Slaughter Beach

by Jones, Benedict

  “What the hell’s going on out here?”

  “That pervert is staring at me!” shouted Heidi.

  Curtis looked at her for a moment and took in the white powder smeared around her nose and the erect nipples and wet legs, she really was something to stare at. He looked around to check exactly which pervert she meant. Gilbert, another of the local sailors and Samson’s cousin, sat on top of the wheelhouse staring straight down at what Curtis saw with a lazy smile on his face.

  “Nothing to do, Gil?”

  “A few bits, Captain, but I kinda lost my track.”

  “Samson!”

  Samson appeared from the hold.

  “Sort your cousin out or I will.”

  Curtis went back into the wheelhouse and his rum. Marshall pushed in a moment later.

  “Is that all you’re going to do?”

  “What should I do? Keelhaul him because your friend wants to get her tits out?”

  Marshall sipped from his champagne flute.

  “Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  “Already done. Samson will keep them in line.”

  Marshall sniffed up deeply and went back outside. Curtis threw back his rum and held out his cup to Tammy. She laughed and topped him up.

  “Is he any good as a photographer?”

  Tammy nodded.

  “He’s the best. He’s an asshole but people will put up with a lot when you’re the best.”

  Curtis raised an eyebrow but kept his opinions to himself.

  *

  Gilbert sat in the aft of the boat, away from the party beyond the wheelhouse, scrubbing the deck that was already clean. Samson had set him to the task in a bid to keep him out of trouble and he muttered darkly as he dipped the brush into the bucket of soapy water. A murmur of voices came up from a gap in a hatch that had been propped open. After checking no one was around, Gil got down on his belly and snaked over to peek through the gap in the hatch.

  He watched as Marshall entered the small cabin, champagne bottle in hand, and sat down on a bottom bunk. Gil continued to watch as Francesca followed Marshall into the cabin and knelt before him like a supplicant at an altar. She reached up and yanked Marshall’s Speedos down, letting them pool around his ankles as she took his cock in her mouth. Gil grew hard as he watched Francesca’s head bobbing in time with the swell of the ocean beneath the boat.

  The door opened again and Heidi, the blonde woman, walked in still as naked as before except for her bikini bottoms. She stepped behind Francesca and ran her fingers through the dark haired model’s tresses. Taking a tight grip she pushed the other woman’s head down forcing her to take Marshall’s cock deeper into her throat; Francesca gagged, Marshall moaned and Heidi laughed before leaning in to kiss Marshall. Gilbert continued to watch and slid a hand into his shorts letting his fingertips brush across the hard heat of his engorged cock.

  “Gil, where are you?”

  “Ah, shit,” Gilbert whispered rolling away from the unfolding scene.

  He went back to scrubbing the deck as Samson appeared from around the wheelhouse.

  “Not finished yet?”

  “Nearly – got a bit distracted.”

  Samson shook his head and walked away leaving Gilbert to his work and the thoughts which burned in his mind.

  4.

  The island came into sight as the sun began to duck lower on the horizon. Curtis looked out at it; golden sand on the beach, rich green jungle and rising to a black rocky high, a remnant of the islands volcanic past. So much space, around the island and beyond it, that it was the blue that drew the eye rather than the colours of the island – a dot in the forever.

  Curtis took them in as close as he cared to and then shouted for Gilbert and Benjamin to drop the anchor. He sent Christopher and Samson to take the small boat and start shipping the supplies to the beach.

  Marshall appeared from below decks in a short silk kimono, cigarette in one hand and a champagne flute in the other.

  “Everything going okay, Captain?”

  “Give us an hour and we’ll have the tents set up and everything ready for you to go ashore.”

  Marshall nodded, threw his white-white smile and then vanished back below where the models were also resting.

  *

  They are here. I can see them. It has been so long since I have seen my enemies this close. I watch their ship and the smaller boat they send ashore with munitions. I give thanks to the Emperor for this opportunity to try and regain my honour which lies stained in the sticky dirt of this jungle hell.

