays.

They passed by Benny’s Store, which stood neglected ever since its owner had vanished. Cameron remembered the apparition when she appeared inside the freezer there, and recalled the voices out on Hillcrest earlier that morning, as the shades emerged on to the road. He shuddered. What if Benny was really up there, trapped on the other side?

The Suburban passed The Pondering Crow and continued on to the outskirts of the harbor. The market where Janet and Tom had been working appeared from the sheet rain on their left, close to the piers where the trawlers docked to unload their catch. They continued onward through the storm, rain falling in heavy, long streaks within the headlights, and finally the small station where the law was based appeared in a small building on their right.

Robert pulled the vehicle to a standstill outside the main entrance. Cameron noticed the entrance door was open and wavering in gusts of wind, clattering against the frame at the top of the three steps they would need to climb. Cameron formed a haunted house type image in his mind. The first thing people noticed in the movies was a foreboding building that the protagonist would have to enter. Cameron, Robert and Howard found themselves unwillingly in the same position. All of them needed to enter the haunted house to find both Janet and Sheriff Harman, who was unreachable on the journey down, as often as Robert had tried.

Cameron struggled to remember a police station serving as nothing but a beacon of hope in most works of horror. Not this one, though. This was going to eat them alive, he felt it. The rain battered him as they left the car and approached the station. It was dark beyond the doorway, and a little unsettling considering everything that happened during the course of the morning. Robert jumped up the steps and entered his workplace, followed quickly by his two companions. Cameron heard the sound of a switch being flicked on and off.

“Shit, lights are out.”

Cameron shrugged. “Wouldn’t you just know it?”

“Wait here,” he ordered, and using the backlight from his cellphone the deputy fumbled through the doors and ahead in to the darkness. Cameron heard him bang and cuss a few times as he stumbled in the poor light.

“You okay?” he asked out in to the blackness. All he saw was the dim, white light jumping around in Robert’s hand as he moved.

“Yeah, let’s move.”

The building burst in to light as the deputy opened a blind. It revealed a small room with two desks opposite to each other, one for each officer. A few filing cabinets stood freely against a wall and a door remained in place across the room. Old glory stood tucked away in the corner upon a simple stand. It was often inspiring and motivating to see the nation’s flag flowing vibrantly at the top of a mast, but within this office it appeared as cold and lifeless as the harbor itself. On the sheriff’s desk stood a radio, the one he must have used to make contact back up at the house.

“Sheriff?” Robert asked out across the deserted building. He walked across the checkered tiles and took it. Cameron gazed around the office some more, hearing Robert mess with the communication system. Clicks popped out of the radio hanging from his holster.

Howard checked around. “Maybe down in the holding cell?” Thunder cracked from the outskirts of the island. It was getting close.

Robert fumbled for a huge set of keys in the sheriff’s desk draw.

“You have holding cells?” Cameron asked, wondering why a population so small would require one.

“When men of the sea take on too much alcohol they fight like beasts. And by that I mean real fighting, too. We had the cells here since the fifties, and we use them more often than you would think.” Robert found the key he was looking for. “Howard, can you keep guard up here, in case the sheriff arrives from outside?”

“Sure,” Howard said after a moment of hesitation, “just don’t take too long, will you?”

“Five minutes max,” Robert replied, grabbing the flashlight that sat beside the keys within the draw.

Cameron followed the officer as they made their way through the previously closed door and out in to the hidden staircase it lead to. The flashlight in Robert’s hand clicked on revealing the steps from the shadows. The stairwell creaked under their feet as they descended in to the depths, the beam from the deputy’s hand the only source of light they now owned. It had the sense that they were descending in to a cellar or something, not a holding cell. Not with this atmosphere.

Cameron thought about the ghosts he had witnessed inside the forest and the apparition haunting him. Trying to force them to the back of his mind he stepped further and further in to the darkness. Exploring creepy, dark buildings with nothing more than a flashlight? It seemed more like a case for Mulder and Scully than C. P. Drake and Deputy Fleck. At the bottom of the steps to their right they found another door.

Robert pushed the handle. “Sheriff?” the deputy called out as he entered the holding cells.

“Janet?”

Cameron emerged behind and looked over the shoulder of his leader. Two holding cells appeared on their left. They were pretty much all that existed down here. Robert flicked another lightswitch. Cameron’s final sense of hope diminished.

An apparition screamed out from the depths and rushed through the darkness. Its arms reached out to take him. Cameron jumped back to the wall and screamed. Robert flashed the light in his direction.

“What the hell is it?”

Cameron stood flush against the wall facing the direction the ghost had glided from. They were alone. “I saw one! I saw another one! It was here!”

“What? A ghost?”

“Just here. It reached out and screamed...and then it vanished. It vanished in your flashlight.”

Robert frowned.

“Whatever it was, it’s gone now.” Cameron cought his breath as the deputy investigated the empty cells. “Isn’t anything but darkness and air.”

Cameron pushed himself away from the wall. “What about Janet? And the sheriff?”

“Seems like they both took off somewhere, I’d guess. I don’t think there’s anywhere else they could be hiding in here. But why the hell didn’t he take the radio or make contact with us again? If all that shit was going down as badly as he said it was they may have hightailed it out, but why leave the damn radio up there on a desk?”

“You think they would have taken a boat?” Cameron asked, now investigating the empty cells for himself.

“They’d be crazy to do something like that in these waters. I don’t think either of them would be that stupid. The only thing I can think of is that they moved somewhere else on the island.”

“Why would they do that? I mean, they asked you to come here to...” An thought struck Cameron and he froze.

“What?”

“What if it wasn’t them?” Cameron began quietly. He looked beyond the deputy as the cogs in his mind whirled in to life. “What if it was a trap?”

“Come on, Cameron. I told you I don’t buy in to all of this ghost and haunted island shit that everyone else seems to be worrying themselves over.”

“Howard,” Cameron whispered, remembering they’d left the old fisherman posting guard up in the office. “Shit!” Cameron ran back through the door followed by the deputy.

“Cameron!” Robert snapped as he chased the sprinting man up the desolate staircase.

Cameron reached the top of the stairwell and darted in to the office. “Howard?” The station was empty. Desks stood abandoned and cabinets unused. The fisherman accompanying had now disappeared. “Howard?” Cameron shouted again, this time aggressively.

“Shit, where has he got to now?” Robert asked, darting the flashlight over the poorly illuminated office. Cameron jogged to the main entrance and peered out in to the storm. The rain hissed like an enraged serpent as it fell relentlessly to an already saturated ground.

Cameron cupped his hands and shouted in to them. “Howard?” The street was empty. The fisherman would certainly respond if his name bellowed through the torrential rain. Robert emerged beside Cameron atop the steps.

Cameron lowered his hands. “They’re gone. All of them.”

“Then who called me on the radio?” Robert asked with clear frustration.

“Not who we hoped.”

The two investigators searched the station some more and crossed to the market to see if anyone had hidden themselves away in its abundant hiding places. Except for the pungent smell of fresh fish and boxes of melting ice, they found nothing else. No signs of Janet or Tom, and now no sign of Howard.

Returning to the Suburban, the two men sat a moment and reflected on what had happened. Robert appeared distraught. “I gotta find her, Cameron. I gotta find Janet.”

Cameron rested a hand on his shoulder. “I know it’s difficult for you, but we have to try something else. I know you don’t believe the whole ghosts stuff that the rest of us do, but we’re going to have to start broadening our horizons. As much as you don’t want to admit it, people don’t just vanish in to thin air. If we start treating this as a paranormal investigation, we might find new clues as to why it happened and where they are.”

He looked to Robert whose eyes now became glassy with emerging tears. “It’s all we have left, now. Trust me, I’ve seen these things with my own eyes, believe it or not, and I trust in my own sight and my own perception. I know I write crazy books for a living, but believe me I’m as sane as they come. Let’s look at it from a different perspective. Let’s get the book and see what we can do from there.”

Cameron sensed that Robert knew there was nothing more either could do. Even meeting Janet for only an evening, he also believed there was no way she’d just leave the island. Same as the sheriff, come to think of it. That man took his work seriously, Cameron thought, and there’s no way in hell that he’d just abandon his duty whilst all this shit was going on. And Howard?

Howard had been with them, but once left on his own had vanished without a trace. There one minute, gone the next. No sounds, no screams, no nothing. Something weird was happening. The deputy had no rational explanation for the disappearances and no idea what to do next. Cameron felt the shift in leadership change from Deputy Fleck to Esther Marple.

“Alright,” Robert said eventually, wiping a rogue from his eyelid. “Let’s say I do believe you, and that I do believe that something paranormal is happening here on the island. What now?”

Cameron sighed as he thought the situation over. “We get Esther’s book and we go back. There’s no one who knows more about all this than she does. If there’s a way through, she’ll be the one to guide us. I think we have to trust her little bit more and see what she can do with this spell book of hers. Let’s see first. Let’s get it and see what happens.”

“Okay, but I’m not one hundred percent convinced, not yet. I’m doing this to find Janet and the others, you understand?”

Cameron nodded. It almost sounded like Robert was ashamed to admit in his own belief. “Until you see something with your own eyes, you won’t believe anything. It’s tough for anyone to. I’m sure Esther would tell you the same thing.”

“We get in, we get that book and we return to your house. I don’t want to be out here at all, and that damn store gave me the creeps even before all this shit started happening.”

“In and out. I can run in if you want?”

“What, after Howard has just vanished from the station? No way. We go together. We stick together.”

Cameron nodded. “Okay. Let’s get there then we can get the hell out of this harbor. Something’s changed here. I can just feel it.”

“Me too, and I don’t like it.”

The Suburban roared and turned around on the empty road. They left the sheriff, Janet and Howard behind, like lost memories in the grip of the frantic storm.

Nineteen

The doorbell rang as the entrance opened. Thunder rolled continuously in the distance, drawing louder and quieter in varying depths as it loomed towards the island. Rain rattled down and lightning flashed, all combining to the ambience of the situation both Cameron and Robert had now found themselves in. Cameron jolted for a moment, forgetting about the bell above the door, and then sighed as he remembered what it was. The store stretched out in front of them, this time appearing much further than Cameron had remembered. The lightning flashed and illuminated the shelves crammed with all the books Esther had placed in there. The candle holders hung oppressively on the walls. The flashlight suddenly appeared ahead of the two men as the law enforcer clicked it in to life.

“I hate this damn store. I hate it so much. It feels more like an undertaker’s parlor than a place to buy a book.”

Cameron nodded slowly. “It reminds me of some sort of gothic horror setting. You can imagine Boris Karloff walking through here any moment.” Cameron spied the closed door where Esther was sending them. They cautiously entered the building. Thunder exploded from the skies causing both men to jump. Finally, the storm was here.

“Damn it!” Robert bellowed, crouching down as he jumped.

The rim of his Stetson struck Cameron on the shoulder. Cameron said nothing. They could hear the sound of running water outside the building as the rain fell and merged with the surface water continually expanding across the harbor. The store was dark, and an oppressive atmosphere was beginning to build within its walls.

“I don’t like this, not one little bit,” Robert added as he moved the flashlight around the building.

“Just in and out, that’s all,” Cameron reminded him.

Another clap of thunder rumbled from the skies above forcing both men to duck down quickly. The lightning flashed. It rocked the building and shook the floorboards.

“Shit!” Robert shouted. The rumbles dwindled in to those they could hear far away in the distance. The storm was continuous and oppressive as it surrounded the island from the atmosphere above. “Come on, I don’t want to be in here any longer than I need to,” he said to Cameron as they stood in the diminished light.

Cameron followed, creeping between the aisles to the counter like Scooby Doo. They stepped carefully and quietly, as though trying to keep their presence a secret from the empty building.

“If this was any other day, we’d be walking normally through here without giving a rat’s ass how much noise we made,” Cameron whispered. He watched the rifle sway on Robert’s back.

“If this were any other day I’d be working in the market and leaving all this bullshit for you to write about.”

Cameron walked carefully across the floorboards and watched for signs of life. Maybe he should be looking for any signs of after-life? Something about this store felt wrong. The sensation of being watched was nothing new. Everbody felt like that from time to time, but not to the extent he now felt.

Cameron followed across the store and expected to see someone at the counter. That was how strong the sensation became to him as he traversed the aisles. A board squeaked underneath his foot. On any other day that board would have remained silent.

“So, got any ideas for your next book?” Robert asked softly. Thunder exploded once more and shook the building.

“Not a thing. There’s no inspiration around here,” Cameron whispered as he stared toward the candle holders on the walls.

