Fog Island: A terrifying thriller set in a modern-day cult. Mariette Lindstein
then she howls like a lonely wolf.
The man is petrified; he doesn’t believe his eyes.
She does as I’ve told her and drops down from the cliff. Into the cave, of course, but it happens so fast that she seems to dissolve into the fog.
The man walks all the way out to the edge of the cliff point. I hold my breath as he looks down. He can’t see her, of course, so he is terrified. He turns around and dashes across the heath like a madman.
I can hear the twigs of heather being crushed under his feet and his heavy panting — the only sounds that reach me through the thick fog.
I wait until he’s out of sight and crawl down to her. She’s sitting on the cave floor, giggling. We laugh until we’re gasping for breath.
‘We’ll show them who’s in charge on this island, dammit!’ I say at last.
The routines she had hated so much at first turned out to be what made her enjoy life on the island. They had the same schedule every day; all was so minutely planned that there was no time to think about anything but work, food, and sleep. It was easy to fit in. Each person was there on equal terms. Everyone took part in the same routines.
They woke at seven — at least, those who had mastered their internal clocks did. Sofia was dependent on Madeleine. There were no worries about how to dress; all you had to do was shower, put on your uniform, and head for the dining room, where breakfast was served. Always the same breakfast: poached eggs, whole-grain bread, and organic marmalade.
Then it was time to go to the courtyard in front of the manor and fall in line for morning assembly.
Bosse always led the assembly. He took roll call and talked about situations and priorities. Madeleine and Sofia formed one line together, as they were Oswald’s personal staff and worked directly under him. The other lines were for the household staff, the guest services crew, those who worked on the farm, and the administrative staff.
Each day, she kept an eye out for Benjamin Frisk but to no avail. She stared at each line, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but was disappointed time and again.
A few weeks after Sofia’s arrival, a faint but growing unrest began to spread through the ranks. Bosse became stiff and distant. The staff seemed restless. Madeleine had stopped attending assembly.
One night, Sofia asked Elvira what was going on.
‘It’s the renovation of the staff quarters,’ Elvira said. ‘No one has wanted to ask you to help out, because Franz created your project himself, but the rest of us have been working a couple hours a day on the first floor. Haven’t you seen us?’
She supposed she had. You had to walk through a cloud of sawdust and piles of boards and tools to get to the dining room. But she hadn’t made the connection between the work and the morale of the group until now.
‘But what’s so difficult about doing renovations?’ Sofia asked.
Elvira laughed. Sofia wondered if she’d misjudged her — she suddenly seemed so pleasant.
‘Well, on the second floor, where we live now, Franz had to hire a contractor to get it all done. But now he says we have to finish the first floor on our own. It’s a type of test, you know?’
Sofia was sincerely grateful that Oswald had drawn up that library project. She was in charge of her own day and could work at her own pace.
*
One day Oswald showed up at morning assembly. He appeared without warning behind Bosse, who was once again droning on about how important the renovation project was. It was a comical sight, because everyone but Bosse could see Oswald. Once Bosse realized why each staff member’s gaze had frozen on a point behind him, Oswald just smiled and said, ‘Go on. Don’t mind me. I’m only listening.’
It continued for a few days. Oswald would come to the assembly and just stand there with an amused smile on his lips. This made Bosse anxious. He began to stutter, trip over his words, and lose his train of thought as he spoke. He started bringing notes with him. An awkward silence descended upon the staff, who were swept along in Bosse’s despair and suffered with him.
Then one day, Oswald took over. He waved dismissively at Bosse, who immediately ducked into line like a dog afraid of being beaten.
‘You are all an incredible resource,’ said Oswald. ‘You just haven’t realized it yet.’
Murmurs of agreement cropped up here and there.
‘I only want you to finish renovating your new living quarters. Can you manage that?’
Their positive response came in unison, as if with military precision.
‘Well there you go!’ Oswald said. ‘Bosse can stop nagging you now, and you can stop pretending that you don’t know what to do!’
They looked at him with great anticipation; they wanted him to keep talking because a sudden sense of solidarity had arisen. But he was done with them.
Sofia stayed behind as the staff scattered, hoping he would notice her. He did, and waved her over.
‘What do you say, Sofia? Do you believe, too, that people have more potential than they realize?’
‘Definitely, I’m sure they do.’
‘Good, because that’s my life’s motto. I hate mediocrity.’
She didn’t quite know what he expected her to say, and she felt that anxiety that came from standing before Oswald in silence. Later on she would learn that she didn’t need to say anything at all. Oswald didn’t speak with his staff. He spoke to his staff.
When he spoke to you, you were only supposed to make eye contact, and, when fitting, nod or express agreement. But she hadn’t come to this realization yet, so she nervously scraped one foot through the gravel.
‘Are you working on my library program?’ he asked.
‘That’s all I do.’
‘And what do you think of it?’
‘It’s fantastic,’ she lied. Or, rather, exaggerated.
His face brightened a bit.
‘Good, good. Keep at it. I want to see everything — the layouts, the computer systems, your list of books to purchase, the whole lot.’
Then he took a quick step forward, so he was standing very close to her.
‘Your hair,’ he said. ‘It’s nice when you put it up like that.’
He looked at the bun she had, with great effort, gathered on the very top of her head.
‘Thanks.’
‘Although I like it better down.’
‘Oh, but Bosse said —’
This was as far as she got before he ran a finger down the back of her neck.
‘Wear it loose tomorrow. Bosse’s an idiot.’
‘Okay, I will.’
He smiled at her, but the warmth in his eyes was gone.
‘You’re new here, but you should know that I don’t have a boss. Least of all Bosse. You can get back to work now.’
His touch was still burning her skin as she hurried across the courtyard.
*
One night in September, she became fully aware of the coming autumn for the first time.
She was on her way back to the library after the evening assembly. A cold wind swept across the courtyard, tugging at her blazer and