The Man Beyond The Map

CHAPTER 17 - THE HOSTESS

The island screamed.

Not metaphorically.

Not in some distant, imagined way.

It screamed.

The sound came from beneath our feet and above our heads at the same time, a vibration so deep that I felt it in my teeth.

People scattered.

Stone cracked.

Blue fire erupted along the walls.

Someone shouted for everyone to get back.

Another voice screamed that the chamber was collapsing.

I stood frozen.

The enormous eye beneath the floor stared upward.

It wasn't an eye in the normal sense.

There was no visible creature attached to it.

No eyelid.

No face.

Just a massive golden iris embedded beneath layers of ancient stone.

And it was looking directly at me.

Not at the people around me.

Not at Aria.

Me.

My body reacted before my mind did.

I grabbed Aria and pulled her backward.

“Move!”

We ran.

The crowd surged toward the corridor.

Stone fell from the ceiling.

I grabbed an old man before a piece struck him and shoved him forward.

“Keep moving!”

He stumbled.

“Where?”

“Anywhere away from this!”

A crack split the floor behind us.

People screamed.

Aria grabbed my hand.

“This way!”

We turned into a narrow passage.

I followed her without questioning it.

She moved like someone who had memorized the underground complex.

Left.

Right.

Down three steps.

Another corridor.

A rusted metal door.

She slammed her shoulder against it.

It opened.

We stumbled into darkness.

She closed it behind us.

The screaming became muffled.

I leaned against the wall, breathing hard.

Aria stood beside me.

Neither of us spoke.

Then she whispered:

“It's awake.”

I looked at her.

“What is?”

She shook her head.

“You already know.”

“No.”

She stared at me.

“Yes, you do.”

I remembered the eye.

The voice.

The woman.

The child.

And the memory that had surfaced beneath the stone.

You promised you'd come back.

I rubbed my temples.

“Something is happening to my memory.”

Aria didn't answer.

“I've seen this place.”

“Yes.”

“Before.”

“Yes.”

“I've seen you.”

She looked at me.

“No.”

“You were there.”

“I wasn't.”

“You were.”

She shook her head.

“You saw someone who looked like me.”

I frowned.

“What?”

“The island doesn't always show the truth.”

“So you think the memory wasn't real?”

“I think you shouldn't trust everything you remember.”

That sentence struck me.

Because it was exactly what Marcus had said in another way.

Exactly what the files had suggested.

Someone had been investigating my memories long before I understood there was a reason to.

I looked at Aria.

“Who are you?”

She sighed.

“You've asked me that before.”

“No, I haven't.”

“Not in this life.”

The words hung there.

I stared at her.

“What does that mean?”

She didn't answer.

Instead, she walked deeper into the room.

I followed.

It opened into a small chamber.

There was a table.

Two chairs.

A water container.

Medical supplies.

A radio.

A lantern.

Someone had been living there.

“You stay here?”

“Sometimes.”

“Alone?”

“Usually.”

I looked around.

There were photographs pinned to one wall.

People.

Dozens of them.

Some smiling.

Some standing beside aircraft.

Some beside boats.

Some in military uniforms.

Others wearing ordinary clothes.

Different years.

Different backgrounds.

Different countries.

But there was one thing they had in common.

Every photograph had the same island behind them.

I stepped closer.

“Who are these people?”

“Survivors.”

“Of the crashes?”

“Some.”

I looked at another photograph.

A young man stood beside a woman.

The date beneath it read:

1998.

Another.

2007.

Another.

2014.

Another.

2021.

I stared.

“People have been coming here for decades.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Some came looking for the island.”

“And the rest?”

“They weren't looking.”

I looked at her.

“Like me.”

“Yes.”

I turned back toward the photographs.

“How many are still alive?”

“Not many.”

“Where are they?”

“Scattered.”

“Why?”

“Because people fight.”

“Over what?”

“Food. Water. Territory.”

She paused.

“Power.”

That sounded familiar.

Too familiar.

I had seen civilizations destroy themselves over less.

“How long have you been here?”

“Three years.”

“And you survived alone?”

“No.”

She pointed to a photograph.

A man stood beside her.

Older.

Bearded.

Military posture.

