Mega 5: Murder Island

by Jake Bible

  But she couldn’t go anywhere with her yacht. The mast was gone, down at the bottom of the cove. She didn’t have the expertise to retrieve it and fix it.

  The engine was not turning over, no matter how hard she tried to get it going. A sputter, a sputter, a stall. Over and over until she was afraid she’d kill the battery and never get it started. She’d been around boats long enough to know that ship engines were built to be strong and durable. Ninety-nine percent of the time, it was a matter of waiting for all the components to dry out.

  It was that waiting that was driving her crazy. She wanted to get going, to leave the cove, to go see what those people on the ship could offer. A ship that size had to have long-range communications equipment. They had to already be in contact with someone to come help them. The way the ship was listing, they’d need that help soon.

  Nivia had spotted the yacht’s small motorboat washed up to shore, beached in the sand. But she couldn’t bring herself to swim over there to get it. Getting in the water to wash off was one thing, but setting even a foot on the island was another. Yeah, the beetles came at night, but she had no idea what other nightmares the island had to offer.

  Where there are flesh-eating beetles, there are bound to be other horrors. Nivia had seen enough horror movies to know that was true.

  Plus, there was the issue of Tessie’s remains maybe still being in the boat. Nivia didn’t want to check with the binoculars. She couldn’t force herself to do that.

  So she sat on deck, waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting. Bored out of her terrified mind.

  The gentle rocking of the yacht lulled Nivia into a semi-sleep. A session of half-napping, half-staring up into the bright blue sky. It was during the half-napping that she heard the motor.

  At first, she thought it was the yacht’s engine. Had she set the controls to automatically turn the engine on once the system had dried out and rebooted itself? It was a very technologically advanced engine system. She remembered her grandfather tinkering with his sloop’s engine when she was little. He’d take it apart, clean it up, put it back together again. The engine in the yacht was not the type one could tinker with. It was calibrated, operated, and diagnosed by computers.

  So the motor she heard wasn’t her yacht.

  Nivia sat up and squinted out across the water. The ship had gotten closer, but also looked like it was sinking faster. Whatever equipment they had, apparently a working bilge pump wasn’t one.

  The motor sound drew her to the surprising sight of a Zodiac raft bouncing through the choppy waves right towards her. Nivia stood up and grabbed a towel, suddenly feeling exposed on deck in just her bikini top and cut off jean shorts. It was the South Pacific, she was in a tropical cove on a close to a million dollar yacht, but somehow being caught with little more than underwear on bugged her.

  She watched the Zodiac approach and debated how to handle the coming encounter. It wasn’t like she could fight them off if they weren’t exactly nice. But then again, she didn’t want to just hand them the keys to her yacht despite the less than stellar memories it produced. It was hers and that was that.

  When the raft reached the small diving deck at the aft end of the yacht, Nivia was standing above, a docking pole with hook gripped in both hands. It was the only thing resembling a weapon she could find.

  “Hello,” she called down from the railing as two women stepped out of the raft while a man handled the motor and tossed a line to be tied to one of the women. Nivia realized it was the same woman that had been watching her from the ship’s crow’s nest. “Can I help you?”

  The two women looked up and the other one, the one she didn’t know, laughed.

  “I think we may be able to help you,” Kinsey said. “You’re not going to want to be around here when the sun goes down. Or that’s what we’ve been told.”

  “I know,” Nivia said. “I’ve been here two nights already.”

  “Survivor,” Kinsey said and nodded. ‘“I like that.”

  “How’d you know about the nights?” Nivia asked. “Who are you people?” She pointed out at the B3 with her pole. “What goes on with that ship that you need this lady up in the crow’s nest with a rifle?”

  “Long story,” Kinsey said. “Way too long to tell. Right now, I need to ask you how much diesel fuel you have.”

  “More than I can use,” Nivia said. “My engine is stalled. Can’t get it to start.”

  “We’re having the same problem,” Kinsey said.

  “Looks like you’re having more than engine issues,” Nivia replied.

  Kinsey glanced over her shoulder and nodded. “Yeah. The main problem is we need diesel so we can steam over to the other side of the island and fix our ship.”