They reached the counter and noticed a few books had fallen to the floor. Cameron looked down as Robert shone the flashlight across them. One stood out against the rest. Bag of Bones. Of course it was. They rounded the counter and headed across to the second door. The first one Cameron remembered. It was the one Esther had vanished behind to make a cup of tea. Thunder rippled across the sky, louder than any clap before it. Both men jumped again. Cameron turned instinctively.

Someone stepped behind the shelves at the front of the store. His stomach lurched. “Robert!”

Robert span round. “What?” he asked sharply. Cameron looked to have spooked him yet again.

“Flash the light down there! Quick!” Cameron pointed down towards the store’s entrance. Robert raised the amber light in that direction.

“What is it?” The light swayed backwards and forwards but didn’t reveal anything new.

“I thought I saw something,” Cameron responded, almost in a whisper.

“What was it?”

“I don’t know, it just looked like someone stepped behind those shelves down there.”

Robert frowned. “You could have told me you saw a cat instead. I’m soiling my pants in this fucking place.”

“I wish it was, believe me.”

The flashlight scoured the shelves a little longer. Thunder rolled gently across the distance. Rain pattered heavily on the windows. It was empty. There was nothing there but full shelves and empty aisles. Robert turned back to Cameron. “That’s the second time today you’ve had me looking for ghosts in the harbor. Normally I’d tell you I didn’t believe you, but I get the feeling you may just be telling me the truth.”

“Turning you in to a believer?” Cameron asked as they investigated the store one last time.

“Could well be, but then the store is playing like hell on my conscience. Let’s just get this done.” They forgot about the aisles and turned to the second door. “This is it,” Robert began, looking over the doorway as though it was a remarkable piece of forgotten art. “I hope Esther didn’t have anything unworldly she was hiding away in here.”

“Shit, deputy, it almost sounds like your buying in to this paranormal stuff now,” Cameron teased.

“Almost.”

The door opened with a creak and released the musty smell of room seldom used. There was the storeroom, exactly as Esther had said. The shelves were filled with cobwebs instead of supplies, all except one shelf towards the bottom of the rack.

Robert shone the flashlight in to the darkness and found what he thought they were looking for. “Here,” he said, strolling in to the room. A cellar spider jumped before his eyes. Cameron caught the falling officer falling backward.

“What is it?” he snapped in an anxious voice, expecting to be blitzed by a thousand spirits.

Cameron then saw the cause of Robert’s misfortune and watched the spider scuttle along a web strand and out of harm’s way. “Damn, spiders and cobwebs,” Robert groaned, holding a hand out to clear the web. He wiped it on the his trousers to rid the strands of web that had stuck. “Only thing in here is whatever’s on that shelf there,” he added, shining the light downward for Cameron to see.

“That’s got to be it, then,” Cameron replied, looking down in to the light. He brushed past Robert and squatted down.

Robert adjusted the flashlight so Cameron could see more clearly. “You know what you’re looking for?”

“Think so. It should be a leather bound book with a picture of a demon on the first page? That’s what she said.”

“That’s it.”

There were a number of scrapbooks dotted across the shelf. Cameron picked one and dusted it off. He opened it to reveal old newspaper cuttings and stories from the papers way back in the day that had covered the island and its mysterious disappearances. There were a few good headlines but nothing much else.

Cameron threw it back on to the shelf and gently rummaged through the rest of the items. There was an old cloth, a few boxes and a few books. The first book was just a standard publication all about ghosts and spirits. Underneath rested more hardback books which he investigated, and again found more publications about the occult and the paranormal. Books on ghosts, he saw, as well as books on demons. Witchcraft was also covered in one or two of the covers on the shelf too.

Esther appeared to be researching much more than just the island and its history. He marveled at the amount of dust that rested about them, which at least gave a sense of hope that they hadn’t actually been opened for a few years now. They looked untouched for decades, judging by the amount that had settled on them.

He knocked a pile to their right as he attempted to grab another book and read its cover. A flimsy cardboard box slid down from the back. It fell open slightly, and in the flashlight Cameron noticed some letters extravagantly printed on a board. Forgetting the books for a moment he took the box. The thunder rumbled gently above them.

Robert looked down and watched as Cameron removed the lid, revealing a board with letters and numbers running horizontaly across its width. “What you got?” Robert asked as Cameron held it in to the light.

“I don’t believe it.” A heart shaped planchette nestled motionlessly in a corner. “It’s a Ouija board.”

“A Ouija board? What the hell is she doing with that?” Robert asked, expecting Cameron to have an answer.

“I’d dread to think. I’d guess she’s been trying to contact the dead, if you believe in it.”

“Your friend is right. She has gone fruit loop.”

Cameron studied it closer. Letters, numbers, Yes in the top left hand corner, No in the top right, both separated by the word Ouija. Maybe printed between Ouija and the alphabet, Goodbye written at the bottom. He shook himself from thought and placed the lid back upon the box.

“We’ll worry about it later. Ouija boards and spell books tell me she’s doing something here she shouldn’t be.”

He placed the board on an empty shelf for a moment and searched for the book they entered for. There, he found it at the very bottom of a pile. Pulling it out he wiped away the little dust there was and opened the cover. A line drawing of a demon greeted him. It was a picture like you expected to see in an old encyclopedia or something, very old and extremely faded.

Opening the book further provided inscriptions written in an old calligraphy style that he couldn’t read properly. A few pentagrams existed here and there, some trees, flames, you know, your average witchcraft inventory. Harry Potter this certainly wasn’t.

“This is it,” Cameron said, closing the book and grabbing the board.

“Great,” Robert replied with a hint of relief, “lets-”

The doorbell tinkled from the entrance. Cameron froze. “What the hell...” Robert trailed. He opened the door in time to see a book push back on to a shelf inside the store. “My God,” he whispered in disbelief.

“What?” Cameron asked, concerned with Robert’s tone.

Robert saw a solid book in the last stage of a push back between two spines on a top shelf, just as though an invisible librarian was re-stocking the shelves. No one lifted it, no one pushed it, the book simply hung in the open air as it squeezed back in to a tight space ready to be used again. He shone the flashlight to find the person who’d entered. The lightning flashed out at sea. No one emerged in its beam. No one appeared from behind the shelves. The open store remained silent except for the sound of the storm emanating from outside. The store was empty.

“What’d you see?” Cameron asked as they studied the aisles together. He’d hoped for a moment that Howard had found his way to their location.

“Come on, I’ll tell you when we’re out.”

Cameron grabbed the spell book and the Ouija board. Both men left the store room and made haste around the counter and in to the aisles. Cameron saw the books that once lay on the floor had vanished. The thunder boomed overhead. The store illuminated brightly as forked lightning streaking across the endless sky. Something hit the ceiling with a bang. Both men turned to one another.

“Lightning?” Cameron asked as they looked upwards beyond the beams.

“I don’t know. Esther lives up there, above this store. I suppose the electricity could have jolted one of her appliances across the room if lightning did hit.” A thud rumbled from the ceiling. Then another. And another.

Cameron became uneasy. “That isn’t lightning!” The thuds continued. “They’re footsteps!” The steps stopped directly above the fearful investigators. A tgroan surged through the building, muffled with distortion and distance. It was a classic groan that Cameron had come to expect. It sounded male and deep, and resonated monotonously throughout the building.

“My God!” Robert’s voice trembled. The footsteps broke in to a run across. The sound of a door clattered.

“Get out of here!”

They sprinted down the aisles as the footsteps gave chase. Cameron expected the shelves to topple and books be strewn across the floor to slow them down. Robert removed the rifle from his back and ran out ahead, reaching the door first.

‘It won’t open! It won’t open!’ Cameron thought as he approached.

The door opened and both men flew outside in to the storm. Robert dashed underneath the rain and in to the Suburban’s driver’s seat, launching the weapon carelessly in to the back. Cameron jumped in to the passenger side and slammed the door forcefully. The Suburban shuddered to a start. Robert hammered a boot down on the gas.

As they pulled away Cameron watched the entrance door slamming repeatedly in its frame. They sped out of the harbor town and up on to Hillcrest. Cameron sighed and placed his head against the seat’s headrest.

“That was close. Too damn close,” he said, looking over toward Robert. The deputy peered at him anxiously from beneath the rim of his hat.

“You believe us now?” Cameron asked as they headed back to his home.

Twenty

The two men entered Cameron’s home to a small audience. A huge amount of concern had been felt for the missing people they had set out to find, and of course the fisherman who had failed to return. Akando jumped at Cameron, licking his palm as he was petted, and Cassie made hot drinks to banish the cold they both unknowingly felt whilst investigating the deserted harbor. Nothing had happened at the house whilst both were gone. Akando had barked once or twice but nothing happened to unsettle the people inside. The five of them sat around the kitchen counter as the storm quelled for a while and rains fell lighter. Thunder sounded out across the oceans but no longer rumbled overhead. Cameron noticed how apprehensive Robert had become. The deputy’s face seemed somehow more aged and worn, baring the grief for his spouse all too clearly.

“I saw something while we were in there,” the deputy began, placing his mug on the counter. “I saw something that changed my opinion. I saw something that changed my mind about this island. It has made me consider the possibility that the legends here do exist, and that you’re not all as crazy as I thought you were.”

“Oh no! Not you as well?” Phil asked disparingly. Cameron expected for the war of words and belief to begin again, but a short silence dissolved that thought from his mind. The agent was still dressed in a blue jumper and khaki shorts. Guess it would have to freeze over in hell before he’d wear some jeans. “You and me are the only sane ones here, deputy.”

“Sorry, Phil, but I believe in my own two eyes. Always have done. I’ve never doubted myself or my own judgment before, and I’m telling you what I saw actually happened. There was a book on the floor of your place when we went in,” Robert said and nodded to Esther, “I know because we stepped over it.”

“Yeah, I remember it,” Cameron added, remembering it was also a ghost story written by his favorite author.

“We were out back, finding that book of yours, and the doorbell rang as though someone was coming in. I turned around and opened the door expecting to see Howard, and what I saw instead was the book returning to its shelf. I caught it just at the end, just as it was being pushed between some others. I saw it, man, I saw it alright.”

Cameron leant across the counter to address Esther. “The town is full of them. One lurched out of the darkness back at the police station as we were searching for Janet and the sheriff. I saw one duck behind a shelf in your shop as well. And to top it off we were chased outta there by some invisible footsteps. If we didn’t get out of your store when we did, I think we’d be making the acquaintance of whoever was making them right about now.”

“Well, I gotta admit, Cam. You got a hell of a book here!” Phil sniggered. “You actually believe all this don’t you?”

Robert jumped from his seat and took hold of Phil by the collar. “Tell you what? Why don’t you head down to the harbor and see for yourself, huh?” A war of words broke out between the two and Cameron had to jump in quickly.

“Hey! Hey! Hey! Enough, okay? Enough,” he ordered, bringing both men to silence. Cassie appeared distraught. In the event of a crisis, social breakdown was always the first thing to disrupt proceedings. It had been a belief Cameron had used in a novel. “Sit down, both of you, and let me tell you something.”

The men glared at each other momentarily. Robert shoved Phil and released the grip.

Cameron placed both hands back on the counter. “Okay, now I’m going to tell you all something that I haven’t told anyone since I arrived here.” Robert and Cassie shot each other a questioning look. The thunder rumbled away in the distance.

“Since I arrived, since my very first day here in fact, I’ve been having visions. Well, at least that was what I thought until all this shit started going on. I even thought I was going crazy at one point. I’m being visited by an apparition,” he sighed apprehensively, afraid of how the news would be taken,.“A woman in a long, flowing back dress is visiting me. Her hair sways around like she’s suspended in water,” he explained, twiddling his fingers out from his own head to express the view of the ghost he was describing. “Her face is, well, it’s half there. From her nose down the skin has rotted away, and this damn ghost appears to me when I’m not expecting it. Scares the shit out of me, almost to the point of coronry failure I think.”

His audience said nothing, not even Phil. They looked on with intent as Cameron finally poured his feelings out. Esther knew already, of course, but she seemed to play along.

“She talks to me too, even when she doesn’t appear. I think I have some kind of connection with her, but I don’t know how or why. She keeps warning me, telling me to ‘save them,’ but who and from what I don’t know.”

“Alright, Cameron, you got my attention,” Robert said from the foot of the counter. “If you’d have told me this this morning, I’d have labeled you insane, but a lot has changed during the course of the day today.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this?” Cassie asked with a forlorn look upon her face.

