Everybody took a bottle and began liberally soaking the bodies, the wood. Advising everybody to step away, James said, ‘When we light this thing, it’s going to burn a hole in the sky. It’ll be going all night. If any transport passes, they won’t be able to miss it.’
Elaine said coyly, ‘Does anyone mind if I say a prayer? It seems appropriate.’
In Anthony's absence, no one objected.
Interlocking her fingers, Elaine began reciting a homemade prayer. Watching transfixed, Abbey clung to the woman’s words. They were eloquent, sugar-coating their bleak predicament; words of departed souls, God’s infinite love, Heaven and water. Anthony was not mentioned. Only silence followed the Amen, the subtle breeze rustling the fronds in the darkness behind them.
Pulling the lighter from his pocket, Sebastian rolled the flint, each of them drawn to the tiny orange flame flickering with the tide. ‘Any volunteers?’
Nobody spoke up.
‘Didn’t think so,’ Sebastian murmured.
‘If you don’t want it,’ said James, ‘I'll do it.’
‘And let you take all the credit? I’ve got this, chief.’
Sinking to his haunches, Sebastian held the flame out in front of him, flickers of uncertainty passing across his face. Nobody breathed.
As the flame touched the grizzly spectacle, it sprang up into the night sky, the first of the corpses engulfed in blue tongues. Abbey took a step back as the heat licked outwards, the others following suit. Soon the entire human structure was ablaze, the tips of the flames casting off flicks of ember into the torched night sky. All present stood hypnotically in gruesome awe as skin frazzled, flesh melted.
The smell wasn’t so bad, thought Abbey. Beef or pork maybe? The coppery tinge of blood. She couldn’t look away, drawn in like a child. The scene was brutal, carnage, but it was beautiful; a magnificence was being shared between the living and the dead. For those condemned to the flames, it was judgement day, redemption day for those who were not. Offering a departing gift of beauty, the deceased displayed their glory in spectacular unity, the living receiving it with open arms.
Noiselessly, they watched the flames for over an hour. Then, one-by-one they began to depart. James disappeared first, then Sebastian, Elaine, the others. Eventually, only Abbey remained.
With no one else around, she watched the flames lick higher, another soul depart. There were no words for what had taken place here, there was no splendour. Death lived here now. Only death.
Today’s word: Fuck.
36
Cutting into the dim confines of James’s tent, a single shaft of light speared through the blankets, waking him from a dreamless sleep. Outside he could hear excited voices accompanying birdsong, melodious notes carried upon the morning.
Pushing his way onto the sand, he found a handful of the survivors standing around Elaine and Eric, animated and impatient. They were keyed up about something. Even the girl was smiling.
As the group began to split, he noticed Sebastian sitting by the tree line smoking a cigarette. The South African wasn’t involved in the gathering. Instead he watched solemnly from afar, his unreadable eyes trained on the girl.
Keeping his eyes on the South African, James headed over to Elaine. ‘What’s with all the excitement?’
She too had her eyes on the girl. ‘I’m not supposed to say.’
‘Keeping secrets now?’
‘No,’ Elaine smiled. ‘Not particularly. God gave us a gift yesterday, and today we’re going to share it.’
‘Sounds intriguing.’
‘Trust me.’
James yawned. ‘I don’t like surprises, Elaine.’
Finally Elaine took her eyes off the girl. Sebastian did not.
‘Just indulge an old lady for a little longer, dear.’
From the corner of his eye, James spotted Gibson lying at an uncomfortable angle. The pilot was waving him over. Picking at half a coconut, Gibson grinned as James approached. His moist face looked paler than last night, James thought, eying his congealing bandages. Hiding his disquiet, James sat down in the sand. ‘How you feeling?’
‘Like I have a horrific wound!’
‘Where’d you get the coconut?’
‘Elaine not tell you? They found a stack of trees somewhere inland. There’ll be all sorts of fruit here if you know where to look.’ James frowned. ‘Too much TV,’ Gibson clarified.
‘See anything on how to catch fish?’
‘The next challenge, huh?’ Gibson laid back and exhaled deeply. ‘You’re doing good, lad. I have confidence in you.'
