Island

by Richard Laymon

  ‘All I’m trying to get at,’ Thelma went on, ‘is that in my opinion I think Wesley didn’t get killed because he did something stupid on the boat and blew everything up. I think he got murdered, the same as Keith.’

  Staring toward the fire, her voice very calm, Kimberly said, ‘Has it occurred to anyone that maybe Wesley isn’t dead, at all?’

  Billie’s eyes latched on mine.

  ‘Suppose he arranged for the boat to explode - after he got off it?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Thelma asked.

  Kimberly grimaced at her. ‘I’m sorry. It has to be said, though. I think there’s a chance that Wesley’s alive, and that he might be the one who murdered Keith.’

  Then she spelled it out. The whole scenario, just as if she’d been listening to Billie and I out on the point. She used nearly all the same reasoning, but presented her argument in a more logical, concise way than we’d done. About the only thing she left out was my theory that Wesley visited the island in advance and hid a cache of supplies for his own use.

  Through the whole thing, Thelma sat there looking stunned, betrayed, aghast.

  When Kimberly finished, Thelma said to her, ‘You’re out of your fucking mind.’

  ‘If she is,’ Billie said, ‘so am I.’

  ‘Me, too,’ I said.

  Thelma turned her gaze to Connie, looking for an ally.

  ‘Don’t ask me,’ Connie said, then went right on and added, ‘All I know is that I’ve always thought Wesley was a pig ...’

  ‘Constance!’ Andrew snapped.

  She flinched, but went right on. ‘So it wouldn’t exactly come as any big shock if he pulled something like this. I mean, I don’t wanta hurt your feelings, but I thought you were nuts to get involved with him in the first place, much less marry him.’

  Andrew glared at her.

  ‘Well,’ Connie said in a whiny voice, ‘she asked.’

  Thelma looked as if she’d been slapped silly. She turned to Andrew. In a sad, pathetic voice, she said, ‘Dad?’

  ‘You know good and well how I felt about Wesley. But I’m on your side in this.’

  ‘There aren’t sides,’ Billie put in.

  ‘Whatever. Thing is, it makes a cute theory - Wesley set us all up and faked his own death. But I’d say it’s too cute. He didn’t have the smarts or ambition or guts to pull off a stunt like that.’ Andrew stuffed some tobacco into the bowl of his pipe.

  ‘Maybe we never knew him,’ Kimberly said.

  ‘You didn’t,‘ Thelma blurted. ’None of you knew him.

  He wouldn’t... do something like this. You don’t know how sensitive he could be.‘

  Andrew took a burning stick from the fire. As he sucked the flame down into his pipe, Billie said, ‘I think most of what we saw from Wesley - including you, honey - was false. I don’t know that we ever saw an honest emotion from the guy.’

  ‘Slick Wesley,’ I said.

  ‘You shut up,’ Thelma snapped at me.

  After a few puffs on his pipe, Andrew said, ‘There’s the matter of the rope. It didn’t come from our boat; I would’ve seen it. Which leads me to the conclusion that the rope was on this island before we got here. More than likely in the possession of the fellow who used it on Keith.’

  ‘And that lets Wesley off the hook?’ Kimberly asked.

  ‘In my opinion.’

  ‘Suppose he had the rope in his luggage?’

  ‘He didn’t.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  Andrew blew out a pale plume of smoke, then said, ‘I inspected his luggage.’

  Thelma’s eyes bulged. ‘You what?’

  ‘Settle down, honey. It was as much for your protection as ours. Just wanted to see that he hadn’t packed anything worrisome. Drugs, a firearm ...’

  ‘Dad!’

  ‘Who else’s stuff did you search?’ Connie asked. She looked ready to blow her lid.

  ‘Nobody’s. Just Wesley’s.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m sure.’

  ‘It isn’t any wonder that he felt like everybody was always against him,’ Thelma said. ‘I just thought he was being overly sensitive, but...’

  ‘We’re not against him,’ Andrew said.

  ‘Like fun.’

  ‘I’m not, anyway,’ he told her. ‘I’m saying the rope didn’t come from the boat. If it didn’t come from the boat, where could Wesley have gotten his hands on it? He’s innocent. Keith was murdered by a stranger. A stranger who had access to that rope.’

