“It’s fletching,” Abigail said automatically.
“What’s that?” he said.
“Sorry. It’s the name for the feathers on an arrow.” The word had jumped into her head because of Ben Perez, her ex-boyfriend, who’d once written a poem with the word in it. They’d had a disagreement, Abigail claiming that no one would know what the word meant. It was so strange to suddenly think of Ben here on Heart Pond Island, where she felt about as far away from New York City and her old life as possible.
“Fletching,” he said. “I’ll remember that. I’m Aaron, by the way, if you don’t remember.”
“Hi, Aaron.”
“You here to make another call?”
“I am.” Abigail’s plan was to call Zoe, get her to jump onto her computer and research ways to get off this island. Maybe she’d find another charter service that would agree to fly to Heart Pond Island. If anyone could figure it out, Zoe could.
“Come on through,” Aaron said, and led Abigail to the same desk she’d used before. He bent over the phone, cradled the handset between his shoulder and his head, and pushed a bunch of buttons on the phone. She stared at his cleanly shaved neck.
He had closely buzzed hair on the back of his head and the sides, but a long blond lock at the top that he had to push back now that he was bent over.
“Here you go,” he said, pulling the chair out for Abigail. “I hope you don’t have a problem getting through. Phones have been tricky this morning.”
“What do you mean?” Abigail said.
“They’ve just been in and out a little bit. No big deal. If you have trouble getting through, just keep trying.”
“Okay,” Abigail said, but she felt angry just hearing about the possibility. Even if Zoe couldn’t help her get off the island, she desperately wanted to talk to her, just to hear her voice.
“It sometimes happens,” Aaron said, smiling.
Abigail dialed Zoe’s number from memory, was thrilled to hear a ringtone, but after about five rings she was cut off and a busy signal interrupted the call. “Fuck,” she said to herself. She tried it again and the same thing happened. Then she dialed her own cell phone number. This time it was just a busy signal, not even a ringtone. She turned back to look for Aaron, but he was no longer in the office. It was all she could do not to pick up the phone and throw it across the room. Of course it didn’t work. Of course they weren’t going to let her make a phone call. And then some of her rage was replaced by a surge of fear. She looked around the office again, scanning the ceiling for cameras. Were they watching her?
She picked up the handset again and dialed 9 to get an outside line, then punched in 911. It began to ring and she almost hung up. What was she going to say if this actually worked? Hello, I’m being held against my will at Heart Pond Island. I think I’m in danger. It sounded ludicrous, but she was being held here. It was being done by smiling men in khaki pants, but what difference did that make? She wanted to leave, and they weren’t letting her.
Spoiled bitch.
The ringing stopped and went to another busy signal. She hung up the phone quietly and stood as tall as she could to look over all the open cubicles. There must be other phones here, and maybe they worked. She spotted one toward the back of the office. A black office phone next to what looked like a fax machine. She walked over to it, picked up the handset with a shaky hand, and dialed Zoe’s number again. The same thing happened, ringing followed by a busy signal. She hung up. Her heart was starting to race, and her breathing felt shallow, as if she wasn’t able to get enough air into her lungs. She told herself to calm down, that there was still a chance that all the strange things that had happened in the past few days were nothing more than coincidence.
A woman came into the office, humming to herself. It was Mellie, the only female staff member that Abigail had actually laid eyes on since arriving here.
“Hello,” Abigail said from across the room.
Mellie squinted toward her, then said, “Hi, Mrs. Lamb. Making a call?”
“Trying to,” Abigail said.
“Yeah, I heard that the phones were glitching again. Sorry about that.”
“How long does it usually last?” Abigail said, walking across the office.
Mellie shrugged, said, “Not more than a day, usually. That’s the problem with wanting to have a resort that’s entirely cut off from the rest of the world. You wind up being cut off from the rest of the world.”