Threads: The Island

"Fuck my crazy-ass life," Kyle told his reflection.

He turned to the bedroom, seeing Patricia still lying on top of the sheet, this time with Kyle's phone opened in front of her.

"What you doing?" He asked, smiling at her.

"Checking your emails. They're fairly stacking up."

"What's the count now?"

"Six thousand or so." She gave him a grin. "Me and Shmi will start blasting through them tomorrow if you want?"

"Six thousand?" Kyle asked. "I don't know six thousand people."

"Yeah, well there's a lot more than that know you. Not like I do, of course, unless you've been keeping some really big secrets from me," She said, winking.

"Hardly."

"So are you..." Patricia's sentence was cut off by the sound of a knock on the glass doors, then a second later Katie called.

"Hello, Kyle? You still up?"

"Yeah, I'm back here."

"You coming to join me and Kara on the balcony? Last night on the Island."

Kyle glanced at Patricia and shrugged. She just rolled her eyes.

"I'll be here when you're done."

Kyle gave her a kiss then went outside to join his sisters.

"Thought you were gonna ditch us tonight, Kyle," Kara said, grinning at him. "Here. Have a cigarette."

"You're offering me my own cigarettes now?" He laughed, but took one anyway.

"I like to be helpful," She smirked.

Kyle sat down, lit up and looked at Kara and Katie. "Had a good day?"

"It's been great," Katie smiled. "A really good way to finish off our stay."

"I'm not looking forward to returning to reality," Kara said, exhaling a long plume of smoke. "That's gonna suck."

"You know it's not going to be reality, right?" Kyle pointed out. "I mean, you're going to New York, Katie's going to see her folks, but for both of you it's going to be very different."

"You too," Katie agreed.

"Fuck, I know," He said, rolling his eyes. "I've got a day and a half at home in San Antonio then I'm in Los Angeles for two weeks. I've got a schedule from hell and Patricia and Lakshmi are trying to jam dating opportunities in there, left, right and centre."

"Yeah, I was hearing you've to date other people," Kara said, a grin appearing slowly on her face.

"How the hell did you hear about it?" Kyle asked.

"Casey told Margarita. Margarita told Katie. I heard it from her." She shrugged.

"What a pair of gossips."

"We're just looking out for you, like good sisters would," Katie said, sticking her tongue out when he laughed.

"Kyle. Phone call." He heard Patricia call from inside the suite.

"Gotta take this," He said, quickly darting inside. Patricia handed him his phone with a quizzical look on her face.

"It's Kyle." He said quickly, the cellphone pressed to his ear.

"Know where the main kitchens are?" Connor said quickly.

"Yeah."

"There's a courtyard for storing the trash. Meet me there. Fast as you can. I've got our friend."

Kyle ended the call and looked at Patricia. "I've got to go. I'll be back in a bit."

"What's happening? You're white as a sheet." He could see the concern clearly on her face, but he didn't have time to chat about it.

"Can't talk now, but everything's fine. Wait here." He darted outside.

"Kyle?" He heard Kara call, but he was already on his way down the stairs two at a time, and running out the front door of the main house moments later.

He knew the kitchens were located off to the right on the other side of the trees, and there had to be a path, so he checked at the side of the house and found it, tucked behind a bush. He ran down it, turning left, then right, left again, following the edge of the building, and then he spotted the courtyard.

He ran round the corner seconds later and froze.

Edwin was sitting cross-legged on the floor with his hands behind his head, while Connor had a pistol trained on him. They were surrounded by big trash cans on wheels, and in the corner it looked like a flagstone had been prised up.

"That was quick," Connor said, winking. "I should put you on my team if you react that fast."

"You've got him." Kyle said, his eyes darting from Connor with his pistol held in an unshaking hand to Edwin, sat on the floor looking surprisingly calm. The old man met his gaze.

"Master Kyle, this lunatic is pointing a gun at me for no reason."

Kyle didn't have to be nice to him anymore, he realised in that instant. Now was the time for confrontation, not play-acted innocence.

"Shut the fuck up," He snapped, then turned back to Connor. "What happened?"

The Scotsman kept his eyes on Edwin. "He opened the hatch, and I stepped out on him, detained him until you arrived."

"What's down there?"

"A ladder, leading to another door. We need him to open it for us."

"It's a storage area," Edwin protested. "Really, this is quite ridiculous."

