The Shadows of Blackout Island

Rumors and speculation surround the possible inhabitants of Blackout Island, located just a few miles off the coast. Conspiracy theories abound while social media leaks surface about government experiments gone wrong. Certainly something or someone must live there, for haven't we all seen the shaky home videos of the occasional wisp of smoke or recordings of eerie sounds carrying far across the water on a calm summer night? Something wicked has been let loose within its depths.... And it is time for the truth to be revealed.

Featuring seven dark stories by L.E. Aleman, Darren Diarmuid, Lauren Rylant, A.P. Christopher, -M. Taggart, M. Ennenbach, and Joann L. Berg.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Raw Earth Ink
• Release date: Jun 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9781960991102

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COPYRIGHT

This book is a work of fiction.

Collective copyright 2020-23 by Raw Earth Ink

Individual text copyright by contributing authors

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without express written permission from the author except in the case of quotations used in a book review in which a clear link to the source of the quote and its author is required.

First paperback edition December 2020

Book concept and editing by tara caribou

Front cover art by bookcoverzone.com

Cover design by tara caribou

ISBN 978-1-9600991-10-2 (e-book)

Published by Raw Earth Ink

PO Box 39332

Ninilchik, Alaska USA 99639

www.raw-earth-ink.com

THE WALLYMOOS by L.E. Aleman

Oh, dear God! Officer Bob exclaimed, as he let go of the hot dumpster lid, which made a resounding bang, hitting the rim of the white, metal receptacle. A light haze of dust and glitter wafted up into the tropical breeze, then gently swirled to the ground.

Holy shit! Junior Officer Jaime shouted, covering his nose with a bandana he grabbed from his pocket. He stepped back a few paces. His heart quickened and the pits under his arms were sweating through his khaki uniform. He convinced himself he was not going to pass out by what he just saw.

Christie! Officer Bob screeched emphatically into his walkie-talkie. Christie! he continued, but Christie was already on the other end. She already tracked their location and messaged animal control. Officer Bob just needed to hold tight and make sure Jaime remained calm. 

Christie! It’s happened again, call the mainland! We’re going to need some help. Okay? You hear me Christie! Dammit girl! 

Got it! Christie said calmly. I’ll call Travis. 

Officer Bob waited by the dumpster, along with Junior Officer Jaime. The humidity beat down on his brow, as the sun rolled into the predictable, noon position. Bob was a disability-retired Chicago police officer. Now working privately for some discretionary dollars in his mid-forties, he oversaw island security. Living on this lump of earth, divorce finalized, kids off and married, he determined the current chapter of his life was supposed to be golden. But living on the island for the past three years gave him pause, and a piling load of regrets he couldn’t overlook. Leaving this beautiful oasis wasn’t an option. He knew it. Too bad Jaime didn’t know it yet. 

Officer Bob pulled out a Marlboro Red cigarette from his pant pocket. He lit it in front of the impressionable, Jaime. This was good for him, Bob thought. He needs to know how sick and twisted humankind really is. Officer Bob flicked the ash onto the blacktop pavement. Fucking Wallymoos! he exclaimed, taking another drag and squinting into the midday sun.

Junior Officer Jaime shrugged his shoulders and watched Officer Bob’s ritual. He wanted to become a 3D copy of his role model. Jaime imagined what life would be like as Officer Bob. He imagined drinking beer and eating pancakes with butter and syrup in the morning. He imagined kicking out a fine, but soul depleting stripper, from his own island apartment. He imagined tasting pussy and grabbing boobs. Junior Officer Jaime was a frustrated virgin.

*  *  *  *  *

Easy now! The boat captain exclaimed as he waved his hand in front of zoologist, Chance Reardon. Just two minutes sir. Chance held his hand on the rail of the boat. He was anxious to get off the small, fishing vessel. Docking, unloading, schmoozing with the locals was a familiar activity. A special assignment requiring his unique skills was how he would earn his pay. The fact that the location was a small island shrouded in mystery was a bonus. In his youth, he gained most of his experience living and conducting research in the Amazon Rainforest. He paid his dues many times over, but for the last fifteen years he lived on the island of Maui and enjoyed the relaxed culture and his semi-celebrity status. And as far as animals were concerned, there wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen a thousand times or more.

But now, later in his career he spent more time in front of cameras for late night TV, shilling his books. He was an expert in marketing and self-promotion. He traveled the globe, endorsing projects and filming documentaries, flirting with and nailing stewardesses who were animal lovers and knew he was a big deal. He was a big deal, and this was going to be easy money.

Tamber waited on the dock as the boat was being moored. She had her clipboard, with notes scratched. She had on a tight white skirt, a flowy blouse with a birds of paradise print, wedge sandals, and black-rimmed glasses. Tamber was a hooker. But nobody called her out on it. Quite the opposite, everyone loved her. Tamber understood human nature, even though she wasn’t able to care a fuck about people anymore. She was an island fixture. No one set foot on its sandy shore without meeting her first. She was the self-proclaimed lady-in-charge of the island welcoming committee.

