Billie was frowning. ‘Andrew,’ she said. ‘Don’t...’
‘For Godsake, woman.’
‘Don’t make me a widow,’ she told him.
He narrowed an eye at her. ‘The day I can’t swim out as far as that dinghy, I might as well be dead.’ He winked, then grabbed her upper arms, pulled her against him and planted a big kiss on her mouth. ‘That’ll have to last you till I get back.’
‘I wish you wouldn’t go.’
‘Christ, now, you’re gonna jinx me!’ He smacked her on the rump.
Hard enough to make her flinch and wince.
‘Back in a flash,’ he said.
Then he whirled around and marched with a jaunty swagger toward the water.
‘The idiot,’ Billie muttered. Even though she was annoyed, she seemed proud of him.
‘He’ll be all right,’ Connie said. ‘He can swim that far without even getting winded.’
‘He is in great shape,’ Billie admitted.
The way he was wading through the knee-deep water, I thought he looked rather like an old, bow-legged monkey. But I kept the observation to myself.
‘Should I go with him?’ I asked Billie.
‘Get real,’ Connie said.
‘I wasn’t asking you.’
‘He wouldn’t like it,’ Billie told me, not taking her eyes off Andrew. ‘He thinks he’s perfectly capable of doing everything.’
‘Made me climb the tree and cut down Keith yesterday,’ I said.
Billie shook her head. ‘Did he? He isn’t fond of heights.’
‘Dad’ll be fine in the water,’ Connie said.
The water of the inlet was very shallow. Andrew waded out nearly as far as the point before he began to swim. Because of the reef, there was no real surf. Just small, calm waves that shouldn’t give a swimmer any trouble at all. He moved along smoothly, taking his time. The dinghy kept drifting farther away, but he was slowly gaining on it.
The next thing I knew, Kimberly stood beside me.
‘Hi,’ I said.
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘What’s happening?’
‘Your father’s swimming out to get the dinghy.’
‘That’s our dinghy out there?’
‘Yeah.’
‘How’d it get away?’
‘We don’t know,’ I said.
Billie joined in, saying, ‘Andrew thinks the killer snuck in and set it adrift last night.’
‘Jesus,’ Kimberly muttered. She put a hand against her brow to shade her eyes. ‘It sure is far out there.’
‘We were going to have you go for it,’ Billie said, ‘but your father insisted on doing it himself.’
‘He didn’t want to wake you up,’ I added.
‘Figures,’ Kimberly said. Then, without asking for advice or permission, she flung off Keith’s shirt and bolted for the water. She didn’t jog, she sprinted. It was great to watch. She dashed over the beach, shiny black hair flowing behind her, arms swinging, long legs striding out, feet kicking up sand, then water. The water flew as she splashed forward. It sparkled in the sunlight. It gleamed on her dark shoulders and back and legs.
‘He doesn’t need her,’ Connie whined. ‘God! She always has to butt in and take over.’
‘It’s fine,’ Billie said.
‘Yeah, sure. What’s the point, anyhow? She isn’t even gonna catch up to him in time.’
I’d been watching Kimberly splash through the water, but now I looked past her. It took a few seconds to spot the dinghy. And there was Andrew, closing in on it.
I got my eyes back to Kimberly in time to watch her dive. She vanished under the waves for a few moments, then surfaced and began to swim with quick, sharp strokes.
Man, she was fast!
Not fast enough, though.
She was only about halfway there when Andrew arrived at the dinghy.
‘He made it,’ Billie said.
Way off in the distance, he reached up out of the water with both hands. He grabbed a gunnel near the bow. Then someone stood up in the dinghy.
I thought I’d have a heart attack.
Connie made a gasp.
Billie cried out, ‘My God!’
We couldn’t see who it was. We couldn’t even see whether it was a man or woman. Just that it was a person, and that it came up suddenly out of the bottom of the boat and raised an object overhead with both hands.
The object looked like an ax.
