Castaways

by Brian Keene

  "Oh, no you didn't!" Shonette's voice cracked. "What the hell were you thinking? Why did you do that, Becka? Why couldn't you just go along? Do you know what they'll do to us when they find out?"

  "They're not going to find out because we're getting the hell out of here."

  "We can't. They'll make it worse."

  "Make it worse? How can it be any worse? They raped us, Shonette. They raped Pauline. It doesn't get any worse than that."

  "They'll kill us."

  "So?"

  Shonette uttered a choked sob. "Look," Becka said, stroking the frightened woman's arm, "this is our chance. We have to take it.

  I'm not just going to sit around here, waiting to be a victim again. I'm going, and if Pauline is still alive, I'm taking her with me. You have to come, too."

  "I can't." Shonette's upper lip quivered. "Just leave me alone. I can't go out there."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I'm afraid."

  Becka sighed. "So am I. But if you give into that fear now, then you've let them win. And I'll be damned if I'm going to allow that to happen. Now, let's go. Can you stand?"

  Wiping her eyes, Shonette nodded. "I-I think so."

  "Good. That's a start."

  "My head hurts really bad, Becka. Makes it hard to think. And I'm so thirsty."

  "You might have a concussion. Just hang in there. We'll get out of here and then find you some help."

  Shonette's eyes filled with fresh tears. "I don't want to die. Please tell me we're not gonna die?"

  "We're not going to die."

  "Bullshit."

  "Well, if we stay here, that's exactly what's going to happen, Shonette. Now get up!"

  Shonette tottered to her feet, swaying slightly. She touched the wound on her head with one hand and winced, hissing in pain.

  "Damn. They really messed me up good."

  "It'll be okay. Let's get dressed."

  They collected the tattered remnants of their clothes and attempted to fashion some crude covering by tying the rags together, but ultimately, the cloth was too damaged.

  Becka sighed in frustration. Not only had they

  been beaten and raped, but now they had to suffer this additional indignity. It seemed to weaken them somehow. Not only would they have to escape naked, but now she felt exposed—more vulnerable.

  Shonette stared at the elder's corpse. "Is that thing really dead?"

  "I think so." Becka nodded. "He wasn't breathing."

  "So what now?"

  "You stay here and rest. I'm going to sneak next door and check on Pauline. Then the three of us will get out of here."

  "But how}"

  "I don't know," Becka admitted. "At least, not yet. Let's just take it one step at a time."

  "Hell," Shonette snorted. "Why not? Taking things one step at a time has kept us in the contest this long. Why not a little longer?"

  "Exactly."

  "What if they posted a guard?"

  "I'm pretty sure they didn't. If there were more of those things standing outside the entrance, they'd have rushed in here as soon as I conked their leader on the head."

  "Be careful," Shonette whispered.

  Turning away, Becka bit her lip and prayed that she was right about the guards. She crawled into the darkness on her hands and knees, ignoring the sharp rocks that dug into her already sore skin. When she reached the opening, she dropped to the floor. The smell of wood smoke grew stronger, as did the tribe's stench. She crept to the ledge and peered over the lip. Below her, the feast continued.

  None of the creatures showed any signs of interrupting their leader's attempts at mating. Becka breathed a sigh of relief. She had no doubt that if his murder was discovered, the rest of the tribe would tear her limb from limb and eat her just as they had the others.

  Her stomach cramped as she thought about her fellow contestants. Sweet little Ryan. Richard and Sal. Jeff and Raul. She hadn't known any of them well, and indeed, she'd disliked the last two because of their affiliation with Stefan, but that didn't change the fact that she felt sorrow for their fate. Nobody deserved that. They'd come here to play a game, to be on television. They'd had families. Loved ones. Even that creepy Matthew must have had someone waiting for him back home.

  Vowing that the same thing wouldn't happen to her, Shonette, or Pauline, Becka inched out onto the ledge and carefully crawled toward Pauline's alcove. The ledge was about eight feet wide and twelve feet above the main cavern floor. As long as she stayed low, Becka was sure she could navigate its length without being seen by the preoccupied creatures.

  "Pauline?"

