Is Giles . . . dead?
Tiggy starts to make a high-pitched keening sound as she rocks back and forth on her knees. ‘Oh my God,’ she wails. ‘No! We need to get down there . . .’
James tries to pull her back to the side of the hill. She’s still too close to the edge.
He turns to Amelia, his face ashen. ‘We need to call someone.’
‘I . . . I don’t have my phone. It’s in my bag. On the plane.’ Amelia takes a few careful steps back in the direction she came from, checking on the others. They are halfway up the rocks. Lucy is guiding Brenda by the elbow. Scott is slightly in front, his face pink with exertion. He’s practically on all fours, dragging his bad foot behind him.
She turns back to Tiggy and James. ‘Tiggy, do you have your phone? You said you had Wi-Fi earlier. Can we—’
‘Jesus, Amelia!’ James’s moment of calm has been replaced with panic. ‘Who can we call? We don’t have an emergency contact for this damn place.’
Amelia glances around. ‘There are probably cameras here, right? They can see us. Surely they’ll send help for us now. They can’t leave us like this. They can’t leave Giles—’
‘Aww, hell.’ Scott has made it over the last cluster of rocks and onto the cliff path, and he’s seen it straight away. ‘Is that . . . ?’ He doesn’t bother to finish. Just shakes his head. Then turns away, stretching out an arm and leaning towards the rocks, taking Brenda’s hand to help her make the last push onto the path beside him.
Lucy is right behind her. ‘What’s all the commotion here then?’ She makes the final scramble by herself. ‘Has Tiggy broken a nail?’
Amelia tips her head towards the inlet. ‘We, uh . . .’ She pauses. ‘We found Giles.’
Lucy casts her gaze down to where Amelia is gesturing, holding a hand up to her forehead to block the sun, which has sunk lower now. The day is running away from them faster than they can reach their destination.
‘Oh, shit,’ she says. ‘Now what?’
While the others stand in shocked silence, listening to Tiggy’s whimpering, Amelia is already thinking of the practicalities. This is not her first on-trip casualty. It’s not that she is a cold person, but she’s become slightly immune to death over the years. Working in places where death is as commonplace as running out of milk to make porridge for a hundred starving children, it becomes just another thing to deal with. To process and move on from.
She tried to explain this to her family once, and they said they understood – that her job must be so tough, and that she must need to deal with it this way – but her mum had come to her afterwards, as she was picking up her bag to leave for another trip, and told her that maybe she needed to talk to someone about all this. That it wasn’t normal to be so indifferent to death. Amelia hadn’t gone home much after that, instead choosing to spend time at friends’ houses when she wasn’t in some third-world country. Friends who’d seen the same as she had. Who understood.
Perhaps this is why she is here. To lead the group onwards to safety, in the face of a tragedy. A tragic accident, that’s all. He’d been drinking. He’d fallen out with Tiggy and he’d disappeared on his own.
Poor Giles. No matter what he’d done, he didn’t deserve to be washed up on a beach like this with only a bunch of strangers, miles from home.
Another wave moves him again, his face tips to the side, and she feels a smattering of something that might be hope. She stares at his arms again. The hands are curled . . . as if he might be trying to claw himself to safety.
Lucy sees it too. ‘Guys . . . I think we need to get down there. Fast.’
‘Tiggy?’ Amelia crouches beside her and takes her hand. ‘Can I borrow your phone?’
Tiggy, clearly in shock, takes her phone out of her pocket and wordlessly hands it over, pressing on the thumb-pad first to wake up the screen. Amelia is in the process of dialling 999 when Scott speaks.
‘Help us!’ He shouts it into the air above the inlet, then turns round and repeats it. ‘Help us. Please.’
They stand there, not making a sound. Listening to the waves crash onto the rocks below, coming in closer. Amelia stands, scrambles up the hill. The sandy bay they’ve just come from is partially submerged. The water is three quarters of the way up the legs of the stools around the bar. She slips the phone into her pocket. ‘Help us!’ she calls. ‘We need help.’
‘Help!’ Brenda shouts. ‘There’s been an accident.’
Soon everyone is shouting, and there are beeps and screeches as each person’s tracker emits a distress signal. Amelia feels her watch vibrate and looks down at the screen. ‘Keep them calm,’ scrolls across the face.
