Control
Chase and Gries are horrified when I tell them what happened inside the cave. “Do you mean that the god gave Hemslock some of its powers?” the older man asks, ashen. “Why?”
“Only the sacrifice matters,” I say heavily.
“So he’s going to gain superpowers?” Chase demands. “We can’t let him shoot anyone else! How do we stop him? What do we tell the others?”
“I’m not sure the others are going to believe us if we tell them. If this is the Diwata’s will, then it is what it is.”
“Are you even listening to yourself? Why would the Diwata give Hemslock anything? He only completed one sacrifice—we have to stop him before he can do the rest!”
“Do you trust me?”
Chase pauses, looking back at me. “Yes,” he says, albeit uncertainly. “I do.”
“Then we have to let this play out.” I look up at the sky. “It’s too late for anything else now.”
Straw Hat has been looking through every instance of footage that they have collected for the show, trying to find any clue to get them off the island faster. There is little else to do. Hemslock has imposed heavier restrictions on the rest of the crew, forbidding anyone from leaving the camp. He insists that we take our meals together, and always sends one of his soldiers to accompany anyone needing to use the bathroom. The crew is as much Hemslock’s prisoners as they are the island’s.
I know that the crew still see the apparitions. Occasionally I hear their startled gasps, catch them fixated on something in the distance, turning pale.
Occasionally I see an apparition, too. An old woman with decaying teeth, her bright eyes peering out from behind one of the tents. A man with a disfigured face, blood dripping down his jaws. A bullet-ridden boy, staring aimlessly.
“It’s angry,” Melissa whispers. “It’s trying to see which of us it can pick off first.”
Many in the group don’t see these ghosts. Or if they do, none of them say anything.
“I’ve logged at least five hours sifting through videos,” Straw Hat says, gesturing at the clock on the bottom right of his laptop. “It’s almost 6 p.m. The sun should have set by now.”
“You’re kidding me,” Gries says. “Are you telling me that it can manipulate time, too?”
“Didn’t the old woman say that?” Melissa asks. “I’ve been reviewing notes from that interview. She said time has no meaning on the island. Maybe the Diwata can trap us in a pocket dimension or something. Maybe the world is moving on beyond this island, but we’re stuck in this particular moment.”
“How did you figure that out?”
“I watch a lot of horror movies.”
“You’re not helping, Melissa.”
“Well, that’s another reason—besides the storm—help won’t be arriving,” Straw Hat casts a nervous glance back at the cave. Hemslock and his soldiers have disappeared back inside for Goatee. They went without cameras. “He really thinks Karl’s still alive in there?”
“I don’t know what he thinks anymore,” Gries says darkly.
I drift away from the rest of the group to idle by the beach with Askal, watching the waves lap up to shore. I wonder if it is proof that time still moves forward. But even as I wait and watch, the tide never comes in. The waves ebb and flow, but the water doesn’t rise or fall.
Askal whines. I scratch his head absently.
Anong ginagawa mo? I ask the waters silently but receive no answer.
“Room for one more?” Chase asks from behind me.
I make space, and he sits beside me. “What if we’re stuck here forever?” he asks. “What if this our version of purgatory?”
“You’re not going to be stuck here. We’re going to find a way out.” But as I say the words, I know they sound hollow. Despite my knowledge of the island, I don’t know what comes next. This has never happened before. “I’m sorry.”
“What’s there to be sorry about? It’s not your fault. You’re not the reason we’re here.” He leans closer. “I know Dad still sees Mom. I see the way he stares. I know he doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t want to worry me. But I can tell.”
He looks down. “They argued a lot the week she died. I didn’t know about what. When I heard Mom’s voice back at the cabin—was that really her?”
“Everything on this island is an illusion,” I say. “It’s the people who decide what is real or not.”
“You know more about this than you first said, don’t you? Like with the cultists. You say you don’t know what happened to them, but I think you do. You just don’t want Hemslock to know.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Just a hunch. You didn’t seem surprised by all the information they discovered about the cult.”
I stare out at the sea. “I was told that the cult had brought a woman to sacrifice to the Diwata the same way Hemslock did. Watson cut out her heart on the stone altar.”
His hand on mine feels warm and comforting. “But the Diwata didn’t like the sacrifice she’d made. So it forced her to return the body of the woman she’d killed back to her family, and then took her instead.”
“Just like the old lady said. But how do you know she’s telling the truth?”
“’Tay told me.”
“He was the island’s caretaker when it happened, right? And that’s what you meant when you said you couldn’t leave. You’re worried that without your presence the island might just—take whoever it wanted? The god needs worshippers to complete the sacrifice, but He could kill anyone He deemed sinners. You thought that staying here with Him would mean fewer casualties.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“I understand. We are the interlopers. You are trying to keep us from getting killed. What do you think’s going to happen now? What do you think we ought to do?”
