Survival Island

by Matt Drabble

  Caleb’s gut rolled over at the words of the sea captain. Anderson was dangerous and he’d handed him Quinn.

  “I have to find him,” he said as he turned to run. “That girl’s a friend of mine.”

  “Well I hate to say it, lad, but I’m guessing she’s already dead.”

  “No, she’s not,” Caleb spat, too harshly. “She can’t be.”

  “Then take these,” Isaac said, throwing him a set of keys to the boat. “He can’t get far without them.”

  Caleb caught the keys and was running out of the office as fast as he could manage. Anderson’s motivations and the part he had played in what had happened to the island could wait for another time. Right now, he just had to catch him and get Quinn away from him.

  He ran up the beach, praying that the boat wouldn’t suddenly roar into life and pull away before he could reach it. Not having the keys would have undoubtedly slowed Anderson down, but he was an islander, and as such, he might be able to hot-wire the thing.

  As if answering his assertion, the boat did cough and splutter into life just as Caleb drew close.

  It was moored some distance from the beach, and he knew that trying to swim out through the incoming tide would be too hard. Instead, he ran past a direct line to the boat and around the bay a little to where the rocks raised the ground level. He dived off without stopping into deeper and calmer waters.

  Islanders were taught to swim from a very young age. Surrounded by water on all sides, you learnt to respect the ocean quickly.

  Caleb took a moment, one that his head told him he couldn’t spare, to kick off his heavy boots and shuck off his jacket before powering forwards.

  He cut through the ocean, fighting to hold onto his adrenaline lest it fought against him. He swam with razor strokes and passable technique, closing the distance quickly until he shocked himself by banging into the rear of the boat.

  Circling around, he found the ladder and pulled himself up slowly and quietly, unsure as to what he would find aboard.

  The fishing boat was smallish with a covered cabin and now he could see Anderson’s back towards him and Quinn’s feet just poking out as she lay on the floor.

  “Anderson?” he called out as he approached the man carefully.

  “Caleb?” he called out in surprise as he turned around. “What are you doing here?”

  “Where are you going? I thought we said an hour? It’s barely been half that,” Caleb said, moving slowly closer.

  He didn’t want to spook the man while he was still too far away and with a helpless Quinn lying at his feet. He couldn’t see what weapons the man had on him or nearby. He had to play this smart and not let on that he knew.

  “I was just going to moor up a bit further out. I was getting scared being this close to land,” Anderson replied as he slipped the engine into neutral.

  “How’s our girl doing?”

  “She’s still asleep. I really think that we should get her to a hospital.”

  “The doc has got things back under control. She wants to take a look at Quinn for herself. Perhaps that would be the best thing,” Caleb said, taking another subtle step towards the man.

  “Maybe,” Anderson said dubiously. “But maybe the mainland is safer.”

  Caleb watched the other man carefully. There was something different about him now. He seemed more solid, more substantial, and gone was the usual look of weakness in his eyes.

  He tried not to let his recognition show as he moved closer, still trying to keep a sense of normal round the man so as not to arouse his suspicions.

  “You seen any trouble?” Caleb asked as he took another step, trying to edge closer without spooking the man.

  “Nothing here,” Anderson said as one hand slipped out of sight further inside the cabin.

  They were dancing now, and Caleb knew it. He was sure that Anderson knew it too. He still had no idea what had set Anderson down this path, but surely it could only be the infection. But why had it made the man so calm and assured when everyone else had turned into some kind of feral beast?

  He’d left Doc Simmons without bringing any of her formula. The thought had occurred to him, but she was dry and making more would have taken longer than he’d wanted to wait. Now it seemed like the gravest of errors.

  “You want to turn this boat around?” Caleb probed gently as he took another step.

  “No... No, I don’t think so.” Anderson smiled calmly back. “I don’t think I want to do that at all.”

  “How about if I’m not asking?”

  “How about if I don’t give a shit?” Anderson replied, still smiling.

  Caleb was only a few feet from the cabin now but he still couldn’t see what the other man was reaching for. He could see more of Quinn now as she lay on the cabin floor, enough to see the gentle heave of her breathing.

  “She’s not yours, you know,” Anderson said as he caught him staring.

  “She’s not anybody’s. She never has been,” Caleb countered. “The doc has a cure, Anderson; it works - it really does. We can help you.”

  “Do I look like I need help?” Anderson said, throwing back his head and laughing riotously.

  “Kind of,” Caleb answered, but his words fell on deaf ears.

  “It’s the rest of you that need help,” Anderson continued. “All of you sheep need help in realising your place on the food chain, Constable. There’s a new world order, and I intend to take my rightful place on the throne.”

  “You know, you sound a lot like someone else! You sound a lot like Torvan. He thought himself a god among men and look what happened to him.”

  “What did happen to him?”

  “I threw him off a cliff top.”

  “Well, that sounds like a pretty raw deal for him now, doesn’t it?”

  “I won’t let you take her, Anderson.”

  “Who said you had a choice?”

  Caleb was calculating the distance now. He was sure that he could reach the man, but he still couldn’t see the man’s other hand.