  Becka's voice was barely a whisper, and she wasn't surprised when the other woman didn't answer her. She wriggled closer, dislodging a loose stone with her foot. It tumbled over the side of the ledge, clattering below. Becka's breath caught in her throat. She froze, pulse pounding, waiting to see if the disturbance had been noticed. When the sounds below didn't cease and there was no great outcry, she continued.

  The next cave over was smaller than the one she and Shonette had been held captive in, and its

  interior was much darker. It sat farther back in the wall and the firelight from below didn't penetrate the cranny. Becka peered inside. All she saw of Pauline was one bare foot, the flesh stark white against the blackness.

  "Pauline? It's me, Becka."

  The foot twitched.

  Becka hurried inside and rushed to Pauline's side, and nearly cried out when she saw the injured woman's condition. The creatures had beaten Pauline even worse than they had Shonette. Like the other women, she'd been stripped and mauled. Her expensive, once-perfect, artificial breasts were covered with deep cuts and scratches that would leave behind scars no plastic surgeon could heal. Her abdomen and thighs were similarly mutilated. Her lips were cracked and some of her fingernails were missing, most likely broken off on the rocks. A section of her hair had been torn from her scalp, leaving a pink, oozing sore. One of her eyes was swollen shut. The other was encircled with bruises. Her arms and legs were also bruised—a horrific rainbow of sickly yellow, red, black, and purple. Worst of all was the damage between her legs. When Becka saw it, she shuddered and began to weep.

  "Oh . . . Pauline, can you hear me?"

  She stroked Pauline's hair, and the woman stirred, blinking her eyes.

  "B-Becka?"

  "Yeah, it's me. Don't try to talk, okay? We have 10 be quiet."

  Pauline nodded in understanding. The movement made her groan softly. She closed her eyes again.

  "How bad does it hurt?" Becka asked.

  "Pretty . . . pretty bad. They ..."

  "I know. You don't have to say it. I know what happened. They did the same thing with Shonette and me."

  "Shonette's alive?"

  "Yeah. She's right next door. We're going to get out of here and get some help. Everything's going to be okay now."

  Despite the obvious pain it caused her, Pauline shook her head. "No, it isn't. Nothing's ever going to be okay again."

  "Yes, it will. We'll get through this. You'll see."

  "No, Becka. Y-you don't understand." She licked her cracked and bleeding lips and then continued. "When I was a senior in high school, the guy I went to homecoming with ... he raped me. I swore to myself it would never happen again, but now it has. And as bad as it was back then? This is much worse. They aren't. . . human.'"

  She sobbed quietly and laid her head in Becka's lap. Becka held her, whispering consoling words and trying to soothe both her physical and emotional pains, even though she could do nothing for either. Becka closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall. She suddenly felt exhausted. They stayed that way for a long time, while the animalistic sounds of the feast continued to drift up from below.

  "Did you see the statue?" Pauline asked.

  Becka opened her eyes. "What statue?"

  "Over there, in the corner. It's a little statue of one of those things, carved out of rock. I found a

  piece of one earlier,
too. It had a squid head but a human body. It was all broken up."

  Becka looked where Pauline pointed. Sure enough, there was a small stone effigy of one of their captors. It was about twelve inches high, and though crude, it displayed clear attention to detail and craftsmanship. The rock had been cut in such a way as to depict fur, and even the prominent lower jaw was noticeable. Could one of the tribe members have carved it? That didn't seem possible. The creatures that had attacked them, while intelligent, had seemed bestial.

  She leaned back and closed her eyes again, considering the statue's origins. Maybe an earlier generation of creatures had carved the effigy, and maybe that skill was lost on the current tribe members. Maybe they were regressing, rather than evolving.

  "Pssst."

  Becka's eyes snapped open and Pauline stirred slowly. Both of them looked at the entrance. Shonette stared back at them.

  "What the hell is taking you so long?"

  "Sorry," Becka apologized. "Pauline's in pretty bad shape. She's been through a lot."

  "We all have," Shonette said, sounding more like her old self again. "But like you said, unless we want to be victims, we've got to get going."

  "Come on," Becka urged, "try to stand up."