  ‘Wesley might’ve brought in a load of supplies last week,’ Billie pointed out.

  ‘That’s right,’ Kimberly said, nodding eagerly. ‘If he set things up to maroon us, he almost had to lay in supplies for himself.’

  That was my idea, of course. But I was happy to let them take credit for it. Seemed as if I’d already opened my mouth once too often.

  I had to open it again, though. With a look at Thelma, I said, ‘Whether it’s Wesley or some stranger, there probably is a bunch of supplies hidden somewhere on the island. I mean, the rope came from somewhere, right? Tomorrow, we oughta go and try to find where the stuff is being kept.’

  ‘What we oughta do tomorrow,’ Connie said, ‘is climb into that dinghy and haul our asses out of here before we all get killed. I mean, isn’t that the smart thing to do? Just leave? Whoever this guy is, he won’t be on the dinghy with us. We just trot ourselves over to a different island, where there isn’t some lunatic trying to wipe us out. I mean, you look out there and you can see those islands.’

  ‘They’re farther away than they look,’ Andrew pointed out.

  ‘So?’

  ‘We’d run out of gas before we got anywhere close to them. Then we’d be stuck on a dinghy with limited amounts of food and water ...’

  ‘But nobody trying to kill us,’ Connie pointed out.

  ‘We’re a lot better off here, believe me. We’ve got everything we need to sustain life. We could spend our entire lives here in relative comfort, if it came to that.’

  ‘Swiss Family Collins,’ I said. Couldn’t help it.

  ‘God save us from that,’ Billie said.

  ‘Wesley’ll murder us all first,’ Connie said.

  ‘It’s not my Wesley!’ Thelma cried out.

  ‘Well, whoever!’

  ‘Stop it,’ Andrew said.

  I’ll have to stop pretty soon, myself. Gotta hurry things along; it’s almost too dark to see what I’m writing.

  The upshot of the pow-wow was that either Wesley or a stranger killed Keith and might be after more of us or all of us. We won’t try to get away in the dinghy tomorrow, but we might keep it in mind in case things get worse. We’ll probably spend tomorrow exploring the island. We are posting double guards tonight: first Andrew and Thelma; then Kimberly and Billie; and finally me and Connie. Obviously, nobody is supposed to go off alone.

  After the pow-wow, we all ran around and gathered a whole bunch of firewood. We also picked up rocks to use as weapons. Then I had a chance to sit by myself and start writing. I’ve been at it for a long time. Almost done, though. If I don’t hurry, I’ll have to finish tonight’s entry in Braille.

  While I’ve been working on the journal here, Thelma has been pouting. Connie has been sitting by herself, over near the dinghy, gazing off into space. Andrew, Billie and Kimberly have been putting together a nice little arsenal: aside from a pile of throwing rocks, we’ve now got spears, clubs, and makeshift tomahawks. We’ll be in great shape if we end up in a pitched battle with Fred, Wilma and Barney:

  I shouldn’t joke about it. I like the idea of having weapons.

  What’d I’d really like, though, is maybe an M-16.

  Oh, well. Castaways can’t be choosers.

  Day Three

  What Happened With The Dinghy

  Here’s what happened.

  Some time during the night - we don’t know whose watch it was - he got the dinghy.

  No big trick. Though we’d kept it beached above the high-tide
line, it wasn’t close enough to keep an eye on. For one thing, the beach had a slight downward slope from where we camped. For another, the area where we left it was beyond the reach of the firelight.

  Nobody was really paying attention to it, anyway. We were worried about each other, not the boat.

  What he must’ve done was sneak in from a side, staying close to the shore, and drag the dinghy into the water. Then he probably swam away, towing it by the bow line.

  Connie and I started our watch at four in the morning. We sat so we faced each other across the fire. That way, between the two of us, we had a 360-degree view and nobody could approach without one or the other of us spotting him.

  It was Connie who suggested our positions. Not only were we beyond touching distance, but we couldn’t carry on a conversation without raising our voices. So we stayed silent, for the most part. Fine with me.

  Even though we just sat there, looking around and not talking, neither of us noticed anything wrong. Maybe the dinghy was already gone by then.

