22.
Silence reigned in the ruined house. Curtis crouched by a window keeping watch on the jungle while Tammy and Nubia clung together beneath his sleeping bag. There was no fire and Marshall sat alone smoking one of Curtis’ cigarettes. He kept the Walther close by his hand as he smoked. Heidi’s body lay in the corner covered by a blanket – they had not wanted to leave it outside.
“Want me to take a watch?”
Curtis looked over at Marshall.
“Sure.”
“You need to sleep, you’ve been trying to look after us since yesterday.”
“Thanks,” replied Curtis passing the M1 to Marshall, getting the Walther in return.
“You think we’re right to go?”
“To build a raft and get the hell off this island?”
Marshall nodded.
“Why wouldn’t we be?”
“Maybe we should stay and stop him.”
Curtis stared at the photographer - for a moment similar thoughts had dogged his own mind.
“Just us?” he replied finally.
“You think the people who lived here tried to stop him?”
Curtis nodded.
“Yeah, I would’ve thought they would have tried. Machetes and a couple of homemade guns against him out there in that green hell.”
“And he’s still here.”
“We get back and we can get the army called out. Let them hunt that bastard down.”
Marshall nodded but Curtis could see he wasn’t convinced. Curtis clapped a hand on his shoulder and handed over the last pack of cigarettes.
“Wake me up in a couple of hours and then get your head down yourself.”
Turning to the window Marshall stared out at the jungle and wondered if their enemy was watching them right now. Marshall lit a cigarette and continued to keep watch.
*
Tammy awoke in the half-light before the dawn and saw Marshall sitting at the window. She climbed out from beneath Nubia’s arm and walked over to him.
“How are you doing, Will?”
Marshall seemed not to hear her so intently was he watching the tree-line.
“Will?”
“What, sorry?” he replied turning.
She smiled at him.
“I said how are you doing?”
“Not so good,” he replied.
“Heidi?”
He nodded.
“And Joelle and Carmine and Francesca and Tony and the others. They deserved better, better than what they got.”
“You can’t think like that, Will. Not now. Not till we get out of here and then you can feel as guilty as you want to.”
He looked over at Curtis, curled up and asleep.
“You think anything will come of it if we get out of here?”
“He’s a good man.”
Marshall nodded.
“He is. Things got a bit crazy up on the mountain.”
Tammy shook her head.
“You don’t need to say it, Will. What happened up there wasn’t real life – it was survival pure and simple. Joelle was already dead, same as Heidi. You just helped them on their way.”
Marshall forced a twisted version of his oh-so white smile.
“You think it’ll be any different today, you think that bastard will let us go this easily?”
“We haven’t gone anywhere yet.”
Marshall looked back to the trees.
“All night I could feel his eyes on us. It isn’t right that he’s alive and all those others are dead.”
“We have to survive, Will. That’s all we can do.”
Tammy went to Curtis, ducked down and shook his shoulder. He was awake instantly, hand going to the Walther.
“It’s almost morning, Don.”
“Thank you,” he replied shaking the sleep from his head “You see anything, Mr Marshall?”
Marshall laughed.
“Call me Will, please. No, nothing but he’s out there - I know he is.”
Curtis passed the pistol back and slung the carbine over his shoulder.
“I think we best start looking for a way to get this raft made.”
*
By mid-morning they had collected and piled the materials for the raft on the beach. Marshall had kept watch while they searched. The search had turned up plenty of timber and sheet metal from the roofs as well as six large metal drums. Curtis looked them over and Marshall walked over from where he had been keeping guard.
“Will it work?”
Curtis nodded as he looked over the pile.
“I think it will. Tammy, I need Will to help me,” he passed the carbine to her.
She headed off to watch the jungle. Nubia looked down the beach.
“There’re some rock pools not far. I could go and see if there’s anything – clams, crabs.”
“You need to be careful.”
“I know that. I’ve seen what that bastard has done.”
Marshall passed her the Walther.
“Take that.”
“Thank you, Will.”
The two men watched her walk along the sand with trepidation in their hearts. It was Marshall who broke the silence.
“This raft isn’t going to build itself.”
“More’s the pity,” replied Curtis and they set to work.
The raft came together quickly; using some rusty cable, forgotten rope and vines from nearby bushes they lashed together a wood frame over the six old oil drums. The corrugated steel sheeting was then added as a deck. Curtis and Marshall stepped back and admired their work.
“Two cigarettes left,” said Marshall.
Curtis smiled.
“Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em.”
They stood and smoked looking the raft over.
“And you’re sure it’ll float?”
“Float?” replied Curtis “it had better fucking float.”
Nubia came back along the beach with three dead coconut crabs, shells smashed by the club, dangling from her fist.
“Time to eat before we get the hell out of here?”
Stomachs grumbled and mouths salivated.
“Be stupid not to,” replied Curtis.
*
I watch the cowards build their little raft and I smile. Soon the island will be mine again – just mine. They must have found the small camp that I kept in the ruins and if they did then they know the truth. That it was my decision to remain here and never go back to the land that betrayed me – betrayed my Emperor, my honour and everything it was that I fought for.
