Survive

by Tom Bale

  ‘Nothing else?’

  She makes another effort at remembering; again there’s that maddening bump. ‘There must have been something in those drinks. The fruit juice.’

  Deep in thought, Sam starts rubbing his chin. ‘If it was four o’clock yesterday afternoon, and now it’s, let’s say, six in the morning? That’s… fourteen hours. Do you think that’s about right?’ He seems to want her to hear the sandpaper rasp of stubble, and now she gets it.

  ‘You mean how much your beard’s grown?’ She studies his face and agrees that it looks like a single night.

  ‘I guess that’s something,’ he says, with a cautious glance at the kids. ‘That we haven’t been unconscious for a couple of days or longer.’

  Jody shudders. She’s been trying not to dwell on what might have been done to them. She can’t feel any soreness or discomfort that would indicate a sexual assault, and she knows that even raising the subject is almost impossible. It would be cruel to put the idea into their heads.

  She gazes into the distance for a moment, and notices something else. ‘At our beach the morning sun was off to the left. Here it’s more to the right. I think we’re facing north.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s true.’ Sam considers. ‘So we could be a long way from our hotel – nearer the Conchis, maybe?’

  ‘Maybe,’ she agrees, only to add: ‘That’s if we’re still on the same island.’

  25

  Sam hadn’t even thought of that. They could be on a different island.

  ‘I’m so scared,’ Jody says. It’s barely a whisper, but Sam still wishes she hadn’t said it.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘We haven’t done anything wrong. Why would anyone…?

  Sam can only shrug. He feels like he should be taking charge, but he has no answers, no idea why they’ve been put here or how they should react. If there’s a single positive, it’s that the four of them are together and in one piece.

  The sun is rising, throwing a fierce light across the beach. Sit here too long and they’ll burn, and the heat will make them even thirstier. He realises that finding something to drink has to be their first priority. Water, then shelter from the sun.

  Jody breaks the silence with a groan. ‘This is insane. It can’t be happening.’

  ‘I know. One other thing I noticed, when I woke up, is that there weren’t any footprints anywhere. It’s the same here.’

  She leans forward, still supporting a sleepy Grace at her side, and examines the sand. Then she eases free of her daughter, who sniffs and rubs her eyes. Dylan, too, is waking up. Jody asks Grace to keep an eye on him for a second.

  ‘Where are you going?’ she cries.

  ‘Nowhere. Just along the beach a bit.’

  ‘No, Mum, please–’

  ‘We’re not leaving you,’ Sam assures her. ‘We’ll be right here.’

  Jody is dizzy at first, and has to be supported. Grace and Dylan watch anxiously as they take a few steps towards the shore, where Jody points to a series of small, regular grooves in the sand, running in a neat semi-circle.

  ‘Brush marks. It’s been swept.’

  Sam can only stare at her. It’s almost too much to take in.

  Jody says, ‘So whoever it is, they left us here and then smoothed out the sand.’

  ‘Is that to confuse us?’ Sam wonders. ‘So we don’t know how we got here?’

  They’re both following the pattern of grooves towards the water. ‘We must have come by boat. So we can’t assume we’re on the same island.’

  Sam points towards the cliffs at the end of the bay. ‘We need to find out what’s over there.’

  ‘We can’t climb that.’

  ‘I know. But if I swim out a bit, I should be able to see past it.’

  She moves round to face him. ‘I’ll do it. You don’t like swimming.’

  ‘I’m crap at it, is what you mean. But the sea’s calm, and I should be able to hold on to the rocks.’

  He won’t be persuaded to let her go in his place, though they both have to tramp over there, carrying a child each. When Sam kicks off his sandals, Grace gets upset and they have to spend a few seconds calming her down, promising that Daddy isn’t going far, and he isn’t doing anything dangerous.

  At least I hope it isn’t, Sam thinks. But his stuttering memory has thrown up that news story about the young couple who were said to have been eaten by sharks. Sharks, for Christ’s sake. All he can do is tell himself they won’t come this close to shore, but he has no idea if that’s true.