I recognized the uniform.

“Who is that?”

“My captain.”

“Was?”

She nodded.

“What happened?”

“He died.”

“How?”

She looked toward the ceiling.

“Something came out of the forest.”

I thought of the creature.

“The thing I saw?”

“No.”

Her answer was immediate.

“That was a guardian.”

I stared at her.

“A guardian?”

“Yes.”

“Guardian of what?”

She looked directly at me.

“You.”

I laughed.

“That's impossible.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it is.”

She stepped closer.

“You think you're here because you stole a pilot's identity?”

“Yes.”

“You think you're here because you ran from the military?”

“Yes.”

“You think you're here because someone manipulated your escape?”

I hesitated.

“Yes.”

She shook her head.

“You were coming here long before any of that happened.”

I felt a pressure build behind my eyes.

A headache.

Sharp.

Sudden.

I grabbed the table.

Aria moved toward me.

“What is it?”

“My head.”

The room blurred.

I heard water.

Then wind.

Then a woman's voice.

You shouldn't have come.

Another voice answered.

Mine.

I had to.

The woman's voice laughed.

You always say that.

I opened my eyes.

Aria was holding my shoulders.

“Ethan?”

I blinked.

“What?”

“You disappeared.”

“For how long?”

“Almost a minute.”

I looked around.

The chamber was unchanged.

But something had changed inside me.

I knew it.

Another fragment.

A memory.

I had been here.

I had stood in this chamber.

But the person with me hadn't been Aria.

It had been another woman.

Dark hair.

Violet eyes.

I didn't know her name.

Yet the moment I saw her in my mind, my chest hurt.

I stepped away from Aria.

“Who is she?”

Aria went completely still.

“Who?”

“The woman.”

“What woman?”

“I saw her.”

“What did she look like?”

“Dark hair.”

Aria waited.

“Violet eyes.”

Her expression changed.

“Don't.”

“Who is she?”

“I said don't.”

“Aria.”

“She isn't here.”

“That's not an answer.”

“She isn't supposed to be.”

“Who is she?”

Aria looked toward the photographs.

Then she whispered:

“Someone you loved.”

I stared at her.

“Did she come here?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“I don't know.”

“You said she isn't here.”

“She left.”

“Where?”

Aria shook her head.

“I don't know.”

“Then how do you know I loved her?”

“Because she told me.”

I felt my heartbeat change.

“When?”

“Before she disappeared.”

I stepped closer.

“You met her?”

“Yes.”

“What was her name?”

Aria looked at me.

Then she said:

“Elena.”

Everything inside me stopped.

I stared at her.

“No.”

“She came here?”

“No.”

Aria nodded.

“Yes.”

“That isn't possible.”

“She was here.”

“You're lying.”

“I wish I were.”

I backed away.

Elena.

The name didn't belong here.

It belonged to military receptions.

Coffee.

Secret messages.

Her hands in mine.

Her voice in the dark.

It belonged to Marcus.

Not this island.

Not this impossible place.

“Tell me everything.”

Aria shook her head.

“I can't.”

“Why?”

“Because you won't believe me.”

“Try me.”

She looked at me.

“Elena wasn't the first woman to come here.”

My stomach tightened.

“Who was?”

“You.”

I stared.

“You came here before her.”

“No.”

“You brought her.”

The room seemed to tilt.

“I've never been here.”

Aria stepped closer.

“Your memories were removed.”

“By whom?”

She shook her head.

“I don't know.”

“Who can do that?”

“The island.”

I laughed bitterly.

“An island can't erase memories.”

“This one can.”

A sound came from the corridor.

Footsteps.

We both froze.

I reached for my pistol.

Aria raised one finger to her lips.

The footsteps stopped outside the door.

Then someone knocked.

Three times.

Slow.

Deliberate.

I moved toward the wall beside the entrance.

Aria whispered:

“Don't open it.”

Another knock.

Three times.

I looked through the narrow gap beside the door.

Nothing.

Then a voice came through.

“Aria.”

She froze.

The voice belonged to a woman.

Young.

Calm.

Familiar.

Aria looked at me.

“Who is that?”

She shook her head.

The voice came again.

“Aria, open the door.”