‘Ow.’ Scott smacks at his ear. ‘It’s doing something. Is anyone else getting a little stabbing pain right about now?’
The rest of them murmur and nod. Amelia feels nothing, of course. She has no mental sensor penetrating her scalp. ‘Let’s just sit here for a moment,’ she says. ‘Let’s all take a few deep breaths.’
They sit down, one after another, but they are all simply staring vacantly ahead.
‘Guys?’ she says. ‘What . . . ?’ She feels a flutter of fear slide across her chest, squeezing her tight. She’s about to say something else. About to lean over and give James a shake. It’s like they’ve all fallen into a trance. Shock, probably. It’s good that she’s here. She’s about to speak when she hears a sound in the distance, getting closer. The mechanical hum of an engine. Lapping sounds of the waves. A buzzing whine. Then she sees it. A small motor boat, making its way into the inlet. The captain is dressed in dark clothes, wearing a cap. Behind him, a familiar figure dressed in white.
Harvey.
Behind him, someone else dressed in white – another man, dark-haired and slimmer than Harvey, but evidently another employee of Timeo, in the same clean uniform. Not the right clothes to pull a body out of the sea. They should have thought about that.
The engine noise dwindles to an idle, then stops. The men on the boat are saying something, but it’s too far away to make it out.
‘What’s going on?’ James says, his voice groggy. ‘I don’t know what happened there. One minute I was trying to help Tiggy, then . . . it’s like I dozed off. But one of those sleeps when you’re aware of everything going on.’
‘I think they’ve sedated us again,’ Lucy says blearily. ‘This is seriously fucked up.’ She points to the rocks in the inlet. ‘Look . . . the cavalry has arrived. I guess they didn’t want us down there . . . or, you know – maybe this is all part of the game?’
‘Pretty sick game.’ Scott rubs the skin behind his ear. ‘What would be the point?’
‘To freak us out?’ Lucy shrugs. ‘I don’t know.’
The men are already off the boat, walking around what’s left of the narrow beach, heading towards a rough overgrown path that snakes up towards where they are sitting. One of the men has something on his back.
Amelia thinks they’re coming up to meet them, to take them down to the boat – which doesn’t look big enough to hold all of them, but she knows that you can always squeeze more people into any sort of transport if you’re desperate enough. She’s been driven across unmarked roads in ancient vans, folded into the footwell of the passenger seat, feeling every bump, every pothole and rock as if she were being dragged along the ground.
But then they turn off the path and towards the edge of the rocks, leaning over to where Giles lies sprawled. She turns to Tiggy, but the girl is still crouching on the path, hands clamped around her knees. She’s no longer crying, or making any noise at all. She’s staring down at the inlet, frozen.
Harvey steps into the water, placing a hand on a large rock for balance. He doesn’t seem bothered that he’s getting wet. He leans forward and grabs Giles under the armpits. Then the other man steps in to join him, and the two of them pull Giles away from the stony beach. They drag him up onto the path and lay him there, and while Harvey checks his pulse and leans his ear down to his mouth, the other man unfo
lds what Amelia can now see is a compact stretcher. He sets it out on the path and they roll Giles onto it. Then they lift it and begin to carefully walk towards the boat, where the captain is waiting – one foot on the gunwale of the boat as it bobs with the current.
‘Giles.’ Tiggy speaks at last, her voice a strangled croak. Her head whips round to Amelia. ‘I want to go with him.’
‘Give them a minute,’ James says, putting a hand on her shoulder. ‘We’ll all be going down there and—’
The familiar screech of the tannoy cuts him off. Amelia circles around slowly, trying to see where it is, but it’s hidden somewhere – just like the cameras.
‘Please remain where you are,’ the disembodied voice booms out. ‘We will remove the casualty, and one of you to accompany him to the medical centre, but the rest of you must carry on and complete the journey as planned. As you are aware, we are now at T minus 8 and there is still much to be done and much to be arranged for the party. Please rest assured that the casualty will be taken care of. Can the one accompanying member please make their way down towards the boat immediately.’
The tannoy screeches again, and then stops.