“I would have advised following your father’s suggestion and waiting until help arrives—but Hemslock’s taken that option out of our hands.”
I look down. I’d subconsciously drawn a symbol in the sand. The eye figure from the cave. “The only way out is to give the Diwata what He wants.”
“Dad still sees Mom. Are you saying he’s a potential sacrifice?”
“Unfortunately.”
Chase considers that carefully. Then he smiles—a determined, grim look. “How do we help Him choose Hemslock, then?”
His fingers feel nice. Gentle. “I don’t know if we have any say in that anymore.”
***
I don’t realize that I’ve fallen asleep, only that I am dreaming.
I dream of the cave. I dream of Hemslock and his men pushing their way back toward the tree with the curiously carved face. I want to scream at them to stop, but nothing comes out of my throat. I am forced to watch, helpless, as they draw closer.
“Keep your eyes peeled for more of these beasts,” I hear Hemslock instruct. He turns toward one of the twisted roots, the one that holds Goatee.
It takes some time, but the men manage to dig out Goatee a second time. Nothing else attacks them.
Once freed, Goatee kneels on the ground, looking around him with an odd detachment, like he hasn’t spent the last few days trapped here. His voice sounds muted, like he’s speaking from somewhere farther away. “You should have left me to dream.”
“My quota for unhinged madmen has been reached for the day, Karl. Don’t tell me you’re gonna start babbling nonsense like Steve did.”
“I dreamt inside the tree,” Goatee says. “It changed me. It was wrong of us to come to the Godseye, Reuben. It was wrong of us to desecrate the island. But my mind is clearer now. I was full of anger when I came here, just like you. Angry at my ex-wife. Angry about the divorce, about her taking custody of my kids. I sinned. I killed a young thing who wouldn’t let me go, the girl I cheated with. I was never arrested for her murder. But that doesn’t matter now. Cleanse yourself of your anger, Reuben. It’s the only way to live.”
Hemslock aims his gun at Goatee. “Are you even Karl? Or did some fucking pod person replace you inside that goddamn tree?”
“You always think the world is out to get you, Reuben, and sometimes there is a reason for it. I was glad that I’d gotten away with killing her. You’re the same way. You never think about how you hate. You always looked at Gail as being beneath you. And all the other women who accused you of harassment—Hannah, Josie, Brenda. You hurt them, and then you blame them instead of yourself.”
The gun in Hemslock’s hands trembles, just slightly. “How the fuck did you know Josie? Or Brenda?”
“The god knows everything. It sees into your soul, manifests your fears and dreams into life. It has looked into your heart, Reuben, and it only sees hatred. Anger about the things you yourself had caused.” Goatee bows his head.
“And that is why He will take you, too,” he says. “Your sacrifice of Steve Galant is in vain. Even he repented in the end. He embraced Him wholeheartedly. It will not be the same for you. Like Cortes. Like Alex Key. He knows what you did to Josie. He knows that they are not the only ones. Leave your anger, Reuben. You will suffer through the—”
Nobody expects the gunshot. Goatee slams against the wall, blood running down his face from the bullet-sized hole at the center of his forehead.
And yet—and yet—for a few moments Goatee remains upright. The shot should have killed him immediately, but it does not. Instead, his eyes meet the other man’s.
“You should have let me sleep, Reuben,” he says.
And then he falls.
“Christ, Hemslock,” one of the soldiers says. “You should have—he wasn’t acting hostile—”
“He’s been compromised,” Hemslock says brutally. “You saw the state Galant was in when he died. Stay on guard.”
“Sir—”
“If you think that’s bad, Kyle, look away like a coward because you’re not going to like what I’m about to do next.”
He takes out his knife and turns to Goatee’s body.
This time Hemslock is more certain of himself. He butchers with less hesitation. The others turn away, nauseated, until he is done with his grisly task.
Hemslock stands, Goatee’s heart in his hands. He turns toward the gigantic tree, presses the heart against the bark—and the heart sinks through like it was intangible.
Something crackles from inside. The roots unravel and open, revealing a hollow.
Hemslock gestures at one of the men, who shines his flashlight into its base.
Something lies within. It is a blackened husk, a mummified corpse. The roots of the tree tangle around it, like they have been binding it in place.
I see its face. Unlike the corpse tree in the sinkhole outside, this figure still has eyes, and they are wide open, staring. It is the only recognizable feature in that sunken, withered form.
Its chest has been torn open. Inside, a heart beats steadily against its ribs. I can see it through the translucent skin.
“Shit,” a soldier says.
Hemslock raises his hand, closes it into a fist. “Move,” he commands.
The corpse jerks up, and the others rear back. Hemslock moves his hand slowly back and forth.