James pushed himself onto his knees. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Come on, look around. Only eleven of us survived that crash and I’m not going to be around much longer to talk about it. No one here has what it takes to keep morale up the way you do. Morale is vital, otherwise deprivation will lead them to frustration, which leads to anger, and finally conflict. I don’t need to tell you, the last thing you need here is these people turning on each other.’
‘Sounds like you have it all worked out.’
‘I haven’t had much else to do.’
‘Well you have me all wrong, Gibson. I don’t know how to lead these people.’
‘That’s not what I think. It’s not what Abbey thinks either.’
He frowned. ‘Abbey?’
‘She believes in you,’ Gibson revealed.
‘She told you that?’
‘Didn’t have to. It’s written all over her face.’ Gibson flashed his pearly whites. ‘Everybody’s woken to zero signs of rescue this morning, even though the fire burned all night. They should be disillusioned, but they’re not. Just keep that hope alive, that’s all I’m saying.’
James laid back and tried to digest what he was being told. It was a fact that none of the survivors were leaders, Gibson had that right. He just didn’t know what the pilot wanted him to do about it.
Along the beach Sebastian hadn’t moved, the cigarette pinched between his fingers, his gaze still idling on the girl.
‘Pretty weird, huh?’ said Gibson. James turned back to the pilot. ‘Sebastian can’t take his eyes off the girl. Want to see something weirder? Look at Eric. He can’t take his eyes off Sebastian. It’s like some incredibly wrong love triangle.’
‘You’re sick,’ James grinned.
‘What do you suppose is going on?’ said Gibson.
James shook his head. He had no idea.
Shuffling uncomfortably, Gibson let out a moan.
‘You okay?’
‘Leg’s stinging like mad,’ the pilot grumbled. ‘Check it out for me, will you.’
Kneeling back down, James began unwrapping the bandages. Gibson winced as the congealed wraps lifted free.
‘Close your eyes,’ James suggested.
‘What, you think I’m a pussy?’
Peeling away the last of the bandages, James recoiled. Evidence of infection was more severe than yesterday. It reeked.
‘Holy shit,’ Gibson muttered.
Clear signs of gangrene had set in, the flaps of serrated skin growing angrier. With no oxygen getting to the wound, the dead skin would be crawling with bacteria. No wonder it stank. Today the skin was pale, tomorrow it would turn red. When it reached purple, they were in real trouble. By that time Gibson would be in remorseless pain and all the drugs on earth wouldn’t make a dent.
‘Don’t sugarcoat it,’ Gibson murmured.
James reeled off everything he knew, down to the angry skin and gangrene. When he was through, the pilot fell into silent contemplation. They both knew the single remaining option if they failed to find drugs, but neither said it.
‘We’re going to find penicillin, Gibson,’ he promised. ‘It has to be out there somewhere.’
But the pilot wasn’t listening. Instead, he rolled over and faced out to sea.
*
James headed down to the shore to join Eric standing in the spill, cotton slacks rolled up, baseball cap turned backw
ards. When he realised he was no longer alone, the big man became more attentive, like a red-handed kid in a sweet shop. Wading out to the breakers, James greeted Eric with a “good morning”, but received no reply, only morbid fascination and big cow eyes.
Trying again, he said, ‘James to planet Eric…anybody there?’
Eric changed positions and screened him once again. ‘I woke up early today, James,’ he said spontaneously.
Irrelevant, but James couldn’t help smiling. ‘Did you see the sunrise?’
‘I like it here,’ he revealed. ‘It’s always sunny. I like the sun.’
James offered a single nod, hoping Eric would continue.
‘Are you American?’
‘Yes I am,’ James confirmed. ‘How did you know?’
‘I’ve been to America. I went to Disneyland.’
‘Oh yeah? In California?’
Eric narrowed his eyes. ‘Disneyland in America.’
‘How did you like it?’
‘Why are you talking to me, James? You’ve never talked to me before.’
Feeling slightly deflated, James replied, ‘Sorry, Eric, I didn’t mean to neglect –’
‘I know I’m not smart,’ Eric intervened. ‘My dad used to tell me. But I’m kind. My mum always tells me it’s important to be kind.’