  An hour or so into our watch, I got up from the fire and went over to the rocks and took a leak. I must’ve walked within twenty feet of where the dinghy was supposed to be. I don’t recall seeing it, but I don’t recall not seeing it. More than likely, it had already been taken. But I can’t swear to that.

  A little later, Connie headed toward the same area - for the same reason I’d gone there. I started to get up and go with her, but she said, ‘I don’t need an audience, thanks all the same. Anyway, I can take care of myself.’ She was holding one of the spears, and gave it a shake. ‘You just stay here and mind your own business.’

  So I stood with my back to the fire and watched her. After she left the firelight behind, she was just a dim shape. All I could see was her T-shirt, because it was white. It seemed to float above the beach as she walked. Then it started to rise, which meant she was climbing the rocks. When she got up into them, the T-shirt sank out of sight.

  At the time, I thought how it would’ve served her right if she’d gotten nailed right then and there.

  She didn‘t, though.

  Pretty soon, she came back.

  ‘Real nice,’ I congratulated her.

  ‘Sorry. I’m sure you would’ve loved to watch.’

  ‘Guess who would’ve gotten the blame if our resident Thuggee had taken the opportunity to kill your ass while you were over there? Me, that’s who. Your dad thinks I’m worthless, as it is. There’d be no living with him if I let you get killed.’

  ‘Ha ha ha. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind, otherwise.’

  ‘You think I want you to get killed?’

  She let out a huff. ‘You wouldn’t exactly consider it a great loss. All you care about is my mom - and Kimberly. I don’t exactly stack up, do I?’

  ‘Well, no.’

  ‘See?’

  ‘That doesn’t mean I’d like you to get killed. What I’d really like is if, by some miracle, you stopped being such a bitch all the time.’

  She gave me a sneer and said, ‘Oh, isn’t that cute.’ Then she strutted over to her side of the fire. She sat down, crossed her legs, and lay the spear across her thighs. ‘Don’t even look at me,’ she said.

  So I didn’t look at her.

  Not for about half an hour, anyway.

  But she drew attention to herself by raising the spear overhead. Just as I turned my eyes to her, she threw it.

  At me.

  It flew over the top of the fire, its whittled point coming straight for my face. I whipped an arm up just in time, and knocked the spear aside.

  ‘Real nice!’ I told her. ‘Shit! You could’ve hurt me with that thing!’

  ‘That was the general idea.’

  ‘Try it again some time, and maybe I’ll forget to be a gentleman and shove it ...’

  ‘Fuck you.’

  ‘Just shut up before we wake everybody up,’ I said. Then I muttered, mostly to myself, something about her being a ‘crazy fucking bitch.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Nothing. Shut up, okay? We’re supposed to be keeping watch.’

  Oddly enough, our quarrel didn’t wake anybody up. At any rate, nobody yelled at us to knock it off.

  Connie and I didn’t say anything to each other for the rest of the night. I tried not to look at her again, but couldn’t help it. I had to make sure she wasn’t about to hurl a weapon at me. Whenever our eyes met, she never failed to give me a dirty look.

  Dawn finally came.

  Andrew woke up and came over to the fire. He was shirtless, barefoot, and wearing his khaki shorts. He said, ‘Lovely morning, eh, kids?’ Then he did a couple of quick knee-bends, arms forward for balance. Then he rubbed his hands together. ‘How was the watch? No trouble, I take it?’

  ‘What’re you so peppy for?’ Connie said.

  ‘Ah, the child’s in a snit, and it’s barely sun-up. Lover’s quarrel?’ he asked.

  ‘Give me a break.’

  ‘Tell you what, a good brisk swim oughta set things right. I’ll race the both of you.’ Grinning and rubbing his hands together, he looked toward the inlet. ‘We’ll make it a race to the...’ His face changed. Something was wrong. As I stood up to see what it was, he said, ‘What’s that doing out there?’

  A boat was floating on the water, maybe four hundred yards out. For a second, I thought that rescuers might be on the way. But then I checked the beach and saw that our dinghy wasn’t where it ought to be.

  Connie stood up, too. She studied the situation, then made a face.

  Andrew turned on me. ‘What do you know about this?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I said.

  ‘Connie?’

  ‘Don’t ask me.’

  ‘You two were supposed to be keeping watch.’

  ‘We didn’t notice anything unusual,’ I said.