  Nivia didn’t say anything.

  “Listen, can we come up and talk?” Kinsey asked. “We’re not pirates, we won’t take the fuel if you refuse, but we need to explain a couple of things so you understand what situation you’re in.”

  “Maybe explain from where you are,” Nivia said.

  “‘Sey? We don’t have time for this,” Darren said, still seated by the raft’s motor. “Lake and Cougher both said we need to get fuel and get back ASAP.”

  “I know, ‘Ren,” Kinsey replied. “But the woman is obviously scared, and if she’s been here for two nights, and Ballantine isn’t completely crazy, then she’s dealt with some scary shit. I’m going to give her a moment to think about where she is and what chances she has of surviving without us.”

  “That a threat?” Nivia asked.

  “What?” Kinsey replied, confused. “No. That’s not a threat. How the hell would that be a threat?”

  “I…uh, I’m…” The pole fell from Nivia’s grip and her legs went weak. It all washed over her in a microsecond and she collapsed to the deck, her body shaking with massive sobs.

  “Oh, shit,” Kinsey and Lucy said as they both climbed up to Nivia.

  “Shit,” Darren said. “Did I do that? Shit. Sorry. Shit.”

  Kinsey reached Nivia first and pulled her into her arms. She fought at first, but after a second or two, Nivia relaxed into Kinsey and let it all out. She tried to explain, tried to say what she had been through, what she had lost, how horrible it all was, but she only managed a few choked words before she was an incoherent mess of tears and snot.

  “Hey, listen we can help,” Kinsey said. “Seriously. We’re trained for islands like this.”

  “Not according to Ballantine,” Lucy mumbled. Kinsey shot her a look. “Sorry.”

  “Hey, I’m Kinsey,” Kinsey said. “Kinsey Thorne. This is Lucy Durning. We’re, uh, special operators for a private security firm. The storm hit us and we took some damage. We just need to get some fuel and get back to our ship. Once we’ve done the repairs, we can get ourselves and you out of here, cool?”

  Nivia gently pushed away from Kinsey and nodded.

  “Cool,” she said. “But why don’t you call your firm and have them send a rescue party or something? You’ve sent a distress signal, right?”

  “We’re from a very private, private security firm,” Lucy said and shrugged when Kinsey looked at her.

  “Technically, we’re not supposed to be where we are,” Kinsey said, adding to the story. “We need to be far away from here before we contact anyone.”

  “Okay,” Nivia said and nodded. The two women seemed sincere, but there was something very off about it all. “How do you know about the beetles?”

  “Long story,” Kinsey said again. “Let’s start with the diesel.”

  “It’s in the tanks,” Nivia said.

  “How bad is your engine damaged?” Kinsey asked.

  “I don’t know,” Nivia said. “It only got waterlogged from the storm.”

  “That’s good,” Lucy responded. “I bet Cougher can get it running. Want me to go get him?”

  “Send ‘Ren,” Kinsey said. “We’ll stay here with… Shit, I don’t know your name.”

  “Nivia,” Nivia replied.

 
; “Like the skin cream?” Lucy asked.

  “It’s a family name,” Nivia said, bristling at the one question she was always asked. “Nothing to do with the skin cream.”

  “Go tell ‘Ren to fetch Cougher,” Kinsey said to Lucy.

  Lucy nodded and climbed over the railing, down to the waiting Zodiac.

  “So, now that I can understand you better,” Kinsey said, “you want to tell me what happened here? How’d you even find this island?”

  Nivia took a deep breath, shook her head, nodded, shook her head again, then began to cry all over again. Kinsey walked her over to a bench and sat her down. It took a few minutes, but once Nivia had calmed down enough, she began her story once more, but with considerably fewer tears and snot. Kinsey listened with rapt attention, even when Cougher came aboard and asked where the engine was. She shooed him away and he wandered below deck, grumbling the whole time.

  By the time Nivia was done telling Kinsey everything she’d experienced, Cougher had the engine running and was pulling up the anchors, ready to take the yacht out to the B3 so they could siphon off the gas and get the ship around the island to the waiting dock.