“I didn’t want anyone to think that I was crazy. I didn’t know myself that it was real until yesterday, when I spoke to Esther.” Esther gave a token smile. “I went to her after you advised me to go, you know, to find out about the island and everything?” Cassie nodded gently. “Anyway, I think we’re all agreeing that what’s happening out there now is something not of this world. It’s something paranormal. These spirits, ghosts, whatever you want to call them, they’re real, and they’re here. Now, after being out there and witnessing all this shit, I’d bet my house that whatever has happened to Janet, Howard, the sheriff and the rest of the people who have vanished, has happened by their doing. They’re the ones responsible.”

Esther nodded. “Your right, Cameron. I’ve been trying to build up our defenses against them for years, but to do it on my own has been practically impossible.”

“And I guess shit bags like me putting it down to your crazy behavior hasn’t helped you a single bit,” Robert said in a humbled tone.

“I never expected anyone to believe me, deputy, unless they saw it with their own eyes. Any you never did until today.” That was exactly the sentiment that Cameron echoed back in the harbor.

“I’m sorry, Esther, I truly am.”

“No need for apologies. We need to work together to get Janet back here where she belongs. The longer this goes unchallenged, the stronger they will become. Same thing happened back in the early nineteen hundreds. The energy grew too strong and allowed hundreds of them spirits to pass in to our world. Usually a vortex can stabilize at a point where one or two of them can pass through. Any more than that and the gateway will usually expel, unable to withstand the energy of those passing between the two worlds.”

Cameron’s eyes widened. He understood what she was about to say. “That’s why we get hauntings, isn’t it?” he asked the old lady sat beside him. “That’s why we get haunted houses and castles and all that type of thing. If the vortexes collapse, the spirits then become trapped in our world. They can’t return if there’s no vortex for them to pass through.”

Esther smiled and placed a hand on his arm. “Exactly,” she said with a comforting smile. “But sometimes, as on the island here, the vortex can stabilize. It takes time though, years in fact, but when it does, any amount of them can cross in to our plain and cross back without facing the danger of being trapped.”

Cameron nodded. “That’s what I think happened to Benny.”

Robert ran a hand across his forehead. “What? He vanished in to a vortex?”

“Yes. Remember up on the road? Those tire marks we found that skidded across the floor and suddenly stopped. There was clean cut exactly where they ended, if you recall?” Robert nodded. “I tell you something, it has been bugging me for days exactly how clean the cut was. It’s really been bothering me. I couldn’t understand how or why they would end so abruptly, but now I have a theory. Now I have an idea that I think may just be plausible considering the circumstances. Think of it like this; if Benny was on his way home, let’s just say that a huge vortex opened at exactly the wrong time. Let’s say that it opened up in the middle of the road when Benny was on his way home. Its energies are so powerful by now that he can see it with his naked eye as he’s driving along on his way back. Cassie, you remember this morning when we were up there? You remember the huge bolt of electric that jolted from that area of the road?”

“Yes, and by the time we ran back to the car a whole load of those ghosts appeared briefly in front of us.”

“Right. So let’s say Benny see’s this vortex opening, slams on the brakes but because he’s travelling too fast...”

“My God. The car didn’t slow down in time and he passed straight through,” Robert feared. He looked down in to his drink.

The house fell silent. The wind howled around walls outside. “Not just him, though. All of them,” Cameron added. “People don’t just vanish off of an isolated island without a single trace. What if these gateways opened up across the island? What if the spirits took them all over to their world, to the other side? Did anyone ever wonder why we’re being stalked out there?”

Robert turned to him with a fearful look in his eyes. “Janet?” he asked, his eyes glassy again.

“I won’t lie to you, Rob. I think she’s been taken there too. But there’s only one way we’ll know for sure. There’s only one thing that can help us get her back, get them all back,” he said, reaching for the box he’d found in Esther’s store. He pulled the Ouija board out to a fearful sigh from Cassie. He placed it in the middle of the counter and placed the planchette on to its middle.

“That apparition has been trying to contact me, and it’s scared the shit out of me every time she has done it so far. I think this time it’s my turn to call on her. If all this is paranormal as we suspect it is, she’s the only one who can help us bring them back.”

“Do you know just how dangerous that thing is?” Cassie asked him, her voice as low and silent as a whisper.

“Yes, I do. I’ve heard the stories and seen the movies, but it’s the only thing we have. I mean, we don’t even know how long they will roam the island or what it is these spirits are here for. I’m only theorizing that they’re taking our people back with them to the other side. We have to find out, one way or another.”

“I can protect us from any evils trying to get through,” Esther added as she grabbed her book. “I’ve been doing this many years now, speaking on that Ouija, and I know exactly how to deal with them.”

“Okay. We have to try, for Janet’s sake,” Robert responded. Cameron knew he’d attempt anything to have his fiancée back beside him.

Cassie sighed. “Okay but I hope you know what you’re doing. I don’t want to be involved in any way with what you’re going to attempt, though.”

“That’s fine. How about you, Phil?” Cameron asked, turning his attention to his friend.

Phil looked them over. “Shit, I’m outnumbered on this. Yeah, okay, I’ll help, but at least let me speak to Elvis when you’re all done.”

***

Esther opened the age old book on to the kitchen counter. It-s oversized pages slumped heavily as it opened in its middle. The rain fell heavier again as the second wave of the storm began to descend upon them. The pages were old, century’s maybe, and its ink and markings were faded with dis-use and time. They had absorbed a dirty yellow shade as they rested for years on many countless shelves, passed down from generation to generation of wiccan enthusiasts.

Cameron had found some basic candles on a shelf hidden within his kitchen. Phil had stocked up with them just in case of a power cut. Being on an island it could be days before the power is restored, and if the flashlights should die, they were the last resort. He didn’t have a candle holder though, so everyone would have to stand around and hold them with nothing more than toilet paper shoved in their clenched fists as Esther engaged the spell, hoping the wax didn’t run or that it missed their fingers as it dripped down from the flame.

Cameron found a baking bowl out from a cupboard under the sink. When Esther asked for one he was unsure if there was even one there, and even more surprised upon finding he actually owned one. He mixed together water and salt as Esther had requested. What she wanted it for he was soon to find out. Everyone except for Cassie, who was too afraid in dealing with anything of the occult, participated in preparing the spell. She sat with Akando a few meters away in the lounge, watching from a soft chair.

“We’ll need to turn out the lights,” Esther asked as she prepared to deliver the spell.

Robert took his candle and turned off both of them in the lounge and hallway. Phil used his initiative and to Cameron’s surprise killed the one illuminating the kitchen. For the first time that day they stood in total darkness. It made Cameron realize just how busy they had been. The only light from outside was the erratic flash of lightning as the day dwindled and turned to night. This was the first night he could honestly say, one hundred percent, that ghosts did indeed wander the trees out there.

Thunder rumbled ominously in the skies as it approached, a quick flicker of lightning illuminated the house and the rain fell constant and heavy. Where was Vincent Price when you needed him?

“Okay, I’m ready to begin,” Esther informed them as Robert returned to the counter. “Please be careful you don’t burn yourselves on the wax there,” she added, noticing the flames gently bubbling at their base.

Robert looked uneasy. “I don’t like this. It feels different. It feels, strange.” Cameron felt the atmosphere grow heavy. Oppresion lurked through his home with its new companion, intimidation. They were being watched. Cameron felt eyes studying them from all different directions. It was oppressive in there for sure, like a sudden interest was being taken in their actions by a battalion of invisible souls.

“I can sense them,” Esther replied, running a finger through her book as she scanned the pages, “they know what we’re doing.” Akando barked deeply in the dim lounge. Cassie nervously rubbed his side.

“It’s okay,” she reassured the malamute.

“You okay?” Cameron asked over to her from the kitchen.

Cassie nodded invisibly in the gloom. “Yeah, we’re alright. For now.”

“Sure,” he said gently before turning back to the makeshift guild of witchcraft believers he had assembled. They looked to him for a blessing. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

“Follow me,” Esther replied, closing the book and grabbing the bowl. She sprinkled the kitchen with the water Cameron prepared. Her fingers flicked out the droplets ahead in empty space. “I cleanse and purify this space. Any negative or inappropriate energies in this space must now leave. Go now, harm ye none, you may not return.”

She walked slowly in to the lounge. Placing her fingers in the water she drew them out and sprinkled the lounge with the saltwater once more. The rest followed with their candles. “I cleanse and purify this space. Any negative or inappropriate energies in this space must now leave. Go now, harm ye none, you may not return.”

Akando growled. They wandered out in to the hallway.

Esther once more sprinkled water. “I cleanse and purify this space. Any negative or inappropriate energies in this space must now leave. Go now, harm ye none, you may not return.”

Lightning flashed. A face shrieked from outside. Cassie screamed Akando jumped and barked. The face drew quickly away and vanished in to the night.

Cameron rushed to Cassie’s side. Akando continued barking. “What’ happened?!” he asked worriedly.

“A face!” she blurted, then burst in to tears. Cameron hugged her whilst still precariously holding the candle. “It was there. It was outside the window. It was watching us.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” he whispered, drawing her tightly. Akando sighed and returned to them, gently nudging her for a stroke. She smiled through her tears and petted him. “Gave us one hell of a fright, didn’t it?” she asked the malamute.

The windows in the hallway rattled. They turned their attention to the darkness outside. The rattling drew louder and louder, like a thousand stones were gently tapping on the perspex to gain their attention. Esther wandered toward the door. They followed except for Cassie. Esther opened the entrance.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Robert shouted. The lightning flashed and revealed hundreds of shades standing shoulder to shoulder ahead of the tree line across the driveway.

“What the fuck?” Phil amazed.

“My God,” Cameron whispered as he peered out of the windows.

Esther rose her left arm and shouted over the storm. “Only positive energy may enter here! This space is sacred, and filled with cheer! Only positive energy may enter here! This space is sacred, and filled with cheer!” The spirits began to disperse. Whether it was inside the forest or in to thin air, Cameron couldn’t be sure.

“Only positive energy may enter here! This space is sacred, and filled with cheer!” The next flash of lightning revealed the dense trees opposite, and nothing more. The spirits had gone. A rouge clap of thunder rumbled from the darkness above. It gently rippled before an abrupt end. Another clap of thunder rolled distantly across the miles.

Esther closed the door. “We’re safe,” she said, her fear well hidden by her confidence.

Twenty One

The shades surrounded the house that Esther had protected. They loomed in and out of sight as thunder rolled and lightning flashed. The rain fell consistently upon the island and the winds gusted intermittently but still they lurched from the depths of the trees and the despairing darkness.

They watched on as the living within the home did their best to protect their boundaries, and were successful in doing so thus far. An unknown force was repelling the phantoms as they glided closer to the building. The force was not harmful but did halt their attempts at approaching any closer than the building’s immediate boundaries. Sometimes the living saw them, most times they didn’t, but one thing that wasn’t visible to the naked, living eyes was the volume of phantoms roaming the island.

They clustered around the home in their hundreds and populated the island in their thousands. They passed through the stabilized gateways in to a world they once knew, but to an island most had never known.

They watched on from the darkness, bitter and enraged. They were angry that they had passed to the other side whilst these they surrounded still lived. Protected by the spell, protected from the storm, the living walked inside without any idea of exactly what it was they were afraid of.

The spirits watched on, biding their time.

Soon. Very soon...

Twenty Two

Cameron placed the Ouija board on the kitchen counter. There were no brand names on this one, it was merley a simple wooden block with extravagant print upon it. The characters were dark and traditional, not like some modern day glow in the dark rubbish you could buy at Toys r Us.

The planchette was waiting in the middle of the board. The woman he was now attempting to make contact with was his worst nightmare. He’d never been afraid of something so much in his life.

Cameron harbored a brief thought that the Ouija board or planchette wouldn’t work, but something overwhelmed him in saying that it would. If the ghost had been trying to contact him this whole time, now would be the perfect time for her to do so. His mind had been open to begin with, its boundaries of reality lifted as he plotted his books to himself, back in the car, the store, and when entering his bedroom, all now feeling decades ago. The more he did it the more he allowed her to communicate, to the point where she had not needed him to be so open. Her voice psychically reached him, and she was able to communicate through suggestion.

As Cameron stood looking down at the board he knew his fear would resurge. There was a chance though that she might not contact. She hadn’t done it since the previous evening when he arrived back on the island after the meeting. But then again, the other spirits and ghosts had started emerging from the darkness. Now was the time to face them all. Now was the time to face his fears.