  He feels stupid rather than brave, stripping off to his pants, his blood running cold despite the heat. His body still has that classic British complexion: pale and pasty, with a few reddish-pink patches on his neck and his knees. Only his forearms are the sort of deep brown colour he hoped to be at the end of this holiday.

  Now he couldn’t give a toss about a suntan, or anything else. He just wants to get away from here.

  The cliff, up close, is even more intimidating than they thought. As Jody finds a spot for her and the children to wait, a couple of birds take flight from the rocks, squawking in alarm, and she finds herself thinking, Could we eat those, if we had to?

  Trying not to dwell on that repulsive idea, she wraps her arms around Dylan and Grace. Surely they won’t be here long enough to get hungry? It’s got to be a misunderstanding, or a terrible practical joke. There’ll be a boat here any minute…

  She doesn’t want to watch as Sam wades in to the water. More importantly, she doesn’t want the kids to watch. He’s right that the sea looks calm, but what if there are strong currents beneath the surface?

  Jody takes a sharp breath as his shoulders disappear, leaving only his head visible. He’s still got his hands on the rocks, easing his way alongside them, bobbing up and down as if he can just about reach the bottom on his toes. It was how he swam with her in the hotel pool.

  Grace clutches at her hand. ‘Daddy’s all right, isn’t he?’

  ‘Of course.’ A choke in her voice; Jody pretends to cough. She feels ashamed that they’ve given in to sexist stereotypes. As the better swimmer, she should be doing this.

  Sam glances back, comically spraying water from his mouth, but only Dylan laughs. At ten or fifteen meters out there’s a sudden swell: like a living thing the sea rolls and rises, snatching Sam away from the rocks and into deeper water. For a moment he’s floundering, then he turns and kicks his legs, splashing clumsily as he fights to stay on course.

  Jody is plagued by images of a freak wave sucking him under. She’d have to go in after him – except there’s also the children’s safety to consider. Could she leave them alone here, with a chance that both she and Sam might perish? The idea of abandoning Grace and Dylan is even worse than the thought of losing Sam.

  She is more terrified than she has ever been, but can’t let it show. She settles for monitoring Sam on the edge of her vision while also gazing out to sea. Maybe she’ll spot a passing ship and they can signal to it for help.

  But would that be safe? Try as she might, Jody is struggling to accept that this is any kind of misunderstanding. A misunderstanding is being assigned to the wrong hotel room, or inadvertently taking someone else’s sun lounger. There’s no logical scenario where a family accidentally ends up stranded on a desert island.

  Someone has put them here, quite deliberately. Someone who must want them to suffer.

  ‘Daddy’s a long way out.’ It’s a careful observation from Grace, spoken in a tone that sounds nothing like her normal voice.

  ‘Not really,’ Jody says, although for Sam it is. He’s managed to swim clear of the rocks and now he’s doggy paddling, his head turned towards whatever lies beyond the promontory.

  ‘I wanna swim!’ Dylan suddenly declares, and starts to get up.

  ‘Not now, Dylan.’

  ‘Let me swim, I wanna swim with Daddy!’ He lashes out when Jody tries to restrain him, and they end up having a furious tussle, the sort that would get people tutting if
it happened around the pool. At first Grace tries to help, but it does no good so she backs away from them, and by the time Dylan has calmed down Jody realises that she’s forgotten to check on Sam.

  He’s gone.

  She stares out at the water in disbelief. Beyond the rocks there is only glassy blue sea. It’s like he was never there.

  Her heart almost stops. She glances at her daughter, trying to work out how she’ll deal with the terror, the grief… and yet Grace seems perfectly calm.

  Hearing a disturbance close to the shore, she turns again just as Sam’s head pops up. He climbs to his feet in the shallows and offers a grim smile.

  In shock, Jody says, ‘How did you do that?’

  He shrugs, taking it as a compliment. ‘Never liked getting my head under, but it’s actually easier to swim that way.’

  The relief comes in a rush. She jumps up and hugs him for a long time, but eventually she has to break away and ask what he saw.

  When she does, Sam looks pained. It’s not good news.

  26

  Sam suggests to his daughter that she could help Dylan search for a couple of shells.

  Grace scowls. ‘Why?’

