Chapter 5
Valli
As I stare at the hoodie, I keep telling myself I need to take it back. She was so nice letting me use it, and now someone has returned my bag with everything inside. Surely it would be okay to thank them. I have no proof it was them who returned my bag, but who else could it have been?
Screw it. I grab the hoodie and head out to my car. After a Google search, I’ve learned more about Fear Island, and I’m not sure how I didn’t know about it before.
The drive is peaceful, and when I reach my destination, I slow down.
It looks a lot different in daylight; the bridge is not so foreboding when I’m clearheaded and not being chased over it by some crazy man who kidnapped me. The gates are open this time, and I drive right through and park my car. People seem to be leaving, and I only hope the place isn’t closing.
A man stops me at the next gate. “Miss, we are about to shut for the day.”
“Oh, I’m here to see Kayla and return her hoodie.”
He pulls up his radio. “Kayla, there is someone at the gate to see you.”
Kayla’s voice comes back through the radio. “Thanks, Khodi. Send them through to the bar.”
Khodi smiles at me. “Follow the path, and the bar is on the right.”
I nod as he lets me through, and I follow the path. I see a gift shop and so many other things I wish I could stop and explore, but when I see the sign for Ares Bar, I push through the swinging doors.
Kayla is behind the bar, and there’s a man is sitting on the bar top with his legs crossed. She is handfeeding him what looks like chicken nuggets.
“Valli,” she calls out, dusting off her hands. “It’s nice to see you again.”
The man on the bar swivels his head so fast, I’m surprised it stays attached to his neck.
He tilts his head and runs his eyes over me and grins, then he quickly slides off the bar, almost taking a glass down with him.
Kayla reaches out and grabs the glass before it can fall to the floor. He stops a few feet away from me.
“You’re her, the one Cave didn’t kill!” he exclaims.
I open my mouth to answer, but he keeps talking.
“I’m Vero. Kayla talks about me constantly.
She is a little obsessed, but I can’t blame her, so you probably already know who I am.
Did you know, Cave has never helped anyone before now without them owing him?
I owe him, but that’s a whole different story.
I’m not even sure he will collect—he doesn’t like me much.
You must be special, and I will figure out why,” he says as he points a finger at me.
“That’s not even the point. When Kayla helped you, Clay and Brawley were so mad, but they are dramatic when it comes to her safety.
Not that you look like a threat to her, so I will tell them you’re all good.
But Kayla owed Cave a favor. That’s what happens if you answer one of his riddles, in exchange for not being chased. ”
Kayla coughs, and Vero glances back at her with a grin.
“I’m very glad you’re not dead,” he adds. “Do you want a chicken nugget? I have three left.”
“Vero, go annoy Brawley for a while, please,” Kayla tells him.
“Okay,” he says. “I will see you later, Valli. Don’t be a stranger—we like visitors here.”
Vero moves past me and out the door.
“Sorry about him,” Kayla says. “He is like an excitable puppy when he meets new people.”
I walk across the room and place her hoodie on the bar. “He seems nice.”
Kayla straightens her back, shooting a glare at me, and I laugh. “Not so nice that I’m interested in him or anything.”
Kayla grimaces. “Sorry, they’ve rubbed off on me. I wondered if you would show up here again.”
“I wanted to get your hoodie back to you and to say thank you for the other night.”
She waves a hand at me. “No need to thank me.” Then she comes around the bar and takes a seat beside me. “How’s your face?”
“Getting better.”
My fuck stain of a boss ordered me not to come back until my face is presentable again. Thankfully, the swelling has gone down, and though the color is still a yellowish green, it’s easier to cover now. I told my boss I walked into a door, but I don’t think he believed me.
“Are you hungry?” Kayla asks.
I hesitate, because although I’m starving, I can’t afford to eat out. I can barely afford to eat in right now. She must see my expression.
“I was just about to make myself a chicken wrap. It’s no bother making a second, on the house.”
“I would like that, thanks.”
“Rue,” she calls out. “Can I get two chicken wraps, pretty please?”
Kayla jumps up and heads back around the bar, holding up a mug. “Do you drink coffee?”