Tension formed nervously within his body. Apprehension filled the onlookers as they watched from the candlelight. Candlelight of course provided the best atmosphere and ambience to contact the dead. The house was otherwise invisible, hidden by the deep darkness of an isolated building upon an equally isolated island. The night had fallen across Mysteria, and with it the second storm had arrived. The thunder. The lightning. The wind. The rain. All clattered outside as Cameron attempted to make contact with the other side.

He gently placed his right index finger limply on the planchette. His audience watched, even Cassie who was afraid of anything this dark and macabre. The planchette sat sternly on the board. Thunder rolled.

“I’ve never recalled hearing any stories of one person using a Ouija before. You sure I’m doing it right?”

Esther smiled. “I can do it.”

Cameron looked back down upon the letters, each moving slightly by the flickering light from the candles. “Really, though? One person?”

Phil sighed. “Worked for Linda Blair, too. Look how she turned out.”

Cameron pursed his lips together. He could always count on Phil.

“I really don’t want to push you, but we are short of time,” Esther replied against the rattling rain in the background. Cameron looked down again to the board. “Alright, here goes.” Anxiety began to swell as he asked out to the spirit world. “Is anybody there?”

“Jesus, Cam. Seriously? Could you have said something a little more original?” Phil laughed from across the counter.

Cameron sighed and looked to him. “Would you like me to ask if they’re willing to accept a reversed charged call from the living inste-”

The planchette jolted beneath his finger. Cameron jumped and looked down at the cursed board with which he was meddling. “It moved,” he whispered, looking down at his vertically pressed finger upon the small surface. “I felt it move.”

“Keep going,” Esther encouraged from across the counter. Cameron trusted her enough to know what she was doing. Even though fearful, he had every faith that she would protect him from any malicious spirits which may come through, instead of the one he was attempting to contact. “Reach out to her. Invite her here.”

Cameron looked to the aging lady and drew a breath. “I reach out to the spirit who has been haunting me,” he began, listening to the rainfall from the darkness outside. “I reach out to the spirit who has been communicating with me since I arrived on the island. I reach out to the woman who appears to me and invite her to enter this building, my home, and talk to me. That okay?” he asked.

The planchette scrapped across the surface of the board. It stopped abruptly on a blank area. There was nothing much to be said, so far. That is of course unless Cameron was moving it unconsciously. He briefly recalled one theory behind this phenomena, the one theorizing the planchette being moved unknowingly by those in contact with it.

“It’s moving by itself,” he informed the onlookers. Slowly the planchette scraped across the board once more, lethargic and strained as though just awakening from a deep slumber.

“How the hell are you doing that?” Phil asked, following the small, heart shaped hole moving directly underneath the Cameron’s finger.

“I’m not, it’s doing it by itself.”

“My God,” Robert whispered as he watched on, still dressed in his official police uniform. The rough sound of the moving block drew louder as it swirled slowly around the entire board.

“Ask it a question!” Esther ordered as it glided noisily over the solid surface.

“Are you here with me?” Cameron asked. The planchette stopped. It rested above the letter W. thunder rolled gently above them. Lightning flickered across the island. The planchette roared across the board. YES. Cameron’s heart rate began to increase.

“Keep going Cameron, you will be fine,” Esther reassured him.

Cameron hesitated a moment. He looked down upon the word he was resting on. Wiping his brow with a free now found sweat forming there. “Are you the one who has been haunting me?”

The planchette scraped to life once more. It swirled and swirled using his energy. It creaked and strained across the surface. YES. Cameron looked to Esther. She nodded once.

“What do you want to tell me?”

The planchette remained still for a moment. It trembled before lethargically moving across the board.

“D,” Cameron read to his audience, “A- N-G,” he relayed as the planchette moved over the characters, “E-R.” The block stopped. “Danger?” he asked the board. Akando barked from the darkened lounge. He barked and barked and barked in to the empty darkness.

“Akando?” Cassie asked as she petted him. Akando cried and released a disheveled whine. From the hallway Cameron heard the gentle sounds of whispers emerging from the darkness.

“What the...” Robert whispered, turning over his shoulder to look in that direction.

“You can hear that?” Cameron asked, shocked that the voice were heard by someone else.

“Yeah, I hear them,” Phil said worriedly.

Esther stared in to the darkness. “They’re here.”

Whispers and chants emerged in to the house and drifted around like a playful breeze. The candles flickered in thepresence of a life-force unworldly.

“You’re making contact,” Esther said excitedly, “keep going!”

Cameron felt a gentle breeze ruffle his hair. The temperature dropped and his breath became visible. Lightning illuminated the house as it flashed in through the windows. The chanting grew louder. Cassie squatted and hugged Akando. Robert looked deeply in to the hallway.

Cameron struggled but returned his attention to the board. “Do you mean us harm?” The planchette burst to life and swirled about the board. It darted between two letters. “H-A-H-A-H-A,” Cameron continued as he felt the device flick between them both. “What is that?”

“It may be another spirit interrupting communication,” Esther shouted. The voices drew louder. The chants drew louder. Rain battered the house. Thunder exploded.

The planchette stopped, leaving the kitchen with the natural sounds of the rolling storm. The voices vanished. Apart from the weather, everything had calmed. Bangs rattled the counter, one after another after another. Doors slammed and opened from the kitchen. Akando barked. Cassie drew him tight. Gales blast through the house. Cameron squinted as they powered around them. The planchette screeched to life.

“I-S-E,” Cameron began again, shouting above the internal storm, “E-Y-O-U.”

“I see you,” Robert deciphered from Cameron’s reading, drawing his attention back from the hallway.

The gales subsided. The rattling kitchen came to a rest. Cameron looked around to see his cupboard doors and draws open, as widley as possible.“Oh no,” Cassie whispered from the darkness.

“It’s okay, Cassie, it’s okay,” Cameron shouted across upon hearing her distress. The planchette flew across the board.

“N-O-Y-O-U-N-O-T,” he read aloud. “No you not? No were not?” he asked the darkness. The planchette moved again. NO.

“Shit, this crap is giving me the hibby jibbies,” Phil stated.

“Try standing here,” Cameron responded. He was now afraid.

The planchette rested a moment and then began its journey to another letter. “W-E-K-N-O-W-S-E-C-R-E-T,” Cameron read aloud.

“Week, no,” Robert began, “week knows-”

“We know,” Esther interrupted. “We know secret.”

Cameron looked at her with concern. She nodded for him to continue. “What secrets?”

Soft whispers remerged and drifted inside the darkness. The planchette glided around across the board. NO.

“Will you tell us?” Cameron asked, noticing how shallow his breathing had become. Esther folded her arms and rubbed her shoulders as the temperature dropped.

“They’re here. God knows how many of them.”

Cameron’s finger darted to a blank area of board then thrust back to NO. He remembered that one message he’d received referred to the spirit he was communicating with as ‘we.’

Echoing Esther’s thought he asked out quietly. “How many of you are there?” The whispering stopped. The chanting ceased once more. Banging bellowed through the home. Akando barked out in to the hallway. The front door rattled in its frame, struck by immense force from the other side..

“Shit!” Phil shouted as it continued.

“Is that you?!” Cameron shouted in the darkness.

The planchette glided across the board, filling their ears with the unsettling sound of the loud, scraping block flowing erratically beneath Cameron’s finger. It stopped. Cameron looked where it rested. YES. His heart fluttered.

“Can you knock how many of you can enter this protected house?”

The door thudded once, twice, three times, four times...It banged uncontrollably like someone attempting in vain to enter the premises. Akando continued to bark from the lounge. The rain drove against the windows. The banging increased.

“I can’t count them!” Phil shouted over the thunderstorm outside.

“Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen...” Esther trailed.

The door rattled in its frame, repeatedly battered by invisible forces. “My God,” Cassie cried as she gripped the unsettled malamute. They lost count as the door rattled violently against the lock.

“God,” Robert said as he watched the rattling door. It stopped and rested as it should do, keeping the storm outside and the inside in. They stood about the kitchen counter looking in to the hallway. Cassie cowered with Akando in the lounge. The Ouija launched from the counter and out in to the hallway, clattering loudly as it hit the floorboards out there. Cassie screamed.

“Alright? What the fuck going on?” Cameron asked Esther, turning to face her in the atmospheric light.

“Stay calm,” she advised him, “we’re not alone.” Lightning illuminated the empty hallway and thunder trembled the ground they stood on. They listened to the storm rage around the island. The rain pounded at the windows. Trees roared with violent gales. Lightning flashed around again and again. For a split second a cloaked figure appeared in the hallway. Akando snarled. Lightning flashed. The hall was empty.

“Where the fuck is it?!” Phil cried, frantically looking around.

Robert’s candle flickered and died. Phil’s candlelight wavered and extinguished. Cameron’s flame vanquished, leaving the house in total darkness. Candle smoke wafted pungently through the air. Akando cried. Cassie pulled him close.

Thunder rumbled. Lightning flickered. Faces appeared at the windows, unseen by the terrified people inside. The hallway stood empty. The lightning vanished. The rain fell down. The gales blew. Trickling water emanated somewhere around them. The smell of the candles turned to the natural scent of seawater.

Akando growled. Thunder exploded. Lightning flashed. A piercing scream howled through the house. Cassie screamed. Phil jumped. Robert glared. Cameron stepped back. Esther looked on. She was there. She was present. She had answered his call. Floating in the lounge the apparition appeared, her dress and hair waving in the invisible current, the ghost who had haunted Cameron since his arrival to the island. She looked down upon her audience with lifeless eyes. Akando barked with all his energy at the spirit as she investigated her surroundings. Dead eyes flicked from the malamute to Cassie, from Phil to Esther, from Robert to Cameron. There, her eye’s fixed solidly and did not move.

“Go to her! Make contact!” Esther said excitedly to Cameron. Without returning the gaze or even acknowledging her advice, Cameron slowly walked past Cassie and Akando toward the spirit floating at the opposite end of the lounge. The spirits eyes followed his every move as he slowly approached her.

‘It is you who called...’ the spirit whispered in to Cameron’s mind.

Cameron turned about quickly, his heart exploding. “Did you hear her?” he asked his companions. Phil shook his head comically.

“She’s contacting you, not us!” Esther replied to him.

Cameron turned slowly to the decaying apparition, smiling manically at him through her rotting flesh, watching the terrified author attempting to make contact with her. He felt sweat trickle from his temple. “I did,” he replied to the spirit softly.

‘I have reached out to you, and now you have accepted me, accepted my existence and the world from which I exist.’

“I have,” he replied, his legs trembling with fear for the apparition before him. “Who are you? What are you warning me of?”

“I am your spirit guide, Cameron. I am the one to guide you through the danger in which you face. In which you all face,” the spirit informed him. “I was trialed for witchcraft centuries ago upon this island. My bones slumber on the deep harbor bed where I was drowned.”

“Is this why you’re still here? We’re you murdered?”

“Indeed I was. The accusations of witchcraft were unfounded and untrue. I am trapped between both this world and the world of the dead, unable to move on until I’m freed.”

“How can you be freed? What must you do?” Cameron asked as his apprehensions around the spirit slowly disappeared. Thunder rumbled above them, shaking the floor on which he stood. Lightning flashed across the skies again, only this time the spirit did not vanish as she had done so before when she awoke him in his bedroom.

“My murderer can be delivered to me. I can take my revenge upon her and damn her to eternal suffering. She must be judged for what she has done, and only then will I pass over to the spirit world in which I belong. I can help you vanquish the evil on this island, but I may not help with returning your friends. That is to be decided by the spirits that walk this island. I will help you in your attempt to save them, if you help deliver the one to be judged.”

Esther collapsed to the kitchen floor. Cameron span around as Robert and Phil dropped to tend her. “Shit!” She’s not breathing!” Robert shouted.

Cameron turned back to the spirit. She was vanishing in to the darkness. “Cameron! Send them away from the island! Only you have the power to help the taken! Send them away from the island! Save them!” Her bony hands reached out before she vanished, leaving the room in an eerie, quiet calm.

“Oh God,” Phil said, bring the author back to his senses. Cameron looked to see Robert performing CPR on the frail woman. He rushed over and knelt beside her legs.

“She couldn’t take it!” Robert said as he pumped down on her chest. “The spirit must have scared her to this!”

Cassie emerged to help with tears in her eyes. Cameron looked up and felt instant concern for her. Maybe it was too much for Cassie, too. Robert continued to force down upon Esther’s heart. Cameron remembered a commercial he’d once seen back home in England that suggested people who attempted CPR do it to the beat of Stayin’ Alive by the Bee Gees. How ironic.