It swung down and appeared to strike Andrew on top of his head. He let go of the gunnel.
He vanished under the water.
I felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach.
Connie went nuts. She started shrieking, ‘Dad! Dad!’
But Billie kept her head. Like me, she must’ve known it was a waste of time to cry out for Andrew. If we’d seen things right, he was past help.
Kimberly was the one in danger, now.
She was still swimming toward the dinghy. Hadn’t she seen? Maybe she had seen, and planned to do something about it.
Billie shouted, ‘Kim! Kim! Watch out! Get back here!’
‘What’s happening?’ Thelma called. I glanced around and saw her staggering toward us.
Billie ignored her and kept yelling at Kimberly.
Connie was on her hands and knees, head up, staring out toward the scene of the murder, shrieking, ‘Dad!’
I flung my shoes away and hit the water at a run.
God only knows what I hoped to accomplish.
Save Kimberly, I guess.
As I splashed my way forward, I heard the sound of a motor. So I stopped running. In water up to my thighs, I saw the dinghy start moving away to the right. The killer sat hunched over low at the stem, steering.
Maybe it was Wesley.
Could’ve been almost anyone.
The boat picked up speed.
Kimberly kept swimming, but the boat was long gone by the time she reached the place where it had been.
Three Down, One To Go
I’m the only guy left. On the surface, that might be an enviable position. Here I am, the lone male marooned on a tropical island with four women.
There’s one big drawback, though.
The other three males have been killed in quick succession. (That’s if you include Wesley, who is dead unless he’s the killer.)
The women are still here, intact.
Makes me think it isn’t safe to be a man on this island.
In other words, guess who’s next?
I’m not sure what to do about it. I can’t exactly leave - the killer made off with our dinghy. No telling where it might be, by now. The last I saw, it was heading toward the north end of the island. Kimberly and I had just dragged Andrew’s body onto the rocks around the end of the point. (About where Billie and I did the dishes last night.)
Now that I’ve seen the wound, there’s no doubt that the weapon was an ax. It chopped Andrew’s head pretty much in half all the way down to his jaw. The back of his head was still intact, sort of. But the front was split open wide - including his face. Bloody yuck was slopping out when we pulled him onto the rocks. I’ve never seen such an awful mess in my life. You wouldn’t even know who he was, if all you had to go by was his face.
It was terrible for Kimberly to see her father that way. Ironic, too. He’d tried like mad, yesterday, to protect her from the shock of seeing Keith’s body. Now here he was, ruined a lot worse than Keith - and he couldn’t do anything about it.
I threw up.
Not Kimberly, though. After we hauled him out of the water, she sat on the rocks with her back to both of us. She was facing out to sea, her legs bent, her arms around her shins. It was the same way she’d sat for a long time yesterday on the beach after she’d finished with Keith’s body.
The dinghy, by then, was almost out of sight.
I thought about sitting down with Kimberly and maybe putting an arm around her. I sure wanted to do that. Comfort her. But it might look as if I was trying to put moves on her, so I
gave up the notion.
After a while, I said, ‘What should we do?’
She shook her head.
‘We don’t want the others to see him like this,’ I said, figuring that’s what Andrew would’ve said if he’d been able to talk.
She just sat there, staring out to sea.
‘Maybe I should go and get a blanket or something,’ I suggested.
‘Yeah,’ she said.
‘Will you be all right out here?’
She nodded.
But when I turned to go, she said, ‘No, wait.’ Then she got to her feet and turned around. She was crying softly. She wiped her eyes and sniffed. ‘Just a second, okay?’
‘Sure.’
‘I’ll be all right ... just a second.’
.I tried not to stare at her. It made me feel guilty, because a guy shouldn’t be paying attention to how great someone looks in her bikini - not when her father is sprawled on the rocks three feet away with his head hacked open.
She wiped her eyes again. Then she said, ‘Thanks for helping, Rupert.’
I shrugged.