I nod, and she places two mugs under the machine. By the time she is done, two chicken wraps appear in a little window from the kitchen. She places mine down in front of me and comes back around the bar to sit beside me with hers.
“I also wanted to say thank you for returning my bag.”
She frowns. “I didn’t return your bag. It may have been Cave, not that he ever leaves the island.”
“Okay, well, whoever it was, I appreciate it.”
We both eat and make small talk. She tells me about her men, which blows my mind. Four boyfriends. I don’t like people enough—and when I say people I mean men—to even date one.
“Would you like a tour?” she asks me once we’re done.
I nod. It’s not like I have anything better to do.
Kayla yells out to someone that she will be back.
A blonde man pops his head out and tells her to keep her phone on, and she flips him off and snaps about it being impossible to be kidnapped twice.
I hope she’s right; I have been looking over my shoulder for days, waiting for someone to realize I was the last to see the dick who kidnapped me alive.
Yet what are the chances of meeting someone else who has also been kidnapped?
Kayla explains as she walks that Fear Island is Halloween-themed all year round.
Weekends are the busiest time, and the side shows are still full of people finishing up their games.
Children run past us, chased by a man in a wolf mask that looks very real.
He waves at Kayla as the kids scream and race away with the wolf hot on their heels.
“That’s Memphis. During the day he is completely harmless.”
“And at night?”
She chuckles. “Still harmless, but let’s just say he enjoys his job a lot.”
Kayla cuts down a side path between what she says are the haunted mazes, leading to a circus tent. She takes me inside, to where kids sit in the stands and a man blows fire from his mouth high into the air. She tells me his name is Halston—his mask is freaky, like a devil mask but not.
When I say as much, she tells me that Banks makes a lot of their masks. Then she mentions something about never taking the face cream if he offers it, and that his special ingredient is not all that special to anyone except him. Whatever that means.
We end up at the cemetery. “And this is Noa’s domain,” Kayla explains.
A sound comes from our left, and Kayla follows it. We walk past a few headstones, and I wonder if real people are buried here. We find a guy who must be Noa, waist deep in a hole. He peers up at us, looking rather like a zombie.
“Valli!” he says excitedly. “You came back! I knew you would.” He turns to Kayla. “I knew she would. I didn’t tell anyone, but I could feel it.”
Kayla laughs. “You told me.”
“In confidence, so it doesn’t count.” He points the tip of his shovel at her.
“I thought you would keep it between us.” He looks back over at me.
“How do you feel now? Kayla said that you were beat up pretty badly. It looks much better—still a bit of a mess honestly—but hey, you have survivor energy.”
“Thanks, I think,” I mutter uncertainly.
“Noa, the woman has never met you before, and you’ve just told her she looks like shit,” Kayla chides with a laugh.
“No, I didn’t—it was a compliment,” he blurts, looking at me again. “Do you want to help me dig a hole? I have a spare shovel.”
I glance at Kayla for help, but she is answering an incoming call, and I watch as her face drops.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“It’s Vero,” she says, before tuning back in to her call. “How did that even happen? No, don’t pull that—it will make it worse. Shit. Okay, I’m coming. Do not do anything until I get there.”
I try not to laugh as Kayla tilts the screen toward me, which shows Vero’s tongue stuck to something that looks suspiciously like the inside of a freezer.
She ends the call with a huff. “Can you believe this is the third time he has done that? I have to go, but Noa will look after you. He can walk you back to the main gates, and I promise he is safe.”
I nod as she runs away.
“I am safe,” Noa says, still standing in the hole. He holds out the spare shovel, and I think, What the hell? Might as well dig a grave.
Digging is meditative in a way. Noa and I fall into a rhythm, and it’s actually nice. He hums for a bit and then starts to talk.
“This one’s not real, it’s a prop, most of them are, and I like to dig. Yet at night . . .” He pauses and looks at me wide-eyed. “Actually, I can’t say what they’re used for at night. We have NDAs, and it’s complicated. Let’s just say it becomes a little more interactive.”
“That sounds secretive.”