Looking over to Robert, he seemed to have it in time perfectly. He tried for five minutes then Cameron took over. He tried again for the same amount of time, although it felt much longer while he was compressing her chest to keep her alive. The storm thrashed around them as they attempted to breathe life back in to the eccentric woman.

Cassie turned the lights on, surprised that none of the fuses or circuits had tripped. Akando paced the lounge, sniffing the saltwater left by the spirit. The faces outside watched on from the raging storm.

“Cameron,” Phil said, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Cameron, come on. It’s done. It’s done.”

Cameron sighed and dropped his head. He stopped the resuscitation. His own heart pounded heavily with exhaustion. Robert closed his eyes and sighed. “Dammit,” he said softly.

Cameron slowly leant back and sat on the kitchen floor, his arms wrapped around his legs in front of him.

Cassie sobbed from across the counter as she looked down upon the lifeless woman. “What now? What do we do?” she asked the men tending to the now lifeless body.

Cameron looked up to her. “We all have to leave. We’re in great danger here.”

“Go where?” Phil asked warily. “We can’t leave the island. A boat would get wrecked out there.”

Cameron nodded slowly. “Yeah, we’re going to have to take our chances. We stay here, we’re going to end up dragged in to their world.”

“What did she say to you? The spirit?” Robert asked, leaning forward, ruffling his own hair the way someone might do when they are deeply concerned.

“That we’re in great danger. I may be able to save Janet and the rest, but only if the three of you are heading for the mainland.”

Robert snapped his head. “She’s still alive?!” he asked Cameron.

Cameron slowly nodded. “I think so, but she didn’t say how long I had to rescue her.”

“What have you got to do? I’ll help you!”

“No,” Cameron snapped, “I have to do it alone. For some reason, she wants me to stay and help her. The spirit,” he explained, reminding them who he had spoken to. “She’ll help me, but I must help her in return.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You can’t stay here? You have to leave too,” Cassie said, slowly getting a grip on her tears.

“I can’t, I’m the only one who can help them. I’m the only one who can help her. You have to go, all of you, or there’s no chance we’ll ever see them again.”

“That’s a crock of shit!” Phil shouted.

“Phil, you saw her with your own eyes. It’s the only way. You want to survive, you all got to get on a boat and leave me here. Nothing else will work. It’s the only damn way of giving them a chance.”

Slowly outside the rain settled. The wind died and thunder rumbled in the distance. “Send them! Now!” came the apparition’s voice inside Cameron’s mind. Cameron noticed the change in weather. He jumped an ran to the window, trying to look out in to the dark, stormy night.

“Look! The storm!” he said, gesturing over to the three of them. “It’s settling! It’s calming! Shit, you gotta go now before it starts again.”

Phil rolled his head. “Christ, Cam-”

“Shut up! This is it! It’s the only time you’ll have to get across! You have to! Please! Listen to me! You have to go now!” Akando sighed and wandered over to him. He reached down and petted his dog.

“Please,” he asked them, emotion welling deeply from within. Tears now formed in his eyes. “Please, you have to.”

Robert grabbed the Liberty keys from the counter where they rested. “Come on! Get moving!”

“Christ, you can’t be serious?” Phil questioned.

“Damn right I’m serious. Today I’ve seen a whole load of shit that I never even thought possible. I believe what Cameron says. If he can bring Janet back from wherever she is, I’ll do whatever he asks. Now come on. Cassie, you too.”

“But-”

“I’ll be fine, Cass.” Cameron stopped a moment. It was the first time he’d ever shortened her name. She looked at him, her own eyes as glassy as his. “She believes I can do it, and that I’ll be safe. She’s my spirit guardian, that’s what she told me. If you can’t trust your guardian, who can you trust?”

“We’re taking your car,” Robert told him as he rallied the remaining. Esther lay lifelessly facing the illuminated ceiling.

“I’ll drive you,” Cameron told them all, “I want to make sure you go.”

Twenty Three

They left Esther where she lay in Cameron’s kitchen. The St John’s of Wort kept the evil spirits away from the vehicle, as Cameron had imagined, and they entered the Liberty without being descended on by the spirits outside. Cameron drove to the east harbor, where the floodlight on the harbor master’s hut illuminated most of the dock. As he pulled in to the harbor he noticed the gentle waves lapping at the shores.

“It’s the calm. You have to hurry, before the main storm hits.”

“Does anyone here actually know how to drive a boat?” Phil asked sarcastically from the back of the vehicle.

“You think I’d live on an island not knowing how to evacuate in case of an emergency?” Robert replied, his sarcasm as good, if not better, than the agents.

“Take this,” Cameron continued, ignoring the remarks. He tore off the yellow flowers from the St John’s and gave them each a piece. “Keep them away whilst you’re outside.”

Robert clicked a flashlight to life. “Come on, we better move.”

“I don’t believe this,” Phil sighed, following the deputy out of the car. Cameron reached inside the glove compartment and found Akando’s collar. He hated using it on his pet and always locked it away in the glove compartment, just in case it was needed. Akando sighed and began licking his face as he attempted to wrap the collar around him.

“I know, mate, I know,” he said, pushing the simple collar over his muzzle.

He sensed that Akando knew something was wrong. That was the thing with dogs, they just knew these things. Akando began whining as Cameron stuffed his collar with flowers. “I won’t be long, Kanee, I won’t leave you.”Cameron pushed the final flowers in place to protect his companion.

The bond between them both brought fresh tears to Cassie’s eyes. Cameron’s attention turned to the dock as Robert kicked through the door of the harbor master’s hut. Akando whined some more. Cameron grabbed his muzzle gently and forced the malamute to look at him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” Akando licked his nose. Cameron felt the sting of tears prickling at the back of his eyes. “I love you, mate,” he responded, and wrapped his arms around the dog. He hugged Akando tightly, closing his eyes as tears emerged.

When Cameron released his companion, Akando licked his cheek. “Look after her,” he told him, gesturing to Cassie. Akando barked. “Good boy,” he replied, and ruffled his head. Cameron looked over to Cassie. She reached out and hugged him.

“Be careful,” she sobbed in the darkness.

“I will. And take care of him for me, okay?” he asked, looking down to Akando. Cassie nodded.

“Come on!” Robert shouted.

Cameron nodded towards the deputy. “Go on. You too, Kanee,” he ordered.

Cassie and Akando dashed across the dock. Spirits appeared from the darkness and lunged towards them. Cameron’s heart leapt. They bore upon Cassie and Akando like savages attempting to catch prey. The spirits surrounded from all sides in a mass of shades and bodies. The air filled with the sound of screams. The phantoms jolted away from his escaping friends and vanished in to plumes of white mist and fog. The flower was working.

Cameron followed shortly behind them both, clasping the remaining flowers in his hand. He followed to the Offshore moored up since his arrival, the one he had noticed what now seemed like centuries ago during his first steps upon Mysteria.

Robert jumped down and quickly entered the bulkhead, his body weight thudding loudly across the eerie calm. Phil jumped uneasily down and turned to help Cassie descend to the deck. Akando gracefully leapt to the boat in one, swift leap.

“Don’t go getting yourself killed. I need you,” Phil said as he looked up to his friend on the dock.

Cameron smiled. “Trust me, okay?” He felt a sudden overwhelming sense of guilt. “Phil,” he began, looking on from the light rain that gently began to fall upon them, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for, you know, everything. Being a jerk and all.”

Phil waved him away. “Go get your book idea. Make me millions, and I’ll forgive you. As soon as this storm clears, I’m heading back though. You better be here.”

The Offshore turned its engines over and jumped to life, breaking the calm across the docks and roaring thunderously in the settling waters. This was the calm alright, the calm before the storm. Robert looked through the windshield and saluted quickly. Cameron nodded. They’d been through a lot together, the author and the deputy, and now it was left to the author to do something that was usually left to the law enforcers; find the missing people and restore peace to the island. Some lights emerged in the bulkhead as Cameron unmoored the ropes binding it to the dock.

“Be careful!” Cassie shouted. Akando barked. The Offshore churned the calm waves and turned out to sea.

Phil, Cassie and Akando watched from the stern. Phil waved a hand. Akando barked constantly, inaudible over the motors. Cameron raised a hand back. He felt lost, now on the island by himself. A sense of fear swept through his body as the realization of what he was about to attempt finally set in.

The rain continued to fall. It rattled the leaves and shrubbery of the abundant forests surrounding him. A strange thought passed through his mind as he watched the Offshore slowly head out in to the increasing swells. He didn’t have his raincoat with him now that the rains had begun to fall. He would get soaked.

When the fear subsided and pulse began to calm he slowly felt anger. He felt raged. His friends were forced from the island. People he liked were taken from this realm. As the boat finally vanished across the waves he turned his attention back to the island and back to the spirits. He began walking toward the Liberty.

“Where do I start?” he asked out in to the dark rainfall. Beyond the floodlight illuminating the small harbor a curtain of pure darkness beckoned to him. Whispers emerged throughout the air about him. The chanting he grew accustomed to floated throughout the air with eerie grace.

“Head to the harbor,” the spirit answered from the recesses his mind.

Twenty Four

Cameron drove in to the harbor. The rain fell heavily as the calm passed. He briefly watched the element racing down through the headlights to see how bad it was becoming. His thoughts fell with the friends now crossing the treacherous waves.

“They are safe,” the spirit’s voice answered within his thoughts.

The buildings loomed from the darkness as ominous and foreboding as any he had ever seen before. He had walked amongst hundreds, if not thousands of buildings before at night, but no place filled him with the apprehension or tension which now filled as he slowly drove through the harbor town. He passed Esther’s book store. The dead proprietor lay on his kitchen floor on the outskirts of the town. He wondered if she now walked the island as a form she had studied so intently during her life time.

The rain pattered on the windshield as he traversed the darkness. The wind began to blow. Away on the horizon, lightning flashed beneath the clouds. Moments later the dull rumble of thunder echoed in the distance. The headlights flickered. The lights on the dash strobed and died. The Liberty stalled and the headlights dimmed, flashed and then died too. He looked around.

“Be wary,” the voice told him gently.

From along the road a light exploded through the windshield and blinded him, forcing the author to cover his eyes temporarily. Cameron’s anxiety returned. Opening his eyes he saw the light emenating from a vehicle, down through the rain near The Pondering Crow. Cameron noticed the light break as someone stepped in front of them.

Momentarily hopeful, Cameron opened the door and stepped out in to the rain. He noticed how loud the rain sounded compared to the subdued rattle it made from inside the car. The shadow remained within the headlights.

“Remain cautious,” the spirit advised as she accompanied him psychically on this journey.

Cameron left the defunct vehicle and began walking apprehensively toward the beams. Rain gently pattered him as he wandered along the road. The channel marker rolled over the waves, its bell ringing like a church bell congratulating a newly wedded couple. The wind ruffled at his hair as the storm approached. The shadow stood tall in front of the Suburban that had remained on his driveway. The Suburban?

A gentle laugh emerged from the shadow, a laugh that was very much part of the real world. It was sarcastic and malevolent, advising him to continue onward with apprehension. Cameron stopped a distance from the vehicle. The shadow illuminated brightly from behind, its edges cut clear and defined against the backdrop of the headlight. It slumped against the vehicle’s grill with its hands resting naturally within pockets. The hat it wore did not flinch with the gusts of wind passing through the harbor.

“Well, well, Mr. Drake,” the voice began as the laughter finished, “what brings you to the port at this time of night?”

“Sheriff?” Cameron asked, shielding his eyes from the lights in an attempt to get a better view.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s me,” Harman replied, still leaning against the vehicle.

“Where’ve you been? We got your radio call and came here looking for you.”

“Yeah, I know you did. Couldn’t get to you, though, that was the problem.”

Cameron became concerned. “Why not? What’s going on here?” The rain began to hiss a little louder. Lightning flashed out at sea. Thunder rumbled.

“Mr. Drake, there’s a little problem with our island, if you hadn’t already have guessed?” Harman said to him, slowly lurching upright from the Suburban.

“Get out,” Cameron sarcastically. Harman laughed loudly. Cameron could tell he was genuinely amused.

“Mr. Drake, you make me laugh. You’ll fit in well within our community.” Cameron watched as the sheriff removed the hat, scratched his head and placed it back where it belonged. “Did you ever hear the story of our island?” he asked, shielded by the beams surrounding him.

“Yeah, somebody told me a little bit about it,” Cameron jested, his confidence hiding his anxiousness.

“Indeed they would. Was it the deputy? Come to think of it, where the hell is he?”