  Try to remember who I am and why I am here. It has been so long. So long since I have heard my own name. I whisper it to myself so that I will not forget. My name is Takahashi Ichiro and I serve the Emperor.

  I check my own weapons; the sword of my ancestors, the ammunition, which I do not trust, for my rifle and the grenades which I do. But I have other weapons apart from these; weapons it has taken years for me to make and perfect.

  It has been too many years that I have waited, I have been lax in my duty to let them come onto my island. Perhaps I should have attacked them as they came ashore. I watch. One man on the beach guarding the munitions. The boat goes back and returns with more boxes and leaves another man. They begin to pitch tents and I realise that they are coming for me. They are establishing their base camp – how many must I kill? I will kill them all for you. It has been too long since I have seen you and I love you more than my Emperor but not more than my duty.

  I watch them come ashore and I know that not one of them will leave my island – they are but shades walking towards the veil. This is my island, my land, and they will be sore pressed to take it from me. I know why they are here and I will stop them.

  *

  Gilbert was staring back at the boat from the beach. Samson rapped him over the arm.

  “What you doing?”

  “Nothing. I’m allowed to fucking look.”

  “Not with your track record you’re not.”

  Gilbert looked away.

  “You know all that’s finished. It was just a mistake.”

  “Mistake that nearly got you locked up or worse if that girl’s dad had got hold of you. You stow that shit or I’ll cut your balls off myself.”

  “Ah, cuz come on – you seen ‘em, you can’t blame me can you?”

  Samson laughed.

  “Yeah, suppose you’re right. But any more of that pussy fever shit and I’ll get the Captain to lock you in the hold.”

  Gilbert grinned.

  “Nah, you’re my cousin you wouldn’t do that.”

  Samson wagged a finger in his face.

  “Don’t push your luck, Gil.”

  They went back to setting up the tents on the edge of the beach about ten yards from the tree-line. Four tents went up and Benjamin, another local sailor, went off to find some firewood. He picked up a machete before heading into the closing dusk.

  “What’s the matter, Benjy, scared of the dark?” shouted Gilbert.

  “Fuck off, Gil,” came the response and Gilbert grinned.

  “What about you, Chris?”

  Christopher, looked at him.

  “No, I ain’t scared of the dark.”

  Gilbert laughed and risked a quick look to check that Samson was still checking the guide ropes of the tents.

  “Nah, the girls – you like ‘em?”

  Christopher nodded.

  “Good! Yeah, reckon we’ll get some on this trip,” said Gilbert.

  He looked back out at The Ariadne and licked his lips.

  5.

  Tammy watched Curtis as he moved nimbly across the bow of the boat. She let her eyes move over his tall, lithe form. She found herself liking the Captain. How old was he? She wondered, older than her twenty six of that she was sure. He made her think of her brother when he had come home on leave, before he went on the tour from which he didn’t return, something in his eyes. Curtis looked up, pushed his blonde hair off his brow and caught her look
. He gave her an easy smile and she blushed and looked away.

  Marshall, Carmine and the models had emerged from below decks, dressed now and ready to head over to the island. Tony Lewis stood with a camera, snapping a few shots as the sun slid away below the horizon colouring the few clouds red.

  “Red sky at night, shepherd’s delight,” muttered Tony.

  “What’s that?” asked Marshall

  “Nothing,” replied Tony “just something that my mother used to say. Means that we’re going to have a good day for it tomorrow.”

  “We’ve got a night to get through yet,” said Marshall, slapping him on the arm with a smile and heading over to Don. “We set to get over there yet, Cap’n?”

  Curtis nodded and pointed out to the darkening sea – the small boat was coming back towards them.

  “I’ll come over to the island with you and keep one crewman with me, the rest can sleep on the boat.”

  As Samson tied up the dinghy and clambered aboard, Don went and retrieved his rucksack and the M1 carbine from the gun safe. He checked the ammo pouch that was strapped to the stock; two fifteen round clips and another already loaded in the carbine. The remains of the bottle of rum went into his rucksack and he strapped his waterproof sleeping bag to the top.