Kyle ignored the old man for the moment. "So we go down there with him?"

"Aye. You first, then him, then me," Connor said firmly. His hand slid behind his back and he pulled out another pistol, this time a snub-nosed revolver. "Careful with this one. When it's cocked it's like a hair-trigger."

Kyle stared at it and frowned. Time to shit or get off the pot, Kyle. "Yeah, I remember how to use this." He reached out and took the pistol, opened it to make sure it had ammo in it and then closed it again. His eyes swung up to meet Edwin's, and he felt this surge of anger at the old man. He raised the revolver.

"You're going to open that door for us, Edwin, because I know exactly what you've been up to," Kyle stated, the anger in his tone evident.

Edwin cast a look at him which was half disbelief, half amusement and then to Kyle's surprise, he snorted. His expression changed to reveal an arrogance, a contempt for the two men holding him at gunpoint.. "Kyle Watson, I daresay there are many things in this world you think you know, but don't."

"I know you're trying to blackmail me. I know you've been sexually abusing Sarah for the past year. I know you're obsessed with Patricia. I know you're a fucking deviant, and a pervert and a fucking scumbag piece of shit, so let's get all the cards on the table, shall we?"

Edwin's gaze flicked back and forth between Kyle and Connor, then back again. "I don't think so. Here's what's going to happen. You're going to put those guns away, you're going to let me go, or the world will be hearing a new tale of the billionaire triplets and their incestuous history. They'll hear of a cover-up, of bribery and blackmail, of extortion. And the best bit?"

The old man paused for breath, smirking. "They'll be able to watch it themselves on video, out of your own mouths, admitting to it and discussing how to cover it up." He lowered his arms and placed his hands in his lap.

"You've got me on video?" Kyle said, doubting him.

"Every structure on the Island has cameras hidden in it," The old man said, his voice thick with contempt and amusement at Kyle's naivety. "I've got everything."

"Want me to just shoot him now?" Connor asked. "It's no bother."

Kyle couldn't answer, his gaze fixed on Edwin. He felt more fury in that moment than he had in his entire life.

"If you do, then copies of the video files will be emailed to all the major news outlets," Edwin added. He shrugged. "Your choice."

Kyle wondered if the old man was bluffing or if he truly had a covert CCTV system with complete coverage of the Island. He knew it technologically possible, and Danny Tripps definitely had the funds, but to have something of that scale and keep it secret would be an extraordinary achievement. On top of that, even if Edwin did have an insurance policy in the event something happened to him, who could he possibly trust with the knowledge? He frowned, watching the Englishman to try and figure out if he was lying or not.

"So what do you want?" Kyle said eventually. "I mean you haven't done this for no reason, so what are you hoping to get out of it?"

"I'll discuss that when I'm good and ready, I think," The old man sniffed. "For the time being, you can leave my Patricia alone. No more taking her in your bed, or in the shower. No more bathing together either." His face turned grim. "You leave her here when you leave tomorrow."

"I don't think so," Kyle said firmly, trying to stifle the shock that Edwin knew about them showering together. The certainty that there was a camera in his own bathroom made him feel violated.

"I don't think so," He repeated, "Because there's no way I'm leaving anyone with a piece of shit like you."

"Really, Kyle?" Edwin said, shaking his head slowly, as if disappointed. "You're calling me names? I had given you a little more credit than that."

Connor stepped forward. "Kyle, I reckon we could probably drill those locks downstairs, or get someone in to cut through the door. That Captain that's in charge of the Betsy? He's an ex-SEAL, right? He'll know how to use explosives so I'm sure he'd open it up for us."

Kyle was grateful to the Bodyguard, taking over the conversation and putting a little more pressure on Edwin while giving Kyle the time to think, to ease his doubts about what to do.

"As for him, I can shoot him in the head, we'll put your gun in his hand and fire it into the wall, and it'll look like he was trying to kill you," Connor continued. "From what you're saying too, we could wheel this Sarah out and get her to tell her story and everyone would know what a sad perverted wanker he is. No fucker mourns a rapist."

"What about the videos he's got ready to send?" Kyle asked, frowning.

Connor tilted his head and looked at Edwin. "I reckon he's talking shite about that. Besides, if he's got them they'll be down in the bunker. We'll have that door off in a few hours at most, and then we'll have his evidence in hand too. Piece of piss."

