Chapter 4 – Chap 4

We didn’t bother calling Sheriff Redhill. Wherever Annie and Presley went is just another part of the puzzle. It’s a larger mystery that someone like Redhill certainly can’t solve, or knowingly won’t. The only person on this island who will be able to figure anything out, to come to any sort of conclusion, is me. I am certain of this. When it will happen though- that I can’t exactly say.

We shut the door to Annie’s house and Eric walks me back to the Wilhelm. We crawl into bed and he holds me tight. I forgot how wonderfully blissful intimacy- of any kind- truly is. It’s warm and familiar. If it had a color it would be pink- not bubblegum or some childish, infantilized hue- no, it would be deep, and calming, and rich; the shade of a sunset when it’s at its prime. The perfect, eternal moment between day and night. I linger in the colorful embrace and fall back to sleep. Annie and Presley; Where did you go?

—

Eric; Where did you go?

That’s my first thought when I wake the next morning. Sunlight has appeared but my lover has vanished. I walk to the desk by the window. There’s a note:

“Keep going. – E ”

I should have seen this coming. Eric’s part in all of this. I let out a cynical chuckle. It should have been obvious. He has been by my side this entire time. Every moment, every knot in the rope, he’s been there, being a shepherd; A Machiavellian rabbit leading me further down the hole. This isn’t Wonderland though. In Wonderland there’s awe. Here there’s just more anxiety, anticipation, and questions.

I crumple the letter and get dressed. I re-lace my boots; the strings lay on the floor still mangled from Eric’s game last night. I throw on my jacket and head out the door. I’ll do exactly as Eric says. I’ll keep going. I go down to the front desk and ask if the manager knows a Karina Zosimos. He does. Of course he does. I’m a bullet train right on track. Brace yourself Karina. You’re my next stop.

—

I get directions and head out. Karina’s home is on the opposite end of the island. The manager offers me his bike, but I insist on walking. I will take my time. I will go at my own pace. This island, these people, may be shepherding me somewhere, but I will do it on my own terms.

After a few hours and various scrambled trains of thought later, I finally reach the end of the island. Karina’s home is a small seaside cottage. But whereas Annie’s home was quaint, the vibe of the residence before me cannot fit into that term or any synonym of it. The place frigid. It’s sparse. It’s ferociously uninviting. The sign out front in red paint that reads “NO TRESSPASSERS!!” proves just as much.

I’m tired from my walk, but I do what Tam says: fall. I do what Eric says: keep going. I do what I’m supposed to do: bullet train. I knock on the door.

STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!

A woman’s surly voice from behind the oak door answers-

VOICE: What?

HARITA: Hi, there. Hello?

VOICE: Yeah?

HARITA: Hi, I’m looking for a Karina. I had a few questions I was hoping to ask.

VOICE: You saw the sign, right?

HARITA: I did- It’s a little difficult to explain though… through a door- I would really appreciate if we could talk face to face if that’s a possibility? Are you Karina…?

There’s a silence. I think my unamused gatekeeper may have gotten fed up with me.

CLINK! The bolt begins to turn and the door unlocks. I haven’t lost her yet… Karina, my age, perhaps a bit younger, clad in all black and an abrasive scowl, answers the door. A cigarette pokes out of the corner of her mouth.

KARINA: Who are you? I haven’t seen you on the island before.

HARITA: I’m Harita-

KARINA: You a tourist?

HARITA: No.

KARINA: Then why are you here?

HARITA: I’m looking for someone. My husband. You may have seen the fliers around town?

KARINA: I haven’t.

Her annoyed disposition and glowering air of irk is so pungent that I begin to wonder if this woman is the only person here who doesn’t have an ulterior motive for me. Her disdain is confusing, but a pleasant change of pace. I fish inside my pocket and pull out a flier. Karina examines, she thinks about how to respond…

KARINA: Never seen him before.

She’s lying.

HARITA: I know he came here. I spoke with Annie.

KARINA: No idea who that is either.

Why is she being so difficult?

HARITA: Please, I’ve been searching all over Aleister.

KARINA: Ask the Sheriff then.

HARITA: He hasn’t been very much help unfortunately.

KARINA: Sounds like Redhill. When you elect an official by drawing names out of a hat, you get what you get.

I try to refocus her sarcasm. I try to take the plead out of my voice.

HARITA: My husband. His name is Tam.

KARINA: Odd name.

HARITA: It’s a family one.

KARINA: Doesn’t make it un-odd.

HARITA: Could I come inside?

KARINA: No.

HARITA: OK, well then-

KARINA: Look I never said I was going to help you.

HARITA: Then why did you answer the door?

She scans me over and purses her lips.

KARINA: Curiosity… but I’m bored now. I have work to do, goodbye.

Karina slams the door.

