Haley Thistle
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The Veils Island: Part One (rough draft)
🕑 Added 2022-04-16 20:01:00 +0000 UTCMy father kept a gun under the bed in a big, turquoise blue lock box. The key for it stayed in the space between the fridge and the cabinets where we could fit our hands but no one could see it. The lock box you could always see from under the bed. The glossy turquoise paint had a faint shimmer to it and would catch the light. I could walk by my parents’ bedroom and see that big red box under the bed. I was always afraid of it, although I never saw it open.
“Go to the store for me.” My mother gave my brother and me some money and a shopping list. “Stay there for a little bit. I’m sorry.” She stood in the kitchen doorway as we came home from school, a look of panic on her face. Behind her I saw the big turquoise box sitting open on the kitchen table. I could hear my father yelling from further inside the house.
My father changed after that day, nor have I seen him since I left for college. I try not to think about home, but as we approached the island, my mind wandered to that turquoise safe that had been the Pandora’s Box of my childhood. Jutting from the rocky shore and bleeding from the dark grey sky, was another turquoise box.
“How are you not terrified, John?” I turned to the voice of my producer, Tara, who was sitting behind me. She had kept quiet most of the trip here, which I took as sea sickness.
“Why are you asking me this now?” I asked.
Tara stood and looked out over the ocean rather than the island we were heading towards. Her eyes were focused and peering as far as they possibly could into the endless horizon. She stretched out her arm and pointed. “I grew up in Oklahoma. I’m used to looking out and seeing miles and miles into the distance. The ocean is like that on all sides, and even below.” She lowered her arm and a stricken look painted her face. “Seeing that island ahead of us and knowing what’s waiting for us there is like the tornado that tore down my home.”
I wasn’t sure what point she was trying to drive home, but I knew I had to placate her somehow. “I’m not as terrified as I am concerned.”
“This is a big deal, John.” Tara sounded close to heaving. “This is an island of revolutionaries and-”
“Don’t.” I gave her that look and she stopped. “Don’t say what you were going to say. Don’t call them that.” I was a bit disappointed in her. “After all the work we’ve done together on the topic, can’t you even understand them just a little?”
“They’re not human,” she breathed.
It wasn’t fear that made my chest tighten, it was morbid curiosity. I never, ever, wanted to open that box under the bed, but I always wondered what would make it open. This island was the same. The building upon it was like that lock box, the fact it was almost the same color was unnerving.
I shook my head. “Maybe not, but they deserve to be heard. And if they are a danger, then people will finally know.” I fidgeted with the pin on my lapel and looked back at the island.
I had been invited here to take an interview. I wasn’t sure of the intent, but I felt no reason to fear just yet. Be wary? Of course! But I wasn’t going to let fear get in the way of what could be the most momentous interview of my life.
Our ship approached the dock, and upon it was a man dressed in an impeccable suit. He stood and watched us, not moving from his spot as we lowered anchor and came to a stop.
“Which one of you is Mr. Eccles?” His voice was authoritative and deep. I could see the look on Tara’s face as she stared at me. I nodded at her and stepped forward.
“That’s me,” I replied. “Are you Mr. Lang?”
“Just Lang,” he replied. “I am glad to see you have arrived safely, Mr. Eccles. I hope the journey was not a hard one for you.”
“Not at all.” I was a bit surprised by the welcome. From the way I was invited, I had expected a much more hostile approach. My bags were lowered down upon the deck and Lang’s pale blue eyes stared at them, barely moving otherwise.
I climbed down onto the dock and everything became quiet. No one on the boat made a sound, only the ocean dared to make its presence known.
I had five days to interview this man standing before me. Hopefully, that would be my only time on this island. Tara feared I wouldn’t come back, at least, not as the me she knew.
“Take your things, Mr. Eccles. I’ll show you in.” He walked away as I stooped to pick up my bags. I looked back to Tara on the ship and I gave her a smile before I followed Lang.
The beach was damp, and puddles of water were everywhere, even on the stairs we climbed. At the top of the steps there was a large iron gate which was opened by a young woman.
Lang took a ring of keys from under his suit jacket and, without any effort, selected a key that locked the gate. A loud buzzing vibrated through the air as the lock clicked into place, and lights began turning at various points along the rocks and fencing.
“This island was formerly a prison and sanitorium,” it was the first words I had spoken on the island. “Was that a benefit to your cause?”
The young woman looked at me with a cringe to her body. Lang was placing the keys back onto his belt, so I could not read his expression.
“What are you trying to hint at, Mr. Eccles?” Lang’s honey blonde hair was slicked back and looked like a golden helmet. His pale blue eyes were unlike any of the others I had seen in all my years of investigation.
