The Lamplighters

Chapter Eight

The crewmembers were a quiet bunch. At the start of the journey, Marla had tried to spark a bit of small talk with one of the security guards, a particularly handsome, dark-skinned guy about the same age as her, mid-twenties. He had politely all but blanked her, explaining that conversation with employees was forbidden while he was on duty. She’d smiled as she turned away from his stony face; she couldn't help it. His eyes had betrayed him, and for a split second he definitely checked her out, which was more action than she’d had in a long time.

Marla made her way to the head of the boat, enjoying the slightly scary incline and the rocking motion as it sped through the waves. Holding on tight to the handrail, Marla held her head high and breathed in the cool, refreshing sea air. Every now and then, ocean spray coated her skin and she luxuriated in its touch. The wind picked up a notch and the craft altered course slightly, prompting her to look aft. Beyond the rear of the boat, Marla could only see a wide expanse of blue, curving as if at the edge of the world. Turning back to the head of the boat, the same vista greeted her. She really was in the middle of nowhere, hurtling ever onwards in this black vessel to…where exactly?

Several minutes later, her eyes finally gave the answer. In the far distance Marla could just pick out a vague landmass. Anders hollered to his men, barking orders. Within seconds, the boat was a hive of activity and Marla was ushered to the rear deck by Mr. Handsome.

“Almost home, miss,” he said softly, out of earshot of his crewmates.

Home. Marla leaned back against the rear rails and craned her neck out to see. The island's details were becoming clearer as the boat ploughed on towards it. She could now make out sharp craggy rocks, with waves crashing onto them dramatically. Above this steep rocky perimeter were signs of lush vegetation, and terraces cut into the cliffs and hills. Nestled there were several white buildings, huge mansions the size of which Marla had only ever seen in the pages of celebrity magazines. The boat’s engine slowed to a bass line throb and the crewmen prepared the craft for docking at a wooden jetty. A security hut stood at the end of the jetty, guarding a set of winding steps that led up to the island.

Anders instructed Mr. Handsome to escort Marla through security clearance. He gallantly pulled her rucksack onto one manly shoulder and led her to the security hut. Another quick bag check—

This is worse than Heathrow…

—and Marla was soon walking the length of the jetty towards the twisting steps.

“Sorry I couldn’t really talk to you earlier miss,” said Mr. Handsome, “Anders runs a pretty tight ship.”

“Literally. And please don’t call me miss. I’m Marla.”

He beamed. “Nice name. I’m Adam.”

Marla smirked, wondering if his surname really was “Handsome”. From the way the smile played across his jaw and cheeks, revealing deep dimples, she truly thought it should be.

Steady girl.

“Always good to see a new face around here,” he continued, “Not often I get picked to go to the mainland. I enjoy it, you know, being on the boat.”

She wrinkled her nose at the smell of her skin, still vaguely bleach-scented. Great, she smelled like the bathrooms at King’s Cross railway station.

“When was the last time you were off the island then? And do they make you shower in this god-awful stuff too?” asked Marla.

He smiled. It was a nice smile.

“A few w… Hey, sorry. I’m not allowed to talk about stuff like that. More than my job’s worth.”

Marla laughed. A sharp, shrill cackle that echoed off the rocks and left her feeling immediately embarrassed. Adam was silent. She looked up at him and realized he wasn’t joking.

“You’re serious aren’t you?” she said, a mixture of surprise and apology.

“Yeah. You think Anders is strict, just wait ’til you meet Fowler.”

“Who’s Fowler?”

“You’ll find out in a minute. My orders are to take you to his office right now.”

“Why?”

“Induction,” said Adam.

“Induction? That sounds a bit ominous.”

She fixed Adam with a concerned look.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “Just agree with everything he says, then you can get on with enjoying your cushy new job.”

Marla laughed again, a little less shrilly this time.

Fowler remained seated behind the desk for a moment as Adam showed Marla into his office. The shadowy room was situated deep inside the red brick Security Headquarters, built on a flat promontory overlooking the jetty. Behind Fowler, a wide wall-to-wall window the size of a movie screen gave an impressive view of the ocean.

“Our new arrival. Miss Neuborn, Chief.” Adam’s voice was now stiff, formal.

“Thank you Hudson,” Fowler said, “And tell Anders I want to see him just as soon as I’m done here.”

Hudson. Well it sounds a bit like Handsome, Marla thought.

Adam nodded, dismissed, quietly closing the door after him. Fowler gave Marla the once over before standing up and offering his hand.

“Welcome to Meditrine Island, Miss Neuborn. I’m Chief of Security Fowler.”

She shook Fowler’s hand. Christ, he had an iron grip. And long sharp fingernails for a guy.

“Please. Take a seat, Miss Neuborn.”

She did so. Fowler remained standing. He wasn’t an especially tall man and he evidently knew it. But now he was towering over her, the interrogator and his suspect. He pulled a series of documents from his desk drawer and placed them in front of her, not taking his eyes off her for one second.