For the first time since I arrived on this island, I have hit an actual roadblock; a literal door in my face. I begin to walk back to The Wilhelm. I will need to reroute and re-plan. Where to next? Who should I speak with? Without Eric’s guidance I feel adrift at sea; Aimless and wandering. I give into the weight of all my questions. I begin to lose hope. Suddenly a gust of wind shakes the island and with it, the Lullaby sirens over it as well.

It grows louder and clearer. I get goosebumps. It’s never been this loud before. The sound begins to take shape. It is no longer noise though. As I walk and listen, I begin to discern that there’s notes. A pattern. A sequence. A purpose.

It hits me like a ton of bricks; I don’t need Eric’s supervision. All I ever had to do was listen to the Lullaby; Whatever this strange anomaly is, that is what has truly been steering me this entire time. It’s a current. Not one in the wind or sea, but instead it’s woven into the ether and tied to my bones with some omnipotent string. I stand still and try to attune my ears to its growing euphoria. Its regular surface beauty bathes my senses at first, but then it transitions to something else. Something deeper. I hear words-

THE LULLABY: Turn around.

And it’s gone.

I jolt back to reality.

Karina putting up a fight isn’t a roadblock; it’s a hurdle and the Lullaby is an antsy coach on the sidelines whispering superstitious enchantments and prayers as I sprint towards the finish line.

I turn around and head back to the withered shack. I open Karina’s front door. I walk inside.

—

KARINA: What the hell?!

HARITA: You gave my husband a tattoo.

KARINA: I give lots of people tattoos.

HARITA: There can’t be more than one, two hundred people on this island. You remember him.

KARINA: I don’t.

I stand my ground.

KARINA: Are you looking for a fight? I said: Get. Out.

I am terrified of Karina. I would see types like her smoke outside of seedy bars in Camden all the time. She’s a woman who is not afraid to spar, to bleed. She could easily sink her teeth into my neck, latch onto me, and shake me from east to west like a Pitbull, but I stand firm. All hurdles can be overcome. Somehow.

KARINA: I’m done playing-

She approaches me with a balled fist. Fuck! My heart jolts. I look to the table by her side. There’s a tattoo gun. I shout:

HARITA: Give me one!

KARINA: What?

HARITA: A tattoo. I want one…

She looks at my smooth, untouched skin. She thinks I’m not the type. She’s correct. I most definitely am not.

KARINA: Information. Some ink. You want a lot of things, don’t you?

HARITA: I can pay you.

I reach in my pocket for my wallet. Monetary needs have been the farthest thing from my mind recently that I’m not sure if I even actually have any sort of method of payment. I feel the wallet’s smooth leather. Thank god. I look inside and pull out a few crinkled fifty dollar notes.

HARITA: Do you take cash?

She snatches the bills from my hand like a viper.

KARINA: That’s all I take.

She counts and pockets it with economic efficiency.

KARINA: Sit.

She nods to the chair next to the tattoo gun.

I sit and examine her workspace. The walls are covered in half-finished renderings and drawings of everything from busty women clad in leather to a geisha holding a lotus to baby deer grazing in a meadow. For someone so moody and apathetic her work is quite vibrant.

My arm is gripped and pulled by Karina’s latex covered hands. I wince.

KARINA: Roll up your sleeve.

I do as I’m instructed. She wipes down my arm, readies her gun, and chooses a color pallet.

All my girlfriends at university would get little doves or winding flowers on their ankles after a fun night out or when they wanted to piss off their parents, but I was always averted to markings, of any kind, for some reason. As soon as Karina presses the metal tip against my skin and begins to etch, I soon know why. I shed a tear.

KARINA: Jesus.

She rolls her eyes.

HARITA: Sorry.

I quickly wipe it away and resituate myself. I stare at the small fire growling in the hearth at the corner of the room. I stare at the flames, breathe deep, and grind my teeth with each swipe of the gun.

HARITA: You never asked me what I wanted.

KARINA: You interrupted my sketching session. You’ll get what you get.

I try not to further annoy her, and I let her do her thing.

—

After some prolonged silence, once Karina has fallen into a creative lull and I have managed to muster some tolerance for the pain, I decide to begin my questioning.

HARITA: So, you really don’t remember my husband?

KARINA: That’s what I said.

She won’t budge. I try to beat around the bush. That’ll probably get me further from my desired answers, but I give it a shot.

HARITA: How long have you lived in Aleister?

She’s looks up at me skeptically but relents.

KARINA: Not too long. Five, maybe six years.

HARITA: And what brought you here?

KARINA: I needed a change of pace.

She wipes a drop of concentration sweat from her temple with the back of her wrist.

HARITA: I can understand that. It’s so quiet here. So peaceful. It’s like no one has a care in the world.

Karina scoffs. A clue of some sort. I catch her briefly scolding herself. She realigns.