“Be blunt with me. I invited you here for a reason, so tell me, honestly, what you think of me and my home?”
The young woman was trying not to react, but her blue eyes gave away curiosity and excitement.
“Are you keeping people here by force?” I asked.
A small smile curled the ends of his thin lips. “I am keeping humans out by force,” he replied coolly. “Those who are here are free.”
I glanced to the young woman who nodded then went stiff as Lang moved.
“This is Lola, by the way. She’s my daughter, my assistant, and will be your babysitter while you are here.”
Lola waved. “Hi. I’ve read all your work.” She looked younger than me, but not young enough to be Lang’s daughter. If anything, Lang was possibly only a few years older than I was. He was one of those people it was impossible to guess their age. His behavior and posture suggested one age, his face another. He was handsome and very well groomed, but styled older than he appeared.
I wasn’t sure how to react, so I did what I could to appear gentlemanly. I held out my hand to her to shake. “Nice to meet you, Lola. I’m John.”
Lang glanced back at me with a severe look in his eyes and I dropped my hand slowly. He turned back around, stepping onto the sidewalk that curved around the turquoise building.
“Babysitter?” I asked Lola in a hushed voice.
“Making sure you aren’t up to anything untowards. I’ll search your bags, mind you, and confiscate anything that we feel could be dangerous to our home.” Lola looked me up and down. “So please, go ahead and tell me if you have anything I told you not to bring.”
“Oh!” I gasped. “You’re who I talked to on the phone.”
She nodded, “Finally clicked, huh?”
We came upon another gate with a huge yard behind it. It was filled to the brim with plant life, tall stalks of corn, and winding vines of beans and tomato plants. People walked about, some tending to the garden, others going on about their day. Lang unlocked the gate, and people stopped what they were doing.
The silence was suffocating as all those blue eyes focused upon me. I realized I was the odd man out, but I had never felt so singled out in my whole life. Lola waved at them and the people went on back about their business. It had only taken a couple of seconds, but it felt like a lifetime.
“We grow what we can, but we still go to shore when we need supplies.” Lang spoke before I could even ask. “We have chickens at the moment, but we are looking towards getting some goats.”
“Why goats?” I asked.
Lola just smirked while Lang remained silent. We went inside the turquoise building and my gut began to churn.
“What do you think dad had the box opened for?” My little brother, Edmund, had asked me. He had taken hold of my hand as soon as mom had sent us away.
“I don’t know,” I muttered.
Edmund was always curious and he always wanted a definite answer. “He was talking about the bible last night.”
“I know.”
“He said God was coming. Do you think it’s-”
I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, one fist clenched around the money and list our mom gave us, the other tightening around Edmund’s hand.
“Can I get a soda?” Edmund asked.
I was relieved he stopped. “Yeah, that’s fine.”
“Thanks, John.”
I didn’t have Edmund with me now, and part of me wished I did. He always helped to make me braver than I actually was. I don’t think many little siblings understand that.
“First and foremost, Mr. Eccles, I want to make you perfectly aware that this is a place of safety for us and I will do all in my power to keep it that way.” He stopped before another door and kept his back turned towards me. “I have seen humanity in many forms. Individually, I believe you can be the best the world has to offer. But in large groups, I fear you more than I fear anything in this universe.”
Those severe blue eyes looked into me, ripping through layers and layers of flesh and bone to see me at my most basic human instincts. “That is why I am here, and why I continue to bring my own here. Because you humans refused to see anything beyond your scope of comfort with compassion. You are killing each other and the world around you slowly, but because of that scope, you refuse to see it.”
“I understand what you are saying, Lang.” I tried to sound as professional as I could, but my voice quivered anyway. “I have always tried to use my work to help people see-”
“Your work is brilliant, but it lacks insight. You don’t know the full story, Mr. Eccles. The rights groups, the activists, the twitter hashtags, they are only a puzzle piece amongst the thousands. You can only so know so much. To know everything you sometimes have to go deeper, and much like the ocean we came from, you don’t know anything about that darkness.”
I swallowed as my heart pulsed in my throat. “That’s a very good monologue, Lang. May I use it?”
He looked me up and down. “You’re much more creative than I am.” He finally opened the door and led me into a warm kitchen.
“You look surprised,” Lola said with a smirk.
The smell of fresh bread put me at ease, but also stiffened the muscles in my back. There were a few people working at the stoves and counters. It was a large kitchen, but it wasn’t industrial or business-like.
“I wasn’t expecting a homey kitchen.”