“Away from here.”

Harman sniggered. “That really doesn’t surprise me in the least. That little rat bastard is the most useless piece of crap I’ve ever had the displeasure of calling a colleague. You know he runs away from every confrontation we’ve ever had? A few years ago we had a fight break out at your friend Cassie’s place here, and that little turd hid down in the office. Said he didn’t hear the call I gave him over the radio. It don’t surprise me one damn bit he hightailed it out of here at the first sign of trouble.”

“Be wary,” the spirit conscience advised.

Harman emerged from the light and began walking through the rain toward Cameron. Cameron stood firm as the sheriff approached from the headlights. “If they’ve gone, they’ve gone, I suppose. Guess you must be the only one left then, I take it?”

“Sheriff, what are you talking about?”

Harman grunted. His shoes clattered the road surface as he continued to approach. “Mr. Drake, I haven’t been totally truthful with you.” He emerged from the light. The rain fell heavier. Harman’s pupils had vanished. Blood cascaded from the rim of his hat. “It would seem that you’re a more powerful man than you actually believe yourself to be. Using the Ouija board back up at your home has placed a huge bounty on your head. It confirmed to us just how powerful you truly are. Do you know that only a handful of people have been able to use that talking board by themselves?”

Harman continued to approach the Englishman, walking with a swagger that exuded confidence. “The way it’s usually used is by having a whole number of people placing their fingers on the planchette to assist with moving it around. Doing it yourself is one hell of a feat. Next to no-one has ever done that before. It confirmed to us that you were the one causing all this.”

“What?” Cameron whispered nervously. This new incarnation of the sheriff scared him. The eyes, the blood, it seemed like he wasn’t actually who he reported to be.

Cameron thought briefly about the Ouija board and the séance. He’d done exactly what Esther had told him to do. From beside the lights more shadows emerged. Cameron watched on as Janet approached, her eyes bleeding from deep wounds inflicted to both. Blood cascaded from her damaged organs like a pulsing waterfall forcing from her body. The man they searched the entire island for now emerged from the darkness.

Benny looked to Cameron with wild, dead eyes, the same as those he now stood beside. Howard appeared beside him, his face all but shredded and torn. His teeth and jaw were visible in the poor light, reminding Cameron of the guardian angel hiding from view. His white jumper had turned the dirty crimson color of absorbed blood. Chunks of flesh clung to the wooly strands as he slowly approached.

“I’m sorry, Cameron,” a voice emerged to his side. Cameron gasped as the frail frame of Esther approached from the darkness. “I did what I had to.”

“Esther?” Cameron whispered with shock and disbelief as the woman emerged from the rain.

“It’s no fault of my own. They control me. I had no choice.”

“Ask her who the crazy lady was in the institution on the mainland,” Benny suggested as he came to a standstill beside the sheriff. His voice would have been very welcome in any other situation after they scoured the island looking for him. “Ask her who the girl was who survived the disappearances back in the nineteen hundreds.”

Cameron turned from one store owner to the other. Esther nodded. “It was me,” she whispered, looking down to the ground.

“But how? You were dead? We couldn’t revive you. And, you most certainly would have died by now had you been even a young girl back then. It was over a century ago?”

“They keep me alive, Cameron. They force me to lure people here. Remember our conversation, back in my store? They’re evil, all of them. The spells we cast? The flowers we used? All were just a simple precaution that eventually fades. That’s how they entered your home. That’s how the Ouija board worked so greatly. The spirits pass in to our world with a great deal of difficulty when they cross in huge numbers like you now seen haunting the island, but sometimes an energy can enter the atmosphere which stabilizes their gateway and allows them to pass through in mass, to wreak havoc in our world. It was my role to keep you here, Cameron. That energy we speak of, it’s you.”

Cameron stumbled. Adrenalin fluttered through his stomach. “Me? But how?”

“Your power,” Harman added from across the distance. The thunder drew louder. “You don’t know it, but your psychic ability is tremendous. You could see the spirit that haunts our island with extreme clarity. No one has seen her so clearly before.”

“The woman you contacted,” Esther explained to him. “Your energy is astounding, and when you arrived on the island their gateways drew that from you. You remember sleeping for a day after she visited you? You remember that?”

Cameron nodded slowly as he recalled the experience.

“That was your energy depleting. You opened the gateways, Cameron. You stabilized the vortexes. That’s why they want you. If you return to the other side with them they can use you to pass freely between the realms. They can move without restriction. Vortexes across the world will stabilize, and they will be able to pass not as harmless ghosts that bang and wail in the middle of the night, but as dangerous spirits with the power do what they have done here on Mysteria. Cameron, this could be catastrophic. No longer would ghosts and hauntings be a question of belief. They would be dominant across our world. The world would change as we know it. Life would change. We would become dark and evil. There would be no telling what would happen.”

“My God,” Cameron whispered as realization set in and the pieces of his paranormal investigation finally fell together.

The apparition haunted him from the moment he’d arrived. Benny vanished after he’d accompanied him on his way home that night. They had both shared the same journey. He remembered the electricity that sparked from the road whilst investigating Hillcrest with Cassie. It made sense. He was the catalyst that opened the gateways and allowed them to enter. While he was on the island he was only stabilizing the huge vortexes that existed upon it. If he crossed in to the other side, there was no saying what would happen...

“Think of lightning!” the guardian screamed.

“And now you’ll return with us. To the other side,” Harman ordered. Slowly he approached with Benny, Janet and Howard. Cameron froze. Fear took hold of him. The sheriff un-holstered a pistol. He aimed it to Cameron’s legs.

“Lightning!”

Forked lightning thrashed through Cameron’s mind. Thunder boomed across the sky as lightning seared down to the ground, hitting the Suburban with full velocity. The vehicle exploded sending an immense flamed cloud high in to the stormy air. Cameron felt the rush of intense heat blow past him as he smashed to the soaked ground. Flames roared as they devoured the fuel within the gas tank.

Cameron sat up and instantly checked himself for burns. He rubbed his hands over his arms. There was no pain. He felt his legs through his jeans. Nothing. There was no stinging pain or any other sensation that indicated injury.

Harman screamed as he rose to his feet, the wild fires behind him flickering randomly upon the shell of the police vehicle that had transported both Cameron and Robert during their quest earlier in the day. He screamed intensely. He screamed angrily.

Cameron slowly rose to his feet. Harman shouted in a language he didn’t understand and tore at his face with his fingers. Cameron watched as the island’s sheriff stumbled and screamed across the road. Benny had fallen lifeless in to the surface water. Janet was burning motionlessly in huge flames fueled by her tattered clothing and black flesh. Howard had vanished. Harman groaned as he gouged his own features. Slowly the sheriff stood and threw two bloody clumps toward Cameron.

Cameron looked down upon the road to see it wasn’t flesh that the sheriff had thrown, but both eyeballs he’d gouged in aggressive frustration. Cameron felt the lurch of sickness quell inside his stomach. He gagged momentarily.

“You will join us on the other side!” the sheriff screamed across the roaring fire. Cameron turned back and headed to the Liberty. He jumped in and turned over the ignition. Nothing. Harman approached. Ghosts appeared from the darkness.

“Shit!” he shouted and turned the key. Lightning flashed. Thunder boomed. The Liberty stood still. “Damn it!” he cussed, but suddenly remembered the apparitions advice.

“Think of lightning,” she had told him. Think of lightning...

Cameron imagined the engine roaring to life as he turned the ignition. He twisted the key once more. The lights illuminated and it shuddered to life. “Holy crap,” he whispered in amazement as the Liberty roared beneath him.

The harbor filled with the pale shades of the army of spirits from the other side. The St John’s rested on the passenger seat. Cameron slammed the gears in to reverse. The tires screamed as he backed out of the road and span the car around. Ghosts wailed and disappeared in to swirling mists as they lurched to avoid the flowers inside. Thunder and lightning thrashed around him. The ground trembled.

“What now?!” he asked the empty Liberty.

“The spell book. Close the portal’s to the other side.”

The spell book. If it hadn’t been moved it should still be back in his home, in the kitchen somewhere.

Cameron hammered the gas pedal to the floor and thrashed the Liberty back along Hillcrest. From both sides of the speeding vehicle shades glided through the darkness. They drifted over the rugged grounds and obstacles and between the trees of which he was quickly approaching. Their eyes glared wide and white. Their mouths hung open as they wailed with anger and distress. Their shaded faces fell gaunt and drawn. The storm battered Mysteria. Spirits chanted and whispered through the rainfall.

He roared on to the hill and away from the harbor. The ghosts followed. They emerged from the trees he entered. His headlights cut clearly through them as he ploughed along the road. Spirits screamed as they repelled from the Liberty and backed away in to the darkness. The vehicle flew through the lonely forest, illuminated only by the flash of the immense storm’s lightning. Cameron was surrounded by hundreds of spirits in the intermittent flashes of light. Maybe hundreds, maybe thousands...He recognized the tight lane leading to his home.

Slowing slightly he launched the Liberty to the left and turned on to the road still illuminated by the solar powered lights. The chassis bounded up and down as he sped along the lane with no consideration for his vehicle. Skidding to an abrupt stop in front of his home, Cameron jumped from the driver’s side without even killing the ignition. Ghosts lurched from the darkness ahead of him, blocking his entry to the house. They hissed and reached out, their eyes wide and lifeless as they descended rapidly. He reached for his flower.

“Shit!” he shouted, It was still on the passenger seat. The spirits glided closer. His heart pounded. “Think!” he screamed silently in his head. “Piss off!” he shouted aggresivley.

The spirits lurched backwards and exploded in to mist, clearing his way to the house’s entrance. Cameron sprinted through the rainfall and crashed through the door. He slammed it shut and replaced the flower that had been kicked away during the rapid exit made with his friends, for whatever good it would now do. Neglecting to check the rest of the windows he raced over in to the kitchen in search of the spell book they had used to protect the house as they sheltered in. The storm raged around the building and shook the ground below his feet with each clap of thunder. The tattered old book Esther used to cast her spell of protection had fallen to the floor, its pages resting downward against the flooring.

Cameron jumped over to the spine and picked it up. “What am I looking for?” he shouted anxiously to his spirit guide.

A breeze blasted through the building, ruffling the pages in his hand. The strange winds died revealing a new section of the book. Looking over the words he understood that this was the spell needed. This was the spell to close the vortexes. The optimism he briefly felt suddenly turned to despair.

“Imagine yourself based?” he asked out to the empty house. “Hold an obsidian stone? What the hell? I don’t have this?”

An explosion echoed through the diminished light. Cameron fell to the floor and cried out. He rolled around and reached down to the burning sensation that shot through his thigh. Pulling his hand back he found his fingers glistening with brightly colored blood under the kitchen lights. Stood in the doorway was Sheriff Harman, his .45 pistol barrel smoking from the discharged bullet.

“Oh, God!” Cameron screamed from the agony of his injury. It throbbed, burnt and stung, all at the same time.

“Try concentrating now you have a gunshot wound to your leg,” Harman replied, holstering his gun where it once belonged.

“You bastard! You damn bastard!”

As much as Cameron tried he could not conjure anything. The only thing he knew was pulsing, throbbing pain that burnt along his left leg. Harman trotted over and squatted next to him. Cameron noted the falling rain rattling the driveway outside through the open door that the sheriff had neglected to close. He gasped at the mangled state of the sheriff’s face. His eye sockets open with nothing but tattered flesh hanging from their depths. Blood decorated the sheriff’s face in claret streams. He appeared like a dead body that had been festering underneath a summer’s desert sun. Cameron envisaged the stench of the decaying carcass attracting a whole host of rabid scavengers tearing at the sheriff’s slowly rotting flesh under the baking heat.

“Cameron, I’m not your friend,” Harman told him as he rolled upon the floor. “In fact, I’m not even the sheriff here. This body? It’s just a vessel that carries me through this world.” Harman raised his left hand and bit down on the flesh at the base of the thumb.

Cameron looked on as he tore it to shreds between his teeth. Harman chewed the lump and swallowed it. “You’re friends? They’re all suffering on the other side. Janet, Benny, Howard, and the sheriff, too. All we did was take their bodies. It allows us to wander through this world unknown and undetected, and stops your stupid little spells from affecting us. And guess what? You’ll soon be joining all of your friends in my home world. Of course, you won’t be suffering like them, we need you to keep these portals open. I’d consider yourself very lucky and extremely honored, not many light dwellers get to see our home world without an eternity of pain.”