HARITA: What?

KARINA: …Everyone here has nothing but “cares.” It’s what fuels this place.

HARITA: What do you mean?

She changes colors.

KARINA: There were people here. Before us, before the settlers. There was a tribe on this island- not a specific tribe; a piecemeal one. A blend of different people. Different communities: Pennacook, Wampanoag, Nipmuck, Pequot, Tunxis- they came from all over… They had a name for this place. They called it the “Teardrop.”

HARITA: Why did they call it that?

KARINA: This land was special for them. It was holy.

HARITA: How so?

Another change of color.

KARINA: When someone experienced loss, or was overcome with sadness, not just any kind but a kind that couldn’t be consoled, the tribe would exile them here.

HARITA: Exiled for feeling?

KARINA: It wasn’t a punishment.

HARITA: Then what was the purpose for coming here?

KARINA: To grieve. To place your heart into a higher power and hope to move on… The settlers, of course, did what all colonizing bastards do; Desecrated the land, changed the name, enslaved the natives. They tried to take the purpose away from this place.

HARITA: But?

KARINA: You just can’t. This town… It’s still filled with people like those natives. People who have lost something, and in turn become lost. They come here for solace. Always will.

HARITA: Solace from who exactly, Karina?

Karina mulls over how to answer the question, but instead of providing any more info she just says-

KARINA: Almost done.

Solace. Is that why Tam came here? Is that why he brought me here? To grieve? To be alleviated? Tam may be able to reach such a place, but myself… I can’t. I am beyond that point. I realized that I was many months ago, and the bathtub was just me finally getting the courage to understand that solace is not ever a sensation I will be able to experience or accept in this world. My family is gone. My son is gone. If Tam brought me here to try and mend myself, somehow; all of this is in absolute vain.

KARINA: There. Finished.

I get up and walk to the mirror at the other end of the room and examine my arm. More strange markings. On brand with the island. A word?

HARITA: What does it mean?

KARINA: “Ascension.”

She almost mocks me with the word. As if it’s beneath me or I’m unworthy of it and her imprint of it against my flesh is meant to solidify the fact that I could never live up to such a phrase.

I run my finger across my newly inked skin. I can feel the inflamed area; Raised and scrubbed raw. I can almost feel the cells in my skin latching onto the molecules in the dye. Binding together to create something new. Something solidified and beautiful. It’s hot to the touch.

As I look into the mirror at my new ink something in the reflection makes me jump. Karina startles at my motion and drops the gun to the floor, piercing her leg as it falls.

KARINA: FUCK!

HARITA: I’m so sorry-

I try to keel down to attend to her leg, but she practically kicks me back.

KARINA: I’m fine! Christ! Just- stay here!

She bolts towards the bathroom and slams the door. As I hear Karina begin to run the faucet and tend to her wound, I turn to face the image at my back that gave me such a shock…

On the wall, right behind where I was just sitting, is a painting, a landscape of a beach. At its center, hovering over the water, is an enormous oversized orb. At first, I think it’s just a formation of clouds, voluminous and whimsical, but the shape is more than that. It carries dimension and weight. At the base of the sphere, all along the beach, tiny figures, supposedly humans, gaze up at the figure with their arms outstretched. I know this scene. I think back to the mystery door at Nan’s home, the tiny locked Door to Nowhere in the middle of her living room. It’s the exact same image. I approach the painting and put a hand to it. The texture of the streaks and globs of hardened paint almost feels like brail. I rub my hand across the image and try to sense some sort of unseen language. What exactly does this spectacle depict?

KARINA: Don’t touch that!

I immediately remove my hands. Karina has silently crept back into the room, a fresh bandage on her leg.

HARITA: I didn’t mean to-

She begins spitting vitriol at me like a dragon.

KARINA: Right, you’re just so unaware and innocent and perfect, aren’t you? Just the ideal “Mother.”

That word. She knows.

HARITA: Why did you say that?

She has made a mistake. She begins to sweat.

KARINA: It doesn’t matter. We’re done her.

HARITA: Why does everyone keep calling me that Karina? What does it mean?

KARINA: I said I want you to leave.

HARITA: Karina I am not going anywhere until I figure out what is going on? Why am I here?! Where the hell is my husband?!

Karina gives me a look that rattles me to my core. It pierces my skin, like her gun, and flays me out, exposing every muscle and nerve ending in my body. Her glance is painful. I’ve never felt so awful. This woman, who I have never met before, ever in my life, absolutely hates me.

KARINA: I don’t know what he sees in you… What any of them see in you. Why you? Huh? Why not me?

She walks to her desk and pulls out an envelope. My name is written on the front. It’s Tam’s handwriting.

KARINA: “Anoint her. Bless her. Prepare her.” Ritualistic bullshit.

She tosses the letter into the fireplace.

