Slaughter Beach

by Jones, Benedict

  They pushed on and, just before the sun reached its peak, they crested the rise to the top of the mountain. Tammy stopped and wiped the sweat from her forehead. She looked out and took in the vista that the mountain top provided – the endless sea, and in that never ending blue she realised just how far they were from anywhere. The tears came before she could stop them.

  Marshall started piling the wood quickly and Carmine watched him carefully. Heidi and Nubia helped to pile the branches and sticks into, what looked to Carmine to be, a funeral pyre. Curtis moved to Tammy and squeezed her shoulder. She nodded and sniffed back the tears.

  “Let’s get this started,” said Marshall lighting his last cigarette.

  Curtis nodded and lit a cigarette of his own.

  “We wait till it’s a proper blaze, I’m not having our little friend coming up to kick it apart.”

  “Agreed.”

  Curtis piled the kindling beneath the branches and Marshall sparked the wheel of his Ronson. The flame took and they watched it lick at the wood. The smoke came first and then the flames. They waited and watched as the fire took hold. Curtis threw handfuls of leaves that he had collected amongst the wood.

  “Smoke might help. That way even if they don’t see the flames they might think this old fella is setting to erupt again and sail over to take a look.”

  Carmine was looking out over the island when he caught sight of the ramshackle, broken-down huts on the far coast.

  “The village,”

  Curtis walked over and followed Carmine’s pointed finger. He nodded and called the others over.

  “That’s where we’re heading. If anyone is separated you just head for the shoreline and follow it back to the village – got it?”

  They nodded and Curtis held up the M1.

  “How are we doing for ammo?”

  “Only two in this,” said Tammy.

  “Full clip and Marshall has more in his bag,” added Carmine.

  Curtis held out his hand and Marshall retrieved the box from his camera bag and passed it over. There were twenty or so nine millimetre shells in the box. Carmine managed to stuff the box into his pocket and they looked to the trees that hid the route to the village.

  “You think he’s down there waiting?” asked Tammy.

  “I have no doubts on that,” replied Curtis “I’ll take point, Carmine you’ll have to take drag.”

  Carmine nodded, too tired to even crack a joke, and then Marshall spoke.

  “Come on, he’s hurt. I should be bringing up the back.”

  Curtis’ smile was thin when he spoke.

  “Think I’d trust you behind me with a pistol? Carmine, you reckon you can handle it?”

  Carmine looked up and blinked his eyes back into focus.

  “Brooklyn all the way. I ain’t down until I’m down,” his voice was slow and his accent was slipping to something that sounded more like it was from the place he had been raised.

  Curtis leaned in close to Tammy.

  “Watch Carmine, I think he’s hurt worse than he’s letting on,” then he raised his voice so everyone could hear “keep your eyes open and move slow. We take our time and all get down to the village, get out of this place.”

  Once everyone had nodded their affirmation Curtis turned and jogged ahead. Marshall looked over at Carmine and wondered how long the little man could stay on his feet and he watched the gun, his gun, tucked in the waistband of his shorts.

  *

  They are coming and I wait once more. I wait and watch. I watch the shape of their movement. See the man at the back moving slower than the rest and see the woman who watches him. Three guns while I have none. But I have my sword, my honour, my duty and my memories. Memories that must be washed clean with blood, to remove the stain from my honour. When I see my ancestors again it will be as equals.

  20.

  Putting one foot in front of the other, Carmine tried to keep pace with the rest. He realised he wasn’t watching the jungle like he was meant to and stopped, pulling the pistol from his waist. He looked around but nothing seemed out of place. After nodding once to himself he tucked the pistol back into his waistband and went back to putting one foot in front of the other.

  Curtis stopped. He held his hand up to halt the others and then stepped off to the side of the trail he was following. After moving some way into the bushes he found footprints in the dirt. Looked at them – fresh? He couldn’t tell. It had been too long since he had tracked another man. Once he was back with the others he lifted his hand and signalled for them to follow.

  Carmine walked with his eyes closed as fresh pain blossomed beneath the makeshift bandages. One foot in front of the other. The pain began to fade and then he wasn’t walking on dark volcanic dirt any longer but the solid grey concrete at La Guardia, coming back from a trip with Will. Through the airport and into a yellow cab. Home, James. Stop in at his mother’s house; Veal Parmesan, pasta with a pork and beef gravy, fresh bread from Giovanni’s Bakery on the corner - all of it. Then hop another cab over to the Village and go cruising. Carmine smiled as he walked. Heard his name called and wasn’t sure whether it was from the leather boy at the bar in his mind or the reality he kept his eyes closed against.

  “Carmine, where are you going?”

  The pain came back in waves and reminded Carmine where he was. He opened his eyes and looked around. He had wandered away from the direction that the others had taken and Tammy had come after him. Gidrul’, he cursed himself and tried to focus. He took another step and felt his foot come down on something tense and taut. Looking down he saw the vine give and his eyes tried to follow where the line went. Movement above him in the tree tops made him look up just in time for him to see the tree stump hurtling towards him. Carmine managed a half shuffle to the right but it was too late. The stump came down faster than the L-train going along Bedford Avenue and hit him in the chest, throwing him back like a rag doll hurled by a toddler in a tantrum as the stump continued its arc. He lay on the ground for a moment. The wind had been knocked out of him and he knew that things inside him were broken, for sure, but he was alive. He rolled up onto his knees.

