Fog Island: A terrifying thriller set in a modern-day cult

‘I had no idea,’ she heard herself say, but her voice came from far beyond her body.

‘I’m sorry?’ Olof said.

She forced herself to open her eyes, and there he was, looking at her curiously.

‘You said something.’

‘I was thinking out loud, about how I had no idea I could remember so far back. I remembered taking my first steps. It seems incredible, but I know it was real.’

‘And . . .?’ he leaned forward, eager, encouraging her to go on.

‘And I was thinking that the past really is the key to existence.’

Bingo! Olof slapped his hand against the desk.

‘That’s it! That’s it! The exercise is over. We’ll do thesis number three tomorrow.’

*

She was a little nervous as she entered the classroom on the third evening. She wasn’t quite sure why; she only knew that it had to do with losing control, losing herself in the exercises.

‘How many theses are there?’ she asked Olof as soon as they sat down.

‘Five, but you’ll do one through four first and then spend some time practising your new abilities.’

‘Have you read the fifth thesis?’

‘No, no one has yet. Franz is going to release it as soon as five hundred guests have completed the first four. He says the fifth is so powerful that it will take a team, sort of. But right now, for you, let’s focus on number three.’

Thesis #3: One person’s dusk is another’s dawn.

Your true self can only exist free of constant fear of causing offence, wounding, or hurting others. The desire for approval is a scourge on humanity.

Exercise: The process for Thesis 3 is done in the classroom with an advisor who uses this repeated command: ‘Remember a time when you could have helped someone by hurting them.’

She shivered as she finished reading. ‘That sounds brutal.’

‘That’s the point. Your desire for approval is protesting now, not your true self. Now let’s do the exercise.’

But she couldn’t come up with an answer. She squirmed in her chair, distracted by everything that was going on in the classroom as her irritation at the idiotic exercise grew.

‘I can’t think of an answer to your question,’ she stated at last.

‘Then that’s what we’ll say.’

‘What? What do you mean?’

‘Franz says thesis number three isn’t for everyone. There are those who are dominant and those who are submissive. This thesis doesn’t work for the submissive ones.’

‘I’m not submissive, damn it! What are you talking about?’

‘Sofia, it’s not a bad thing. The whole universe is built on dominance and submissiveness. It’s just as natural as how the seagulls in the bay eat herring. Take the rest of the night off and we’ll get started on the fourth thesis tomorrow.’

She was stewing as she left the classroom — that scrawny jerk didn’t know a damn thing about her. Submissive? The very idea was idiotic, ridiculous, and, above all, one hundred percent wrong. And comparing her to a fucking herring! She walked around the yard for a while, then sat by the pond and watched the swans while yanking at the grass.

At last she stood up and walked briskly back to the classroom. Olof Hurtig was still there.

‘Okay, I’ll do the damn exercise.’

His face broke into a smile.

‘I thought so.’

So they started over, and she came up with a few answers to the question, which made her feel a little better. Good enough to Hurtig to let her go for the night.

*

‘This thesis is so simple that it’s best if you don’t use your brain when you answer it, but your heart,’ Hurtig said as he placed the fourth thesis before her.

‘How do I do that?’

‘Just try.’

She read the short text.

Thesis #4: Darkness is the root of light.

A millimetre below the surface of the earth, darkness rules completely. Within your body it is perfectly dark, and yet you are alive and are radiant with energy. The DNA in your cells have no light, yet it is the blueprint for what you are. Darkness is the root of light.

Exercise: Your advisor will show you to a room that is perfectly dark. This is all you have to do: sit in compete darkness until you can see.

‘I can’t do this exercise,’ she said at once.

‘Not this again, Sofia.’

‘You don’t understand. I’m afraid of the dark. I can’t handle being closed up in a pitch black room.’

‘But you sleep in total darkness here.’

‘It’s different when I’m asleep,’ she lied, because she always left a little gap under the blind.

‘I’ll be right outside the room the whole time,’ Hurtig promised. ‘If you panic, all you have to do is knock on the door and I’ll open it. You can at least try, can’t you?’

*

The room was at the far end of the building. The atmosphere there was very different from the classrooms. The air was raw and stale and there was a heavy smell of body odour from someone who must have sat there for a while. There was a chair in the middle of the room, which was otherwise empty.

‘It’s creepy in here.’

‘It’s not meant to be comfortable.’

She walked in slowly and sat down on the chair.

‘The room is soundproofed,’ he said. ‘But I’ll hear you if you knock on the door.’

The door closed with a heavy thud.

At first, she was paralyzed by the silence rather than the darkness. It was so quiet that the whole world seemed to have disappeared. She could hear her pulse and a strange, gurgling buzz in her ears. That’s the blood flowing through my veins, she thought. My hearing has moved into my body.