Harman pointed in to the hallway. The door opened and the flower protecting it blown away. It was then that Cameron realized it had been a trap all along. The flowers had been removed throughout his home, probably by Esther after she awoke from the slumber of death. The spell book had been purposely left there to lure him back. The power of the flowers had probably been minimal by this time, but in a situation like this the spirits were not going to take any chances. And the spells that had been casted?

Esther told him they were no more than a temporary defense to allow the spirits plan to be executed without drawing any attention. A breeze emerged from the open doorway. Lightning flashed. Thunder roared. Rain hissed and pelted the windows. From the darkness appeared the apparition.

Cameron looked to her angrily. The ghost that continually haunted him glided inside his home and drifted toward the ceiling in the hallway. She grinned manically.

“I trusted you,” Cameron whimpered as the pain surged throughout his leg.

The apparition replied with nothing but a stare as she suspended above them. Wind turned to gale and thrust through the house, scattering papers and rattling doors. Below the apparition a small black orb appeared. With flashes of static the small energy pulse slowly began to rotate and glow. It span to the size of a beach ball before the darkness vanished something lurked inside there. The orb continued to grow. Cameron peered through to something he was not expecting. It wasn’t an orb. It was a vortex.

He screamed in terror as the other side emerged from its depths. The vortex opened on to a black cloud. Lightning thrashed through its surface and across the black sky upon its horizon. Two druid beings stood either side of the vortex, their heads hung low. They clasped their hands and stood as servants may do, awaiting their masters next order.

Upon the cloud a woman lay, her body naked and exposed. She moved across the cloud in a fit of rage and screams. From her body emerged eight human legs, all scuttling together to carry her prone body throughout the terrible world. A cross stood rigid upon the flashing cloud.

A man bound tightly to its surface in a gruesome crucifixion. He screamed out horrifically. Huge stakes had been skewered through his limbs and body.

Surrounding the damned human appeared eyeless, nose less shades. Their mouths opened revealing fangs much like sharks teeth. Their clawed fingers and brutal teeth bore in to the flesh of the helpless being, tearing skin and muscle from his body. Open ribs glistened in the flash of ambient lightning throughout their world. His screams echoed throughout Cameron’s mind as the author looked on in terror. Spirits floated across the dark skies, their cries and wails both terrifying and tragic.

Harman looked on in to the vortex. “You have so much waiting for you when you cross over to our world,” he said, smiling as he watched the suffering from across the voids. Cameron’s mind clicked in to gear. The overwhelming sensation of self-preservation flooded to his conscience.

“The book,” the spirit told him as she watched from beyond the gateway.

Cameron looked to her and then down at the pages he held tightly. Flicking through the pages he looked for something, he looked for anything, anything that could help him escape this terrifying hell. The apparition helped him. The pages jolted to a small spell almost invisible to his eyes.

Squinting heavily he read quickly what the open pages ordered him to do. The vortex began drawing everything through its opening. Scraps of loose paper rattled through from inside the building and rode the winds in to the vortex. Cameron watched as one plastered itself on the torso of the tortured man upon the cross.

“You won’t be needing that,” Harman said, noticing Cameron reading the spell books pages. He reached over to the fallen author.

Cameron screamed. “What is dark be filled with light! Remove this spirit from my sight!”

A bolt of light exploded from his palm and smashed the sheriff’s torso, throwing Harman to the floor. Bolts of lightning jumped across his body. Harman quaked as the electricity took a firm hold. Blue flashes cracked like lightning until bolt flashed from their twines and shot in to the vortex.

Harman writhed as the light penetrated his body. The form of a spirit tore from the officer’s body, tangled in the blue lightning Cameron created. The spirit screamed and as it struggled vigorously to escape its binding. Its face appeared sunken and gaunt, looking nothing more than a skull with a thin layer of broken skin to cover it. The light yanked the phantom from the body of the trembling sheriff.

The spirit flailed erratically within the lightning, its limbs contorting unnaturally as it struggled across the hallway. Cameron’s apparition watched as the light pulled the spirit closer to the vortex. A stool clattered to the floor and flew past Cameron, knocking his shoulder as it crossed over to the other side. The vortex grew stronger and Cameron could feel his own body slowly moving towards the horrendous gateway. The spell book within his hands lurched from his clutch.

“Keep the book!” the guardian shouted as the winds grew stronger.

The spirit drew past Cameron. It glared at him and hissed. Cameron dragged his useless leg across the kitchen surface away from the vortex. The spirit turned and grabbed at him. Cameron smiled as it missed his foot. He stared back at the spirit as it crossed through the gateway and back to the world it belonged. He watched as the screaming entity flew away in to the darkened sky and merged across the miles within the black horizon that erupted with natural electricity. A huge skeletal hand emerged from the vortex and lashed out toward Cameron. It clasped him in its bone grip and clattered as they touched the hard surface he was squirming on.

Cameron screamed. The fingers wrapped loosely around him. Through his cries the hand dragged him across the floorboards and towards the crackling vortex. He writhed and contorted in an attempt to escape but the hand held firm. He forgot the gunshot to his leg. He could not open the book. Terror engulfed the author as he haplessly traversed in to the vortex.

The apparition looked on, watching Cameron dragged to vortex. The house filled with blinding light. She floated with her arms outstretched. The same blinding light exploded from her eyes.

“Spirits of evil, unfriendly beings, unwanted guests, be gone!” she screamed throughout the building. Her voice wailed in to the real world for the first time. A loud, animalistic roar emanated from the vortex. “Leave us! Leave this place! Leave this circle that the Goddess and the God may enter!”

Her voice turned in to one complete merging of a thousand spirits speaking in unison. Cameron felt the hand grasp tighter.

“Go, or be cast in to the outer darkness!” The sound of cries and wails emerged from the other side. “Go, or be drowned in the watery abyss! Go, or be burned in the flames! Go, or be torn by the whirlwind! By the power of the mother and the horned one, we banish you! We banish you! We banish you!”

The apparition exploded in to a wave of saltwater, cascading down across the vortex and upon the hand that clutched Cameron. His ears thundered with the roars of pain and anguish that surged from the terror around him.

Water splashed down and drenched his body as it cascaded throughout the hallway and exploded through the home. His nose burned with the salt of the ocean water. The boney hand that grasped Cameron contorted and released, dropping him gently to the saturated floor. Against his chest the spell book remained, the spell book that most definitely saved his life.

Cameron’s vision became blurry. He felt light headed. Energy was draining quickly as he crawled from the vortex. He stopped, unable to continue any further. The last thing he noticed was the saltwater within his home.

***

“Cameron. Wake up!” Cameron turned and looked up in to the gloomy light. He saw nothing. “Cameron, we’re not finished yet. We have much work to do before the island can return to normal. You must help me seal these gateways. You must help me find my killer. Only then will I be able to assist you free your friends from the terrors of the other side.”

Cameron rolled in the saltwater, his gunshot injury screaming in pain with the elements natural content. He placed the book beside him in the inch deep ocean that had drowned his hallway.

“What do we do now?” he asked the emptiness, his mind attempting to block the pain tearing through his thigh, “they’re already dead.”

‘”They are, and we are unable to bring them back, but we can rescue them from the tortures they are trapped within now, and we can deliver them safely to the correct spirit world in which they belong.”

Cameron sighed. He knew this wasn’t the end.

“Alright, I’ll help you. I owe you that much. What do you want me to do?” He squinted as a blast of sharp pain surged through his leg once more.

“Heal yourself,” she ordered from her invisible hiding place.

Cameron looked down upon his injury. The jeans had shredded where the bullet entered. Underneath he could see the darkened rupture on the skin. Cameron stared intently at the wound. He began imagining what to do.

Cameron closed his eyes and visualized the bullet emerging from his body. His wound stung greater as the thought continued. He cried out as the sensation grew stronger. He groaned but dare not open his eyes. He dare not witness what his mind was doing.

Once again his ears settled on the sound of the storm driving in from outside. He heard rain and the wind blowing around the house. He heard thunder rolling across the distance. He heard the sound of cascading water seeping in to areas within his home. Cameron’s leg popped. The pain was gone.

Slowly Cameron opened his eyes. A blood-soaked bullet rested on top of his jeans. He then looked down at his thigh and saw blood, but that was all.

Curiosity got the better of him and he poked his injury. Nothing. He shook his leg. Nothing. Slowly Cameron stood. The water he sat within fell loudly from his body as he rose from the puddle. It looked like the storm had raged inside his home instead of upon the island. Come to think of it, it probably had.

Cameron trotted through the flooded house to the kitchen and rested upon the counter. He placed his elbows on the surface and placed his head in his hands. He released a long and thoughtful sigh as a small sense of normality returned to the situation. The storm raged outside but within the home, except for the saltwater flooding through the rooms, it felt normal again.

He felt relieved. If his spirit guardian hadn’t have intervened he’d almost most certainly be screaming on the other side by now, and God only knew what he’d be doing, or what horrors he’d be witnessing.

He took a deep breath and momentarily wondered if the remaining cans of beer from the other day were still inside the refrigerator. He guessed so, it didn’t seem to have been disturbed from the event’s he’d just been a part of. A beer was just what he needed at this moment in time. A beer and a valium and he’d be set for whatever the apparition threw at him.

A clatter smashed upon the surface. Cameron jumped up to see the Ouija board resting next to him. The planchette stood in its middle. Drops of water rested on its surface. Some had been absorbed by the wood and stained the talking board.

Cameron looked around the darkened rooms. He was alone. The apparition had gone. The spirits had gone. All that remained was the raging storm and the board beside him. Emerging from the sound of the storm he heard the familiar sound of the planchette dragging across the damaged surface. Cameron looked on as the block moved independently. It moved around the board and filled the house with the eerie sound of the scraping block. Cameron watched as it once again began hitting letters. H-E-L-P-M-E the board spelled. Cameron felt uneasy. The thunder echoed across the island.

“Who...who are you?” he asked out to the empty kitchen.

The planchette moved across the board. N-E-V-E-R-M-I-N-D-H-E-L-P.

“Tell me who you are first.”

NO YES NO YES NO YES NO. Cameron watched as the planchette battled between the two words.

“Cameron,” a voice whispered through the darkness.

He spun round quickly and peered in to the dark void. No-one. The planchette swirled across the surface. It wailed as it traversed the alphabet quickly. C-A-M-E-R-O-N-H-E-L-P.

“Who are you?” he shouted impatiently to the invisible spirit using the talking board.

The planchette settled on one word. GOODBYE.

“Alright,” he whispered out to anyone who would listen, “what now?”

Twenty Five

The storm raged across the island. The house stood in isolation. Cameron had gone. They had all gone. The fire continued down in the harbor where the Suburban was struck by lightning, but except for the wildlife dwelling within the trees, sheltering away from the storm that had raged tirelessly throughout the skies, all human life had vanished.

Esther had gone. The island stood as it had done over a century ago; isolated and uninhabited. The spirits passed freely between both their own realm and this one whilst the vortexes existed. They did so in smaller numbers than they had done previously. The largest gateway to the other side had been closed due to the combined efforts of the Englishman and his spirit guide. Others still existed though, and would continue to do so for as long as necessary. None were strong enough to be witnessed by human eyes, nor were great enough to claim more of the living to their own world as they had done previously.

Cameron had vanished, and with him to the energy that the spirits had needed to stabilize their gateways. Clutched in his arm was the spell book which he had taken. It had proved to be his lifesaver and his bible.

Cameron wasn’t stupid. Even in the midst of his worst fears he reached out and took the unlikely weapon with him. The only question now was what would he do with it?

Throughout the ages various tales of the paranormal and occult had eclipsed the small island, some long since forgotten to the ever moving annuls of time. Accounts became stories, and stories became legends. It happened with every single event that ever occurred over a long time span.

Wherever he was, though, Cameron had taken the spell book with him. Whatever he did, he did so expecting a battle, or at least expecting to use it. Why else would he take it? Who knew where he was? Who knew what he was doing?

One thing was certain, though. Should Cameron return from wherever he existed, he would do so having both a fantastic and terrifying story to tell.

***

Two Months Later...