“This is the new New Testament,” he said dryly.

Marla picked up the first document, emblazoned with a “Consortium Inc.” corporate logo. It depicted a world bisected by a flaming sword, around which was curled an angry looking snake. Subtle.

“Rules and regs. The only things that make my world go round. I need you to absorb these to the letter, Miss Neuborn. If you can do that for me, I’ll be most grateful.”

She couldn’t quite place his accent. He sounded like a Scotsman who’d spent most of his life on a Texan ranch.

“I’ll do my best,” she replied.

Fowler’s features dropped for a moment, then adjusted themselves into something resembling a friendly smile. Marla was suddenly finding it hard to keep eye contact.

“Music to my ears.”

Finally, he sat down, stiff as a board in his swivel chair. Fowler truly looked like a man for whom relaxation meant a ten-mile jog through enemy territory, a heavy pack of incendiary devices on his back.

“Talking of which, music is not allowed on the island. Neither is liquor, or drugs. Especially drugs. Gatherings of more than two persons are also strictly prohibited. All these regulations, plus the rest, are in your dockets there.”

“Gatherings…” began Marla. This was all beginning to sound a bit extreme.

“It may sound strict,” Fowler interjected, “But security’s responsibility to The Consortium Inc. is paramount. Your position here as a Lamplighter is built upon a set of values that we’ve worked hard to maintain ever since this community was created. Our contract with each other is one of trust. We trust you to abide by the rules—and you trust us to let you get on with your job.”

He gestured at the documents on the desk. “Talking of such, your job specs are also in there. They detail your daily task rota, working hours, break allocation and so forth. I already have a hard copy of your contract on file here, so that’s all good.”

At least I get to take breaks, Marla thought. She’d begun to think detention centers had fewer rules than this gig.

Fowler stood up again, offering his hand once more.

“Welcome on board, Miss Neuborn.”

She looked nonplussed and really couldn’t hide it.

“You’ll get used to it in no time, have no fear,” he continued.

“Thanks,” she said as she shook his hand, already feeling a little wary of Fowler—afraid of him, even.

“Splendid. Now, exit this building, take a left and head up the path to the residential area. One of your fellow Lamplighters will be waiting for you there to show you the ropes. Ah, and don’t forget your documents.”

Marla picked them up quickly. The truth was she couldn’t get out of Fowler’s office fast enough. The air in there was just a little too close.

In stark contrast, the fresh island air outside was lovely. Marla made her way up the steep dusty path with Fowler’s directions echoing in her ears. Bright mimosa flowers and wide carob trees lined the path, watched over by towering palms and massive euphorbia. The largest plants must have grown here for years, long before people had come to this island. And now she was here too. All around her, crickets chirped and birds sang their welcome to her over the soft whisper of a welcomingly warm sea breeze. Taking a deep lungful of fresh, clean air, Marla closed her eyes and paused for a moment before pressing on up the slope.

Reaching the summit, she got her first look at how The Consortium Inc. members had spent their millions. Lush gardens framed by intricate walkways gave way to a huge swimming pool and beyond that, a building. Not so much a house, but rather a palace, this fantastical construction of glass, steel and white stucco caused Marla to gasp. She strolled into the gardens, turning this way and that to take in the elegantly informal planting, smiling at the way the afternoon sunlight danced through the trees and onto the winding stone path. As she neared the swimming pool, Marla heard faint splashing sounds.

The swimmer was doing a lazy backstroke, slowly making her way across the length of the pool. Reaching the end, she flipped over and pushed her way up and onto the little metal ladder that gave access to the poolside. Leaving wet footprints on the warm slabs, she walked over to a sun lounger and grabbed an oversized fluffy white towel. As she dried off her hair, she saw Marla approaching from the garden.

“Hey! You must be the new girl!”

Her voice matched her looks, American, sunny and deeply curvaceous. A year or two older than Marla, perhaps. The yellow of her bikini suited her tanned complexion and infectious white smile. Marla felt as though a talking sunflower was greeting her.

“I’m Marla.”

“Good to meet you. I’m Jessie. I guess you’ve already met Scowler?”

She gestured to a vacant sun lounger next to hers. Marla sat down opposite her as Jessie continued drying her hair.

“Scowler…?” Marla laughed, suddenly getting the joke. She was a little disoriented by Jessie’s good humor, especially after Fowler’s boot camp-style induction.

“I can see he’s got you good and spooked with his induction crap. Don’t worry, he’s harmless really, just doesn’t like us having too much fun. He’s what you Brits would call a ‘little Hitler’ y’know? Hey, I’ll throw some clothes on and show you around, okay?”

“Cool. Thanks for doing this on your day off.”

“Day off?” Jessie cackled, “Honey, this is a work day.”

She shimmied away to get changed, singing to herself. Marla looked at the clear inviting depths of the swimming pool and marveled at what Jessie had just said. This was a work day.