  “Samson.”

  Samson looked up.

  “Boss?”

  “I’m going to stay on the island with them tonight. I’ll keep Benjy with me and the other two can bring the dinghy back and stay with you here on Ariadne.”

  Samson nodded and Curtis passed him the key to the gun locker.

  “I’m taking the carbine but I left you the revolver just in case.”

  “In case what?”

  Curtis laughed.

  “Just in case!”

  “Fair enough, boss.”

  A box of champagne and another of whiskey had been loaded into the dinghy along with food and lanterns.

  “So who’s coming on the first run?” asked Don.

  Tammy stepped forward along with Nubia, Tony and Heidi. He helped them into the boat and then set himself to the oars. Don was happy to throw himself into something physical and he pulled at the oars, throwing the little boat towards the shore. They were soon on the beach and the boat was emptied.

  “Christopher, Gilbert.”

  The two men approached.

  “You two are staying on the ship with Samson tonight.”

  “Ah, what?”

  Curtis put a finger up into Gilbert’s face.

  “Don’t. You go back over with Christopher and he’ll bring the others over. You stay with Samson.”

  Gilbert muttered under his breath as he helped Christopher push the dinghy back out into the surf and set off back towards The Ariadne. Benjy walked back from where he’d just got the fire going.

  “Am I staying here with you, Mr Curtis?”

  “Yeah, we’ll split the watches. Probably not needed but…”

  “Okay, want me to get the grub on?”

  Curtis nodded.

  “Please, Benjy, thanks – better get something into their stomachs before they crack those two crates open.”

  When Don looked away from the sea, at the darkening jungle that surrounded him, he was pulled back more than a decade to Phuoc Toy province in Vietnam. His hands tightened around the M1 as he scanned the dark. He thought of nights on picket, patrols through the shadowed halls beneath the trees hunting for a foe that seemed to dance away from them like ghosts. He thought of ambushes, booby traps and fire fights and of distant artillery falling like the wrath of a vengeful god.

  “Penny for ‘em?”

  He turned and looked at Tammy who stood close by.

  “Just thinking on the past, how a lot of places look the same.”

  Tammy reached out a hand and squeezed his shoulder. Curtis looked at her and gave her a weak smile. She tried to change the subject to pull him out of his maudlin mood.

  “Tell me about the island.”

  “Not much to tell. To me it’s just a name on a chart. Think there used to be a fishing village on the other side, uninhabited now.”

  “Why?”

  Curtis shrugged.

  “Maybe Samson knows. Not much here now – except us.”

  The fire blazed bright. Curtis turned and looked at Tammy.

  “Do you take pictures?”

  “No.”

  “Write or draw?”

  She laughed.

  “No, why?”

  “Swim?”

  “Yes,” she looked at him, puzzled now.

  Curtis nodded.

  “Then let’s go for a swim.”

  “Now?”

  “Right now.”

  Curtis pulled off his shirt and lay it down on the sand, put the M1 down on top of it and kicked off his canvas deck shoes. After a moment Tammy shrugged and then smiled before pulling her shirt off and throwing it down on top of Curtis’. She wore a bikini top and left her shorts on. Curtis admired her body for a moment. Tammy saw him looking and smiled. She stepped out of her sandals and gestured at the sea.

  “Oh, ladies first – I insist. Benjy! Watch the gun.”

  Benjamin looked over and shouted back.

  “Why? What’s it gonna do – a back flip?”

  Tammy took off across the sand towards the ocean, kicking up sand, and Curtis followed racing her towards the surf. They hit the water in the same instant. It was still warm from the sun’s kiss but the all-enveloping wetness of it still snatched their breath. Curtis rolled in the water and covered himself. He watched as Tammy turned and swam out further and the water made her hair turn inky black in the dusk. He reached for her but she wriggled away and swam out further, once again Curtis followed. When they were out far enough that their feet couldn’t reach the bottom she spun and swam back close to him. They stared at each other in the darkness and below the water their hands moved over each other’s bodies. Their mouths met and Tammy’s legs locked around Curtis pulling them both down. They came back up coughing and laughing and swam back towards the beach.