‘Your mom’s a smart woman.’
‘I think you’re smart.’
‘I’m probably not as smart as you think,’ said James.
Darting past his feet, a brightly coloured fish caught the big man’s attention.
‘How’d you like everybody else?’ James asked casually.
‘I want to be a racing driver,’ said Eric randomly. ‘I was reading a magazine on the plane about cars. Did you know that some cars are more expensive than houses?’
‘No kidding.’
‘It’s my favourite magazine…’ Eric assured him.
Another fish.
‘Eric?’ James said hesitantly. ‘Do you like the other people here?’
Smile fading, the big man faltered. He didn’t like that question, nor did he reply.
‘Eric,’ James persisted. ‘Did you hear me?’
‘I like it here, it’s always sunny.’
James bit his lip. ‘Why won’t you answer my question, Eric? Do you not like the others?’
‘I like Abbey.’
‘Me too,’ he agreed nonchalantly. ‘What about Anthony, you like him?’
‘The man with the scar on his face?’
‘The birthmark, yes.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Eric said dubiously. ‘My mum told me to stay away from him.’
Understandable.
‘My favourite is Sebastian,’ James revealed. ‘I like him a lot.’
Eyes to the water, the fish.
‘Eric?’ he urged. ‘You like Sebastian?’
‘I don’t know him.’
‘I thought you did,’ he said casually. ‘I saw you looking at him earlier so I just figured you were friends.’
‘I like the sun…’
‘Why were you staring at him?’
‘It’s always sunny…’
‘Eric…I’m asking you a question.’
‘I think I’m going to go back to sand now,’ he said, unable to meet James’s eyes.
Frustrated, James backed off and watched the big man turn and flee.
Meeting him at the shoreline, Elaine welcomed her son. Despite the distance, James couldn’t make out what she was saying, her voice muffled by the gently tumbling waves.
Sebastian hadn’t moved from the tree line, James’s eyes settling on him from afar. He was no longer looking at the girl. Meeting James’s gaze, the South African was staring stonily back. Like he knew they’d been talking about him.
37
Like a procession, they marched into the jungle following the narrow estuary flowing from somewhere within. Sticking close to his mother Eric took second place, then James and Oli, and bringing up the rear was Abbey, shadowed by the girl.
As tired as the rest, Abbey gulped in deep breaths of the stifling air and began to grow light-headed. ‘How much further, Elaine?’ she called from the rear.
‘Not much, dear.’
‘You said that about a hundred miles ago,’ she gasped. ‘Since then I’ve had at least two strokes.’
Blowing out a breath of frustration, James intervened. ‘We should probably stop for a minute, Elaine, catch our breath.’
Chuckling, Elaine said, ‘Are you saying you’ve all been outdone by a sixty-seven year old with a dodgy hip?’
‘I didn’t say anything,’ Oli protested. ‘I think we should soldier on!’
‘You would say that, you pansy,’ said James. ‘You wanted to stop every five minutes when we climbed to the plateau.’
‘Every six as I recall,’ Oli corrected.
‘It's irrelevant anyway,’ Elaine interrupted. ‘We’re here.’
Familiar with the surroundings, Eric pushed through some thick undergrowth and disappeared.
‘Anybody else hear that?’ Abbey asked.
Elaine smiled as the group fell silent, the faint gushing sound riding the air around them.
‘I hear it,’ Oli confirmed. ‘What is that?’
‘Euphoria,’ grinned Elaine.
‘Euphoria?’ Oli quizzed. ‘What does that mean?’
‘This way.’
Taking the same route as Eric, it soon became apparent what was creating the sound. ‘Elaine, is this what I think it is?’
‘What do you think it is?’
‘If no one’s around to hear it...’
Elaine pushed aside some heavy branches. ‘Now’s not the time to get philosophical, darl. It’s merely a time to marvel at one of God’s better designs and have some fun.’