Chance noticed Tamber right away as the boat eased into position on the dock. She was young, with long dark hair, calves with the right amount of curve and tan. She was an exotic beauty. Chance knew immediately that he wanted to get to know her during his stay on the island. Aside from a deck hand that secured the boat, there wasn’t anyone else besides Tamber on the wooden planks.

The moment the boat came to rest, Chance grabbed his luggage and hoisted himself and his belongings onto the dock. The exertion caused him to pant and wipe the sweat that was gathering on his upper lip. Tamber walked up to greet him as he stretched his shoulders and regained his land legs. 

Good morning, my name is Tamber, she said enthusiastically, reaching for Chance’s meaty paw with her thin, elegant fingers. Welcome to the island.

Thank you, I’m Chance, he responded in a low resonating pitch, shaking her hand. He motioned his other hand towards his hairy chest that puffed out like a V shape, over the opening of his unbuttoned shirt. He knew women loved his buttery tones and the way his smile curled slightly whenever he was even slightly turned on. He was making mental notes of every motion Tamber made and every inflection of her voice.

I have a cart waiting, I’ll take you to your bungalow and you can get settled. Tamber gave a look to the deck hand, who quickly picked up Chance’s luggage and together they headed towards a golf cart sitting at the end of the dock.

The drive was swift and easy. Chance took in the beauty of his surroundings. The island was green and lush, a true tropical paradise. So, what would you like to know? Tamber asked casually. Her hair, along with its scent of coconut, gently whipped through the breeze as the golf cart skirted along the paved road through the bungalow-lined path. You’re here because of the Wallymoos right? Don’t worry, it’s an open secret. She laughed and relaxed her hands on the wheel.

Chance was surprised but grateful for her directness and inquired, Well, there are rumors about this island: gossip about secret government experiments, Illuminati nonsense, celebrities undergoing rehab, tons of stuff on social media. Which is it? Based on his assignment, Chance already knew there were strange animal experiments. But he was curious what Tamber would divulge. Obviously, she already knew about the Wallymoos. He waited for her response while sneaking glances at her right calf as it flexed, pushing down the juice pedal.

I know everything about the island, Tamber said in a tone of sobriety. I’ve been here since my early teens. My parents brought me here because they were scientists. So, yes, there are many experiments conducted here. Then she shifted in her seat and changed the subject. "The locals call this place Catalina. Tamber laughed. It’s a joke, but the reason for it is because the island is similar in size and distance from the mainland, similar to Catalina’s size and proximity to Los Angeles. Also, there is a wilderness side, similar to the Isthmus. And the other half is for celebrities and the wealthy, kind of like Avalon. On the Isthmus side, where we are now, this is where the government runs its experiments. On the Avalon side, well, it’s crazy. I mean, it depends. There are several resorts and resort-style rehabs there. So, celebrities and the wealthy do come to get help. Sometimes, they are forced to by their agents. They need to get cleaned up to prepare for an upcoming tour, for example. Or some get themselves into trouble and the only way around jail time is to do a rehab. It’s just silly though. I mean the celebrities who come here call this place Celebrity Island. The Avalon side though does have the best beaches. She turned and made a smirk, pointing her finger towards the West and rolled her eyes. You know what’s funny though, is if you look on a map, this place doesn’t exist at all. The social media stuff gets out there, but then you’ll notice it gets taken down very quickly. Tamber sighed softly to herself. So, it doesn’t really matter what we call this place or what happens here. Maybe we’ll come up with a new name tomorrow." She laughed again, but Chance interrupted.

So, the Illuminati stuff, those are jokes right? Chance asked directly.

Oh, no, Tamber stated flatly. "The Illuminati are headquartered here."

What? Really? Chance half-joked, half-questioned.

Oh, yes, she said in a more whispered tone. They murdered my parents. Then she laughed again, and jerked the cart to the right, pulling into the circular drive of a modest one-story townhome surrounded by banana trees, elephant ears, tropical flowers and palms.

Then Tamber noticed the concern on Chance’s face. Oh, don’t worry, you’ll be okay here. She patted his muscular shoulder. "They just need you to solve the problem you’re here to solve. You can do that right? Tamber smiled devilishly. She knew she freaked him out a bit. C’mon. Let’s check out your new digs, Tamber said, more cheerfully. I’ll introduce you to your neighbors."

Chance was speechless and felt a little weak. He didn’t know what to think. Tamber sounds crazy. This is all nonsense bullshit! he determined; then he gathered his belongings and followed Tamber’s tight ass up the driveway. Within moments, he met his neighbors, Alan and Steve.

