Fog Island: A terrifying thriller set in a modern-day cult. Mariette Lindstein
face the sea; instead the view was of the long building behind the manor and the animals grazing in the pasture.
‘As you can see, you have your own wardrobe and bureau,’ Bosse said, with a look at her large suitcases. ‘You won’t need much in the way of clothes here; your uniform will arrive in a few days and in your free time you’ll mostly just need jeans and so forth. You might want to keep some of your things in our storage area in the basement. Just let me know and I’ll show you where it is.’
She peeked into the bathroom. White and bare, with a large medicine cabinet over a sink. Small name labels over each of the three white bath towels. A shower, but no bathtub. An air freshener gave off the uninspiring scent of lavender.
‘Who else lives here?’
‘You’ll be sharing a room with Elvira, who’s here with her parents, and Madeleine, who I believe you’ve already met.’
Sofia’s heart sank. It didn’t seem like she would have anyone to talk to. She suddenly missed Wilma so much it hurt. Wilma, who wouldn’t be there to stop her if she spiralled out of control. If that was even possible in a place like this — everything seemed so minutely planned and disciplined.
‘Well, I’ll leave you alone so you can unpack,’ Bosse said. ‘Dinner is served at seven. The staff dining room is on the first floor; it’s easy to find. Once you’ve eaten, Madeleine will give you instructions for the library. You can always come to me if you have questions. As I said, I’m in charge of all personnel.’
He left the room and his quick steps vanished down the corridor. She went to the window and looked down at the farm. It looked so peaceful, cows and sheep grazing in the pasture. Why did she feel so uneasy? It must happen to everyone who came to the manor, a reaction to leaving everything back home.
She began to unpack her suitcases and arranged her clothes in the wardrobe and bureau. She sang to herself, but it just sounded dull in the soundproofed room.
Under her clothes was the black leather journal Wilma had given her as a farewell present. She placed it in the top drawer. Then there was the laptop. She had brought a set of sheets, but she saw that the bed was already neatly made, so she stuffed the laptop into the pillowcase and wound a sheet around it, then stashed the bundle in the bottom drawer. She shoved her suitcases and everything that didn’t fit in the bureau under the bed. She wasn’t about to let her belongings out of her sight.
Dinner was already in full swing in the staff dining room. All the tables seemed to be full, and she lingered hesitantly in the doorway until Madeleine spotted her and came over.
‘You can sit at our table.’
Madeleine tried to make small talk during the meal, but her chatter turned to a buzz in Sofia’s mind. Thoughts of regret wandered in and out of her head. It was impossible to control them, so she let them carry on.
‘Is that okay?’ Madeleine suddenly asked.
‘Sorry?’
‘I asked if it’s okay if we head to the library now. Franz has written a project description for the library. He wants you to read it.’
‘Sure, that’s fine.’
It was cold and quiet in the library, not at all like when the sun had warmed the small building. Madeleine turned on the overhead lights.
‘Okay, so it’s up to you to start creating something here.’ She eagerly handed a thick document to Sofia. ‘Read this and tell me what you think.’
Sofia sat down on the only chair and left Madeleine to stand.
‘I need a desk here. The kind a librarian would have, and a chair for visitors. And I need a computer if I’m going to do research.’
‘They’re already on order,’ said Madeleine. ‘Arriving tomorrow.’
Sofia began to read the project description, which was ten pages long and contained over one hundred bullet points. She couldn’t focus; Madeleine was standing over her like a hawk. Words and letters melted into one another. Her eyes jumped back and forth, searching for the freaking end of all the things she was expected to do. I can’t handle this today, she thought. I’ll read it more closely tomorrow.
‘It looks good,’ she said.
‘Great! Then I’ll tell Franz you like it.’
‘Sure, go right ahead.’
‘Okay, we go to bed at ten o’clock and lights out is at eleven. So you have a few hours until then. You’re welcome to take a walk, if you like.’
*
The island was as beautiful as she remembered. It was the middle of August now, and the evening air smelled faintly of autumn. But everything was still green, and the paths were overgrown by leafy grasses.
She went up to the lookout point and sat down to gaze out at the sea. The sun was setting; the sky was slowly draining of colour and the muted blue of the sea paled to turquoise, with a shimmer of pink from the sun. Darkness fell quickly, and black, empty space hung over her. But she stayed put, releasing her worries and her scattered thoughts and letting them float up to the sky. A faint breeze raised gooseflesh on her arms and legs. She pulled on her cardigan and began to wander slowly back to the manor.
When she returned to the dorm, it was almost time for bed. Madeleine was already there, in the process of undressing. A girl who couldn’t be more than twelve was sitting on the other bed. She had pale blonde hair that was so long it was resting in her lap. Her skin was snow white and she had enormous eyes, like those of a manga character. She giggled and twirled a lock of hair, smiling hesitantly at Sofia.
‘This is Elvira,’ said Madeleine. ‘She lives with us too.’
Sofia said hello, thinking that Elvira looked like she belonged in a John Bauer painting, or at least in school on the mainland — anywhere but here.
Sofia had expected to spend some time chatting, but as soon as she’d put on her nightgown Madeleine turned out the lights and the room descended into total darkness.
‘Oh, I forgot. How do we wake up in the morning?’ Sofia called.
‘I’ll wake you,’ said Madeleine.
So they would still be using mental clocks.
It was impossible to fall asleep. The sensation of being in a military camp or a prison returned, and it wouldn’t go away. The others’ breathing slowed as they dozed off. She thought about her parents, who had said goodbye as if they would never see her again. Her mother’s nervous tendencies had been dialled up to new levels; she had spouted words like ‘sect,’ ‘cult,’ and ‘bloody trickery,’ only to regret her words and say she was only worried about Sofia. Worried, as usual. Worried about everything. But now Sofia missed her until her chest ached.
Then came the silent tears. She let them flow until they ran out.
And then, finally, came blessed sleep.
‘Someone’s coming! Go!’ I say, giving her a shove.
It’s a perfect day. The fog is so thick that you can hardly see the cliff from where we’re hiding in a small grove of trees.
We’ve been waiting for a long time. She spent the time whining, nagging me to let her go home.
‘No one’s going to come, Fredrik. I’m freezing.’
But I won’t give in. The fog is perfect and I’m not about to squander this opportunity. And someone really is coming. A man, slowly making his way across the heath.
‘Go,’ I hiss. ‘And stick out your arms, like a ghost.’
She glides out into the fog, otherworldly in the black cloak and hood; she seems to be floating.
The man stops when he catches