  “Dammit, Anderson! You used to care about her. I know you did. You carried that torch for a long time - too long, maybe,” Caleb said, trying to reach him another way.

  “And she spat in my face just like everyone else.”

  “She wouldn’t do that, Anderson; you know she wouldn’t.”

  “All I know is that she can be like me,” Anderson said, tapping a bag near his foot, one that Caleb assumed contained whatever the man had been poisoning the island with. “And when we’re the only ones of our kind in the whole world, she’ll have no choice but to love me back.”

  “That’s your plan? You’re going to poison her again? You think that will make her feel the same way?”

  “What I think is that you’re close enough and that you’re out of time,” Anderson said, and in that moment, Caleb knew that the man had actually been waiting for him to get close enough to make his move, not the other way round.

  Anderson’s hidden hand moved in a flash, and Caleb saw something silver glinting in the sunlight. He had no choice now but to launch himself forwards and so he did.

  The object that Anderson had been waiting to use once Caleb was in range was a small gas-propelled spear gun that he’d found on the boat. Its range was limited but now it was close enough.

  Caleb leapt forwards with his hands, eager to wring the neck of the man who was ultimately responsible for everything.

  He slammed into the smaller man a split second after the spear slammed into him. The gas-propelled tip embedded itself deep in his chest but his momentum kept him coming forwards.

  The collision forced Anderson backwards into the cabin’s console, and he fell against the throttle, sending the boat lurching forwards again.

  They struggled with Caleb’s superior strength being negated by both the spear in his chest and Anderson’s madness.

  The two men rolled around the cabin, their conjoined forms slamming into machinery and equipment with a frenzy. They both f
ought believing they were in the right and both trying to save Quinn in their own ways.

  Caleb could feel himself fading. Blood was seeping out from his wound which was only one of many that he’d endured lately.

  He managed to get one hand around Anderson’s throat and started to squeeze. Anderson countered by grabbing hold of the spear end that was sticking out of his chest and pulling on it hard to one side, sending a fresh wave of agony quaking through his body.

  The boat’s throttle had been opened all the way now and the engines were starting to smoke and whine from underneath as they protested at the alien strain on their resources. Soon, the cabin was filled with a thick choking fog rising upwards and it was getting hard to see.

  Anderson and Caleb fought on, but Caleb was running on empty and starting to sag while Anderson only gained in strength.

  ----------

  Quinn started to stir on the ground, her mind finally realising that the real world needed her.

  She fought against the pull as the ocean lapped at her toes with a warm kiss but something was pulling her harder now.

  She turned to Caleb sitting beside her but now his broad adult chest was bleeding profusely through his tee-shirt. She reached out to place a hand over the opening wound but couldn’t understand how or why he was bleeding.

  He looked at her with a sad smile as she applied pressure. Blood spilled through her hands as she pressed down harder to no avail.

  “I can’t stop it!” she exclaimed.

  “Yes you can,” he answered softly.

  She pressed down harder still in wild panic as his face ran pale.

  “It won’t stop. I can’t help you!” she cried out, in more pain than he seemed to be feeling.

  “Save me,” he said, touching her face with a gentle hand. “Save us all.”

  She opened her eyes and it took her a moment to comprehend where she was.

  There was smoke all around her and it was creeping into her lungs as she started to cough. Two figures were to the side of her and they appeared to be fighting.

  Caleb was now on his knees, sagging before Anderson who towered above him.

  The boat was running at full power, but it was wild and uncoordinated.

  Anderson tore the spear from Caleb’s chest and raised it high above his head like a dagger.

  Quinn could barely move, her body unresponsive and refusing to function. She couldn’t believe that she had come back only to watch Caleb die in front of her.

  She focussed all of her not-inconsiderable willpower into one limb. She raised her right leg, siphoning off every inch of movement into the appendage just as Anderson started to plunge the spear downwards towards Caleb’s head.

  Her leg finally obeyed and her foot struck the steering wheel as she managed to kick out. Her foot caught on one of the wheel’s pegs, and when it fell, it dragged the wheel with it, spinning it to one side and making the boat lurch violently.

  Anderson was sent flying to one side and crashed hard against the side of the cabin, splitting his head open against the solid wooden structure.

  Quinn managed to start crawling out of the cabin, hoping to lead him away from Caleb who had now fallen to the ground on his front.

  She inched her way out, taking with her Anderson’s full attention, and then the man himself came staggering after her.

  The boat was still speeding out of control, but Anderson only had eyes for her - but her attention wasn’t on him.

  She crawled to the rear of the boat and pulled herself up against a bench.

  Anderson advanced on her, staggering forward as blood ran down his face from a serious-looking head wound. He still clutched the spear in one hand and held it by his side.

  With his back to the front of the boat, he stared at her as he moved closer, while her attention was fixed over his shoulder and where they were heading.

  “I could have given you the world,” he said as he staggered towards her. “I could have given you everything, and yet you choose to defy me? Was my glory not great enough? Was my love not pure enough? How can this be?”