Tamber, hello! Who do you have there? Steve gave a welcoming wave. Alan and I have been waiting around all morning to meet the new guy. Steve was rubbing the hand of the tall gentleman that had his palm firmly placed on Steve’s shoulder. Tamber made quick introductions of Alan and Steve. They were a married couple, both scientists, living on the island for the past five years. They both wore island print shirts, khaki pants and white slip-on shoes. Steve was an elderly Asian gentleman and Alan was a taller, younger, handsome, Latino type. 

Good for Steve, Chance thought as the three walked Chance through his new bungalow. He was hoping for thick walls because it didn’t appear there would be much privacy. It was a two-bedroom attached bungalow with a kitchenette, living room and office.

I know! Steve said enthusiastically, clapping his hands together. Let’s christen the place with a round of island tea.

Absolutely, I’ll grab the pitcher from the fridge, Alan muttered, the first words he had spoken since Chance arrived. He went off to fetch the pitcher. Tamber didn’t appear concerned; this was apparently common hospitality. 

Alan brought back a tray carrying a tall pitcher and four glasses. Flamingos wearing sunglasses printed on the sides of each ice-filled container. There was liquid in the pitcher, but there were objects swimming in the beverage.

Worms? Chance questioned. It looked like colorful worms or tiny eels swirling around in the tea.

Oh, no! Steve reassured him. These are genetically engineered fruits that mimic movement when added to liquid, very flavorful but the wiggling is for effect only. Steve giggled as he filled the glasses for the group. You’ll find out that life on the island is very confusing!

Chance watched as Steve led in a Cheers and took a large swig, swallowing a chubby-purple-fluorescent worm. He looked in his own glass and saw what looked like two pink grubs stuck together as if they were mating near the rim of his glass. Fuck it, he thought. He’d eaten Amazon grubs in his youth; this couldn’t be worse than that. Chance took a gulp of his island tea that included the mating grubs. The beverage tasted like a typical iced tea, at first. Then he bit down on the jelly-like fruits and WOOSH! Like nothing else! It was a taste of super-intense-tropical fruit flavor! Oh, it was delicious. He was shocked and pleasantly surprised. He started to feel good, relaxed.

Good, right? Alan asked with a smile. He was almost done with his glass.

My favorite flavor! Tamber exclaimed, as she chugged the entire glass and swallowed its contents within seconds.

After this ritual of sorts was complete Steve pointed to a list stuck to the back of Chance’s front door. It detailed an appointment for later that afternoon at one of the labs, entitled Wallymoo Necropsy, 2pm.

Don’t worry, Steve said reassuringly. I’ll take you to the lab. I need to be there anyway.

Great! Thanks, Steve, Chance said. Then he caught Alan glancing over at Tamber’s ass and she was flirting back. Huh, he thought. Steve didn’t seem to notice or care.

Everyone moved towards the door so that Chance could get unpacked and acclimated.

I have a great idea! Tamber exclaimed, in the same fashion that Steve did about the island tea. Let’s go out tonight! We can show Chance the local spots. And then she said in a lower, sexier voice. You know, the real local spots. She laughed casually.

I vote yes! Alan piped up.

Of course. That sounds marvelous, Tamber, Steve agreed. We like a good time around here. Work hard, play hard, as they say.

Chance concurred and so the wheels on an evening event were in motion.

*  *  *  *  *

Assisting with a necropsy on a Wallymoo was no different than any other animal Chance determined. But what he didn’t anticipate was all the glitter. His new pal Steve took the lead and Chance soon found out that Steve was the Director of Pathology for new animal breeds on the island. He was already an expert on the Wallymoo. Chance looked into the face of the expired Wallymoo lying flat on its back on the examining table. It’s a koala, Chance stated, scanning its facial features, nose, ears, fur color, hands and feet, genitals, rotund belly. "Yep, this is a dead Phascolarctos cinereus – covered in glitter," Chance stated, more scientifically. He was confused.

They didn’t tell you? Steve asked in a surprised tone with eyebrows raised. Turn him over, Steve said quietly.

Chance couldn’t see the rest of Steve’s expression under his surgical mask. No, they didn’t tell me, was what Steve thought, feeling like a dumbass.

Oh fuck! Chance exclaimed loudly. This poor bastard. Chance turned the Wallymoo over and saw that there were pronounced wings sticking out of its back shoulder blades. What the fuck is this? Chance said. He took a step back and wiggled one of the wings, thinking maybe they were glued on or sewn on and Steve remained calm. Chance noticed there was even more glitter on the wings, and they were matted along the soft-feathery tips with a sticky substance. He took his gloved fingers and touched the stuff, a light-viscous feeling, not glue.

It’s semen. Steve broke the silence. As you can see, Steve pointed, it’s all over the wings and feathers. I’ll take a few more samples. He grabbed more vials and took several swabs. The wings are superfluous, Steve stated matter-of-factly. "The animal can’t use them