  "I can't," Pauline whispered.

  "Is anything broken?"

  "No."

  "Then you have to try. Shonette's right."

  "No." Pauline suddenly seemed to find some inner

  reserve of strength and conviction. Her tone became adamant. "You two go ahead. I'm just going to close my eyes and wait."

  "For what?" Shonette asked.

  "To die."

  "Bullshit," Shonette said. "We're not leaving here without you, and we're not waiting behind just to pacify your self-pitying ass."

  Becka flinched. "Shonette ..."

  "Hell, no." Shonette held up her palm, interrupting. "I'm not sitting around here and waiting for those things to come back and discover what you did to their fearless leader. You were the one who wanted to escape in the first place. You gave me a little pep talk back there and got me all gung-ho. Now I'm doing the same for her. That's all. She's wanted to prance around this island and get the boys to do everything for her. Now she's gonna have to do it for herself—and for us."

  "You make it sound like—"

  "I don't care how it sounds, Becka. I'm sick of this place, and I'm sick of this TV show, and I'm sick of these fucking things. I want to see my kids again. I want to live, and goddamn it, more than anything, I want to leave this fucking island. Right now, Pauline is delaying that. She needs to suck it the fuck up."

  Becka was too stunned to respond.

  "You sound like Troy," Pauline murmured, and then began to giggle. "But you smell better than he does."

  After a moment, Becka and Shonette joined her.

  The three women hugged each other and chuckled quietly, their bodies shaking with laughter.

  "Hey, you hairy mother fucking cocksuckers! Come out and play."

  "Wow," Pauline gasped. You really did sound like Troy that time."

  "That wasn't me," Shonette said. "Listen!"

  The voice sounded muffled, as if echoing from a great distance.

  "Come on, you retarded fucking monkeys. What are you—pussies? Come and get some of this, you mongoloid douche bags! Let me show you how we do it in Seattle."

  "Oh my God," Becka whispered. "That is Troy."

  A tremendous disturbance shook the cavern as below them the tribe of creatures roared as one.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  "Troy," Jerry whispered. "Can I ask you something?" "What?"

  "Do you really have 'everything sucks all the time' tattooed on your ass?" "Fuck, yeah."

  "You weren't bullshitting me?" "Nope. I really do have it, man." Jerry stopped. Troy halted behind him. "What's up?"

  "The tunnel is starting to slope downward. Let's keep going."

  Jerry estimated that they'd traveled about thirty or forty yards. Despite Troy's vehement protests, Jerry had turned off the flashlight once they'd entered the confines of the cave. He'd been worried that the creatures would see the beam. Now it was off again. Although he didn't admit it out loud, he wished that he could turn it back on. The air inside the tunnel was fetid and cloying, and the darkness seemed to press at them. Jerry had never been claustrophobic, but in those few minutes, he could easily see how

  other people became afflicted with it. He fought to keep his breathing under control. Even though the temperature had dropped again, he was bathed in sweat. In one hand, he clutched his makeshift spear. He let his other hand trail along the rock wall to his right. The cold, damp stone was his only comfort, and a small one at that.

  Sounds echoed down the tunnel toward them, bouncing off the rough walls—grunts and hooting, punctuated with the occasional growl, or worse, a horrid, garbled version of laughter.

  "Jesus," Troy whispered. "Listen to that shit. What do you think they're doing?"

  "I don't know," Jerry said. "Celebrating, maybe? Feasting? Mating? Doing some kind of war dance to their island gods? How should I know, dude?"

  "Because you're the fucking expert and shit."

  "I'm not an expert. I told you—it's just a hobby of mine."

  "Well, you fucking know more than I do." "All I know is that they've got Becka, and thinking about it makes me sick to my stomach." "We'll find her, man."

  Jerry didn't respond. He was afraid that if he did, his voice might crack.

  They tiptoed on, heading deeper into the earth. A faint hint of wood smoke hung in the tunnel, but not as much as either of them had imagined there would be. The bumpy terrain rose and fell, and they had to feel their way along, arms outstretched. At times, the roof stretched high above their heads. In other sections, they had to duck down to make it through. They didn't find any branching passages

  until they came to a sudden sharp turn in the path. At that point, Jerry's hand left the wall and dangled into open space. He leaned forward, feeling around, but the sides of the tunnel were gone.