  “You’re sick,” Quinn said, wanting his attention on her.

  She could barely move and was in no shape to offer any kind of physical defence, but while her body was weak, her mind was strong.

  “I wanted you to be my queen. I wanted you to sit at my side as we set in motion a whole new world, one that we ruled, locked together hand in hand for all eternity!” he screamed as he raised the spear.

  “No thanks,” she replied as the moment she’d been waiting for finally arrived. “I’ve already had one deadbeat husband - I don’t need another.”

  The boat slammed into the rocks in the shallow water at full throttle just as the engines finally gave in and blew.

  Quinn looked back at Caleb as he stared at her from his prone position on the ground. They just had time to share a smile, and then everything went black as the boat was smashed into a million pieces.

  ----------

  When Caleb opened his eyes again, salt water was in his mouth and he coughed it up violently, which sent waves of pain through his body including the hole in his chest.

  The sun temporarily blinded him and he struggled to acclimatise himself.

  His face was upturned and he was lying on the sand on his back. He sat up slowly and had to hold one hand against his open wound, but someone had plugged it with a strip of material that was absorbing the worst of the blood.

  Gingerly, he forced himself up to his feet and stood there swaying while he looked frantically around.

  He spotted Quinn, and his pounding heart slowed as he let out a sigh of relief.

  She was standing down by the water’s edge, and he moved towards her, limping slowly.

  There were scattered pieces of Isaac’s boat about the bay. The main bulk was sinking slowly, until it reached the ocean floor and left just the nose poking out.

  As he approached, he could see that her attention was directed downwards, and as he got closer, he saw that she was standing over Anderson in the shallow water.

  By the way she was holding herself, she was obviously hurt, but they were both still alive and that was a miracle in itself.

  “Stay there,” she ordered him without turning around

  There was movement now from behind them as a chorus of voices rang down the beach towards them. He turned to see a group of islanders with Dr Simmons leading them.

  “Help’s coming,” he called to Quinn after waving at the onrushing crowd.

  “Stay there,” she ordered him again.

  His large frame was between her and the islanders, blocking her from their view. He could see that she was standing over Anderson, but he could also see that the man was still moving.

  “Simmons can help him; she can cure him,” he called down to her gently, suddenly getting a bad feeling.

  “He doesn’t deserve it!” she called back.

  “He’s not responsible.”

  “Yes he is. He’s responsible for all of it, Caleb; it all stems from him: every death, every unspeakable act - it all lies at his door.”

  “But he was infected too,” he said, limping closer.

  “I don’t care.”

  “Yes you do. You have to,” Caleb pressed. “He’s not responsible for his actions. You saw Torvan and the rest of the Niners. They were sick! Crazed.”

  “Maybe,” Quinn conceded. “But Anderson isn’t. Think about it: he did all of this in my name, he covered his tracks and made sure that no one would know it was him, he was careful and cunning. Does that sound like the actions of a madman?”

  He had to admit to himself that it didn’t.

  Caleb moved closer still and now saw that her foot was on Anderson’s chest, pushing him down under the lapping water. The man tried to struggle but he had nothing left to fight with.

  “He deserves this,” Quinn continued. “Our friends, our neighbours..., my father. He’s responsible for all of it. Surely you must see that? You can
’t possibly be trying to defend this piece of shit!”

  “And what about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “How do you live with yourself if you do this? You think that I’m concerned with him? I’m far more worried about you, Quinn. The girl I knew wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she did this.”

  “Things change and so do people; you’d be surprised with what I could live with.”

  “Look, maybe the infection is still in you. Maybe the doc’s antidote needs some refining - maybe it’s still clouding your judgement.”

  “I’ve never felt clearer,” she replied distantly. “You really want to see him sitting in some comfy padded room somewhere until some doctor decides he’s all better and gets to come home? You said it yourself: they’ll all say that it was the infection, they’ll say it made him crazy and he isn’t responsible, but that isn’t true. Trust me. I had a dose and it made me go nuts. I had no control over myself. Anderson played out a meticulous plan; he wasn’t crazy.”

  Caleb thought about everything they had lost and he too wanted payback. Part of him wanted revenge and part wanted justice; he just didn’t know what the mainland would call adequate.

  Quinn was right that Anderson’s plan had been a calculated one and he’d intended to take Quinn away from the island with him and do God only knew what to her.

  Maybe the infection was still living inside her, maybe it was the infection that was doing the talking right now, but he had seen those infected close up. Even Torvan hadn’t been able to fully control himself, certainly not like Anderson had.

  He limped a few steps closer as the others started to run towards them from behind - Clayton residents spilling down the beach, no doubt to see what help they could offer.

  Even if he was physically able to stop her, he’d never know if he would have or not. His whole body was an aching mass that threatened to collapse at any second and he could only just keep himself upright as he watched Quinn make her own decision.

  Her foot was pressed firmly down on Anderson’s chest, holding him under the onrushing waves as they crashed over his face, submerging him for longer and longer moments before retreating for mere seconds, allowing him to gasp another precious breath.