by J D Stone
After a while, I decided it was time to recharge. Sucking up my pride, I went about the water and worms routine again. It was enough to remind me to get all of this over with as quickly as possible. No way in hell was I going to be stuck on a worm diet longer than necessary. Now if they were fried, that might be another story. Hell, I’d even settle for those carts of barbecue grasshoppers or whatever the locals on Koh Samui were selling.
Cresting the northern side of the hill, I stopped. Staring out over the water, I shielded my eyes from the sun, then rubbed them to get a better view. In the distance, where the night before I had seen dark shapes that might have been other islands, now they were unmistakable. Multiple islands. For me, this meant not only more hiding places, but more chances of possibly finding help. Maybe there would be tourist booths where I would be able to find a ride out of here. Or at least some way of contacting people back at my base.
Based on the lack of infrastructure, my guess had me in the Mu Ko Ang Thong national park islands, west of Koh Samui. There were other islands in the area, including a few south of Koh Samui and others in the Gulf of Thailand where I might be, but based on the number of land masses, I thought my bet was sound.
“There.” I indicated one of the islands farther on, not sure if I was talking to myself or maybe my rifle. “We make our way in that direction, then see if we can find help.”
No argument from the rifle, at least.
I cast a farewell glance at my little paradise. Surviving there for an extended period could have been doable, but for what? If it were in hopes of someone coming to find me, my chances were low. Jason would be the one closest to having any clue about what had become of me, but his fate was also in question. Even if he did get people to go looking for me, with all the islands and possibilities, the chance of success was low.
Picking my way down to the white, sandy shore below, I had to wonder what my strategy was for getting to the islands. If I swam across at night, there would be less chance of my pursuers seeing me. That was a benefit, but I worried about the danger of what I couldn’t see beneath the water, along with coming out on the other side cold again. The sun wasn’t out to dry me off. Also, if I went soon, I could make progress. Maybe get to the next island, or even the one beyond that if necessary. Additionally, I hadn’t noticed any ships on patrol lately. They had either given up or devoted all resources to searching the island for me.
Neither option had settled as final until I saw smoke out there. A hint of it, rising from what could have been the farther side of the closest island, or maybe the one beyond it.
That did it. If there were people out there, delaying setting off meant risking their departure. My chances of finding a friend out there were as likely as finding them to simply be more associates of my pursuers. However, staying put meant that I wouldn’t find out.
I doubled down and went for it, preparing my life jacket and rifle while lingering at a palm tree and studying the waters. When I was confident that the surrounding water was clear, I went for it.
Every step was like a jolt, my nerves on edge as I imagined shots raining down on me from above at any moment. None came.
I reached the water and still expected all hell to break loose. Strapping on the life jacket, rifle secured on my back, I started wading out, then ducked into the water. One advantage of waiting this long in the day to get into the water was that it had warmed up quite a bit, so it felt quite pleasant. Like a warm bath. Considering my sweat from the day’s work, the warm water came as a relief.
The longer I swam, the more my worries faded. Even more so when a school of fish appeared below me, swimming through the crystalline water. For a while I was able to see the bottom, other fish appearing and then darting away. Large rocks broke up the sand in places, the light forming zigzagging patterns over them. The breeze was warm, carrying with it a pure scent that reminded me of lying on a picnic blanket on a summer day. For a moment, I allowed my eyes to close, the water bobbing me along as my occasional paddling took me toward my destination.
A distant sound broke my trance.
My eyes shot open, ears straining to gauge the distance the sound was coming from. Without a doubt… a boat. One of those yachts. If they were smart, they would have relied on the sails and abandoned using the motor to sneak up on me. Then again, maybe that wasn’t necessary.
Out here, I was a sitting duck! I paddled faster, eyes darting from left to right to try and figure out which way the yacht was approaching from. Subtle hope rose, a voice telling me that maybe it could be friendlies incoming.
Judgment and training told me better. If it was the enemy, I had to ensure they didn’t catch me out here like this. For one, I would feel like such an idiot. All that time staying hidden in the island’s jungle, only to be caught on what otherwise felt like a relaxing swim? I needed to at least make it to the other island and find out what was out there. If that resulted in my last stand, so be it. But not like this.
To my left, the top of a mast appeared, moving through trees. I could have easily missed it, but the sound grew louder and its direction became clear. Then the white, gleaming tip of the yacht showed.
I had to act fast. Slipping out of the life jacket, I moved behind it so that my head was barely out of the water—only my mouth and nose breaking the surface. The lifejacket itself was blue. A much darker blue than the turquoise water, unfortunately, but at least it wasn’t bright orange like the ones on so many ferry boats.
Deflating it somewhat, I was able to set us both floating slightly below the surface. I kept my mouth and nose up, my back down, and clutched the life jacket. As the yacht drew closer, I drew a deep breath, then lowered myself into the water and began to count.
One, two, three… My eyes opened. I watched the water around me, wondering what my chances were. Counting to thirty, I started slowly releasing air bubbles through my nose and then soon was at sixty seconds. Never one who was great at holding my breath, I allowed the water to lift my head by tilting my position to the life jacket. When I turned my face sideways and toward the yacht, I saw it moving across the water, about at the midpoint between me and the shore. Nobody was looking my way.