  "I'm going to click the light on for a second," he whispered. "Watch your eyes. I don't want to mess up your night vision."

  "What night vision? I can't see shit."

  "Even so, look away."

  Jerry turned on the flashlight, carefully keeping the beam pointed at the ground. Then he trailed it up and over the walls. He paused when he saw some dark lines that didn't appear to be natural. Moving closer, he focused the light on them, revealing a primitive cave drawing. The lines formed a sort of crude maze. At the center of the labyrinth was a dark, squiggly mass with two oval-shaped eyes peering out of it. The drawing made him feel uneasy, but he didn't know why.

  "What the fuck is that?"

  "I don't know," Jerry whispered. "I mean, obviously, it's cave art, but I don't know what it's supposed to represent."

  There were more pictures. One showed a group of cryptids fighting what looked like a tribe of Neanderthals. Another showed several creatures that had heads like swine but bodies like humans. They seemed to be coming out of an underground tunnel similar to the one he and Troy were standing in now.

  Jerry continued examining the cave. Sure enough, the tunnel branched off at this section. A second, narrower path led away from them, apparently

  heading back up toward the surface. Troy ventured into the split, looked around, then ducked back out again.

  "It's a dead fucking end," he reported, removing his hat and smoothing his hair. "Goes up about twelve feet and then ends in a tiny little fissure. Not big enough for those fucking things to squeeze through. Might have been an exit at some point, but not anymore. Looks like it caved in. There's boulders and shit blocking it."

  "So if we can't go that way, then neither did Becka."

  "Looks that way." Troy put his hat on again.

  Jerry turned the light off once more and they stood silently, waiting for their eyes to readjust. The muffled sounds continued drifting toward them, seeming to pour from th
e rock itself. It was hard to determine how close they were. The creatures could be right around the corner or a mile away. Jerry's pulse sped up when he heard harsh, ragged breathing. He tensed, preparing to run, but then he realized that it was his own. In that moment, he felt exhausted and weak, and thought he might pass out. The flashlight seemed to weigh a hundred pounds, and it was all he could do just to remain upright.

  "You okay?"

  "Yeah," Jerry whispered. "I'm just a little freaked out. Need to catch my breath."

  "What's the plan?" Troy asked.

  "I don't know, other than to just keep going on and try to find the girls."

  "I've been thinking about that," Troy said. "Sounds to me like there's an awful fucking lot of

  those things between us and the girls. I mean, maybe the cave fucks with the sounds and all, but if that noise is any indication, there's a lot more than we thought. Maybe more than we can fucking handle. We're a couple of fucking badasses and all, but I don't know about this."

  Jerry sighed. "Listen, Troy. I'm exhausted and cold and feel like I've just gone twelve rounds with Mike Tyson. And more importantly, I'm fucking worried sick about Becka. My stomach hurts, I'm so scared. I don't have a plan. I'm not the kind of guy who comes up with plans."

  "You had a plan to outwit Stefan."

  "That's different. This isn't reality television anymore. This is real life. So, if you've got a suggestion, feel free to jump in anytime. Can you think of something else?"

  "Actually, yeah. I can."

  "Well, then I would love to hear it."

  Troy put his hands on Jerry's shoulders and turned him toward the side tunnel. Then he pushed him forward into the darkness.

  "Hey!"

  "Listen," Troy whispered. "Go hide in that fissure. Squeeze yourself as far back in there as you can—just don't get fucking stuck."

  "Why?"

  "Just fucking trust me, okay? I've got a plan."

  "Okay." Although he was secretly doubtful, Jerry was too tired to argue about it or question the mechanic any further. "Watch your eyes. I'm turning on the light again."

  Using the flashlight, he made his way into the

  branching tunnel and crawled over a mound of loose rubble and debris until he'd reached the top. Sure enough, there was a narrow fissure at the end, barely wide enough for him to stick an arm through, let alone crawl through. He turned the flashlight off again and got positioned.