I never surrendered but they did. Cowards.
If I still had my rifle I would fire at them and hurry their way off the island. I retrieved the rifle but my clever, clever enemy had taken the bolt from it.
I see them build their fire and cook the crabs that the black one found in the pools. I am loath to let them go. My only companions since I drove the villagers away so many years ago. I sigh. Death would be a release but I gave my word to myself that I would not and so, I will not.
23.
According to Curtis’ watch it was just after one in the afternoon when they launched the raft into the shallows. Marshall and the women were on the raft clutching crudely crafted paddles. Curtis stayed in the water and pushed the raft further out. When he got to the point where his toes dragged on the sand he reached up and let Marshall haul him up onto the metal deck.
“We’re really getting away!” shouted Nubia.
Curtis grabbed up the paddle he had hacked from a plank and dug into the water. The others did the same and they propelled the raft away from the beach.
“We’ll try and follow the coast around the island.”
The others nodded and they continued to paddle until they were a hundred yards or so off the beach. Curtis and Tammy paddled on one side turning the raft and then they moved away off up the coast.
“Watch the beach, he might have had more than one rifle,” said Curtis and Marshall threw eyes at the shore.
A l
ittle water slopped up onto the deck but the raft seemed to be holding together. Curtis had the M1 carbine slung high on his back away from the water. As much as they paddled they seemed to be drawn back towards the island.
“Is it the tide?” asked Tammy and Curtis nodded in response.
“Hopefully we can use it. Let it propel us along the edge of the island then fight through it with a bit of elbow grease.”
They took their paddles out of the water and the tide pulled them along. The raft ran close to the island but they were still thirty yards off the beach. The speed increased and the raft moved along at a good pace. Curtis watched and could see it being drawn into towards the rocks of the coast.
“Shit, we need to start paddling like hell before we get dashed onto those rocks!”
Everyone dug in and dug deep trying to propel the raft back towards the open ocean. But no matter how hard they worked the raft moved towards the rocks like an iron filing drawn towards a magnet. And then, with a heaving wrench, the raft hit something just below the water. A drum was torn loose and the raft dipped. Tammy fell forward and Curtis grabbed the waistband of her shorts hauling her back. With one drum torn away the raft began to work loose from itself as it closed in on the rocks. Curtis let go of his makeshift paddle and made sure that his grip on Tammy was tight as he grabbed the far edge of the deck.
The raft struck with jarring force and began to come apart, falling into pieces. Nubia was thrown out onto the rocks and Marshall dived to try and grab her ankle. He missed and she was thrown clear. The raft pulled back and then clattered into the rocks once more. Curtis scrambled up, pulling Tammy with him, as the remnants of the raft slid away. They leapt for the rocks in the moment before the raft struck again and truly came apart. They hit the rocks hard. Tammy had a tight grip on Curtis’ rucksack but the Captain felt the sling of the carbine snag on something and tighten against him before it tore.
“No!” he shouted as the M1 slipped down the rocks and vanished into the angry waters.
Marshall fell into the water and a piece of the deck struck him in the head. He went down for a moment but came up spluttering, blood streaming from a shallow gash across his forehead. The waves plucked at him and threw him against the rocks. Marshall grunted against the pain of his flesh being dragged down the rocks but he scrambled and grabbed at a hand-hold. His fingers found purchase and he pulled himself clear of the raging waters.
Nubia got up and walked a few steps before she stumbled and fell. She pushed herself back up and walked towards the trees at the edge of the rocks. She could feel the warm blood leaking down her legs from dozens of scratches from where she had landed on the rocks. Her head span and the greenery before her swam. She reached up and felt the swollen lump on the side of her head. The sword blade fired out from amongst the foliage and its tip smashed teeth as it punched through her mouth and out the back of her skull. In one swift moment the sword was withdrawn with a spatter of blood across the rocks. Nubia reached for the Walther she had pushed into her pocket. She got the gun clear and thumbed back the hammer as she tried to focus. The man stepped from the bushes and looked at her for a moment. She made to raise the pistol but the sword blade lanced out, a glitter of steel in the afternoon sun, and across her throat. The pistol fell from her hand as she threw her hands up to the wound at her throat. She turned back towards the sea and walked away.
Tammy looked up and saw Nubia walking towards her. A smile leapt to her lips.
“You’re okay?”
Then she saw the blood oozing from between Nubia’s fingers and her smile fell away. Nubia made to say something and raised her head, the action made her chin tip skyward and her head to fall back tearing what little sinew and gristle held it to the stump of her neck. Nubia’s head bounced down the rocks past Tammy and plopped into the sea.
*
“Where’s the Walther?” whispered Curtis.
Marshall shook his head.
“I let Nubia hold onto it.”
“Jesus…”
Tammy drew the .357 and held it out towards Curtis. Curtis took the pistol and opened the cylinder – two shells remained.
“You still got the rest of the ammo, Will?”
Marshall nodded and pulled the sodden cardboard box from his pocket. .380 cartridges spilled out onto the rocks. Curtis picked one up and tried to fit it into the cylinder. It was just too large to fit.