Then the darkness crept in under her clothes and found every last nook and cranny of her body, settling in her armpits and groin, tightening over her larynx until she could hardly breathe. Then came the familiar waves of sweat, starting with nausea and spreading heat to her chest, hands, and forehead until she was drenched.

I can’t handle this. I need out, out!

And just then, it happened. She found herself outside. Not just outside her body; that didn’t exist anymore, but outside the whole island. She was floating way up in the sky.

Everything was bright colours. There were the lookout point and the cliffs plunging into the sea; the big woods and the harbour, where the boats looked like little toys.

The wall curled around the manor like a white snake. The swans in the pond were two tiny white dots. The air was thin and she herself was ethereal and warm. Everything was moving in slow motion. The crowns of the trees blew gently in the wind and the sun was like a golden rain falling all over the landscape. She didn’t know how long it lasted. When she asked Olof later, he only shrugged. But when she returned to her room, her fear was gone. The darkness was gentle and comforting, like a warm bath.

I saw! I saw without using my eyes!

She knocked on the door.

The light blinded her when Hurtig opened up, but she was only grateful that she didn’t have to look at his smile when she told him what had happened. She only heard him clapping his hands together and rubbing them, and laughing.

‘There you go, Sofia! You’re ready! You’ve achieved the final phenomenon of the fourth thesis.’

*

In the days that followed, everything felt different: a peculiar new calmness in her body. Harmony. Tranquillity. The very sensation she’d come to the island to find. To think that I’m always so worried, she thought. Consciously or unconsciously, it was always something she fretted about. The vague sense of panic that had been her constant companion had gone up in smoke.

She completed the final phase of the program, a second winding-down, where you just sat in the classroom with your eyes closed for a little while each day. You were expected to practise drawing power from your memories, but she mostly sat there enjoying how good it all felt.

On the third day, Hurtig approached and shook her shoulder, waking her from her reverie.

‘Franz wants to see you. Right away!’

It sounded as if God Himself had called her to a summit.

She knew where Oswald’s office was, but no one answered after a few knocks so she stepped inside. Entering his office was like stepping into a spaceship. There were no pictures on the walls, no flowers, not even a single photograph — there were only white walls with enormous windows that looked out over the sea. She could see the lookout point in the distance. The office was otherwise full of electronics: computers, printers, screens, and gadgets she didn’t even know the names of. It occurred to her that this was odd, given that computers were forbidden at ViaTerra, but perhaps computers were indispensable when you were the boss.

Oswald himself was sitting at a large desk, absorbed in reading something on a computer. He didn’t look up when she came in. Madeleine, who was sitting at a much smaller desk in the far corner of the office, put a finger to her lips and gave Sofia a sharp look. Don’t disturb him, the look plainly said. Sofia cautiously took a seat in the visitor’s chair before Oswald.

He was wearing a T-shirt again. She noticed that the muscles of his back were taut and wondered if he was tensing them on purpose. There was a strange gleam in his eyes when he swung around in his chair, as if he expected her to say something. But she didn’t know what. His presence was so strong that she lost her composure and couldn’t speak.

‘Sofia, congratulations! I heard you finished the program. I hope it all went well.’

‘It was fantastic. Better than I expected.’

He drummed his fingers on the desk good-naturedly.

‘So, can I have your answer about the library now?’

‘Well, hmm, I’m interested, I just have to talk to everyone at home first.’

He leaned forward, placing his hand over hers on the desk. It was dry and warm. Hers jumped at his touch, but she didn’t pull it away.

‘No, you don’t get time to think it over, Sofia.’

‘Why not?’

‘The thing is, I think you’ve already made up your mind,’ he said, pressing her hand ever so slightly.

It was as if someone else were speaking through her. The words just fell from her mouth. She could see herself in profile, from outside her body as her mouth opened and the words slipped from her tongue.

‘Then I guess my answer is yes.’

Her voice echoed back at her as if from a void.

Oh my god. What have I gotten myself into?

‘You won’t regret it,’ he said, letting go of her hand and leaning back in his chair. ‘I’m sure you have things to take care of before you return, so just call Madeleine and let her know when you’ll be back.’

Then he spun around in his chair and went back to reading.

Madeleine shooed her from the office.

She stood outside his door for a long time, at a loss, shaken over what had just happened.

*

There would be innumerable times, later in life, when she would search her mind. Why on earth? What got into me? How could I? She always came to the same conclusion: it was a combination of factors. A seductive, irresistible blend. The beautiful island, the breadth of luxury, the food, the sleep, the feelings left behind after the theses; but above all, and she would be ashamed of this and have trouble admitting it to herself, it was Oswald and his power of attraction. This wasn’t a sect or a cult; it was something completely different. Almost like a new world — a microscopic vision of the future, brought to life.

ViaTerra was different.

But hindsight is twenty-twenty.