Aria backed away.

“I know that voice.”

I kept my weapon raised.

“Who is it?”

She whispered:

“Myself.”

I stared at her.

“What?”

The voice outside laughed softly.

Aria's face drained of color.

Then the door opened by itself.

A woman stood outside.

She looked exactly like Aria.

Same face.

Same eyes.

Same hair.

Same height.

But something was wrong.

Her eyes were completely white.

She smiled.

“Hello, Ethan.”

I raised my weapon.

“Stay where you are.”

The woman looked at the pistol.

Then smiled wider.

“You still carry weapons when you're frightened.”

My finger tightened around the trigger.

“How do you know me?”

“You used to call me something else.”

“What?”

She stepped into the room.

“Mother.”

Aria screamed.

“No!”

The woman turned toward her.

“Hello, daughter.”

Aria backed into the wall.

“You died.”

The woman's smile vanished.

“I did.”

“Then what are you?”

She looked at me.

“A memory.”

The blue fire along the walls suddenly went out.

Darkness swallowed us.

When the lights returned—

The woman was gone.

So was the radio.

So were the photographs.

I stared at the empty wall.

Aria was crying.

I lowered my weapon.

“What just happened?”

She shook her head.

“I don't know.”

“You said she was your mother.”

“She was.”

“And she's dead.”

“Yes.”

I looked toward the door.

Then at Aria.

“Then why did she call you daughter?”

Aria wiped her eyes.

“Because she was.”

I didn't understand.

And somehow I knew I wasn't supposed to.

A distant sound echoed through the underground tunnels.

A siren.

Then another.

Aria looked toward the ceiling.

“What?”

She stood.

“We have to go.”

“Where?”

“Outside.”

“Why?”

“Because the island has changed.”

We ran.

The corridors were empty.

No people.

No voices.

No movement.

We reached the surface.

The morning sun was finally visible.

I stepped outside.

The runway looked different.

The aircraft was still there.

But the ocean wasn't.

I stopped.

Aria walked past me.

Then stopped too.

The horizon had changed.

A massive wall of clouds surrounded the island.

Not approaching.

Already there.

Completely encircling us.

I looked toward the sea.

The ship Kane had arrived on was gone.

No wreckage.

No smoke.

Nothing.

Then I noticed something else.

A second aircraft sat at the far end of the runway.

A modern passenger jet.

Clean.

Intact.

Impossible.

Its engines were off.

Its doors were open.

And through the windows, I could see people moving.

Passengers.

Alive.

I looked at Aria.

“Where did that come from?”

She shook her head.

“I don't know.”

I approached slowly.

The aircraft looked like it had just landed.

There were no signs of damage.

No smoke.

No emergency markings.

The stairs were extended.

A woman stepped onto them.

She wore a flight attendant's uniform.

Dark hair.

Composed expression.

She looked around at the jungle, runway, and wreckage with growing confusion.

Then her eyes found mine.

She stopped.

For several seconds, neither of us moved.

Something inside my chest tightened.

I didn't know her.

I'd never seen her before.

Yet the feeling was immediate.

The same impossible pull I'd felt when I first saw the island.

The same strange sensation I'd experienced when the name Aria had been spoken over the radio.

She descended the stairs.

One step.

Then another.

When she reached the ground, she looked directly at me.

“Excuse me,” she said.

Her voice was soft.

“Can you tell me where we are?”

I opened my mouth.

Nothing came out.

Aria stood behind me.

Her expression had become unreadable.

The hostess looked between us.

Then back at me.

And suddenly she whispered:

“Ethan?”

My heart stopped.

I took one step toward her.

“How do you know my name?”

She frowned.

“I don't know.”

She touched her chest.

“But when I saw you…”

Her voice trembled.

“I remembered.”

The wind moved through the runway.

The clouds around the island darkened.

Behind us, something enormous roared from deep within the jungle.

The hostess turned toward the sound.

Then back at me.

Her eyes filled with fear.

“Who are you?”

I looked at her.

For the first time since arriving on the island, I had no answer.

Because somewhere inside me, beneath the memories I'd lost and the life I'd abandoned, a single thought appeared.

I have been looking for her.

And I didn't know why.