  “Carmine! No, get down!” Tammy screamed at him.

  Carmine turned and watched the tree stump coming down on its backswing. He watched as the lump of wood raced towards his face. It was as though the tree stump’s descent had hypnotised him and he did not move as it struck him full in the face, his head came apart like a balloon filled with red paint being hit with a bat. Carmine’s body stayed on its knees for a moment pumping blood out through what was left of his ruined neck before toppling to rest in the dark dirt.

  The tree stump continued to swing, slowing with each pendulation. Tammy ran close and looked at what was left of Carmine. Marshall joined her.

  “Shit,” he muttered “he deserved better than that.”

  Marshall caught the swinging stump and halted its motion. He reached down and retrieved his Walther and the box of ammunition, checked there was a round in the chamber and kept it in his hand rather than tucking it into his pocket. Curtis walked over slowly and swore under his breath. Heidi and Nubia gathered around and they looked down at what was left of the little dresser from Brooklyn.

  *

  They didn’t bury Carmine or even move his body. They left him where he lay and pushed on deeper into the jungle towards the village on the coast. Curtis saw the gun in Marshall’s hand but said nothing. There was death in the air and Curtis wouldn’t wish anyone to be unarmed. Heidi held a machete, Nubia a club. Tammy left the .357 and its two remaining shots in its holster. They paused on the trail and Curtis shared around his canteen. He offered a cigarette to Marshall who took it gladly.

  “Anyone else?”

  Nubia took one while Heidi and Tammy shook their heads. Curtis sparked the smokes.

  “How much further do you think?” asked Marshall.

  “We keep up the pace and avoid any more surprises and we should reach the village before dark.” />
  Nubia shuddered and then held herself.

  “I don’t want to spend another night in the open.”

  Tammy nodded.

  “You’ve got that right. Four walls and a roof.”

  “Not sure we’ll get that but hopefully something defensible will still be standing.”

  “Want me to take point?” asked Tammy and Curtis shook his head in response.

  “No. I’ve done this before. It’s best that it’s me.”

  He finished his cigarette and strapped the canteen back to his belt before jogging on ahead.

  *

  And six become five. They fall like the blossoms from the trees. They are heading towards the place where I learnt the truth about betrayal. Perhaps I will let them pass in peace so that they can see that I know the truth. Perhaps. If the island does not kill them all before they get that far.

  21.

  The village came into view as the sun began to drop to the horizon. Five houses, or at least their walls, remained standing. The others had fallen in on themselves in the years of neglect that had followed the exodus from the small fishing village. Curtis immediately checked for any boats that might have remained behind but apart from one severely rotted canoe there was nothing.

  They picked the strongest looking house, one that had half a tin roof left, and moved inside. The food from Curtis’ rucksack was long gone. There were a few greasy pieces of meat that Nubia had wrapped in the cloth of her sarong. The five survivors wolfed it down.

  “There has to be a stream near here,” said Curtis “stands to reason, they wouldn’t build a village otherwise.”

  “Why do you think they left?” asked Heidi.

  “Our friend in the jungle?” added Marshall.

  Curtis nodded.

  “Could well be. He bothered them for enough years and they might have left.”

  “You want me to go and look for this stream?” asked Marshall.

  Curtis nodded again.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem. I’ll take Heidi with me.”

  Marshall gestured at Heidi and they left the house.

  “I’m going to check the other houses,” said Curtis.

  He left Tammy and Nubia together and headed out towards the remnants of the other buildings. Once Curtis was gone Nubia looked at Tammy.

  “You think we’re going to make it?”

  “Of course we will. I’m not going to die on some piss-ant island in the middle of nowhere.”

  Nubia smiled.

  “I just want to go home.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “I don’t just mean back to the States. I mean away from all this. Back to where I’m from.”

  Tammy nodded.

  “You got that straight – think Will will let us go?”

  Tammy had said it with a smile on her lips but Nubia looked back with fear.

  “You won’t say anything about Joelle, will you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Will won’t want anyone knowing about that will he?”

  Tammy shook her head and thought on it.

  “No, I don’t suppose he will.”