They pushed through some dense vegetation, and finally there is was: Elaine's utopia. Almost thirty feet high, a shelf of rock towered above the crystal-blue lagoon, the perfect white spray of three small waterfalls tumbling delicately onto the surface of the water. More boulders bordered the lagoon’s edge in a gentle rise to the stone shelf. They hung there like a wonderfully crafted natural ladder, spanning out into the water and forming small stepping-stone islands. To the left, a sheer rock face rose out of the ground dappled with greenery, extending across the topmost shelf of rock and flowing down the opposite side where a small cave was hollowed out of the rock.
‘Watch your step,’ Abbey admonished as they joined her at the water’s edge.
Already in the water was Eric, clothes peppered on the nearest rock.
‘Whoa.’ Oli.
‘Oh my god.’ James.
‘Told you,’ said Elaine.
‘People...’ James tugged the damp shirt from his back. ‘We are officially in paradise.’
He ran and plunged headfirst into the lagoon, surfacing seconds later, sandy hair slick to his scalp. ‘Holy shit, it’s freezing!’
‘Freshwater, darl!’ Elaine revealed. ‘We left the salty stuff at the beach.’
‘Freshwater? Does that mean…’
‘There’s a small rivulet running parallel to the waterfall. Anyone carrying bottles, feel free to fill them.’
Stripping down to her white bikini, Abbey toed the lagoon. ‘You mentioned water in your prayer last night, Elaine.’
‘Had to thank the Big Man for it,’ she acknowledged rolling up the legs of her pants.
Standing on one of the boulders, Oli looked hesitant. ‘Just how cold is it in there, man? My body’s sensitive to extreme climate change.’
‘Just get your pale ass in the water!’
Like a kitten with cotton wool paws, Abbey crept up on Oli with predatory silence, flashing a “shush” to anyone who clocked her. Still reluctant, the student was shoved unceremoniously from his rock. ‘You biiiiitch!’ he screamed, wind-milling, grabbing at insubstantial air, and crashing into the water headfirst.
Coming back up for air, he gasped breathlessly.
‘St
op your whining, you big fairy,’ she giggled and jumped in next to him, pinching her nose closed.
‘Oh yeah?’ Oli grinned pushing her head under. ‘How'd you like them apples!’
For over an hour the six of them frolicked in the lagoon, in the sun. None of them had laughed so hard for days. The braver ones took turns jumping from the shelf into the cool water, even Oli and the girl with enough encouragement. There was not a defensive word, not a cussed remark as they enjoyed the happy moment.
As they grew fatigued, one by one they began to exit the lagoon, scrabbling around for their clothes. Only Abbey and James remained in the water.
Standing beneath the biggest of the waterfalls, she watched as the water cascaded across James’s shoulders, flattening his hair. He’d begun tanning nicely, his eyes seemingly bluer than before. In silence he stared back at her, brushed the dark strands of hair from her face.
'You think it's possible that a group of survivors can keep it together long enough to get home?’ He asked her.
Abbey broke eye contact. ‘They’re good people, James. They deserve to get home.’
‘That’s not what I asked.’
‘Do I believe in our ability to survive?’ she murmured. ‘Yes I do.’
He smiled. ‘Good.’
Their eyes met again. She wanted to look away but something was stopping her, an enticement in the invisible space between them.
‘Please don’t look at me like that,’ she whispered.
‘Like what?’
‘Like that,’ she said softly.
Holding her gaze for a few seconds longer, he said, ‘Sorry.’
‘James, I –’
‘Won’t happen again, I promise.’
He disappeared through the tumbling water, leaving her reeling, goosebumps on her arms. She thought for a moment he was going to kiss her. Perhaps he would’ve done if she hadn’t stopped it, and then how would she feel, guilty? Distraught? Neither of those words felt satisfactory. Almost not wanting to think it, she believed the word she was looking for was “Relieved”.
Poor Edward.
Poor Edward.
38
Sitting alone on the outcropping now free of bodies, Abbey surveyed the charred stack of human ash in the centre of the beach. Having returned from the lagoon with a warmer heart, it was now beating remorselessly cold. Was this the soul’s way of balancing elated and disconsolate, she wondered? From gliding gracefully through clouds to scraping the barrels of depression? She began to cry. Then she began to sob.
Hunting Abigail: Fight or Flight? For Abigail, it's both! Page 20
