by M H Ryan
“What is that?” Benji asked.
I wasn’t sure, but there wasn't any vegetation on the island, though near the top of the hill there was a dark stain, like a chocolate cap on top of brown ice cream.
I glanced back at the makos, and as if on cue, they turned hard, splashing up a bunch of water. Just a dozen feet away from us, they all dipped under the water and disappeared. I thought I felt a flash of fear from them, but the static took over again in a blink.
“I see the body,” Benji said.
I stood near the middle of the raft, letting Aubrey and Sherri’s paddling take us in for the last 20 feet. None of us spoke, but we all saw it, and we didn’t need the telescope that Benji.
It was a person, and not just any person—it was a person I knew.
The raft slid up onto the shore, and I jumped off first.
Chapter 14
I stepped onto the sand, or at least what I had thought was sand. The surface had a crust over it that crunched with each step. Below the crust was the softer sand, but none of it was like the silky smooth, white sand of all the other beaches we encountered. It felt coarse as table salt, and the color was off too, a darker brown tone with flecks of black in it.
Each step felt like walking on potato chips, and I gingerly made my way toward the body. The air there burned my lungs, and I felt weaker breathing it in. I yearned for the sweet air of the other island, and I wanted to drink the clear water—anything to get the taste of this place from my mouth.
I gazed at the sky. Was it getting darker? The sun seemed high in the sky still, without a cloud in sight, but it seemed…darker here, as if someone had slid the dimmer switch down on the sun. On my seventh breath, I smelled the death in the air. I fought the urge to run back to the raft. We had to do this, even if it was hard. The sharks weren’t as brave here, and I was starting to understand why.
The incline got steeper with each step, and as I neared the body, my feet were sliding over the crunchy surface. Standing next to the body, my suspicion was confirmed. It was Frank. He would have been on a lower level in the boat when the storm hit. How he got flung from the boat was a mystery, but how he died was not.
Both wrists were cut, and one of his bloody hands still held the knife. Yet, the sand under him appeared clean. In fact, there wasn’t a mark anywhere around his body. I glanced back at the raft, noting the winding path of churned-up sand from my steps.
The girls approached cautiously, wide-eyed and silent. I had no idea if they’d ever seen a dead body before.
“This is Chef Frank…” I paused, suddenly aware that I didn’t know his last name.
"Chef Frank?" Sherri said. "I remember seeing him once. He was smoking a cigarette near the back of the boat, and when he saw me, he put it out and went back into the ship."
“He killed himself?” Aubrey said.
“Appears so,” I said.
“Wait, look—there’s a gash in his side,” Sherri said, pointing.
“Yeah, look at that,” Aubrey said.
“A man doesn’t stab himself like that to commit suicide,” Sherri said. “That is a slow and terrible way to die.”
“You think he was killed?” Benji asked.
“Yeah, I think he was,” Sherri said.
“Great,” Aubrey said. “Not only do we have sharks and pigs and whatever else out here that wants to kill us, but now we have a murderer? All the more reason we need to concentrate on a smoke signal and getting the hell away from this place.”
“We don't know what happened here,” Sherri said. “And we don't know who did this or why. Look at the knife in his hand. Maybe he stabbed himself like that at the start, and it didn’t work fast enough, so he went with old tried and true.”
“Tried and true?” Aubrey asked. “Really? A dude is dead, and you’re talking about ‘old tried and true?’ ”
“What are you talking about?” Sherri said. “I’ve seen this shit firsthand in my life. I know what suicidal people think, and trying to take out their lung isn’t their go-to plan.”
“Oh, so now we can read dead people’s minds?” Aubrey said.
“Ladies!” I snapped, feeling my own anger rising.
“I can read your mind,” Sherri said.
“Stop it,” Benji pleaded, tears building in her eyes. But she had a fist so tight I could see the whites of her knuckles.
