by David Moody
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“None of this makes sense. Mostly this seems to have been a single sustained attack, but some basic improvised weapons have been used.” Nils holds up a length of chain. It’s wet with blood, and lumps of flesh and gristle are stuck in and around the links.
“You’re saying that one person is responsible for all these deaths? You’re telling me a boatful of people couldn’t stop one maniac between them?”
“I’m not telling you anything, but that’s what I’m seeing. There’s a pattern to the killing. You can trace a path through it. Also, all the attacks came from the same kind of height. There are more kids than adults with facial damage. Several of the adults have chest and groin injuries. Look, there’s a small girl over there with her flesh ripped down, and a taller guy just here with his skin torn upwards from the belly.”
“Fuck’s sake, Nils,” Natalie says. “That’s enough.”
“It’s important,” Rajesh tells her.
“Yeah, I get that, but not here … not now. These are people. We were supposed to be spending the week with them. Don’t talk about them like they’re animals … like slaughtered meat.”
“Sorry,” Nils mumbles.
“So where are they now?” Paul asks. “Whoever did this … where the hell are they, because I for one don’t want to be stuck down here if some fucking lunatic is going to—”
Nils glares at him, and the intensity of his stare immediately silences Paul. “Whoever did this is gone.”
“You know that for certain, do you?”
“No, but I reckon we’d probably be having to fend them off if they were still here, don’t you? I don’t believe they’d stop killing after doing all of this. I don’t imagine we’re any more or less a threat to them than these people were.”
“But why?” Rajesh says. “That’s what I can’t work out.”
“They were out of their fucking minds, whoever they were,” Paul says. “Could have been an extremist, maybe? Some kind of deluded vigilante? It’s got to be terrorism, hasn’t it?”
“I doubt it. It was a high school trip, Paul. They were year eight and nine kids. All under fifteen.”
“You wait. They’ll find out who it was soon enough, and we’ll have their bloody ranty videos and Facebook quotes all over the news for weeks.”
No one else is listening. Natalie can’t stand Paul’s noise. A raised viewing platform is beyond a set of doors at the far end of the cabin, and the light that pours through the porthole windows is welcoming. She walks toward it. The soles of her boots squeak in a puddle of blood, and she reaches out to steady herself on the back of a row of seats. The tattered orange upholstery is stained with so much blood that it appears almost black, and when she looks down, she sees another dead kid curled up tight as if he were trying to sleep through the massacre. In the gap between this row and the next are three more corpses—a woman and two young girls—all huddled together. The woman’s face is ashen; her throat torn open and her clothes soaked with gore. She looks at Natalie with dry eyes, and even though they’re frozen and unblinking, they still seem to follow her every move. It’s like the woman’s asking, Why?
“Hello … is anyone here?” Natalie shouts, and she curses herself when she realizes she hopes no one answers.
Several centimeters of water soak the floor back here. She can see it trickling in around the edges of the door she was trying to get to. She stops and turns back. Now that the light’s behind her, it’s difficult for them to see her expression.
“You all right, Nat?” Rajesh asks.
“No.”
“We should get back to base.”
“In a minute.”
“Come on, mate. No reason to stop down here any longer than we have to. There’s nothing we can do.”
“There were supposed to be twenty-two kids on this boat. Seven adults too, including George. Nearly thirty people … all gone.”
“We could do a head count,” Paul suggests. “Try and work out how many of them are here?”
“No point,” Nils says. “What would it prove? We don’t know how many ended up overboard.”
“I’m going back,” Rajesh announces. “I’ve seen enough.”
“So what are we supposed to do now?” Paul asks.
“For now there’s nothing we can do. We’re not going anywhere until the police and the coast guard turn up.”
With that, Rajesh climbs back up to the top deck. Paul follows, and Nils isn’t far behind. Only Natalie remains for a moment longer. She pauses before leaving, struggling to come to terms with the enormity of what they’ve discovered here. The ferocity and brutality with which these people have been killed is both sobering and terrifying in equal measure. There was no mercy here, no second chances. Just hate.