‘You’re right, what you said. About how he shouldn’t be seen this way. God knows, I wish I hadn’t... He’d want to be remembered the way he was. You know?’
‘That’s why I thought I’d go back and get something. To cover him with.’
‘I’m going to tow him out beyond the reef.’
‘What?’
‘Bury him at sea. That’s what he always wanted.’
‘Don’t you think we should, maybe, put him over with Keith? So we can take him back with us when we’re rescued?’
Kimberly shook her head. ‘It’s different with Keith. Dad would want it this way.’
‘Shouldn’t Billie have a say?’
‘Bring her out here. Connie and Thelma, too. Have them all come out. I’ll wait with Dad in the water.’
‘Do you want a hand?’
‘No, go on back.’
I had a choice of swimming, or walking along the rocks. Since I was shoeless, I swam. Billie and Connie were still sitting on the beach, Billie with an arm around her daughter. Thelma stood nearby, watching me and shaking her head and sobbing.
Nobody objected to Kimberly’s plan. Apparently, Andrew had made it quite clear to Billie and his daughters that he desired to be buried at sea.
I put on my shoes, and the four of us made our way out along the rocks to the point.
Kimberly hadn’t gone far. She was treading water, thirty or forty feet away. Andrew’s body floated beside her. In spite of the water being crystal-clear, you couldn’t see what a mess he was in. There was the distance. Also, Kimberly had him face down. The main thing, though, was probably the way the sunlight glittered on the water’s surface - it was almost blinding. All you could see really well was Andrew’s gray, furry back. And his right arm.
The arm was stretched across the water because Kimberly had it by the hand.
‘I’m going to tow Dad out,’ she said. ‘Is that all right with everyone?’
Connie and Thelma were both sobbing like crazy.
Billie wiped her eyes, then said, ‘I want to come, too.’ Then she stepped down off the rocks into the water and swam out to Kimberly and Andrew. She went to the other side of Andrew, and came up with his left arm.
They both started swimming away, towing him between them.
It was a hell of a thing to watch. I ended up crying, myself - and I never even liked the guy very much.
That was a couple of hours ago. We all returned to the beach after the ‘burial at sea.’
It’s mighty gloomy around here.
Billie, Kimberly and Thelma have all lost their husbands (one way or another) since we came to this island a couple of days ago. If that isn’t bad enough, Kimberly, Thelma and Connie lost their father today.
I’m the only one who hasn’t lost one or two loved ones, and I’m worried about the killer coming for me next.
I’ve been writing in the journal, here on the beach. It doesn’t exactly take my mind off our plight, but at least it gives me a chance to think about something other than how much danger I’m in.
There’s no doubt that I’m next on the hit list, is there?
He kills me, then there won’t be any more men to stand in the way.
In the way of what?
The women.
He wants the women.
We’d better figure out something before it’s too late.
We Hatch A Plan
It was only mid-morning, but I was feeling hungry by the time I finished catching up with my journal. Nobody else had eaten any sort of breakfast. The way things looked, it might be a while before they got around to thoughts of food.
It seemed like bad castaway etiquette to eat by myself—which might be looked upon as trying to sneak more than my share. I didn’t want to bother any of the women, though. They were busy mourning.
I felt like more of an outsider than ever, since I was the only person who hadn’t lost a husband or father (or both). I hadn’t lost anyone I really cared much about. They were going through these huge, awful changes, while I was unscathed.
I actually resented it, to some extent. Maybe because I was keenly aware that I might be the next person to get killed. Also, because I was hungry and they seemed too wrapped up in moping around to care.
As far as they were concerned, I didn’t even exist. That’s how I saw it, anyway.
I figured nobody would miss me anyway, so why not take a hike? I’d been wanting to see the lagoon - and swim in it- ever since hearing about it from Keith and Kimberly. Now seemed like a good time to visit the place. So I put the book bag on my back, picked up one of the spears, and started striding toward the jungle.
I was fearless.
If any jungle creatures came after me, they’d better watch out.