Why would they? Moving around the island like that, yes, they would probably glance my way occasionally, but they wouldn’t assume I was swimming, right? Even if they did, they had been searching for me for so long now that they had to be getting sloppy. To my relief, that seemed to be the case. As I bobbed there, holding onto that partially deflated lifejacket, the yacht moved on.
It had been so close, and yet here I was still continuing to freedom. Had I not been clinging to the life jacket I would have done a dance or a couple of fist pumps into the air. As it was, I contented myself with waiting until the yacht was around the next bend, then picking up my speed and swimming faster than I had been to reach the other side.
No sharks or dolphins, thankfully. At the far shore, more gorgeous fish of orange and yellow hues welcomed me. The soft white sand was hot to the touch, but a relief, nonetheless. Tiny crabs scrambled out of my path. I sprinted up the beach, rifle and life jacket clutched tightly, and made it to the first palm tree, catching my breath. It curved out as if welcoming me, beckoning me inland.
Progress. One of these islands was bound to have help at hand. If I remembered correctly, there were something like forty islands in this chain. Some undoubtedly had tourist areas. My memory was hazy regarding whether they had filmed The Beach around these islands or on some over by Phuket, but either way, there had to be rules related to this place. Park rangers or local police or something to keep tourists from doing the crazy shit tourists liked to do.
That was my best bet, then—find the rangers or police, hope they weren’t corrupt, and go from there. Paying a local with a boat to get me out of there was another option, except I had no money. I didn’t speak Thai, either, which was a worry this far outside of Bangkok.
A quick scan of my surroundings revealed a tree line roughly one hun
dred yards off, on the other side of the white sand beach. I was up and sprinting again, and made it without any problem. More of those green birds circled overhead before taking off northeast, and then a lizard darted across my path. I was otherwise alone, as far as I could tell.
Free and alone.
19
One could have seen me walking along the ridge of this second island and assumed that I was a hiker on vacation. They would be so very wrong, but as I made my way across the land, even I could almost believe it. Minus the annoying diet, that is.
My pursuers were back at the last island, and as far as I knew it was smooth sailing from here. This island was more colorful, with exotic flowers growing out of the hillside amid the palms and coconut trees. Sunshine warmed my skin and a cool breeze brought the flowers’ fragrance to mix with the tangy salt of the sea. Knowing that I could have died the night before, I had to draw a deep breath and remember how damn good it felt to be alive. Maybe it was because I felt more relaxed, so therefore I could spend time appreciating my surroundings, I don’t know. But if not for death chasing me down, this could have been one of my most precious moments in life.
Regardless of the reason, I certainly did appreciate it. And with my pursuers behind me, I decided that going for a coconut wouldn’t be as risky. I walked a little farther inland, selected a likely looking tree, and then carefully climbed. I couldn’t risk an injury from falling or it could be the end of everything.
I had this great vision in my mind of bashing one off with my rifle. It would drop, then I would shimmy back down and see the coconut open from hitting a rock. Maybe I would have to slam my rifle into it to split it open. Man, I could already taste the sweet coconut water, like heaven on my tongue. Then the coconut meat—tough but better than insects.
Unfortunately, it didn’t go as planned. The first three coconuts I tried to knock loose weren’t having it. Finding one that was already loose, I helped it and then scraped my legs on the way down. No cracks in the shell. And when I knelt over it to break it open as I had hoped? Yeah, right. My rifle hit and bounced back, nearly slamming me in the face. Luckily I fell back and out of the way, but lying there and staring up at the palms above, I sure felt like an idiot.
That coconut sat there, mocking me. I pushed myself up to consider it, vaguely remembering someone telling me difficult these things could be. Some Thai guy on my kickboxing trip, and he had laughed at foreigners for not understanding this. Now I was the example, and at least got a chuckle out of it.
Realizing this wasn’t going to work, I instead went for another stream and repeated the process from before. The water was a relief. The bugs, less so, but at least I would have my nourishment.
I felt good now aside from my clothes being wet, so I found a spot that was concealed but allowed the sun to reach me, then stripped to wring out my clothes and hang them to dry on the foliage. Since my feet were in bad shape, I waited to take off my shoes, instead stretching and laughing at the thought of tourists happening upon this crazy Marine stretching nude in the middle of a jungle island.
My imagination took it one step further as a gust of wind blew along my exposed body, and I imagined Kosum strolling up the hill and pausing to look me over. She winked, stripped, and beckoned me over. The thought that came next was enough to leave me slightly aroused, but there was no way I was going to act on that in a place like this. Maybe it would relieve the tension, but the idea of being shot while doing that was too much. Instead, I took it as my cue to dress, sat for a moment to air out my feet as I attempted to push away such thoughts, and then carried on.
I had come to a bend in the hill that led to water below when I noticed two canoes winding their way through. They were in a chasm between the two islands, and from my vantage point, appeared to be foreigners. A large, black woman was in one, a lanky Caucasian man in the other.