  Chapter Five: Death In The Shell

  With some of the fuel from The Spoiled Cheat, Lake was able to get the Beowulf III limping along enough for it to round the island to the bay and dock Ballantine had said would be waiting for them.

  To say the sight of the dock was anticlimactic would be an understatement.

  “Dude,” Lake said, turning and staring directly at Ballantine, who was casually leaning against the hatch to the bridge and smiling at the bay. “Are you shitting me?”

  “I never made any promises, Captain Lake,” Ballantine said. “In fact, I was the one that said this island would not serve our needs and is downright deadly. Anyone care to argue with my assessment of our previous conversations?”

  Thorne and Darren were also present on the bridge. Neither argued with Ballantine, but they did give Lake sympathetic looks.

  “I am completely confident that you will do your best to get the B3 in tip top shape, Captain Lake,” Ballantine said. “Between you, Popeye, and Cougher, well, how can we go wrong?”

  Ballantine clapped his hands together and left the bridge, quickly going down the steps to the main deck so he could spread his arms wide and take in the view.

  “I hate him,” Lake said and reached for one of the Desert Eagles he kept at hand by the controls.

  “No, Marty,” Darren said. “You can’t kill Ballantine.”

  “Can I wing him?” Lake asked.

  “With that?” Thorne responded. “You’d blow his arm off.”

  “And?” Lake replied. “That’s bad, why?”

  “Because I would prefer my husband keep both arms,” Dana said as she stepped onto the bridge.

  “Whatever,” Lake said and slowed the B3 to idle. He glared at the pilings and what was left of the dock. “I hate that man so much.”

  “Can we use the dock or not, Marty?” Darren asked. “Is it even useful to us?”

  “I won’t know until we get to it,” Lake said. He picked up a handset and pressed the button. “Popeye? Bring the yacht up to the dock. I’m going to park the B3 right here until we know the pilings are still secure.”

  “Roger that,” Popeye replied, his voice tinny over the small speaker.

  Lake backed off the throttle and the B3 came to a full stop. He killed the engine and dropped the anchor. Sensors told him the water was only about ten feet below the B3’s keel. Lake studied the depths of the small harbor and smiled.

  “What are you grinning about?” Darren asked. Dana walked past him and out the hatch to the stairs leading to the main deck. Darren watched her go then whispered, “You still don’t get to shoot Ballantine, you know.”

  “I know,” Lake said and pointed at the depth readings. “See what I see? If the floor isn’t too soft, we could build a scaffolding and lift the ship. Maybe lean it against the dock for support while we try to see what we can and cannot repair.”

  “Cougher thinks we can repair the hull easily if we can get up out of the water,” Darren said. “It’s just a matter of a couple welds and some new rivets.”

  “If anything was that easy when it comes to this ship, then we wouldn’t be where we are,” Lake said without looking at Darren. His eyes were watching Popeye steer the yacht up against the dock. “One step at a time, Darren. One step at a time.”

  “Fair enough,” Darren said and clapped Lake on the shoulder. He moved to the outside hatch, picked up an M4 carbine that was resting close by, and double-checked the chamber was loaded. “I’m heading to the island to make sure there are no surprises.”

  “You mean to make sure you shoot the surprises before they get to us,” Lake said. “There are always surprises. I refer to my previous statement about how easy things are for us.”

  “That’s why we have the guns,” Darren said and gave Lake a quick wave before heading out and down the stairs.

  Lake watched him go until he was lost from sight. After a couple of minutes, he saw the Zodiac racing away from the ship, pointed towards the small sandy beach at the end of the harbor. The rest of the small inlet was rimmed by a short wall made of stone that had seen much better days.

  Popeye was up on the few planks the dock still had and tying off the yacht. Once he had it set, he moved from spot to spot, a large pipe in his hands. He smacked the pilings with heavy, hard hits then tapped down on each plank. A couple of the planks cracked under the hits, but the pilings themselves didn’t budge.

  Lake saw Popeye reach a finger up to his ear and the man’s voice came out crackly on the com speaker. “We can make this work. We’ll need to create a platform up here, but we can make this work.”