7
This time yesterday the mess hall was filled with noise. Good-natured banter. Arguments and laughter. Now the building is almost completely silent save for a few fractious, staccato conversations. No one knows what to say anymore. No one knows where to begin. Ronan Heggarty’s staff should have been home by now. Instead, as a result of two inexplicable events, they’re stuck here on Skek. Trapped. Vanessa’s death may have been a tragic accident, but the massacre on the Heavenly Vision was anything but. Both incidents have shaken everyone to the core.
The Hazleton Adventure staff keep themselves busy. Rajesh, Nils, Natalie, and Stuart are in the kitchen. Ruth is in the radio room out back and hasn’t emerged since the wreck was discovered.
In contrast, the visitors are lost. Directionless. Gavin, Rachel, Joy, and Frank have been in a huddle for some time. The initial shock of what’s happened has left them asking one another endless uncomfortable and unanswerable questions. Joy’s becoming increasingly agitated, and her agitation is winding up Paul, who’s on his own a short distance away. “Chill out, Joy,” he snaps at her when her pointless suppositions and grating voice become too loud to stand.
“Don’t you tell me to chill out,” she snaps back at him. “These questions need answering, and they need answering now. What happened to those kids, and how are we gonna get home?”
Stuart senses a storm brewing and emerges from the kitchen to try to stave off an argument before it begins. “We’ll get you home,” he says, but his words sound hollow and perfunctory.
“How?” Joy demands again. “You’re all talk. We got no phones, no boat … you tell me how we’re supposed to get off this damn rock?”
“Give it a rest, Joy,” Paul says. “I’m sick of your bloody moaning.”
“Don’t talk to Joy like that,” Frank says. “She’s got a point.”
“Ruth’s trying the mainland again as we speak,” Stuart tells them.
“But they should have sent someone here by now,” Joy says, spoiling for a fight. “This ain’t good enough, us sitting here with all them dead kids and a killer for company.” She points directly at Stephen, still sitting in isolation in the far corner of the hall.
“How many times do I have to tell you? I didn’t kill her. I didn’t do anything. She went for me.”
“You two had history.”
“We didn’t get on, and I made no secret of that, but I didn’t kill her. What kind of a person do you think I am…?”
“He could say anything happened out there and we wouldn’t know the truth,” Joy says. “Poor girl is dead now. Can’t defend herself no more.”
Stephen gets up and lumbers toward Joy. Ronan’s been sitting at his laptop, but he’s up equally quickly to stop Stephen from getting any closer. “I told you,” Stephen yells, sounding desperate, his voice full of emotion. “I didn’t kill her.”
“Liar.”
“All those kids have been slaughtered, and you want to vilify me? Or do you think I somehow did that as well?”
Stuart helps manhandle Stephen back toward his chair, then drags Ronan in the other direction. “Do me a favor and keep your people under control, for Christ’s sake.”
“I�
��m doing what I can. We’re all under a lot of pressure here and—”
“And you’re right, we’re all under pressure, so let’s try and keep everyone calm. You get back to your paperwork or whatever it is you’re doing,” Stuart says to Ronan, “and you stay over there,” Stuart tells Stephen. “And you”—Stuart turns to Joy—“just put a bloody lid on it, will you? You’re not helping.” He storms back to the kitchen, muttering under his breath.
Rachel’s in tears.
“What’s your problem?” Joy grunts at her.
“Nothing.”
“Then stop your grizzling.”
Rachel gets up and sits on the other side of the room, away from everyone else.
“Give her a break, Joy,” Gavin whispers.
“And why should I do that? Bloody princess.”
“Have you not stopped to think that she might be struggling?”
“We’re all struggling. You’re struggling, I’m struggling. What’s so special about her majesty?”