“Oh, yeah, what I am thinking?” Aubrey taunted, getting closer to Sherri. “Because if you really knew right now what I was thinking, you’d be running down this hill back to the raft.”
“Is that a threat?” Sherri said.
“Girls!” I screamed, feeling the pressure in the back of my neck. “Stop it, now!”
“Whoa, Jack, don’t need to get all—” Aubrey said.
“No!” I interrupted her. “We need to stop this right now. This isn’t us. This is this…
freaking island. I can feel it in my veins and in my lungs. We need to take care of this body and get off this piece of dirt immediately.”
“He’s right,” Benji said, hugging herself. “This island sucks.”
“Okay,” Sherri said. “I didn’t mean to get all…you know.”
“Yeah, me either. Sorry,” Aubrey said.
“We don’t know what happened to Frank, but it looks like he killed himself, and after only a few minutes here, I can see why.” I didn’t entirely believe that, but something was really off here, and the sooner we were gone, the better.
Frank was the kind of guy that just didn’t give a shit about anything or anyone. He liked his cigarettes, his porn, and his kitchen implements. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to kill himself. The possibility that he was murdered made me reconsider our rescue mission.
The bloody knife in his hand, a Fuji 787, was the pride and joy of his chef knife set, a set that he proudly announced had cost him an entire week’s salary. I kneeled down next to the body. The earth crunched underneath my knees, and I felt the soft, warm sand below. I gingerly pulled the knife from his hand and then unbuckled the sheath from his belt. I then attached it to my own belt clip and slid the knife into the sheath. This knife was a million times better than the one I had—longer, stronger, and most definitely sharper.
“Thanks, Frank,” I said, patting his hand. "Sorry it had to end for you like this…it just sucks.” I stood back up and just stared at his body. It looked like he’d been dead a day or two, the first scents of decay wafting from his remains. His face had taken a darker color, as if the blood had gone to his face, leaving a bruised look. Another day in the heat like this and the putrid sulfur smell of the island was going to have stiff competition from Frank’s corpse. Nature should have already started the process, but there were no flies, and I bet even the crocs didn’t want to grace these shores. If nature wasn’t going to dispose of his body, then we’d have to.
I started walking up the hill and heard the girls protesting.
“I'll be right back,” I said, not looking back.
The putrid smell had a source, and I saw the edges of it near the top of the hill—the “chocolate” cap. I neared the top and stood with my feet just inches away from the edge of the pool. Much like the water island, the top of the hill held a pond of sorts, but this water was black as tar. The surface bubbled and popped, and a thin layer of liquid gave it all a glassy look, as if I could step right onto it and walk across. This was the trap, though. The blackness seeped out of the pond and oozed down the back side of the hill, snaking its way in many forks down to the ocean. Where the water and ooze met, the blackness clumped up in grapefruit-sized chunks, but it didn’t stop its relentless flow into the water. I could see the shallow waters hiding the blackness below. This is what the sharks were probably afraid of…a young shark might get swallowed up in it all. They knew to stay away from this place.
A pocket in the pond rose and burst, releasing more of the terrible smell. Aubrey stood next to me looking down into the black below. Then Sherri and Benji joined.
"It's bitumen, isn’t it?" Sherry asked.
"Yeah, I think," I said.
"A tar pit?" Aubrey said. "How the freak is there a tar pit out here?"
“It’s not likely, but clearly it’s possible,” Sherri said.
“Well, obviously,” Benji retorted, gesturing to the pond.
“With the geyser on the other island and this, I’m guessing these islands must be sitting on a thermal pocket of some kind. Might explain why there are so many land masses dotted around this area. The ground is pushing up, and these are the peaks. There is probably a larger island with an active volcano on it, like the Hawaiian Islands. Each one is part of this moving chain of islands, each rising and then falling as the hot spot moves.”
“We’re on a volcano?” Aubrey asked.
“I don’t think this is the volcano, but there might be some mighty peak out there ready to blow,” Sherri said.
“Great,” Aubrey said.