"If you think you can get through that door in a few hours you're sadly mistaken," Edwin said quickly. Kyle noted he wasn't smirking any more though.

"Oh, we don't need to get the door off," Connor grinned. "All we need is to get through the keypad to access the scanner inside. It is a scanner for your handprint, right? Located at just the right height up the wall, inside a box large enough to house it. Not a box deep enough or high enough to be a retinal scanner, too wide to house a keypad, not wide enough to hold a keyboard. Just perfect for a handprint scanner though, and if you're dead.... Well, you won't be worried about us cutting your hand off and taking it down there, will you?"

Kyle could see the old man pale as Connor's guess struck true.

"How could you..."

Connor took a step forward again, towering over the seated Edwin with menace. "I got the combination for the kitchen keypad last night. I was watching you go in. I watched you come out. I've been down that ladder twice since then. Still think you're the smartest kid in the class?" Connor looked down on the seated Englishman. "You're going down that hole if I have to throw you down."

Kyle could see Edwin was at a loss for words.

"Me, then him, then you?" Kyle asked.

"Any time you're ready," Connor nodded.

"Okay. Let's do it."

Kyle put the revolver in his back pocket and headed over to the hole in the ground. He peered down, seeing the ladder going down to a concrete floor some distance below. There were low lights from the other side of the shaft, illuminating the inside enough that barely any light spilled out.

He sat down and put his feet on the rungs, then went down the first couple. "See you down there."

"If he gives you any trouble when he gets down there," Connor said, giving Kyle a firm look. "Shoot him. You can kill him if you need to, but a shot in the gut fucks you right up, and it's really fucking painful too. Trust me, I know."

Kyle took a deep breath and nodded. As he lowered himself down the ladder he felt sick at the thought that he might actually have to shoot someone. He knew he hated Edwin, but did he have the commitment there to shoot an unarmed man in cold blood? He sighed as he neared the bottom of the shaft, hoping that Edwin wouldn't realise the fears he held and seek to use them against him.

The bottom of the ladder opened into a small chamber and directly opposite the ladder was a shiny steel door. There were no locks or handles visible on it at all, just a big steel plate fitting snugly into a smaller steel frame. To its right, a metal box sat on the wall about the same size as a shoebox, with a small keypad on top of it.

"You down?" Connor's voice sounded strange, kindy of eerie and echoey at the bottom of the shaft.

"Yeah," Kyle called back up, looking up. He saw Connor manhandle Edwin roughly into the shaft, gesturing with his pistol as the old man hesitated.

Edwin began to descend, moving smoothly, one foot descending at the same time as the opposite hand, then reversing, bringing him down to Kyle rapidly. At the last second, Kyle remembered he should have his gun pointed on him, and grabbed it out his pocket.

"Slow down," He said, trying to sound firm as Edwin reached the last few rungs.

The old man got to the bottom and turned around, sneering as he saw Kyle had the gun pointed at him. "Out my way, boy."

"Just.... wait there."

"Do you want the door open or not?" Edwin asked. "I can't open it if you're in the way, can I?"

Kyle heard a muffled clang from up the shaft and guessed it must be Connor closing the hatch. Figuring the Scotsman would be down the ladder any second, he moved to the corner to allow Edwin access to the door.

The old man lifted his left hand up to the side of the keypad and his right hovered over it, ready to type the code in.

"Wait!" Kyle said sharply. "Put your left hand in your pocket. I want to see what number you put in."

Edwin sighed and shook his head, and as he touched each button Kyle said the number aloud, committing it to memory.

"Nine. Six. One. Two. One. Seven."

The box under the keypad clicked and swung open, and Edwin pressed his right hand immediately against it. Kyle saw a red light illuminate the old man briefly and then there was a series of low thunks and the door began to swing out.

Kyle realised immediately that it was hinged in the corner he was leaning against and if he didn't move fast, the door was going to swing out and crush him against the wall. He quickly darted towards the base of the ladder, losing Edwin from sight as the old man dived inside.

"Fuck!" He blurted as he rounded the door and got a momentary glimpse of a large room, with a concrete floor covered in rugs, white painted walls and a large white sofa. He just had time to raise the revolver to point through the doorway before everything suddenly turned into complete darkness.

He knew Edwin must have hit some master control, a kill-switch for the lighting, and had robbed them of any light at all.