  ‘Well something unusual sure as hell happened. That dinghy didn’t just get up and walk off the beach.’

  ‘No, sir.’

  As if the three of us all wondered the same thing at once, we turned suddenly toward the sleeping areas. Billie, Kimberly and Thelma were where they ought to be: none of them had snuck past us and taken the boat out for an early-morning excursion.

  ‘And you are sure you two don’t know anything about it?’ Andrew asked Connie and me.

  We both shook our heads.

  ‘We obviously had a visitor last night,’ Andrew said. ‘He slipped right past you and set our boat adrift. Did you fall asleep?’

  ‘No, sir,’ I said.

  ‘You?’ he snapped at Connie.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Mess around?’

  ‘With him?’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Get real.’

  ‘We didn’t do anything,’ I said.

  ‘Apparently, that includes keeping watch. Good thing our friend didn’t decide to slit a few throats while he was in the neighborhood.’

  Connie cringed and looked a little sick.

  ‘A couple of terrific sentries you two are,’ he said.

  I considered pointing out that the visit might’ve occurred during someone else’s watch - even his - but decided not to bother. After all, we should’ve at least noticed that the dinghy was missing.

  Connie didn’t try to give the skipper any excuses, either. The way she looked, I bet she was thinking about how she’d gone over to the rocks, all by herself, to take her leak last night. I bet she was wondering where the killer might’ve been while she was there.

  ‘What’s all the fussing about?’ The question came from Billie. We looked over at her. She lay on her side, propped up on one elbow. Her upper breast seemed about ready to fall out of her bikini, but so far it was staying put.

  ‘Our friend,’ Andrew explained, ‘snuck in here last night right under the noses of our two sharp-eyed sentries and set the dinghy adrift.’

  Frowning, Billie thrust herself up to a sitting position. She was wonderful to watch - all that shifting flesh barely contained by her black bikini. Nothing came loo
se, though. Once she was on her feet, she took a few moments to adjust her top and bottom. While she fiddled with the bikini, she frowned out at the dinghy.

  ‘Maybe a wave just came in and took it off,’ she suggested.

  ‘Not a chance,’ Andrew said. ‘This was done on purpose. By a person. By the man who murdered Keith, more than likely.’

  ‘What’ll we do?’ Billie asked. ‘We aren’t going to just let it go, are we? What if we decide we want it? Even if you don’t think we should try for another island ...’

  ‘It isn’t going anywhere,’ Andrew said.

  ‘It’s almost gone now.’

  ‘I’m going out to get it.’

  She looked at him. She gazed at the boat. ‘No, you’re not.’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘You can’t swim that far.’

  ‘Of course I can.’

  ‘I don’t mean you can’t. I mean you’re not going to. You’re sixty years old, for Godsake.’

  ‘Don’t give me that age crap. I can outswim anyone here.’

  I raised my hand a little-like a schoolkid who thinks he might know the answer but isn’t quite sure. ‘I’ll swim out and bring it back,’ I offered.

  ‘Don’t make me laugh,’ Andrew said. ‘I’ve seen you swim - if one can call it that.’

  ‘Maybe we should just let it go,’ Billie said. ‘It’s not worth...’

  ‘No!’ Connie blurted. ‘It’s our only way out of here! We’ve got to get it back!’

  ‘She’s right,’ Andrew said. He unbuckled his belt.

  Billie put a hand on his shoulder. ‘No. Come on, now. Kimberly’s the swimmer of the family. She should be the one to go, if anyone.’

  Kimberly appeared to be asleep. She was face down in her nest of rags, sprawled limp, one leg out to the side and bent at the knee. One arm was under her face. The other stretched away from her as if she were reaching for something.

  Maybe reaching for Keith.

  She still had his Hawaiian shirt on. The gaudy fabric rippled in the breeze. The shirt had gotten mussed in her sleep, so it let some of her back show above her bikini pants.

  Man, she looked great.

  ‘I’m not going to wake her up for this,’ Andrew said. ‘No, sir. Not me.’ He took off his khaki shorts, handed them to Billie, and stood in front of us wearing nothing except his white briefs. They were sagging a bit, so he tugged them up. (Like Thelma, Andrew had come to the picnic with no intention of swimming. They both left their suits on the boat.)