  *

  The roof of the first house, along with one of its walls had collapsed in on itself. Curtis stepped inside and looked around. Nothing. He moved out and headed to the next building. As soon as he stepped through what was left of the door Curtis knew that there was something different here. He kept the carbine held at waist level and moved further inside. The remains of the roof had been positioned to provide some shelter to one corner of the main room. He ducked low and, in the falling dark, wished that he had a torch as he crept forward. In the failing light Curtis saw a threadbare blanket, a pile of fish bones and a metal tin. He stared at the tin for a moment before deciding it was too small to contain a grenade. He slid the knife from the sheath on his belt and felt around the box for triggers and wires. There were none. Curtis lifted the tin and popped the lid, all the while expecting an explosion to take his hands. The lid fell to the floor and Curtis looked at the documents inside. They were written on paper that seemed as thin as onion skin and in a language that Curtis couldn’t read. It looked like Japanese but he could not be sure. Curtis stared at them for a moment, they could be love letters from back home or military secrets – did it matter anymore? Curtis put the letters back and popped the lid back on. Another look around the den showed the newspaper covers stuck to the wall; a picture of a mushroom cloud, JAPAN SURRENDERS! screamed a headline, VJ DAY proclaimed another. Even if you couldn’t read the words the pictures were clear – capitulation, the Japanese delegation standing with their heads down. Curtis stepped back. He thought of the other Japanese hold-outs that had been found claiming that the war hadn’t finished and that they had had to fight on. He looked at the newspapers and they sent a shudder through him. The man on the island must know that the war was finished, that it had finished a long time ago. Curtis took another look at the headlines and then headed back to the house that they had claimed as their own.

  *

  The stream was easy enough to find. Marshall dropped to his knees and lapped at the water like a dog before a toilet. Heidi followed suit and fell down onto her belly to lap up the water. They looked at each other and laughed.

  “All this water just makes me feel dirtier,” said Heidi.

  Marshall nodded.

  “I know just what you mean. Why don’t I go and fill the bottles further upstream and you can bathe in the pool.”

  “Really, Will? That would be wonderful. To be clean again!”

  Marshall smiled and carried the water bottles further up the stream towards the tree-line, pistol in his hand and an eye on the trees. He kneeled down, putting the gun on the ground next to him, and began filling the first bottle, all the time continuing to watch the jungle.

  Heidi stripped off her shirt and shorts so that all she wore was her black bikini. She stepped into the fresh water – it was a lot colder than the sea was but she smiled at the bite of it. It made her remember the streams in the Austrian Tyrol when she was growing up; they had been much colder, snow-cold in the spring. She pushed off into the pool and spun in the water so that she lay on her back looking up. The stars glittered bright and proud in the pure night above her. She rubbed her hands over herself and within moments felt the dirt and sweat drop away. She ducked her head under the water and came up gasping.

  A bird call made Marshall drop the bottle he was filling and grab for his pistol. He held the gun for a moment and it calmed him, when the fear rescinded he put the Walther back down and resumed filling the bottles. Marshall wished he had a cigarette and decided he’d ask Curtis once he got back with the water.

  The water cleansed and Heidi smiled.

  “It’s wonderful, Will. You should get in!”

  Marshall looked up and smiled.

  “Maybe I will once I’m done.”

  Heidi smiled and spun herself around in the water once again. She stared at the single cane that stood up in the water, so out of place. She watched as it moved towards her and she felt the fingers of fear push their way inside her. With slow movements she headed for the bank. She gripped it and pulled herself out of the pool. She was halfway out when the water behind her erupted. Risking a look back she saw the man, cane tube still between his lips and the glittering blade of his sword.

  “No,” she said quietly and the man lunged.

  The folded steel bit into her between her legs and slid deep. Heidi screamed and Marshall turned from filling the bottles. He watched as the sword vanished inside Heidi. The man turned and smiled at him as he lifted Heidi off the ground with force of his thrust, twisted the blade and then hurled her aside, the blade sliding out and looking black in the moonlight.

  “Shit,”

  Marshall fumbled for the Walther but the man was already moving, so light on his feet. He leaped from the pool onto the bank and pointed the katana straight at Marshall. The pistol seemed to snake aw
ay from Marshall’s grasp and by the time he had it, solid in his grip, and had looked back the man had vanished. Marshall screamed and fired a single impotent shot into the air. He grabbed up the canteens and walked over to where Heidi lay. She moaned and looked up at Marshall, blood smeared down the insides of her legs as she writhed in the dirt.

  “It hurts, Will. So bad. ”

  Marshall kneeled down and stroked her golden hair.

  “Please, Will. Kill me – it hurts too much.”

  Marshall looked away and thought about the bullet he had put into Joelle. He looked down at her again and felt tears prick his eyes. Footfalls sounded and Marshall turned his head. When he saw it was the others coming he looked back to Heidi and was amazed at how pale she had become.

  “Shit, where is he?” asked Curtis.

  Marshall shook his head.

  “I don’t know. He was there and then he was gone. I think he was hiding under the water.”

  “Let’s get her back to the house,” said Nubia.

  “No… Please. The pain. So much pain. End it here.”

  “We can help you,” said Tammy but the lie died on her lips when she looked more closely at the terrible wound that had been inflicted on Heidi and the amount of blood that had already soaked into the dirt.

  Marshall looked at Curtis, tears streaming down his cheeks. Curtis looked at the blood in the dirt and then nodded. Nubia and Tammy took Heidi’s hands and held them tight as Marshall stood up and aimed the Walther at her head. He took a breath and looked away as he squeezed the trigger.