“It is, and I respect it, but it limits my desire to tell you everything. It’s probably why they have them, as some of us like to talk a lot. Well, mainly me and Vero.”
I laugh. “Can you tell me anything about how the island works at night? Or is all of it a secret?”
He rubs his chin, smudging his makeup. “I can tell you it’s invitation only, for adults, and there are rules you need to follow.”
“What kind of rules?”
“We can’t kill anyone—the performers, that is. Out of context that sounds weird, but it keeps the guests safe.”
“Are you one of the performers?” My voice drops as I ask.
“Mostly during the day. I’m also the groundskeeper and do general maintenance if Cipher is busy, and I’m the resident weirdo who talks to the headstones at night. Let’s say I suit the environment.”
“I believe that,” I reply, and he looks pleased. “How long have you been here?”
“Four years. I came to build the cemetery and never left. It happens to many of us who come here. There is a gravitational pull, and when you feel it, you stay.”
“Four years is a long time,” I say while digging.
“Not here it isn’t. Time seems to move differently.”
I never thought in a million years I would enjoy digging a hole for no reason. There is something almost peaceful about it. “You said it happens to lots of people, them staying.”
“Mmhm.” He resumes digging. “They come for a job, a visit, or even because they are running from something. Then they look up one day and realize they have stopped running.”
“What were you running from?”
He smiles at the dirt before looking up at me. “Who said I was running?”
I smirk back at him. “You said some are running, so I took a stab in the dark.”
“I came to build a cemetery—the running was an optional extra.”
My laughter surprises me, and I cannot remember how long it’s been since I genuinely let go like this.
It’s almost completely dark by the time Noa declares the hole deep enough and climbs out, brushing the dirt from his pants.
“Not a bad first attempt,” he says, surveying the side I was digging while holding out his hand. I hand him the shovel first, which he takes and sets aside, then helps me out of the grave. “Come on, I’ll walk you back before they do the security checks.”
We fall into step together as we wander through the cemetery. Up close, the headstones are detailed, with names, dates, and little epitaphs. It looks like someone has put real thought into them. I stop and read one.
Here lies the courage it took to leave.
“Did you write these?”
“Some of them, but that one is Kayla’s. Cave even made one.” I glance up at the mention of his name. “He came out here early one morning about a year ago with a chisel. It says, ‘Here lies the last person who tried.’”
He points to the headstone, and I stare at it for a moment. “What does it mean?” I finally ask.
“No idea. I have learned not to ask Cave to explain himself. If he even tries, it will be a riddle, and sometimes that’s worse than not knowing.”
I think about what Vero said earlier—that Cave has never helped anyone before without a reason. Yet someone returned my bag, and he also stopped me from being murdered. “Does he often do things and not tell people why?”
“Cave only does things for a reason. Whether he explains it is another thing.”
The path through the grounds is lit up with fairy lights, and I can hear faint music ahead. A few staff members pass us as we walk, waving at Noa and eyeing me skeptically. Noa waves back and greets them all by name.
“What happens when you leave?” I ask curiously.
He looks at me sideways. “What do you mean?”
“The gravitational pull.”
He thinks about the question for a moment before answering. “I went to see my mom eight months ago. I stayed for three days before I was in the hearse and coming back. She cried, which was not ideal, but this is my home and I like it here. She admitted that at least I was happy.”
“Are you?”
“Deliriously,” he says with a smile. “I talk to headstones for a living, dig holes, and scare people. I have never once woken up and not wanted to be here. What about you?”
“I’m happy to be here tonight,” I answer, avoiding the real question.
He smiles and doesn’t push. When we reach the gates, he stops and turns to face me. “Come back, Valli. There is always a spare shovel.”
Looking out at the bridge, at the lights on the mainland, I think about the life I’m about to return to. I have a boss with an attitude problem and a house that is falling apart. Then I glance back over my shoulder at Noa, who has dirt on his cheeks and his shovel in his hand. “Okay.”
He grins. “Good, the headstones look forward to meeting you.”
I laugh as I walk back to my car. What a weird yet interesting man.