“Her daughter. You can understand it, after what happened to all those kids. She’s going to be worried. Stacey’s only three.”
“We’ve all got people we’re missing.” Joy’s voice is devoid of compassion and no lower.
Rajesh and Natalie emerge from the kitchen. The mess hall’s quiet now with the only noise coming from Ronan, tapping on his laptop keyboard. “What exactly are you doing?” Rajesh asks.
“Admin,” Ronan answers, nonplussed.
“Don’t you ever stop? You’ve been on that thing all weekend.”
“I’ve got a lot to do. I cleared my schedule for the end of last week, but I’ve got things coming up over the next couple of days. I’ve got to get in touch with a few people. Important meetings I can’t afford to miss. Some emails that need to go.”
“There’s no internet here. You know that, right?”
“Of course I know that.”
“So why are you trying to send emails?”
“I’m getting them ready so I can send them as soon as we get back to the mainland.”
“And that’s more important than looking after your team, is it?” Rajesh is appalled.
Ronan looks around and whispers, “The rest of the world doesn’t stop turning just because we’re delayed getting home.”
“It’s stopped turning for Vanessa,” Natalie reminds him, “and for those kids on the ferry.” Ronan doesn’t know how to respond to that and focuses on his draft emails again instead.
Matt’s been sitting on the fringes of these conversations. He clears his throat. “Seriously though, Rajesh, there’s got to be another way of getting home, hasn’t there? I mean, health and safety and all that … there has to be another way of getting back?”
“You’ve got canoes here, haven’t you?” Paul asks. “Is that an option?”
“It’s our emergency option, sure, but it’s a last resort. Things aren’t that bad just yet.”
“Exactly how bad do things need to get?” Frank asks.
Matt’s thinking about Jen on her own at home. She’ll be going out of her mind, he knows she will. “Why isn’t there another boat?”
“We have a principle here, something that Rod’s always been keen to stick to,” Rajesh explains. “When you’re on Skek, the whole point is that we want you to immerse yourself in island life as much as possible, without the distraction of everything else.”
“What exactly are you saying?” Gavin asks, not liking where this is going.
“The isolation and the lack of external contact is what this place is all about. Rod’s philosophy is that while you’re here, we try to keep the outside out. Folks like you pay a shitload of money to come to Skek, but what’s the point of doing it if all you’re going to do is check your emails and spend your time with your faces glued to your phones?”
“I appreciate that,” Ronan says, knowing full well that last comment was directed at him. “Rod implied as much when I made the booking, but he didn’t say anything about us being completely cut off.”
“To an extent we’re deliberately disconnected. Normally that’s not a problem because we’ve got a network of contacts back home.”
“So where are they?” Matt asks.
“Look, it’s no use pointing fingers. It won’t do anyone any good. There’s no way we could have predicted what happened to Vanessa or what happened on the ferry.”
“It’s a bit bloody shortsighted if you ask me,” Frank says, winding himself up from a stupor. “You’re running an extreme-sports center in the middle of the bloody ocean, and you don’t have a viable escape route?”
“We have everything we need here,” Rajesh counters quickly. “Several of us are medically trained, we’ve got enough supplies to last—”
“Well, you clearly don’t have everything you need,” Frank argues. “Because if you did, we wouldn’t be stuck here like this, and maybe Vanessa would still be alive.”
“Just a minute, Frank, that’s bang out of order. I’m truly sorry about what happened to your friend, but short of locking you all in here all weekend, nothing we did or didn’t do would have prevented it.”
Rajesh turns around and sees Ruth standing in the kitchen doorway. She looks exhausted. Everyone’s staring, and she feels pressured into answering their unspoken questions. “I haven’t got through just yet. I need a couple of minutes’ break, then I’ll get back to it.”
Frank’s still agitated. “What do you mean you haven’t got through? What’s the problem? Don’t tell me your radio’s as useless as your contingency planning?”