‘What’s this bullshit?’ Lucy stomps towards Amelia and James. She rubs at her eyes, shakes her head. ‘Why only one of us? They can’t expect us to carry on as normal after this, surely? I mean, I hope Giles is OK, obviously . . . and it’s right that Tiggy goes with him. But Scott needs help too. And Brenda. How much further do we have to walk anyway?’
‘It’s not much further,’ James says. ‘We can make it.’
‘How the hell do you know?’ Lucy points at his chest. ‘How could you possibly know how much further it is?’
‘Guys, please,’ Amelia says. ‘We need to stick together right now.’
Lucy looks like she wants to say more, but instead she sighs and her shoulders sag, deflated. ‘Sorry,’ she mutters. ‘This is just kind of messed up, you know?’
Tiggy stands up and starts to walk slowly down the hill, her leg movements jagged and irregular – maybe from crouching, or from the shock. Whatever the cause, she’s lurching like a zombie.
‘Wait. Let me help you.’ Amelia jogs after her, takes her arm. ‘Are you sure you want to go? Maybe you should stay with us.’ Something about this feels wrong. Isolating Tiggy from the rest of the group.
Everyone else is in shock, and Lucy’s suggestion that they’ve been given something through the trackers to keep them calm seems to make sense. Amelia is the only one with a clear head now, and she has to remember that to help them all get through this.
They’re almost at the bottom of the hill, and Harvey is walking up towards them. ‘I’m very sorry about your friend,’ he says to Tiggy. ‘We must get him to the medical centre straight away.’
‘Is . . . he . . . alive?’ Her words are slow and drawn out.
Harvey takes her by the arm and leads her towards the boat. ‘Barely,’ he says. ‘Come on. Time is of the essence.’
‘Wait,’ Amelia says, suddenly realising that Lucy’s outburst earlier was completely justified. ‘You can’t just leave us all here.’
Harvey looks back and shakes his head. ‘I’m sorry. Just following orders. You’ll be at the house soon, and all will be fine, OK? Just keep heading up the cliff path, then keep to the left. You’re close. You’re all doing great. I know this has been a bit of a shock, but trust me – it’s better if you carry on and let us deal with this. I’m sure Giles wouldn’t want you to miss out due to his misfortune.’
‘Tiggy?’
The girl ignores her as she lets Harvey help her onto the boat, and all Amelia can do is stand and watch helplessly.
She bites her lip as the boat reverses, then turns and pulls away. Tiggy is sitting at the back, a blanket wrapped around her, facing out to sea. But just as the boat turns, Tiggy swivels round to face her – and Amelia sees her blank expression sliding away. There’s something else there, just under the surface. Fear, maybe – or could it be guilt?
After all, Tiggy has already shown herself to be an adept chameleon . . . and she was the last one to see Giles alive.
Lucy
Lucy is sitting pressed tight against a smooth rock, arms wrapped around her knees, unconsciously mirroring Tiggy’s habitual protective stance. ‘I hate this place,’ she says, kicking a stone and watching it fly over the edge and bounce down towards the inlet. ‘I wish I’d never come.’ And she really means it. It had been fun for about five minutes, but now it’s just weird and wrong, and she can’t actually believe she signed up for it. She stands, kicks another stone, then slips on the loose gravel path. James grabs her and pulls her back from the edge.
‘You need to calm down. There’s no point in us all getting freaked out here. The boat is gone. They’re not coming back for us. We need to work out what to do.’
‘We could try getting someone else to come and goddamn help us.’ Scott yanks a small branch off one of the overhanging trees and snaps it into pieces. He throws the pieces into a bush, then roots around in the leg pocket of his shorts and pulls out his phone. ‘Right, so I can’t make any proper calls, but I can sure as hell send someone a message. WhatsApp works on Wi-Fi, right? Messaging at least, if not audio?’ He starts tapping away at the screen, angry stabs of his finger peppered with an array of curses muttered under his breath.
‘Maybe we should just keep going,’ Brenda says quietly. She’s sitting on a rock, absentmindedly rubbing her leg. She looks pale and her face is a little clammy – but then they have just scrambled up a steep incline over awkward, misshapen rocks, and the sun, although low in the sky, is still pumping out heat.
Amelia has made it back up from the bay, rosy-cheeked but otherwise unscathed. ‘I think Brenda’s right,’ she says. ‘There’s no point in us sitting around here, is there? Harvey told me we’re nearly there.’ She taps her watch. ‘Can we have some directions, please?’