“Mysteria is vast becoming known to the superstitious community as the place to be when investigating anything that goes bump in the night. With tales of communities that vanish spanning back to the early nineteen hundreds, it has easily captured the imagination of storytellers and investigators from across the globe. But as we have all come to understand, the legend of the island may have struck once more, and with it claimed the scalp of one well known member of its small community. Bestselling author C. P. Drake is a resident on the island who has mysteriously vanished along with most of its other occupants this past October. As we approach the second month since the vanishings were reported to authorities and a huge search and rescue attempt was launched, here at KQCB-FM we’re attempting to raise awareness of these mysterious happenings and help our local law enforcement by appealing for witnesses, or anyone else who may have any information about this to come forward and help assist with the current investigations. To help us do that we’re delighted to have with us in the studio today Mr. Drake’s agent, Phil Henderson. Phil, thank you so much for coming here to speak with us today.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, would you mind filling us in a little bit about the events that took place on the island back in October? If I remember correctly, or as I understand it, I believe you were there on the island at the beginning of the night when the disappearances took place? Is that correct?”

“That’s right, Ken. There were a few of us out there celebrating with Cameron-”

“That’s C. P. Drake’s given name?”

“That is, yes. We were with Cameron and we were about to celebrate with him a contract which he was about to sign. He was scheduled to write three books for a popular publisher that would have catapulted him in to the top ten of the sci-fi, fantasy, and horror writers currently working in the literary world, had he actually done so. The storm hit, you know, the one that devastated the coast right here at Cannon Beach?”

“Sure do. That was a very devastating weekend.”

“It was, it was, in more ways than one. When we heard the storm was heading our way we decided to take our chances and head back to the mainland, because we didn’t know how long it would last. Reports at the time suggested it would last the weekend, but with the likelihood of power cuts and things of that nature, we decided to make a move to the mainland. I live just up the coast in Port Sandown and we decided to make a break for it when the calm of the storm hit us. Mysteria isn’t that far out and it made sense.”

“So that was the plan? I must just stop here a moment and inform our listeners that yourself and the rest of the people in your group were absolved of any wrong doing here. You were cleared of any charges and foul play, because you were part of a group that survived. At first the authorities considered that you may have something to do with it, didn’t they?”

“Right, and I guess the police were only doing their job. When everyone vanished it was strange, and initially we were questioned by the police for a few days. It was an anxious time for us all during those interviews.”

“And it was on your suggestions that the local law investigated the island, followed then by the FBI, and they scoured the entire landscape there, didn’t they?”

“They did, and we helped them, but there was just no sign of any of the community out there, and none of Cameron either.”

“So why didn’t Mr. Drake leave with the rest of you when you made a break for it and headed back here to the mainland? It just seems a bit odd that he wouldn’t come with you. Here you are, three people all deciding that you’re going to break across the ocean, and he didn’t accompany you. Why do you think he refused to do that?”

“For reason we don’t understand, even to this day. He accompanied us to the dock and when we boarded the boat he just refused to get on there with us. He gave us his pet dog and returned back to the island. That was the last we saw of him. We guessed he thought the storm would pass sooner than we actually expected it to.”

“And I mean you were all credible, weren’t you? None of you were crazy or had been previously convicted of any crimes or misdemeanors. There was even a sheriff’s deputy accompanying you, wasn’t there? He was working out there on the island wasn’t he during this time?”

“He was, and I really think he helped us in getting our point across to the FBI. When everyone just vanishes in to thin air and a small group of people claiming to have survived it then report the incident to the authorities, you’re going to get questioned and remain under the microscope for a period of time.”

“So you returned to the island and no-one to our knowledge has ever been found or seen since. Not since you last saw Mr. Drake as you left for the mainland.”

“No, Ken, we’ve found no-one. The island still stands empty. We searched the island constantly for a month, from the north most point at Cape Tate to the southern-most coast line, and it wasn’t just us but all the agencies you just mentioned, and we found nothing. Not a single person or even a body.”

“And now I have to ask the burning question. Do you think that the curse of Mysteria has hit the island again?”

“I really don’t know what to tell you, or to tell your listeners. All I know is that my client has vanished in to thin air along with the small community that lived there upon the island. Where they vanished to, I don’t know. The ones who vacated the island for that weekend were so lucky, they were so, so lucky that they did. I’m just here to launch an appeal to anyone who may know something about what has happened to contact local law enforcement. All of the people who vanished out there have families. They all have people who love them. We need to know exactly what happened on the island so we can give these people some closure.”

“I take it then you’re not walking down the path leading to supernatural causes? Not like the first account of the community vanishing back at the turn of the last century?”

“Absolutely not, Ken. We don’t believe in that one single bit. Whatever happened has happened of this world, and is nothing to do with any local legends.”

“And that’s where you can help, KQCB-FM listeners. Today a new website has been launched that details everything that happened over on Mysteria Island during that fateful day in October. It gives you profiles and biographies of every single resident who vanished during that time and also gives you advice on who to contact if you do have any information that would be helpful to authorities during this investigation. The website is www dot, Mysteria Vanishings, all one word, dot com. Likewise you can also contact us here at the station and our switchboard can place you through to the appropriate agency. Mr. Henderson, I would like to thank you for your time. I understand how difficult this must be for you.”

“No problem, and thanks to you and the station for your help.”

“You’re listening to KQCB - FM, up next REM, Coldplay, but first a trip back to the eighties with Dire Straits.”

Twenty Six

Phil sat in front of his TV watching A Christmas Carol. He was having a quiet Christmas on his own. Well, not quite on his own. Akando rested upon the magnolia carpet in front of a roaring, open fire. Cassie had rented a room down in the town whilst the island was out of bounds, and was subsequently unable to uphold her promise to Cameron to take care of his beloved pet in his absence.

The tree decorations twinkled in its flickering light. The day outside was beginning to fade and darkness slowly emerged from the distant horizon. Upon the screen he was watching the spirit of Marley as it haunted his co-worker in life, Ebenezer Scrooge, and it brought back a host of uncomfortable memories to the man who once represented C. P. Drake. He sat with an empty bottle of beer clutched in his hand, his head slowly lowering as he fell in to a light sleep.

He awakened slightly when the spirit of Marley wailed, and checked out the sounds from the screen before slowly falling asleep once more when the movie became quieter and settled in to quieter dialogue.

Phil gained consciousness. His cell was ringing on the arm of the chair beside him. It initially sounded miles away as he roused from the sleep he had fallen in to. He reached out and picked up the Blackberry, yawning as he did so, and answered the call without looking at the ID.

“Yeah?” he asked, waking himself up as he answered. There was no answer from the other end. “Hello?” Phil asked again. “Merry Christmas?” Still there was no answer. The line remained muted. “Idiot,” he said, about to cut the connection.

“Phil?” a feeble voice echoed from the other end of the line.

Phil jumped up. “Cameron?” he shouted. Akando looked up as Phil lurched across the lounge.

“Yes, It’s me,” he whispered.

“Holy shit, Cam? What the hell happened? Where the hell did you get to? Where the hell are you? Shit! Shit!”

“It’s okay, Phil. I’m okay. I’m back at home.”

“What? England?”

“No. I’m on the island. I’m on Mysteria.”

“Shit, Cam, we’ve been over there a thousand times and more and never seen anyone. We searched for you high and low. We had the local law, the FBI, even Uncle Sam on that damned island looking for you. What happened?”

Cameron laughed wearily. “I got your next book researched down to a tee.”

Epilogue

The period between Christmas and New Year was often regarded to members of the paranormal community as a time of the year when activity was rife. It stood second only to Halloween, but lasted much, much longer.

Upon Mysteria one single light emerged throughout the darkness. Within the port, one single light emerged from a window, signaling the only sign of life that the island had witnessed since the vanishings that had occurred a few months ago now during the month of October.

The skeleton of the police Suburban still stood in the middle of the road where it had been struck by the lightning Cameron had summoned. It had been investigated by forensics who found nothing more than what they already knew. The sheriff’s office was dusted thoroughly, as were the buildings in which the residents of the island all lived. There was nothing there to report. Not even the greatest mind within the FBI could piece together what really had happened across the waves on Mysteria.

The strangest evidence they found was the vast amount of saltwater flooding through Cameron’s home when they investigated there, and also the St John’s of Wort that appeared abundantly throughout the building. The only thing that really confused the investigators was how so much sea water could make it this far inland and what it was doing flooding through the building there.

The Liberty that Cameron had left running on his driveway had all but died. The fuel had been consumed within the vehicle and the battery had drained from the light which had remained on whilst the driver’s door had stood open and neglected.

The nerds in HQ back across the ocean on the mainland had researched the flowers scattered throughout Cameron’s home, and came to the correct conclusion that it was placed in front of the house’s openings to stop spirits from entering, but there was no concrete evidence of what exactly had happened there. No agency in America would accept the strange incident on the island would have been caused by ghosts, and until it could be proved otherwise the case remained open.

The fishing community of course became superstitious of Mysteria once again and avoided the island at all costs. The ferry stopped running between the mainland and the island as no one was now prepared to travel there anymore.

Once or twice groups of paranormal investigators had crossed the waters to investigate the buildings and the legends there, but they had to hire or use boats of their own, as none of the local community from Harber or anywhere else dared to travel within touching distance of the cursed, haunted island, not even Will, the fisherman who had served Cameron and Phil so well on their travels. No amount of money would tempt the salty sea dog to return there again, and he had no intention of doing so. His Offshore now remained firmly on hire for fishing, and nothing more.

Nothing had happened to the paranormal investigators who had investigated Mysteria, and they had little evidence to provide to the scientific world that would prove the existence of ghosts and spirits once and for all. Even though the spirits walked sparingly upon the island they chose not to reveal themselves to the visitors. They glided between the worlds with no consideration for the new groups of living now investigating the isolated island. Their gateways were quickly becoming weaker as their energies drained, and soon the only phantoms haunting the island would be those who become trapped after the vortexes vanished, unable to stabilize and allow the spirits to pass between the voids. Their only chance to return to the other side will be to wait once more, for however long it takes, until a new gateway materializes and allows them to then pass back to the limbo of the other side they once knew.

The authorities found nothing which could lead to any kind of conviction for the events upon Mysteria. Their beliefs and theories pointed to the misdemeanors of one Cameron Drake, and mainly swayed to the belief that he felt so threatened by evil spirits and ghosts whilst on his own on the island that he research old Wiccan spells and follow through with their advice.

The authorities didn’t believe he’d caused any harm out there during his time on Mysteria, and believed that his strange beliefs and events were simply the actions of an eccentric fictional writer probably looking for some inspiration. If he had it in his mind that he was being haunted, they reasonably believed that he would do anything he could to protect himself from any threat that these so-called spirits or ghosts may seemingly possess. There was nothing that pointed to him being the cause of the vanishings, and so he was removed from the suspect list.

Phil, Cassie and Robert decided not to explain to the world about the strange event’s they had witnessed, and the spirits they’d encountered that were haunting the island during that strange and stormy night upon Mysteria. Had they started explaining what had really happen out there to the authorities then the focus of any investigations could fall firmly upon themselves. Nothing would make them look guiltier than being unable to explain their actions whilst they were occupying the island, and then blaming it on spirits or supernatural forces which to the scientific community did not exist.

For a while they were considered suspects, and rumors were bound that they committed an atrocity of murders on the secluded island, but as the investigations continued it quickly emerged that they had nothing to do with the disappearances and just sailed to the mainland out of concerns from the storm.

As soon as Phil had received the telephone call from Cameron he’d contacted Cassie and Robert. They knew nothing of the fate of the others, but they had held out hope that everyone was still there and still alive, Robert more so than anyone else, as his bride to be had been one of the residents who had vanished. He knew nothing of her fate which Cameron had witnessed, and felt overwhelmingly optimistic when Phil had reported Cameron’s contact.

The three of them had met on the evening of that Christmas day and decided that they would journey back to the island to find him. They knew though that they couldn’t do it alone with the danger that the spirits there possessed, and decided that the first thing they needed to do was to find someone who knew how to protect them from any supernatural harm and also who could contact the spirit world. They needed a psychic to help them on their new quest and Robert suggested using a witch to protect them during their time there. They knew nothing about contacting any of these people or where to even begin looking to find them. The internet was a wonderful creation, though, and soon they would find the people they needed to help them on their return to visit to Mysteria.

***

All of the paranormal investigators flooding the Sci-Fi and Travel channels expressed an interest in investigating Mysteria. Destination Truth, Ghost Adventures, Ghost Hunters and Fact or Faked strongly considered investigating the small island off the west coast of Oregon.

In an official report released by authorities there was nothing on the island that pointed to anything other than the residents leaving of their own accord. Mysteria became open to the public once more but nobody returned there.

Fishermen were a superstitious lot, and none of the coastal residents of the mainland would ever consider heading across the choppy waves to the now legendary island.

Mysteria would continue to provide many strange and intriguing stories for the world to investigate. It would provide many stories that would become great talking points across the paranormal forums.

C.P. Drake’s story was just one of them.