"Kyle?" He heard Connor call from up the shaft as the small lights winked out, the light at the bottom of the shaft went off and the interior lights in the saferoom disappeared. He knew that Connor must be gripping tightly to the ladder, unable to even see the rungs before him.

"Down here," Kyle said, stepping forward. "Edwin's inside, but I've got the door blocked."

He realised he shouldn't have said that as soon as the words were out his mouth.

He didn't even have time to curse before he heard the click or felt the pinpricks in his chest, and then every muscle in his body went tight. His stomach went taught, like he'd just done a thousand sit-ups, his legs stiffened, and his torso tightened up. The 50,000 volts from the tazer shot through his system, stiffening him and tightening every muscle.

The gunshot boomed in the close confines of the small chamber at the bottom of the shaft as Kyle's finger involuntarily pressured the trigger of the revolver.

Kyle hadn't felt anything like it in his life. The complete inability to make his body react to anything, the horrible helplessness as he heard the gun in his hand go off a split-second before he toppled to the ground.

He hit the concrete floor hard.

He could feel someone dragging him. Or maybe the floor was moving. Everything felt weird, and his head felt like it was going to explode. Someone was pulling on his arm, locking his wrist in a grip like a vice. He could tell there was light, but didn't dare open his eyes for the starbursts exploding in front of him every time he moved.

The arm tugged at him again and he groaned. He raised his free hand to push it away.

"Kyle? You awake?" He heard a voice asking. He could sense urgency in the tone, concern. It sounded loud.

He tried to say something, but there was a horrible bitter smell in the air, and a foul taste in his mouth. He screwed his face up in disgust, then grimaced at the movement as more bursts of light went off and the pain in his head intensified.

The sudden recognition of nausea made him want to curl up, and as the hand released his arm, he did just that, lying on his side on the floor like a foetus.

"Come on, Kyle. It's Connor," The voice said softly. "Let's get you up on the bed so you can lie down. Let me have a look at that head of yours."

Kyle licked his lips. "What?" He tried to say, but it came out more like, "Wug?"

"Kyle, get up," The voice said again. "Come on, one wee move and you can lie down kiddo."

He felt a hand gripping his arm, pulling him into a sitting position and his head spun. Then an arm gripped his waistbelt and he felt himself being pulled up and twisted to the side. His stomach lurched, the lights went berserk and he felt like gravity was shifting all over the place.

Something soft and warm pressed against the side of his face, right down his body and he realised that he was lying on his side now. Hands lifted his legs up and he was able to curl up again. His back felt sticky.

"Kyle, you've been knocked out, so you'll feel a bit groggy, probably have a cracker of a headache too, but just take it easy," The voice told him. "You're safe, everything's under control here."

"Wug?"

He lay there for a minute, his head spinning, his stomach churning and he felt really confused, but slowly his thoughts began to make sense. He was Kyle. The guy's voice was Connor. He's Scottish. He gets laid. A lot.

He felt something damp being pressed to his head and he groaned. It felt like he was being squashed with a hammer and he pushed a hand up to swat it away.

"Easy, Kyle. You've banged your head. This'll make it feel better," Connors voice told him. "Right, I want you to lie here the now, and nae moving, okay?"

Kyle had no intention of moving. Everything was spinning, his head was trying to explode and he didn't want to open his eyes.

"I'll be back in a minute, okay? You're safe here. Just stay lying right there."

Kyle held up a thumb, and he heard a few limping footsteps. A door closed. His hand groped for something to try and dim the light, and he found a pillow.

He pulled it over his head and groaned as the world spun.

Time drifted past, and he heard voices. Some of them sounded serious, concerned and some of them sounded high-pitched and scared. The door opened and closed a few times, and once he thought he felt someone stroking his leg, but it was all just a confused jumble of noises as he drifted in and out of sleep.

He became aware of a voice.

"Kyle."

This was a different voice. Higher pitched than the coarse Scottish accent he heard before. Someone American. Someone familiar.

He licked his lips. "Patricia?"

"It's me, Kyle," She repeated, and he felt her fingers gently stroke his face. "Are you okay?"

"Head. Sore," He managed. "Thirsty."

"Okay, I'll bring you some water. Just stay there." Her hand left his face and he heard footsteps going away.

Kyle tried to open his eyes, but everything was incredibly bright. He screwed up his face as he squinted through his eyelids, feeling a little relieved that the explosions of stars had stopped at least.