As for the killer - I counted on him being too far away to nail me. Even though I had no idea how large the island might be, and he’d had about three hours to make his comeback, I was convinced that he must still be miles away.
Anyway, he was bound to kill me sooner or later.
And nobody would likely give a damn, anyhow.
I was still on my way through the sand, striding with bitterness and determination toward the place where the stream entered the jungle, when Kimberly called out from behind me, ‘Rupert! What are you doing?’
I glanced back. ‘Just thought I’d check out the lagoon.’
‘Are you nuts? Get back here.’
‘I won’t be long.’ I started walking backward. All four of the gals were looking at me.
‘Rupert!’ Billie yelled.
‘You can’t go off by yourself,’ Kimberly called to me. ‘If you have to go to the lagoon, we’ll all go.’
‘I don’t have to.’ I suddenly felt a little bit like a jerk. Pleased that somebody cared, after all - but a jerk for being so self-centered and making myself a nuisance.
‘I think we all oughta have something to eat,’ Thelma said. ‘What do the rest of you think? Cause, I mean, I’m kind of starving here.’
‘Good idea,’ I said.
As soon as I started back, all the gals quit paying attention except for Kimberly. She didn’t take her eyes off me. I pretty much kept my eyes on her, too.
She stood in the sand with her feet apart, her Hawaiian shirt blowing behind her in the breeze, her hair blowing, too. Her left hand was planted on her hip, which was bare except for the thin band of her bikini pants. Her right hand held a spear. With its end in the sand by her foot, the spear was higher than her head.
I wish I could’ve taken a picture of her.
Andrew did bring a camera with him. (Which I’d forgotten about until seeing Kimberly in such an awesome pose.) It should be in the picnic basket. As far as I know, nobody has taken it out since the boat exploded. I guess I’ll leave it there. For one thing, the camera doesn’t belong to me. For another, I’d look pretty creepy trotting around shooting snapshots on a day li
ke this.
We should’ve taken photos of the bodies.
Nobody thought of it. Everyone else must’ve forgotten about the camera, the same as me.
Photographs would’ve been a really good way to show the authorities how Keith and Andrew were killed. (Andrew is out to sea, but we could still unearth Keith and get some shots. I’m not about to suggest it, though.)
Anyway, my mood underwent a major change because of Kimberly calling me back - not to mention the way she looked.
We gathered at the supply pile (preferring to avoid the campfire with its heat), and sat on the sand around it. As usual, Billie took charge of the food. We ate crackers and cheese left over from the picnic. There was sharp, Swiss cheese, and smoked Edam. She sliced the cheeses with Andrew’s Swiss Army knife. She also popped open a bottle of wine that Keith had brought up from the bottom of the inlet. It was a Glen Ellen Cabernet Sauvignon. Though warm, it tasted awfully good. We passed it around, and took sips while we ate our cheese and crackers - and talked.
There was ‘small talk’ at first. About the food and wine and weather. Like everyone wanted to avoid mentioning the nasty stuff. After about ten minutes of that, Kimberly said, ’I saw who did it.‘
Wham.
Silence.
Everybody stopped chewing and stared at her.
We knew she meant the killer.
She’d been swimming out toward the dinghy with her head down, most of the time, so I think the rest of us assumed she hadn’t gotten a look at him.
We waited for her to say the killer’s name.
But her face told us who she’d seen.
Thelma said, ‘No.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Kimberly said. She looked terribly solemn.
‘Wesley’s dead!’
‘He isn’t. I saw him plain as day.’
‘No, you didn’t!‘
‘I’m sorry, Thelma. It was him. He’s the one I saw. He’s the one who murdered Dad.’
‘You’re lying!’
Kimberly shook her head. ‘I thought long and hard about whether I should tell. I almost decided to pretend I hadn’t seen who did it. Pretending wouldn’t do us any good, though. I know it’s tough, but you’ve got to face it. Wesley’s alive, and he’s killing us.’
Island Page 7