  “Good,” Lake said. “Move the yacht, then guide me in. We’ll get started right away.”

  “Aye aye,” Popeye replied as Lake watched him climb back down into the yacht.

  ***

  By the time Popeye was done with his inspection, Darren, Kinsey, Shane, Mike, and Thorne were landing the Zodiac on the small beach. They each hopped out and took up defensive positions, guns sweeping back and forth as their eyes studied their surroundings.

  A dense line of jungle started about twenty yards from the surf. Beyond that, they could see the crest of a hill, but it was hard to tell if it was a big hill far off or a small hill close up. Only way to find out was to go through the jungle.

  “Hold,” Thorne ordered. He pointed two fingers at a set of semi-collapsed shacks to the left. “Kinsey, Darren.”

  They moved off in a crouch run and hurried to the shacks.

  Thorne pointed two fingers to the right at the shell of a concrete block building. It was good sized, but hadn’t seen a roof in a long time.

  “Mike, Shane.”

  The two of them hurried off in the same crouch run as Darren and Kinsey, their M4s set to their shoulders, eyes looking through the sights.

  Thorne was down on one knee, his attention on the jungle line. He couldn’t tell if there was movement within the shadows. There was a strong enough breeze that could just be underbrush moving around, but Thorne couldn’t say for certain. Until he could, it was a threat and his finger would stay two millimeters from the trigger, ready to fire the second something broke from the line.

  “Clear,” Kinsey called over the com.

  “Anything useful?” Thorne asked.

  “No, it’s all rot,” Kinsey replied. “Looks like these were just supply shacks. Old lines and crushed buoys. Moldy nets and nothing much else.”

  “Rusty harpoon gun,” Darren added. “No harpoons.”

  “Do one more sweep,” Thorne ordered. “Check the floors. Make sure there aren’t any entrances or exits hidden. Ballantine likes his backdoors and secret passages.”

  “Will do,” Kinsey replied.

  “We got something,” Shane said over the com.

  “What?” Thorne asked.

  “Uh, well, I�
�d call them bodies, but that wouldn’t be right,” Darren replied.

  “Bones,” Mike said. “Skeletons. Some are intact, but most are in piles all over the place. Never seen bones this bleached out before.”

  “No roof on the building,” Shane said. “Sun has been cooking them for who knows how long.”

  “2012,” Ballantine’s voice said into the com. “That’s when we lost contact with this island.”

  “2012?” Mike asked. “These bones look way older than that.”

  “They would,” Ballantine replied. “The beetles.”

  “That doesn’t explain shit,” Mike said.

  “It does,” Ballantine argued. “It explains everything.”

  “Ballantine, get off the com,” Thorne growled. “Listen. Don’t interrupt. I won’t ask again.”

  “Of course, Commander,” Ballantine replied. “My apologies. Just adding some insight into your team’s discoveries. Oh, and Kinsey, there are no backdoors or secret passages in those shacks. Sometimes a shack is just a shack.”

  “Keep checking,” Thorne ordered.

  “We are,” Kinsey replied.

  “Well, so much for trust,” Ballantine chuckled.

  There were several answering chuckles.

  “Shut up, Ballantine,” Thorne said. “Last warning.”

  “Lips sealed,” Ballantine said and there was an audible click as he muted his com.

  After about five minutes, Darren and Kinsey rejoined Thorne at his spot on the beach.

  “Anything?” Darren asked Thorne.

  “Unknown,” Thorne said and stood up. He nodded at Darren. “You two watch the tree line. I’m going to see what Shane and Mike found.”

  “Got it,” Darren said and knelt in the sand.

  “What’s your gut say?” Kinsey asked her father.

  Thorne shook his head.

  “Come on, Daddy, what does your gut say?” Kinsey pressed.

  “This place won’t be good for us,” Thorne said.

  “What do you mean?” Kinsey asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Thorne said. “We’ll talk about it when we get back on the ship. Right now, keep eyes and ears open and you take everything you see seriously. Remember, this is a Ballantine island which means no matter how crazy something may seem, it’s still real.”