“Shit.”
He handed the gun to Marshall.
“I’m going to have to go down after the carbine.”
“Don, no it’s too dangerous.”
A wave crashed against the rocks as though to illustrate Tammy’s point but Curtis shook his head.
“We have to have it. Will, you watch our front but hold your fire unless you’re sure.”
Marshall nodded. Curtis moved to the edge of the rocks and slipped down into the water. He felt the pull of the current as soon as he was in. Felt himself being pulled out and then sucked back in towards the rocks. He waited until the current pulled him out again and then dived beneath the surface. The water was cloudy here as the sand was kicked up and lashed against the rocks. Curtis pushed on until his hand grasped at the bottom. He felt his way around until his lungs burned. He turned and kicked off the bottom. Bursting out of the water Curtis sucked in great gasps of air. The water plucked him and forced him against the rocks, tearing at the flesh of his flank. Tammy was down on her belly watching for him.
“Anything?”
Curtis managed to shake his head. He sucked in more air and then went back under, pushing hard with his legs to propel himself towards the bottom. His search was, once again, fruitless and he returned to the surface empty handed. His battle against the currents had sapped his strength and Tammy half-dragged him back up onto the rocks.
“What are we going to do, Don?”
Curtis looked up at the blue sky and tried to think.
A shot sounded and a chunk of rock was chipped away in front of Marshall. The photographer flattened himself against the rock and tried to work out where the shot had come from.
“How many were left in the clip?” shouted Curtis.
“Six.”
“Then he’s down to five.”
Curtis risked a look over the rocks at the tree-line. He looked at Marshall.
“We need to get out of here before he works out that we haven’t got the M1. I’m going to make a run for the trees over there,” Curtis pointed “and try to get him to waste those shots. You watch and see if you can pinpoint his position. Let him have one round and then save the other – unless you’re sure that you can put him down.”
Marshall nodded, wiped his hands on his shorts and then took up the .357 in a two handed grip. Curtis moved forward in a crouch and then burst out of the rocks running for the trees. He heard the first short and dirt kicked up behind him. Four. Curtis dinked to the right and tried to make himself small as he ran. Another shot, this one close enough that Curtis heard it zing through the air close to him. Three. Curtis threw himself to the ground and then jumped up for his final dash into the trees. Bark was blown from a tree just in front of him but Curtis had made it into the jungle. Two. The boom of .357 made Curtis look back and he saw Marshall standing. The return shot went high. One. Curtis drew the knife from his belt and crept forward through the trees.
Tammy was looking out to sea when Marshall fired. She turned at the sound.
“Did you get him?”
Marshall wiped sweat mixed with blood from his eyes.
“I don’t know.”
A shot whistled over their heads and Marshall winced.
“Guess not.”
He re-sighted along the barrel at the place where he had seen the shadow of their assailant but could see nothing.
“Will…”
Marshall ignored Tammy and continued to scan the trees. The smallest of movements caught his eye through the leaves and he fired.
“Will.”
“What is it?” he asked
turning away from the jungle and ducking low.
“Is that, is that a ship? Tell me I’m not mad, Will. Please.”
Marshall screwed up his eyes as he looked to the horizon. At first he saw nothing but as he tracked along he saw it. Something big and far out. A container ship or maybe a tanker.
“Jesus, it is.”
Tammy fell to her knees.
24.
Curtis ducked behind a tree and then peeked around it. The man moved from his position and into some bushes to the left; he was small, maybe five four, and his grey hair was receding. No beard or stubble and for a moment Curtis wondered whether he shaved with the sword that was tucked through his belt. The man had one pistol shot left and the undrawn sword. Curtis looked down at the knife in his hand and it felt awfully inadequate. Looking around Curtis found a fist sized rock and hefted it into his hand. He hurled the rock and it crashed into the bushes a few metres from the man. He turned and fired the last round and Curtis was already running.
The man turned and watched Curtis sprinting towards him, knife held low. He made no move to draw the sword. Curtis tried to slow down but he was moving full pelt and came at the man in a rush. At the last moment the man pivoted on his front foot and performed a one hundred and eighty degree turn before firing out his leg in a side kick. Despite Curtis trying to back pedal the man’s heel cracked against his chin and snapped his head back. Curtis stumbled to the right and tasted blood. He stayed on his feet and lashed out with the knife. The man stepped back out of his reach and still made no move for the sword. When the man came forward it was fast. Curtis threw up his left to knock away a punch but the man pulled back the feint and put a kick into his stomach that knocked Curtis to the ground. He rolled clear as the man stamped a kick down at him and managed to stumble to his feet. Grabbing a branch Curtis threw it and watched as the man’s arms became a blur and the sword seemed to leap into his hands before the branch was cleaved in two. They stood and faced each other, barely moving, watching. The man had the sword held out low and pointing behind him, he adjusted his grip and raised the blade, two-handed, above his head. Curtis could see the laughter in the man’s eyes and knew he didn’t have a chance.
Slaughter Beach Page 8
