Page 75 of Their Cruel Love

Blue sky is visible through the trees to the east, past some scaffolding. To the south is blue, to the west, and to the north. There is no hint of clouds, or thunder, or the apocalypse, yet here I am, swearing off drink because Milliwent missing. The weather needs to get with the program and at the very least crack a bit of lightning across the sky. Was she ever here? Stay tuned for further updates.

I want to settle this, but I fear finding out the truth.

Razor stands near the cell tower, gazing outward. Unmoving, feet planted a solid distance apart, hands hooked on his pants, he appears to be contemplating something deep. The wind shoves hard enough to make him lean to one side, and I catch at my hair as I walk over. He recovers, resumes his stance. I thread my way past fallen blocks from the old tower, scattered boulders, and tree roots.

“Hey there. Anything interesting?”

He looks around and sees me. “Just wondering how they get internet and cell reception. I figure they have a fiberoptic cable for the tower to be of use. A sat phone would work without this.”

“I’m not really up to date on how to get phones to work on an island.”

“Me neither. But these.” He thumbs toward the tower. “Only work if they can detect another tower or are plugged in somehow. We’re too far away from other land for it to be a tower-to-tower thing.”

“Huh.” I join him, standing beside him and checking out the mast of the tower.

The next event is today, and I can’t help but wonder what it will be. We had breakfast in our room before traipsing up here to this spot. Tourists would love it if it weren’t for the mysterious trapdoor. Marcus squats next to it. The padlock is old-fashioned yet recently oiled, even though the trapdoor has suffered from being out here and rained on.

Although Razor spewed out info on the tower, I doubt that was what he was thinking when I approached. He still appearsaway in another world, thinking deep thoughts about god knows what. Forlorn even.

“Are you okay?” I incline my head as if to see his face better.

“Yes.” He smiles fleetingly. “Thank you for asking.”

It seems weird to say this to him, considering all the deviancy he’s practiced on me, all the sex…but, “If there’s anything you ever want to talk about?” He hesitates, and I add, “If it’s just your love of cell towers making you look pale and wan, forgive me. I’ll zip my lips.”

“The cell tower? Pale and wan?” I get a smile from him. “No, it isn’t that. It’s not something I should…” He shakes his head. “Look, Phoebe, if it ever looks like this is more dangerous than anyone thought it might be?—”

“As in worse than snuff films?”

He coughs out a laugh. “Yes. Anyway, if you get a chance to run, even if you have to leave us behind, do it.”

That’s a rather revealing statement. Like me, he’s realized we may have grabbed onto something we should not have. A lion’s tail. A live wire. A bunch of homicidal freaks. Not that what he says is possible. “We are in the middle of the ocean.”

“I know. Just do it though, if, you know, you can. I’m unhappy I let you come, or that Marcus did.”

“I appreciate you caring, but none of us are clairvoyant. And we still don’t know what’s going on here, plus…I want to see what Marcus is looking at.”

He’s moved to a few yards down from us, to about where my ledge might exist, and is leaning forward with his knee to the ground at the very edge.

“Come.” I grab Razor’s hand and pull him with me.

“Found anything?” Razor asks.

“If I had a phone to hold out like this…” He pretends to doa selfie out past the cliff edge, with the pretend phone aiming downward but tilted. “I might be sure, but I think there is a ledge?”

Soon, we’re all lined up beside the drop, kneeling and peering over. “A mirror on a stick?” I suggest.

“If only we brought one.” Marcus shuffles backward and sits on the ground.

“Maybe later we can do that.” I can definitely see the flatness of a ledge, and there are handholds, places for feet on the way down. I glimpse the sheen of metal. It’s solid rock here, not crumbly, and there is a place to land. Already I’ve kicked off my shoes. Whether there is a door that goes inwards? I have to lay my eyes on the ledge to answer that.

My long shorts and T-shirt will do. I turn onto all fours and carefully lower myself, finding those footholds, calculating where to put my hands.

“What the fuck are you—” Marcus has noticed first. Razor is looking elsewhere, out to sea.

“I need to climb down to find out.” I say this, but I’m already descending. Do first, ask later.

“Phoebe!” That’s Razor.

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