The dead body copies his movements.
“Damnit, Hemslock,” one of soldiers says. “What are you—”
“It’s accepted two of my offerings,” Hemslock says. “Now we need one more to waken this Dreamer.”
The corpse blinks.
With a shrill scream, it lunges forward, toward Hemslock. A blast from one of the soldier’s guns flings it back inside the tree, and the other join in, firing haphazardly into the balete.
The corpse jerks, then staggers toward the opening once more.
Roots wrap around it unexpectedly, bind it against the ground. With a hiss, it struggles. Hemslock’s laugh is long and loud. “You don’t like me, little godling,” he says. “But that doesn’t matter now, does it?”
***
I wake up to a loud explosion. I don’t remember falling, only that there is sand between my teeth and Chase is at my side, turning me over. “Are you okay?” He asks frantically. Askal nuzzles the side of my face, barking when he realizes I’m awake.
There is a throbbing in my head—like my skull is about to split open. Like something that isn’t me is inside of me, screaming all the hurt into my bones to rid itself of that pain.
“Give me a second,” I gasp. As intense and as sudden as it was, I can already feel my dream starting to recede. I stagger to my feet, aided by Chase. “We need to go back to camp,” I manage to say, and to his credit he asks no further questions.
The group emerges from the cave just as we reach it, and they’re breathing hard like they’ve been running. The explosion must have caused them to flee. Hemslock sees me and smiles cruelly. “Thought your pet god would kill us?”
“He didn’t stop you because you’re a psychopath who would have shot any of us if we had tried to,” Gries says sharply.
“I’m the psychopath who saved you,” Hemslock snarls. “Your guide has been so thoroughly brainwashed by the fucking demons in this place that he was about to serve you all on a platter to appease this holy fucking cannibal.”
“What the hell, Reuben,” from Hawaiian Shirt.
“He’s been lying to us all this time. Before we lost all communication with the mainland, I’d been sending letters, asking the team to verify everything they can about ol’ Alon here.”
“And then I thought, what if we checked our tour guide’s background, to see how this kid knows so much about the island and its curse when so many other local residents didn’t. No one seems to even know where the family lives, or why they’ve got free rein over the island. Wanna know what I found?”
Nobody speaks. Chase quietly reaches out to clasp my hand.
“This father who’s been sick for the longest time? The reason the kid even took this job with us, to help pay off the bills for his treatment?” Hemslock leans forward, his gaze never leaving mine. “No one knows who he is.”
The crew moves uneasily, glance at each other, and then at me, as if hoping I would proclaim my innocence. I don’t.
“The locals know who you are, kid, but nobody knows where you’re from. Certainly not from any of their villages. The fishermen you befriended admitted to seeing you often, but word is they fear you as much as they fear the curse. But I’m willing to bet that they know, and that they’re protecting you. They stood by and let Lindsay Watson and her followers get killed because they didn’t want some foreigner gaining the god’s favor. You didn’t like that I performed the rituals before you could. You wanted to sabotage us right from the start. That’s why you kept lying, saying you didn’t know shit about anything.”
The gun is back, once more aimed at my face.
“No!” Chase exclaims, pushing me so that he is between me and Hemslock.
“Chase!” Gries cries out, rushing toward us.
“You really willing to die for this liar?” Hemslock says with a laugh. “After gaslighting you into believing this little shit was on your side? When all this time our own guide was planning to betray us to this demon god? All the other villagers we talked to, from the mayor to that damn grandmother—they knew. She said they all worshiped the Dreamer, didn’t they? Pretending to warn us off the island, but was actually fattening us up for it. Just like your hero, Lapulapu, with Cortes.
“Your father sacrificed Alex Key. That’s why the creatures in this island leave you alone. I’m willing to bet your father also served up Lindsay Watson, and then the rest of her cultist friends for dessert. And now that he’s too old to continue, you’ve taken his place. You let that corpse tree claim Steve under the pretense of saving him. You sat back and let Karl’s ghosts drive him crazy.
“And you knew, Leo. You were there when I got the report, when you learned that we couldn’t find any trace of his father, or of his family. You knew he was lying to us!”
“Yes,” Gries says. “I knew. And to be honest I was worried that Alon was getting too close to Chase.” He turns to the others. “But if Alon’s intention was to see us dead like Hemslock claims, then we’d be dead. Alon did everything they could to protect us. Only the ones who didn’t listen—Galant, Karl—they suffered.”
“Yes,” Melissa says softly. “I trust Alon, too.”
No one else seems ready to speak, at first. But then Hawaiian Shirt nods.
“Alon is all right,” he agrees. “I still don’t know what the hell’s going on, but I don’t believe the kid’s out to get us.”
Slowly the others nod.
“Are you all fucking fools?” Hemslock shouts.