  ‘I fancy a couple to take home. Please.’

  He and Jody return to where his clothes are piled up on the sand. He sighs. The pride he felt at overcoming his fear of deep water seems worthless compared to what he’s got to tell her now.

  ‘Nothing but sheer rocks. Even if you could swim round you’d never climb them.’

  ‘What about inland?’

  ‘Trees and more trees. It’s like a jungle.’

  From the way she shuts her eyes, Sam can tell how much she was praying for signs of civilisation: hotels, a fishing village, a harbour.

  ‘So what next?’ she asks.

  ‘Try the other way, I suppose.’

  She looks uncertain. ‘Or should we stay here? Whoever did this might be planning to collect us–’

  He cuts her off with a bark of laughter. ‘Do you think that’s gonna happen? Like someone’s playing a joke on us?’

  ‘I have no idea.’ She lifts her arms and lets them collapse against her body. ‘I keep going over it, and nothing makes sense. I’ve even started wondering if we could’ve, I dunno, agreed to this, and then somehow forgot.’

  ‘Why would we agree to this?’

  ‘We wouldn’t, it’s crazy. But so is every other explanation. I mean, perhaps it’s some sort of challenge. Survive in the wilderness, like on that TV show.’

  ‘What, I’m A Celebrity?’

  ‘No. The one with that posh guy. Bear Grylls. They get a group of people and stick them on an island for a few weeks.’

  ‘Right.’ Sam’s never seen the show, but it sounds bloody stupid. ‘Except we didn’t sign up for anything like that, and never would. We came on a fucking package tour. With our kids.’

  ‘I know. I’m only trying to throw out ideas…’ In tears again, Jody turns away from him.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He pulls her close and they embrace. As they break apart, he says, ‘Might as well try the other direction. We’re gonna need to drink something soon, and there’s nothing round here.’

  ‘What do we say to the kids?’

  ‘Dunno. Try not to scare ’em, obviously.’ Sam hesitates, unsure how to put this. ‘But I don’t think we can keep everything from them.’

  ‘You know this could scar them for life?’

  ‘Yeah. But when we’re in a mess as big as this, lying about it won’t help them.’

  The moody silence that follows has the feel of a standoff. They watch as Dylan spots something and drops to his knees, digging in the sand. Grace is behind him, hands on her hips; already she looks like a supervisor, Sam thinks. Maybe a manager of something, one day.

  And then the real blow: the little stray thought that follows without warning.

  Only if we get out of this.

  Jody leads the way as they rejoin the children. Dylan has found a pretty white shell. He goes to hand it to his dad before deciding he wants it for himself.

  ‘Okay, mate,’ Sam says. ‘I’ll find another one later.’

  ‘Wanna go home,’ Dylan grumbles.

  ‘Listen.’ Jody has put on her proper Mum’s voice. ‘I know this is all very strange, waking up on the beach, but we’ve decided to treat it as a big adventure.’

  ‘Don’t wannoo,’ Dylan says.

  ‘Well, we are. And it’s going to be really exciting.’ She indicates the bay. ‘Look how lovely it is here. And we have it all to ourselves, like we did the other day. Isn’t that great?’

  This time, nothing from Dylan, and Grace wears a blank expression, as though she’s already resolved to dismiss anything they tell her.

  ‘So now we’ll take a walk along this way, and see where it goes. Okay?’

  ‘I’m thirsty.’

  ‘We don’t have any drinks at the moment, Dylan, but–’

  ‘Wanna juice! I’m thirsty, Mummy!’

  ‘Here.’ Sam produces the mints and offers them round. It’s not lost on Jody that this is the only sustenance they have.

  They climb the ridge over to the next bay, retracing Sam and Grace’s original route. The scuffed sand where they’d woken is easy to make out, and on close inspection there are brush marks visible here as well. Jody waits until the children have drifted a few paces from them before she speaks.

  ‘I was thinking about what you said, and you’re right. We didn’t agree to this, and it’s not a practical joke. We’ve been kidnapped. That means we’re victims of a crime.’

  It’s no surprise when Sam grimaces. She knows that victim is a word he associates with weakness, while he – quite rightly, given his childhood – considers himself a survivor, not a victim.