Lang had a smug smile on his face. “I told you, I made this a home for us.”
The kitchen lead into a narrow hallway with doors on either side. At the end, Lang opened an elevator door and stepped aside to let Lola and I on.
“I will talk to you later, Mr. Eccles. For now, I have work I must attend to. Lola will take care of you from here.” His blue eyes tore through me again just before the doors closed.
As the elevator rose, I felt nauseous, but it evaporated after a moment.
“Are you scared?” Lola asked me.
Her blue eyes weren’t as pale and stark as Lang’s. They were pretty and dark, but that faint glowing outline shone just the same.
I smiled. “Should I be?”
“You can’t blame me for asking such a question,” Lola laughed. “I know how this all appears. How we appear.” She looked up to the glowing number on the wall. “You’re all the way at the top, by the way.”
“Are you trapping me like Rapunzel?” I asked.
“Not my first thought, but I suppose. But you haven’t answered me yet.” Her smile returned as she studied me, waiting to hear my reply.
“Well, I’m anxious, but I don’t think I am afraid. Not yet anyways, it could change by the day.” I shrugged at her, forcing another smile. “Should I be afraid?”
Lola shrugged in return. “He enjoys your articles and interviews. He appreciates the work you do considering-” She silenced herself. “I don’t think there’s a reason for you to be afraid.”
I furrowed my brow. “Why do you say it like that?”
The elevator dinged as it came to a stop and the doors opened on a sterile hallway. The pure white of it made me even more uneasy than the dark entrance room.
“This way!” Lola left the elevator before me, taking out a set of keys from her pocket. She unlocked a door for me and let me inside first.
“You'll be staying here. Now if you don’t mind, hand over your bags.” She held her hand out to me and wagged her fingers.
I placed them into her hand. “You’re not locking me up, are you?”
She shook her head. “No. You don’t have any keys, so you’re fine. I’ll bring these back when I am done. If you want to start writing anything, there’s paper and pens left for you.”
“Be back?” I had to double take as I looked from her, into the room, and back again at her. “Where are you taking them?”
“To my office for a thorough inspection.” She patted my bags and smiled. “Nothing to worry about if you’re not hiding anything, right?” She left, and I didn’t move until I heard the elevator doors close.
I stepped out into that sterile hallway, wondering if I had gone black and white until I peered out a window to see the endless sky and ocean. I tried a couple of doors, but all of them were locked.
I had more than I expected in my quarters. The bed was nice, the desk was old but sturdy. And there was a bookshelf containing various tomes old and new. One happened to be my book; ‘The Unveiling’. I hated that title now, but there wasn’t anything I could do to change it.
I opened the book to the first page, where the first chapter was titled; ‘Did you hear about dad?’ I placed the book back upon the shelf and sat down at the desk. The chair creaked as I reached for a pen and opened up a notebook that was left for me. I started scribbling down notes of everything I had come across so far. My room and sterile hallway. The elevator. The warm, inviting kitchen. The lush garden and a want for goats. The gates and all of Lang’s keys.
“Once a prison, now a home-” I wrote what I thought could be an opening line, but the more I looked at it, the more I hated it.
“I feel as though the color turquoise haunts me. In gaudy jewelry and boxes that seem hidden to prying eyes, I have never found it in a way I have enjoyed. Yet it forms a home around those who have come here-” I stopped, unsure how to continue.
“What do you think dad had the box opened for?” I remembered Edmund’s words exactly, but only because they were my worst fear as a child.
Dad had opened the box and he never closed it again. He kept the gun, and many others, out where we could see them. Pandora’s Box had been opened and hope was lost to us. My father feared everything, and that fear became a violence. In my mind, that turquoise box had been the only thing holding my father back.
“Have you heard about dad?” Edmund asked me with a voice that sounded just like when we were kids and that box laid open on the kitchen table.
“No, I haven’t.” I had been so happy to hear from him, but those words drained all the color from my face and I instinctively sat down at my kitchen table. “What did he do now?”
“He uh-” Edmund’s voice wavered. “He killed one of them.”
I furrowed my brow. “Ki-Killed?” I was trying so hard to wrap my head around that one word. My dad had gone off the deep end, sure, but I never thought in my darkest nightmares he would actually do something like that.
I wiped my hand down my face as a cold sweat came. “Killed? Killed who?”
“I uh...I don’t-” Edmund was trying so hard to hold it together. In the background I heard Clara trying to comfort him. “No. I have to tell him,” he whispered to her.
“Edmund, come on!” I snapped. “What the hell did dad do?”
“A Veil,” he whimpered. “He killed a Veil.”