My eyes went wide, then blinked as I tried to convince myself I wasn’t seeing things. Without a doubt, they were there. They had to be European or American. I scratched my chin, eyeing the way down and trying to figure out the best move, and finally I shouted.
“Help!”
They didn’t seem to hear me. My hand was on the strap of my rifle. A shot in the air would get their attention, but they might hear that and think I was gunning for them. Would they try to escape from me instead of helping? Would my pursuers hear any shots? I guessed it depended on how far sound traveled in a place like this.
I kept the rifle slung, even tried to move it farther back and out of view, then took off at a jog. Several steep declines could serve to get me down there, but ahead was a land bridge that led out and into their line of sight.
One of my steps hit loose rocks and I nearly tumbled down the side of the hill, but I recovered and was up and running. A rock continued down and splashed, giving me an idea. I paused and grabbed several rocks the size of golf balls, and hurled one after another at the water below.
The first two hit and I called again, then threw—the last one landed in front of one of the boats, and the black woman turned my way.
I waved my hands. “Help! I need help!”
She shouted something that I couldn’t make out, then turned and called to her companion, who saw me then. The two indicated a point ahead and started to paddle toward it while I worked to descend and head there as well.
My chest felt light and my grin covered my face. I had a chance to get out of this hellish situation.
“Thank you!” I shouted before reaching the bottom, then laughed. “Oh man, thank you!”
They were waiting for me, the woman already out of her canoe as the man climbed out and pulled his to shore. Both watched my approach with confusion, and when the man’s eyes darted to the rifle on my back, he held up his hands, eyes narrowing.
“Look, mate, we’re not looking for trouble.”
“No, no,” I said, waving my hands, then kneeling to put the rifle on the ground and step away from it. “I’m a Marine, and, damn, it’s a long story.”
“Try the simple version,” the woman said, eyeing the rifle and then me. Her cautious expression showed me she was quicker to trust but wasn’t stupid. Judging by the fact that they were way out here, and the weathered look of their clothes—fanny packs and all—they were used to traveling. Smart to be wary, and a little older than me. Maybe in their thirties?
“Sure, sure,” I shot a thumb back the way I had come. “Only, there are people after me. I’m a Marine, stationed in Okinawa. Was out with friends when someone hit me. Next thing I know, I’m being held captive in a house on the next island over, supposedly about to be handed over to some other group.”
“No shit?” The man’s accent might have been Australian, but it was subtle. He ran a hand through his thinning hair, then turned to the woman.
“Local mafia,” she said matter-of-factly.
“You think?” he asked.
She nodded, then pointed at me. “People warned us about this, but I brought Saul here for protection.” When my eyes darted to the lanky man, she laughed. “Him? No, he’s only along for the ride, if you know what I mean.” She winked, so there was no doubt. “Saul’s my answer to the likes of your friend, there.”
“I don’t follow,” I admitted.
She patted the fanny pack at her side, then unzipped it to show me a ziplock pack with a pistol inside. “In case of water.”
“Smart.” I eyed the man, who nodded, slowly accepting my story. “And you two?”
“Adventurers, my man,” the guy said. His grin revealed a gold tooth. “Name’s Alex. This is Prenie.”
“Prenie?” I tilted my head, then smiled. “Sorry, that’s a name I haven’t heard before. I’m Tyler. My friends call me Sergeant Briggs.”
“Sergeant?” Alex asked, eyeing me up and down as if he was somehow doubtful of my ability to be a sergeant. That look made me not sure about how much to like him.
“So, your pursuers,” she said, happy to change the subject. “They… close?�
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My expression must have said it all, because then Alex ran a hand through his hair again, muttering curses. “We gotta go. If they’re after him, why are we sitting around here talking?”
“Agreed,” Prenie said. “But…” She eyed the two canoes. Both were the single-seater type—were those even called canoes? “We can’t leave him here.”
“The hell we can’t.” Alex stepped up to her, hand on her shoulder to pull her around, then everything started to move as if in slow motion.
Before any sound processed in my mind, red spread from the man’s chest. A shot rang out. Two more pelted the ground near my feet, one hitting the water. Prenie turned to face him, hands moving up to her face as she started to scream but caught herself, then had her pistol out and aimed and was advancing on a shooter to my rear and right.
Prenie got off a couple of shots, but with that pistol and from that distance range, she wasn’t likely to connect. I spun, eyeing the figure on the hill. Kneeling, I grabbed my rifle, aimed, breathed out, and fired. My first shot missed, hitting the ground at his feet and spraying up dirt. Correcting, I aimed and shot again—exploding his neck in a spray of blood that brought him down, back over the other side of the hill.
“The shooter won’t be alone,” I said, eyeing Prenie and then Alex, where he lay on the ground.
“No, oh no… no!” Prenie followed my gaze, ran to Alex, and then stood there with a hand on her mouth as her eyes watered up.
My first instinct was to apply pressure, but that wasn’t going to do any good when others came over the hill and peppered us with bullets. We needed to get out of Dodge.
20
“I got him.” I slung my rifle over my shoulder, picked Alex up like a baby and carried him to the canoe. He was a tall dude, but not so heavy. “We gotta move.”