  When Curtis pulled himself out of the shallows he saw Marshall stood watching them.

  “Mr Marshall.”

  Curtis ducked and picked up his shirt, slinging it over his shoulder before grabbing up the gun which he held by the sling.

  “You should be careful, Cap’n.”

  “Why don’t you just call me Don? That or else Captain Curtis.”

  Marshall smiled that smile of his, even whiter in the moonlight.

  “Be careful of her, she’ll have your soul.”

  Curtis stared back at him and then collected Tammy’s clothes and turned to meet her as she emerged from the sea.

  *

  I watch them and think of you my love. The Gaijin frolics in the sea with the woman while others move around. The tents are ready now and they have brought more comfort wives than I think necessary. It matters little. They will all be dead soon. I watch the boat and realise that it must go first. Even in the dead light I see three shapes moving on it. They are ghosts, that is all they are. The people of the beach are ghosts as the villagers who dwelt here before them were ghosts. They are not real to me, not part of my world. They are already dead but they do not know it yet. They soon will.

  6.

  They drank into the night, champagne and whiskey and finished the glass vials, snorting the powder greedily. In the firelight they danced to the disco music that played on Carmine’s tape deck. Curtis watched them from the edge of camp. Benjy approached.

  “Think they want you to join them, boss.”

  Curtis shrugged.

  “The day when I’d rather drink with rich pricks than walk the watch ain’t here yet,”

  Benjy coughed and pointed towards Tammy and Tony who sat away from the rest.

  “Let me take the watch.”

  Curtis thought for a moment and then passed the M1 to Benjy.

  “Cheers.”

  “No problem, boss you can take over from me
at four.”

  Benjy dropped him a wink and Curtis walked over to Tammy and Tony. Tammy smiled and passed him a cup of whiskey. Tony gave him a nod and he sat down cross-legged with them. Tammy leaned in and shared her warmth. Tony filled a mug with whiskey and passed it to Curtis. He took a sip and let the whiskey burn down into his gut.

  “It’s good stuff.”

  Tony nodded.

  “Only the best for, Mister Marshall.”

  He raised an eyebrow at Curtis and took a healthy tug on his own drink. Curtis laughed and lit a cigarette.

  “How in the hell did you end up with him?”

  Tony shrugged.

  “Jobs a job and this way I get to see the world.”

  “You take pics yourself though?”

  “Yes, not for quite the same amounts that get paid for his.”

  “Still, they’re yours.”

  Tony nodded and smiled

  “Exactly.”

  *

  The Ariadne swayed with the tide and Samson watched Gilbert press his nose against the glass to look at the beach.

  “Stop that shit, Gil.”

  “Ain’t doing nothing.”

  Samson made to come out of his chair and Gilbert backed away from the window.

  “I may as well go to bed than put up with this – fuckin’ torture.”

  “Go to bed then.”

  Gilbert threw a look at his cousin and stomped out of the wheelhouse. With a sigh Samson looked out at the fire on the beach and then at Christopher who sat in the corner.

  “You want a drink?”

  Christopher nodded and Samson pulled out Don’s second bottle that he kept stashed underneath the captain’s chair. They shared a couple of snifters and then a couple more knowing that the Captain wouldn’t begrudge them a drink or three as long as the boat was looked after and a watch maintained.

  *

  Samson awoke suddenly. He looked around the wheelhouse and saw Christopher curled up in his corner seat. Samson got up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He checked the time and saw it was just before five. Swinging himself out of his seat, Samson walked out unsteadily to the deck. He found his cigarettes and lit one, stopping to watch as the rising sun began to colour the sky. When the cigarette was done he flicked it overboard and turned to go back into the wheelhouse – thinking of a pot of coffee and a slow wake up, when he stopped. He turned back and saw the wet footprints on the deck. Samson looked around but saw nothing and no one. He walked over to the door which led down to the quarters, opened it and shouted down.