HARITA: No!

I lunge for the flames, but before I can recover it, I’m yanked from behind.

I elbow Karina in the ribs, and snatch the letter from the embers slowly devouring it. It’s no use though. As I pull the paper from the flames, I realize that it has been damaged beyond repair. Tam’s message for me has turned to ash.

I catch Karina’s shocked visage as she gets to her feet. I have defied her orders. Instead of recognizing a formidable adversary though, this enraged animal only sees prey. She grabs a large needle from her workstation and approaches me slowly.

KARINA: I was ready… I really was.

HARITA: Karina, stop-

KARINA: I wanted it to be ME!

HARITA: Please-

KARINA: But your husband… No. “It had to be you.” I was ready to give myself to Her! I was ready to finally be with Her!

HARITA: Who is she, Karina? What is she?

Karina grips the needle in her hand. I can see her muscles twitching, aching to act. I’m going to have to fight for my life.

KARINA: It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to do what they want anymore. There is no way in hell that I will let you take this away from me!

Karina raises the elongated needle and brings it down fast at me. I manage to get to my feet and scurry to the door. She makes another swipe and misses again. I manage to grab her fist and guide the needle into her foot.

She lets out a scream as I practically wrench the handle off the door. I throw it open and dash into the forest.

—

I run. I heave. I have a bit of a head start as I make my way through trees and mounds of brush, but Karina’s blind rage carries her like lightning. I’m a mere mortal in comparison to her seemingly other earthly stamina. She calls out to me from a few yards behind.

KARINA: Get back here!

I sprint. I tire.

—

I come to a small creek and try to catch my breath. I don’t know much longer I can keep going. It’s at least another forty-five minutes to town and Karina will certainly catch up to me by then.

I can hear the snap of twigs as my hunter gets closer, but I’m not ready to continue. I do what all prey with no other option does. I hide.

I find a large overturned tree and nestle myself behind a curtain of roots. It’s a shitty hiding spot, but my body is spent. This is all I have. I cover my mouth and try to merge into the Earth.

Footsteps. She’s here…

Karina kneels at the creek and takes a breather as well. As she exhales though I see something that I didn’t think this beast of a woman was capable of, tears. She is crying. Silently and voluminously. I try to imagine her pain. What has brought about these alligator drops? I have taken something from her. Something she wanted badly and something that she is willing to kill to take back. I begin to feel sorry for her-

SNAP!

A petrified root I’m resting my arm against breaks in two. Karina looks directly to where I’m hiding and my budding empathy has been replaced with primal vigilance. Karina stands and begins inching towards me.

KARINA: You know, you remind me a lot of myself when I first came here. Lost. Scared. So many emotions. I didn’t even have names for most of them…

I can see the glint of the needle in her hand.

KARINA: But then I found Her and it was like everything finally made sense again. She gave me order. She gave me comfort.

I can see her bandaged leg dragging towards me on the ground. She has bled out a lot in her pursuit. She is going to make me bleed even more.

KARINA: I love Her. You know that? I really do. And you… you don’t even know how beautiful all of it really is.

She bends down and peers into my hovel.

KARINA: Hi.

She gives me a somber half-smile.

KARINA: It’ll be quick. I promise.

I try to steady my heart, but it’s no use. I am a mess. I am completely frantic. My body shakes. I feel foolish. I thought I didn’t fear death. I thought it was nothing for me. I was arrogant. I was wrong. I stare up at Karina as the timid rabbit I have become. I want to live.

A gust of wind. The Lullaby sirens to me:

THE LULLABY: Left.

Without thinking I throw my body to the left as Karina’s spears her needle into my right shoulder. I cry out in pain as Karina cries out in rage. A gust of wind again:

THE LULLABY: Fight.

Instead of letting Karina retract her weapon and go for the kill, I clutch her arm and hold the piece of steel tight within my body. I bring up my knee and kick her in her sternum with all my might. Nothing. I do it again. I hear a crack this time. She falls to the ground and writhes. I straddle her torso and dislodge the needle from my shoulder. I raise it high and bring it down swiftly.

—

I crawl to the edge of the creek and lay there trying to listen to the sound of the world around me, but nature is taking a moment to grieve. A life has been taken and the Universe honors the act with silence. The wind through the trees has ceased, gulls can no longer be heard cawing in the distance, even the babbling brook to my side has been reduced to less than a whisper. I listen for the Lullaby. I want to hear its voice. I want it to calm me, to soothe my guilt, to tell me what to do next, but it too seems to have retreated to somewhere beyond the horizon.

As night falls, I still haven’t left my spot next to the creek. I will lay hear until I hear its voice again. Until I hear Her voice. It’s dark. If it weren’t for the sliver of moon directly above me, I would be swallowed by blackness. I lay. I wait. Speak to me. Say something… please.