“I think we should put his body in this,” I said, staring at the blackness. “I think it’s the best grave we can give him.”
The girls didn't seem to agree or disagree, but I stepped back and headed back to Frank. I took his dead hands and pulled him up the hill.
“This is fucking gross,” Aubrey said, grabbing his other hand.
Sherri joined in and pulled his other hand with Aubrey. Together we slid his body up to the edge of the pool.
“We should check him…” Benji said. “He might have something we can use on him.”
A morbid thought, but a smart one. I took a deep breath, which I instantly regretted and coughed back out. I knelt next to Frank and started checking his pockets. I found a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket and a pocket watch in his pants. It was broken, paused at 3:32. I slid both items in my pocket and looked at his shoes. They were far too small for me, and I was kind of glad for it. Something about wearing a dead man’s shoes seemed to be asking for the same fate. None of the girls even attempted to check their sizes.
With the body pillaged, we moved him to the edge and pushed him over and into the blackness. He rolled one turn, moving in slow motion as the goo embraced him. His clothes soaked up some of the surface water as the blackness swallowed him like a creature taking its time with a special meal. It took about a minute but the last of Frank dipped below the surface and was gone.
“You think we can use this stuff for anything?” Benji asked, gesturing to the bitumen.
“Use this?” Aubrey asked, pointing down to the bubbling brew, disgusted. “It’s going to smell up whatever we use it for, and it’s gross, and we just put a dead body in it.”
"We could use it for waterproofing, I bet," Sherri said.
"Yes," I said. "We can use it for that, and we can also use it for smoke. I bet we get this stuff burning and we’ll have a black sky, as if we were burning a car tire."
“This stuff will smoke?” Aubrey said.
“Yes, like a chimney,” I said.
"You think it's wise to announce that we’re here, now that we know there’s a murderer around?” Benji asked.
“Damn good point,” Sherri said.
“We don’t know he was murdered,” Aubrey said.
“Listen,” I said, holding my hands out, trying to calm the situation before they started yelling again. Hell, I wanted to start yelling. This place was like sandpaper between the toes. “We’ll stick to the plan, keep a fire ready to signal when we see something that we can signal. Otherwise, we still have the same mission. Rescue.”
At the peak of the island, I could see with my naked eye the next island out there, about the same distance as the island we came from.
“Scope, please,” I said, and Benji handed it to me.
The girls kept arguing in whispers as I extended the telescope and surveyed our next destination.
Much like this one, it looked sparse of vegetation, but instead of a sandy hill it was a rocky island. The edges were steep against the water, and I didn’t see a single way onto it. I spent a couple minutes trying to pick out the details and, most importantly, looking for any signs of survivors. I didn’t see anyone on it, and I suspected anyone who washed up to that barren mass would likely get dashed on the rocks or eaten by predators before they crawled up its craggy face.
The island looked taller than most, but from this distance, it was hard to tell. Maybe a hundred feet tall, and all rocks.
I collapsed the scope and handed it back to Benji.
“We’re heading—” I stopped when I heard the noise.
The girls stopped their conversation as well.
“You hear that?” Benji asked.
Chapter 15
I turned to the source of the sound and saw a small creature covered almost entirely in the black tar. It was shaped like a cat, and half of its little body was stuck in the tar near the water’s edge. It was making weak movements against the ooze and crying out piteously.
“A cat?” Aubrey asked.
I dashed over to the thing, feeling the crunchy soil soften underneath my feet as it broke through the top layers to expose the stickier blackness underneath. By the time I got next to the cat— or whatever it was—the black goo had stuck to my feet and collected a good pound of sand on each.
The cat had all but stopped moving. Its golden eyes watched me warily as I approached. It might have been young, or just a small breed, but it was about half the size of a regular house cat. It hissed as I approached. It was scared of me, but it was also tired, dead tired.