At the time, despite being disconcerted and sweaty all over, she still knew she had to come back to the island. Otherwise she would continue to be drawn there, like a moth to a flame.

And as she stood there in the corridor, alternately kicking herself and feeling bursts of dizzying euphoria, she found that she had a ridiculous smile on her lips.

We return to the cave several times.

We watch the rain move in over the bay and whip at the sea.

At night, we see the moon make a glittering path across the surface.

The cave is my special place. I can think clearly here. I think about my plan almost constantly. I examine it from every angle, picking at its seams; it’s as if I’m spinning a net that will one day cover the whole island.

Sometimes I’m so deep in thought that she shakes me for answers to her meaningless chatter. Then I wrestled her to the floor and grab her by the throat until her legs kick like crazy. A sign of her submission.

I know now that I can’t take her with me. She’s too flighty, and besides I’ve already explored every corner of her body and she’s starting to feel like a milk carton, once the milk is gone.

Although I will miss the cave.

The power in its hard walls.

You can see the whole universe from here.

You can even see the future, like a mirage on the horizon.

6

Her light-heartedness remained.

The constant worry in the back of her head was gone. She’d heard of people who didn’t even know they had a headache until it went away, and that was exactly what this felt like. This is my real self, she thought. A week on this program and I feel like a new person.

What’s more, she had become aware of an exciting mystique that affected the whole island but especially the manor. When she gazed up at the main building, she felt a jolt of excitement in her belly. She was already looking forward to her return.

On her last day, she rented a bicycle and pedalled around the island. She had gotten a ride to the village and left her luggage in a locker near the ferry. She spent the morning sunning herself on the beach and enjoying the scents brought out by the sun: the smell of tar from the fishing shacks and the pungent odour of the seaweed bobbing at the shore. She ate lunch at an outdoor café on a pier. The restaurant was packed with tourists. It really was high summer now.

There were so many people in the village that the narrow cobblestone streets were crowded. Most of the buildings were clustered around the square, where the ferry docked, but the village had climbed up the cliffs and some cottages rested high above the sea. She wondered what it would be like to live up there in the fall, when the storms drew in over the island.

There was a small souvenir shop on the square, and she went in to look for something for Wilma and her parents. Suddenly, Ellen Vingås appeared, tan and wearing a colourful summer dress that showed off the better part of her large bust.

‘Sofia, it’s so nice to run into you!’

‘Same to you. It’s my last day here.’

‘Mine too. So how did it go?’

‘Oh, it was great. I’m coming back. I’m going to help out with the library.’

She didn’t want to say that she would be joining the staff. That would seem too hasty, and she didn’t want the famous singer to think she was so easily taken in.

‘How did the theses go?’ she asked Vingås.

‘Well, I liked number one and number three. I didn’t get four; nothing much happened when I did it. But overall I think it went well.’

‘Funny. It was the other way around for me. I liked number four best.’

‘Imagine that. But now I’m headed home, back to the daily grind. We’ll see if this good feeling lasts. It sure as hell did make a dent in the old finances!’ she said with a shrill laugh.

A couple of women who were inspecting some porcelain shot her a look of alarm.

She dug through her large handbag and pulled out a small card, which she handed to Sofia. ‘My card — let me know if you happen to be in Stockholm sometime and I’ll get you some opera tickets.’

Sofia watched as Vingås left the shop, her hips swaying. She really wanted to meet her again.

At last she found a set of mugs with island motifs for her parents, and a little brochure of nature photography for Wilma.

She decided to bike to the north end of the island. It was as if the lookout point were calling her to it one last time.

The wind was coming from the east for a change and waves crashed persistently against the cliffs to her right. The wind whipped at her hair and whined in the spokes. Gulls sailed freely on the breeze.

She parked the bike at the end of the road and began to cross the heath toward the lookout point. When she gazed out at the sea, she saw someone standing on Devil’s Rock and looking down at the water. She squinted, trying to make out the figure, but the cliff was too far away. The figure climbed down and vanished from sight, but didn’t show up on the heath. She approached the rock, but there was no one in sight on the cliffs. She toyed with the thought that she had seen the old Count searching for his Countess in the depths. Yet all she could see from the edge of the cliff was the clear, dark water that seemed never to end; at least, the bottom wasn’t visible.

She sat down on the cliff and dangled her legs over the edge. You could almost see the curve of the earth at the horizon. From here you can see the beginning and end of the world, she thought. You can see all the way to eternity.

She wanted to visit the cottage one last time, so she left the bike at the edge of the road and set off through the forest.

As soon as she stepped inside, everything seemed different. The rag rug in the entryway was mussed and there was a key ring on the kitchen table. The bedroom door was open and there was someone in the bed. Her first impulse was to turn around and go. But curiosity got the better of her and she sneaked over to the bedroom.