‘Oh, please,’ Lucy says. ‘This is ridiculous. We can’t just keep going. I don’t understand what the hell is going on here.’
The beep that always comes before a hologram cuts her off.
‘Oh, great,’ Scott says, snapping another branch. ‘Which one of us is getting humiliated next? Maybe I should just jump off this cliff and be done with it.’
Lucy feels a wave of nausea. She’d forgotten about the memory projections. None of them are immune from the reveals, are they? She tries to make light of what Scott has said. ‘Got something juicy to share, have you?’
‘I doubt it’s as juicy as yours, lady. The more I look at you, the more I see some sort of heartless deviant just itching to burst out.’
Lucy is trying her best to laugh as the holographic letters appear in front of her. Her own secret, the one she desperately hopes is never revealed, is momentarily pushed out of her mind. She turns away, looking at the sky to get the clearest view.
THINGS HAVE NOT GONE TO PLAN, BUT PLEASE DO NOT PANIC. YOUR FRIENDS ARE SAFE, AND YOU WILL BE TOO. IT’S NOT MUCH FURTHER, AND WE HAVE SOME SURPRISES IN STORE THAT WILL MAKE ALL OF THIS WORTH IT.
PLEASE SEPARATE INTO GROUPS AS DETAILED BELOW, AND THEN FOLLOW THE MAP ALLOCATED TO YOU. YOU CAN ACCESS IT AGAIN ANYTIME – YOU JUST NEED TO ASK. REMEMBER, THIS IS A TAILORED EXPERIENCE – DON’T BE AFRAID TO ASK FOR WHATEVER YOU WANT . . . OR NEED. WE WANT YOU TO BE HAPPY.
AGAIN, DO NOT WORRY ABOUT YOUR FRIENDS. THEY ARE SAFE.
TRUST US.
. . .
. . .
THE GROUPS ARE AS FOLLOWS:
. . .
. . .
SCOTT AND BRENDA
. . .
. . .
LUCY AND AMELIA
. . .
. . .
JAMES – PLEASE SPEND SOME TIME ON YOUR OWN.
. . .
. . .
THE MAPS ARE AS FOLLOWS . . .
A series of maps appears on the screen, each one showing the sandy bay and the stony inlet where they are now, and on the other side of the
island, somewhere that seems still so far away, something labelled as ‘the big house’. Although it doesn’t look particularly big, but perhaps the map isn’t really to scale.
Lucy blinks as the holographic image fades. ‘Interesting selection of groups.’
James has been isolated, which is a bit worrying as there’s something about him that seems too good to be true, and Lucy’s spidey-senses have been tingling for some time now. They’ve put her with Amelia, the person she’s spent the least time talking to so far, probably to see what happens when there’s no one else there to distract them. She looks across at Amelia, with her khaki shorts and her neat, shiny hair. She reminds her of one of those hardcore Girl Guides – the ones who knew how to read maps and could find their way back to the tent when orienteering.
Amelia shakes her head. ‘This is wrong. Scott and Brenda are the weakest.’
‘Excuse me,’ Brenda says, standing up straight. ‘There is nothing weak about me, young lady. If I’m not very light on my feet today, it’s because of this damn heat, and the shock of everything that’s gone on – but I am certainly not weak, and I am more than capable of dealing with this oaf.’ She nods her head towards Scott, who is staring at her open-mouthed.
Lucy can’t control her laughter. ‘Glad to have you back, Brenda. Thought we’d lost you.’ She gives Brenda a double thumbs up, then turns to Amelia. ‘Come on then, let’s go.’
‘Wait,’ James says. He puts a hand on her shoulder, and she automatically shrugs him off. She’s not OK with people touching her without permission. Not much with permission either, come to think of it. ‘I don’t really need to spend time on my own,’ he says. ‘I could just tag along with either of the groups—’
‘Big Brother is watching, Jamesy. He’s got some sort of plan.’ Scott stands up, testing his bad ankle. ‘Personally, I would also not describe myself as weak. So why don’t you girls run along, and we’ll see you later on when we get the next set of instructions . . . mmmm-k?’
Amelia’s face has turned bright red, and it’s not from sunburn. ‘I’m sorry, I—’
The Last Resort Page 13