“Hey there, big boy. Take it easy now. I'm you’re buddy, and I’m not going to hurt you.” I moved closer, and that’s when I noticed the graveyard around the water line. Bones of animals and even some fish were scattered over the expanse. A glance through the carnage showed me the only thing still moving was this cat.
I knelt down and gingerly stretched out my hand toward the creature.
It hissed at me again, but it was half-hearted, so I kept moving closer. There were a few tuffs of hair behind its neck that weren’t covered in the blackness, and I gently stroked the clean hair with two fingers. It jerked up at the intrusion but then lowered its head.
“You’re tired, aren’t you, big guy? Been fighting for your life out here all by yourself, but don’t worry, I’m not going to let you die out here, okay? You just have to promise not to claw me to death, deal?” I took its paw in my fingers and shook it.
I knew the cat couldn’t understand my words, but I hoped it understood my intent. I hoped it could sense my empathy. Also, I hoped it wouldn’t attack me. Everything seemed angry on these islands; I wasn’t about to assume this kitty would be any different. I wished I had some gloves.
After it quieted, seeming to accept my stroking, I slid my hand under its body, feeling the tar mixed into its matted fur, and lifted it up and out of the blackness. I held it in the air, about a foot off the dirt, keeping my arms as far away from my body as possible. The thing was heavier than I expected. Maybe that was all the sludge attached to it, but it probably weighed a good five pounds, maybe more, and it felt more muscular than any housecat I’d ever held.
“It's adorable,” Sherri said.
“What, are we going to adopt that thing?” Aubrey asked.
“We can't just leave it,” Benji said.
“Benji's right. We can't just leave it here. It’s too cruel. If we can help this creature, we should,” I said.
I carried the animal with my outstretched hands, still expecting it to turn on me at any second, but it just laid in my grip. All the fight seemed to be sapped from it. I felt it relaxing some, and got a distinct sensation of gratitude. I carried it over to the raft and gently settled it on one of the bamboo slats.
"How do we clean that stuff off of it?" Benji asked.
"Usually cats lick themselves to keep clean," Sherri said.
"It can’t lick that off,” Benji said.
“This is a bad idea, guys,” Aubrey said. “One scratch out here could turn into real trouble. Cat
scratch fever and shit.”
“You’re not going to scratch me, are you, big guy?” I asked, petting it.
“I hope you’re right, but if it turns, I’m not the one offing it,” Aubrey said.
“Can you guys keep an eye on this…cat or whatever it is? I’m going back up to collect some of the tar.”
Might as well take advantage of my hands already being covered in black goo. It’s not like they could get worse. I grabbed a couple of zipper bags from the survival kit and ran back up to the black pond. I dipped my hand in, feeling the thick warmness of it, like liquid peanut butter. I took handfuls of it and shoved into the two bags. I probably had a gallon's worth, maybe more, in the sealed bags.
I jogged back down the hill and set the bag on the raft. I went to the edge of the water and tried to wash my hands in the ocean. The stuff just seemed to want to stay on my skin though. I mixed some sand and rubbed my hands together. It took a couple of minutes, but I got most of the mess off, leaving only black lines in the creases of my hands and fingers. In the meantime, I could hear the girls talking to the cat, cooing at it like it was a baby. Even Aubrey seemed to be warming up to the creature. I could hear his little meows from time to time, as if it was talking back to the girls.
"We'll get you home, buddy, then we’ll figure out how to clean you up," Sherri said.
The island felt like a million miles away even if I could see the tall tree from there and each trek across the ocean seemed just as ominous as the next. Then something occurred to me, an idea.
“How did this little guy even get here?” Benji asked.
“I think I know,” I said, wiping the last of the sand off my hand. “He probably strayed too far from his pack and got caught up in the blackness. But this stuff seems to repel the other creatures around here. None of them will even get close to this island. Did you notice how the sharks swam away when they got near the shore? They were scared of this place. On the other islands, the sharks were beaching themselves trying to get to us, but on this one, they won’t come within 100 feet.”