  ‘Okay,’ he says, ‘but I don’t see what good it does to label ourselves…’

  ‘We’re not. What’s important is that we know where we stand. I mean, supposing there’s an accident, and one of us breaks an arm, a leg? You think paramedics are suddenly going to appear out of nowhere?’

  ‘No,’ he agrees with a sigh. ‘We’re on our own.’

  The next ridge is a tougher climb, first over rocks, then a dry flinty soil dotted with unfamiliar looking plants. There are a few gnarled trees, with a greyish bark. Jody finds herself checking them for nuts or berries.

  Then Sam stops abruptly, gasping with shock. Jody moves alongside him and takes in her first sight of yet another large sweeping bay: pristine yellow sand and blue sea, idyllic in any other circumstances. But Sam is pointing at something near the treeline. Four motionless figures.

  ‘I thought they were people.’ He sounds a little embarrassed. It makes no sense until Jody looks closer and works out what they are: four poles driven into the ground, with balls to represent heads. They’re lined up at the highest point of the beach, as if staring out to sea. Two tall ones at each end with two smaller ones in between.

  Like a family group, she realises.

  Like us.

  27

  Sam remembers the moment when Dylan didn’t want to get off the plane. The sight of these stick figures produces the same reaction: they remind Sam of that weird religion where people make creepy dolls to look like their enemies.

  This has been set up for one reason: to freak them out. And it’s worked.

  Voodoo. He gets the word just as Jody points to what lies far off in the distance.

  A wall.

  ‘Oh, Jesus...’

  The structure is perhaps two kilometres away, partially hidden by several more bays. More rocks and trees to overcome. This is an even bigger shock than the stick people.

  Jody sighs. ‘It looks like a prison wall.’

  ‘There might be a gate,’ Sam says, without much confidence. Dylan clutches his hand, making him jump.

  ‘I’m so thirsty, Daddy.’

  ‘I know, Dyl. We all are.’

  Leading the way, Sam climbs down to the beach, lifting Grace and Dylan to spare
them the last jump. After Jody’s warning, he’s aware that even a sprained ankle could become a major problem.

  As they get closer to the strange little group, they see that the ‘heads’ are actually coconuts. The poles are simple wooden stakes, like fence posts. The outer ones are roughly two metres tall, the inner ones half that. Jody reaches out and gently prods one of the coconuts. It shifts a little but doesn’t fall off. This new angle reminds Sam of the way he sometimes tilts his head after telling the kids a joke: waiting to see if he’s earned the laugh.

  With both hands, he manages to lift it clear. The head of a nail stands proud on top of the post, having sat inside one of the holes in the coconut. While they puzzle over what this means, Dylan is pushing the stake back and forth, as if wringing its neck.

  Grace scans the beach, shielding her eyes from the sun. In a frightened voice she asks, ‘Who put them here?’

  ‘I don’t know, honey.’ Jody exchanges a glance with Sam, who shrugs.

  The same people who put us here, he thinks.

  Dylan, true to the destructive nature of a five-year-old boy, succeeds in wrestling one of the shorter stakes out of the ground before they notice what he’s up to. The end that was buried has been sharpened to a point. Sam jokes to the kids about it looking like a giant pencil, but Jody can see what he’s really thinking. It will make a good weapon.

  He uproots the other smaller stake to take with them, and says, for Grace’s benefit, ‘They’ll help us climb over the rocks.’ But Grace only gives him another of her looks: You must think I’m stupid.

  Dylan has never seen a coconut before. He’s fascinated by the weight and texture, and downright sceptical when Jody explains what’s inside. Sam tells him to leave it here, but Jody intervenes.

  ‘We ought to take them.’

  ‘They’re heavy.’

  ‘I know, but they’re food. And the nails haven’t pierced the holes, so there’s liquid inside we can drink.’

  Sam’s eyes narrow, perhaps because he doesn’t want to acknowledge how desperate they are. Later it occurs to Jody that he simply assumed they’d come back for them – that there was never any hope of getting out of here – but for now they agree a compromise. They’ll take two.