Stretched out on the bedspread, deep in sleep with his mouth open, lay a young man in a grey suit. At first she wanted to wake him up, but that would be embarrassing for both of them. Just as she was about to sneak back out, he opened his eyes.

‘Busted,’ he mumbled, sitting up in the bed and rubbing his eyes.

He had bright, lively eyes. His chin jutted out a bit and his whole face, aside from the very top of his forehead, was covered in freckles. His hair was red, shaggy, and uncombed. Despite his large mane, his head seemed too small for his torso, which was broad and muscular. When he stood up she realized how tall he was — he had to be six foot three, a giant compared to her five-two.

‘Benjamin Frisk,’ he said, putting out his hand. His shirtsleeve slid up, revealing an arm covered in red fuzz. He tried in vain to smooth his wrinkled blazer with the other hand.

She had a few cutting remarks on the tip of her tongue, but she refrained since she didn’t want to contribute to his embarrassment.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked instead.

He smiled, showing a big gap between his front teeth.

‘Shit! I can’t believe you found me like this. Well, maybe you’ve heard that we’re renovating the staff quarters. I’m in charge of shipping and purchasing and stuff, so I’m really busy. I hardly get any sleep.’

‘So you steal a nap here and there?’

‘Yes, that’s about it.’

‘My name is Sofia.’

‘I know who you are. I’ve been spying on you; I’ve seen you come to the cottage and I noticed you in the guest dining room. I was hoping we would run into each other. But not like this.’

‘So how come I’ve never seen you?’

‘I guess I’ve kept my distance. Until now. But have a seat, by all means.’

He pointed at the kitchen table as if he owned the place.

‘I want to know more about this cottage,’ she said once they had sat down. ‘Do you know who owns it, and why it’s always empty?’

‘An old lady owns it. She comes in the summer. That’s all I know.’

‘There’s something special about it. Like, I was drawn here.’

‘It’s in a funny spot. In the middle of the woods.’

They didn’t speak for a moment as they looked at each other. A lone ray of sunlight cut through the gap in the curtains and set fire to the dust, which whirled up to the ceiling like a tiny tornado. There was so much life in his eyes. When she gazed into them she felt a pleasant sort of rush, a stream of warmth trickling through her body.

‘Don’t they miss you when you disappear?’

‘Nah, an hour here and there doesn’t matter. It’s so chaotic down on the first floor.’

‘I have to run to catch the ferry.’

‘When are you coming back?’

‘I have no idea, but it will be soon — I’m going to work in the library.’

‘I know that too. Rumours spread fast in our little group. Can’t you take the morning ferry instead? I know every nook and cranny of this island; I can show you around and —’

‘Not today. But maybe when I come back.’

She glanced at her watch. It was almost four-thirty.

‘Shit! I have to hurry!’ she said, dashing through the front door.

She ran into the woods and toward the heath, but she turned around one last time before she disappeared into the trees.

He was standing on the lawn and gazing after her.

Benjamin Frisk, she thought. Another reason to come back.

She pedalled frantically all the way to the village.

The sun glittered off everything: the asphalt, the bike, the sea, and the cliffs.

We search for the book and find the cape instead.

We sit in the hot, stuffy attic, poring through books that smell like sun-warmed dust and mothballs. Sometimes they fall apart when we pick them up.

‘What are we looking for?’ she asks.

‘A book of family history. It’s supposed to be bound in leather and I’m sure it’s handwritten.’

‘How do you know it’s here?’

‘Mom saw it once. When she was cleaning. She put it up here with the other books.’

She is impatient. She gets up and starts snooping through the attic, getting farther and farther away from me.

Then I hear her voice, far off in the darkness.

‘Fredrik, look at this!’

At first I can’t see her, so I have to stop looking through the books to get up. The interruption infuriates me, but then I see what she’s holding up. A hanger with a big, black velvet cape, hood and all. I recognize it immediately.

‘That belonged to the Countess! The one who killed herself,’ I say.

‘How do you know that?’

‘I saw it in a picture. She’s on a horse, wearing it.’

‘Oh my god, it’s beautiful!’ she says.

‘Put it on!’ I order her.

‘What?’

‘I said, put it on. But take off your clothes first. You have to be naked underneath.’

‘No way. Why?’

‘Just do as I say!’

She obeys, pulling off her skirt and sweater. I shoot a meaningful look at her panties, so she takes those off too. She stands there naked on the attic floor, grinning. Then she sweeps the cape around herself with a dramatic flourish.

Her hair falls across the black velvet like gold.

‘Open the cape and show yourself,’ I say.

She does as I order. The effect is magnificent.

‘Awesome! You have to wear it tonight in the barn,’ I say.

Her only response is a nod, but I can tell that she likes the thought.

I take in the vision of her again. And that’s when the idea comes to me.

Like a lightning bolt out of the blue.

7

‘And your cell phone, laptop, tablet, and anything else like that.’

‘Are you joking?’