“I’ve already told you, it’s not our kit. I can get through to the coast guard no problem. It’s just that…”
“Just what?”
“It’s just that no one’s answering. No one anywhere is answering.”
“Then keep trying,” Ronan tells her.
“What about the canoes?” Matt asks. “You said that was a last resort and I understand that, but how viable is it?”
“The last long-range weather forecast I saw showed storms coming overnight and into tomorrow. I’m not risking Rajesh going out there yet.”
“How long’s it going to take you?” Ronan asks, looking directly at Rajesh for an answer because Ruth’s clearly not playing ball.
“Several hours, depending on the tide. And if you think I’m going out there now and risking losing the light, you’re very much mistaken.”
“I’ve already got a load of bodies to account for,” Ruth says. “Let’s not add any more to that number.”
An awkward silence lasts seconds but feels like hours.
“But they’ll come looking for us eventually, won’t they?” asks Matt, rocking back on his uncomfortable plastic chair. “I mean, I know Jen’s going to be worried when she doesn’t hear from me tonight. All our families will be concerned. And the ferry will have been expected back in the port by now, wouldn’t it?”
“He’s got a point,” says Paul.
“He has,” Ruth agrees. “And if they can’t get in touch with anyone here, they’ll work their way through the emergency contact list until they do get to speak to someone. They’ll sound the alarm, a boat will be sent out, and you’ll be wrapped up safe back in your precious little homes and offices before you know it.”
“This emergency contact list,” Ronan says. “Who’s on it?”
“Rod’s is the first name, then there’s a couple of folks in Scarborough, and some others up the coast toward Whitby. Believe it or not, I know about risk management and such stuff. I was a corporate operations manager for almost ten years before Stuart and I came here. Just because we turned our backs on the rat race doesn’t mean we’ve always lived like this. Contrary to what you might be thinking, we don’t take unnecessary chances out here. There will be more than enough people looking out for us, and enough people looking out for you too, I shouldn’t wonder. And as for those poor kiddies out there and their families … the staff from the college … it doesn’t bear thinking abo
ut, but you can be damn sure their disappearance won’t have gone unnoticed.” Ruth suddenly gets emotional and stops to compose herself. “For now, all we can do is wait. We’ll get you home just as soon as we can.”
8
“Anybody seen Joy?” asks Frank.
“She was in the dorm, why?” Rachel replies.
“Well, she’s not there now.”
“Think she might have gone out for a smoke,” Gavin says.
“That’s what I wanted her for. Need to borrow a cigarette.”
Frank zips up his waterproof and heads out to find her.
“Don’t rush back with her,” Paul says. “No offense, but she does my head in. Can’t stand her bloody noise.”
“Yeah, she’s just as complimentary about you.”
* * *
Joy is dead.
Frank finds her body facedown in the long grass, halfway between the generator shed and the stores. He yells for help and waves his arms furiously. Rajesh spots him through the window, and he, Nils, Natalie, and Paul sprint out to him. Natalie gets there first and rolls Joy over onto her back. Natalie trips over her own feet with shock, landing on her backside in the wet.
Paul gags when he looks down at what’s left of his work colleague’s head. Joy’s face has been caved in with a rock. Her left eye socket has shattered and collapsed, and her jaw has been dislocated. Fighting to control his own nausea, Rajesh checks for a pulse, but there’s nothing.
“What the fuck is going on here?” Paul demands.
Nils scans the scene for tracks and finds footprints in the mud. He traces them back in the direction of the beach and finds yet another body. It’s a teenage girl. None of them recognize her. Natalie starts checking her for wounds and vital signs.
“Where the hell did she come from?” Paul asks.
Nils has spotted more tracks. “She must have got off the wreck before we found it and worked her way around the rocks. There’s a way to get around the headland, depending on the tide.”
“But why she didn’t try and get to the base and get help?”
“She probably didn’t even know it was here until it was too late. Or maybe she was hiding.”