Hawaiian Shirt shook his head. “Kid, explain yourself so we’re all square, right?”
I lick my lips. “I’m not lying. My father’s been sick for a while, but most of the villagers wouldn’t know where we live.”
“Well, there you go, Hemslock,” Hawaiian Shirt says. “It’s a reasonable explanation. There’re far too many islands around here for everyone to know everyone else. Just extend your search and I’m sure you’ll find all the pertinent information you need.”
“You’re a goddamn simpleton if you actually believe that,” Hemslock spits out. “Didn’t you see anything strange about the kid while we were inside the Godseye?”
“We didn’t notice,” Gries says. “We were all busy thinking you were out of your mind. Fuck, Hemslock. What if the god isn’t getting weaker? What if you only made it angrier?”
Hemslock’s eyes flick toward Chase’s. The latter meets his gaze head-on, undeterred. “I was with Alon the whole time, and nothing happened,” he lies.
The actor smiles coldly. “So that’s how it’s going to be, is it?”
He gestures at a nearby balete, cutting it—and a branch abruptly breaks off. The rest of the tree takes on a sicklier appearance, as if growing more brittle and withered.
And then, with a moan, it moves.
“Come,” Hemslock commands, and it obeys, shuffling to his side as the others watch, terrified. The man laughs. “It works. It really fucking works. That’s how Lapulapu did it. He sacrificed two enemy chieftains and Cortes, and in return the god gave him power. He gave the man fear and control of these fucking creatures to do his bidding. No wonder he nearly wiped out the Spaniards.”
“What did you do, Reuben?” Gries asks with alarm.
“What the rest of you were too chickenshit to dream of. What Lindsay Watson couldn’t.”
“What the hell?” Hawaiian Shirt demands. “You said you killed Steve Galant in self-defense. You said you couldn’t find Karl. And now you can control these fucking trees?”
“Just because you sacrificed them,” I say, “doesn’t mean you’ve succeeded. The creature inside the cave resisted your control. It tried to attack you.”
“How did you—?” Hemslock recovers swiftly. “So you know about that. Did the god tattle? Cry about getting his ass kicked?”
“The missing pages in Cortes’s journal describe the ritual. How to control the Diwata. Lindsay Watson tried to do the same thing, and now you’re following in your aunt’s footsteps,” I say.
Dead silence. The crew turns disbelievingly toward Hemslock, who refuses to give ground.
“Yeah,” he says. “Lindsay Watson was my aunt. You were snooping, weren’t you? Always wondered if you were the one who’d mucked up my cabin. How did you know?”
“You referenced an ‘eternity within a dream’ four months ago in one of your emails. That was only mentioned in Cortes’s journal, and that was found within the last two months. Page thirty-seven of the journal—one of the missing pages—was in your room. And I assumed you had the rest. The handwriting on the margins looked the same as in the photos of Watson’s notes.”
“He said he had an Aunt Elle,” Gries says, eyes widening. “It was Aunt L, short for Lindsay. That mugshot of her, I knew her expression looked so familiar—”
“My mistake,” Hemslock says, still smiling. “I should have known not to be careless. You pieced together the story pretty well, kid. Aunt Elle sent me a care package after her death. She’d been smart enough to keep Cortes’s journal pages in a bank vault for me to inherit. I’ve been chasing after her ever since. Where did you think I got my obsession for ghosts? Her theory, like Cortes’s, had always been that Lapulapu sacrificed to the Godseye and gained the power to repel the Spaniards from his island. But she miscalculated. The victim had to be someone worthy of punishment, not simply one to fit the riddle. Ironically, killing the woman made her worthy in the eyes of the god. I’ve since learned from her mistakes. I gave it Steve, I gave it Karl, and soon I’ll give it you, Leo.”
Gries freezes.
“My dad doesn’t deserve punishment!” Chase shouts.
“Did you tell him about the dozens of people you let go because you didn’t like how they looked, or because you were in a bad mood and wanted to take it out on someone else? Did you tell him about that man who begged you for a second chance? You had him thrown out of your office like he was yesterday’s garbage. Then he went home and shot himself.”
Chase’s mouth falls open.
“You turned your nose up at Karl, but you’ve hired attorneys and paid bail for stars who’ve done more than a hit and run. You’re a hypocrite for calling me out, Leo. You had a reputation with women yourself. I’ve seen you at some of those events. You pretend to be the angel, but I know. And when your wife about had it, you threatened to take full custody of your son and exhaust all her finances at court.”
Chase stares at his father, incredulous. The look on Gries’s face is enough to know that Hemslock is telling the truth.
“But that’s no longer the point. This god of yours is not going to let us go until we complete the sacrifice. So I’m going to do something drastic.”
And then, without warning, he fires at me.