The Last Resort

by Susi Holliday

  Her greatest fear, of course – as was starkly laid out in the visitor centre for all to see. They’ve orchestrated this, somehow. Her mind tries to take her back to that afternoon in the woods as a child, when the snake had wrapped itself around her . . . but how could they know about that? She’s still struggling to believe that the technology linked to the tracker can dredge up real memories. It’s incredible, if it’s true. But if it’s a game, it’s a cruel one.

  She holds her breath, her body frozen stiff as the snake slithers over her foot and begins to wind itself upwards, slowly coiling its way around her bare leg.

  Lucy

  Lucy steps back, stumbling over a rock and landing on her behind. The thud gives her a jolt, but she doesn’t cry out. She just wants to be as far away as she can from any of this weirdness.

  James drops the bones on the ground. He’s flushed from running and lets out a long sigh, then sucks in a deep breath. ‘There was a whole pile of them . . . under a bush. I saw something white sticking out, and I’ – he pauses, takes another deep breath – ‘I thought maybe it was a branch. You know, when you see them bleached white from the salt and the sun? I was thinking it might be something we could use . . .’

  His voice trails off.

  Amelia clears her throat. ‘I’m guessing they’re animal bones. Probably a sheep or something. They’re stripped clean. Could’ve been there for years.’

  Lucy jumps up from the rock. ‘A sheep? What, are you a veterinary expert now too?’ She steps over Scott, who has woken up and is staring at them all in horror, as if he’s forgotten who they are and where he is. She nudges one of the bones with her foot. ‘These look too long to come from an animal. They look like thigh bones—’

  ‘Forensic anthropologist, are you?’ Amelia says. She’s smiling.

  ‘Touché,’ Lucy says. She doesn’t bother to explain her reasoning, but she’s watched enough true crime programmes on TV to know what human bones look like. Bit of a coincidence though. James just happening to stumble over them like that.

  James crouches down beside Scott. ‘How you doing, mate?’

  Scott groans. ‘I think maybe I can stand, if you can all help me? I don’t want to be a burden. We need to get down to the bay, right?’

  James and Amelia glance at each other. Lucy doesn’t know what their look means. They seem to have buddied up without her noticing. Great. This means she’s stuck with Scott, does it? Although that might not be a bad thing. She thinks about the angles. Scott’s line of business is one that must be very popular with celebrities. It’s been a while since she’s had a scoop on any big star from the US.

  Scott tries to sit up, wincing as his foot flops over from its unnatural position.

  ‘You know,’ Amelia says, gently lifting his foot and leaning in to inspect it, ‘I think maybe it’s just a bad sprain. Can we take your shoe off so I can have a proper look?’

  Scott nods. His face is pained, but Lucy thinks he might be putting it on a bit now. If the pain was that bad, he’d have squealed like a pig when Amelia lifted it. Lucy’s not denying it was a bad fall, and it’s obviously caused him some serious discomfort, but she can’t be bothered with people who milk their situations for sympathy.

  She’s covered too many stories like that. Celeb does something bad, with no thought to the consequences. Celeb gets caught out. Celeb goes on TV and gives interviews, crying and begging for forgiveness. Not just celebs, either. Her ex had tried the same crap, but she’s become immune to it. The more time she spends as a gossip columnist, the greater her lack of sympathy, and empathy. Hazard of the job. And the longer people try to manipulate you, the harsher a cynic you become.

  Sometimes she has to remind herself why she got into the job. She’d had a perfectly nice life in Edinburgh, but the city is small and that meant opportunities for exciting news were limited. London gave her that, but it hardened her too.

  Maybe Scott’s not such a bad lad. Full of crap, maybe, but not bad. She should use this time away from the city to try and take advantage of the things she used to enjoy. Fresh air and friends being just two of them. She used to be a good laugh too. Jesus, Lucy . . . what happened to you?

  Amelia has Scott’s shoe and sock off now, and his foot is exposed in all its glory. A purple bruise is already beginning to flower. But there are no protruding bones, thankfully. That kind of thing is fine on TV shows, but she’s not sure she could stomach it in real life. Looks like he wasn’t putting it on after all.

  ‘Can you wiggle your toes, Scott?’ Amelia is asking.

  Scott stares down at his foot as if he doesn’t recognise it. Lucy looks at his face. His eyes. The pupils are dilated. Does shock do that? Or is it because of that water he’s been guzzling? It doesn’t seem to have had much effect on her, except making her overthink her life choices. She looks at his foot and sees his big toe move, just a little. Then the other toes.

  ‘Well done,’ Amelia says. ‘I think you’re going to be OK. I mean, it will be really tender for a while, and you’ll have some fantastic bruising. But I think we can carry on. What do you think?’

  ‘Can I have some more water?’

  His voice is a little slurred, and something pings into Lucy’s memory from earlier on. When they picked up their backpacks Scott had taken his water out immediately, and he’d turned away from them all. Something from his pocket . . . him looking around furtively. And then he’d screwed the cap back on and put the water in his bag. He hadn’t drunk any of it. She looks again at his eyes, and at the vaguely blank expression on his face. Nutraceuticals? Is that what he calls them?

  He’s spiked his own drink.

  Interesting, she thinks. She pulls out her bottle from her bag and takes a swig. There’s something in this water, for sure, but it’s probably electrolytes and vitamins – like they put in sports drinks – to keep them well hydrated in this heat. Maybe a bit too much caffeine, or that guarana stuff to keep them going. That’s why it’s only one bottle – because it’s some sort of smart water. Tiggy had blethered on about minerals of some sort, hadn’t she?

  Speak of the devil.

  ‘Guys . . . Oh my God, I’m so glad I found you!’ Tiggy comes bounding down the hill like a puppy, a big grin plastered on her face. But there’s something not right. Her eyes are red-rimmed, her hair mussed. She stops. Looks down at Scott, who now has his sock and shoe back on and is propped up against a large rock. ‘What happened?’

  James says, ‘Scott tripped, and—’

  ‘Oh my God, are these bones? Where did you find bones?’

  ‘James brought them to us,’ Lucy says. ‘I think he’s trying to freak us out.’ She wants to deflect. Maybe they are just sheep bones.

  ‘Where’s your man anyway?’ James says. ‘Did you have a nice time?’

  With that, Tiggy bursts into tears. ‘I . . . I . . .’ She glances around. ‘I thought he’d have caught up with you before me.’

  ‘Lovers’ tiff, was it?’ Lucy says. She hopes that’s all it was. She could do without any more drama right now. He’s definitely a player, that one. Tiggy probably deserves better, but she seems to live in a happy bubble of naivety. ‘I’m sure he’ll be back with his tail between his legs soon enough.’

  Scott is standing now, leaning against the side of the hill. He’s picked up one of the bones and is turning it over and over, an odd expression on his face. ‘You know, guys . . . I definitely think these are human.’

  Goosebumps shoot down Lucy’s arms. ‘I knew it,’ she says, turning to James. ‘Maybe you should take us to where you found them?’

  James sighs. ‘You know what? I’m getting fed up with this. I thought we’d be drinking tequila on the beach by now. But we’ve got Scott hobbling around, Tiggy’s upset, Giles has gone AWOL . . . and Brenda is . . .’

  ‘You’re right,’ Amelia says. ‘Where is Brenda?’

  Amelia

  ‘OK,’ Amelia says, trying to put as much authority into her voice as she can. ‘We need to go an
d find Brenda. But we can’t all go. The others need to stay here to look after Scott, and wait for Giles.’

  Lucy shrugs. ‘I suppose I need to stay with Scott. Right, Scott?’

  ‘I’m fine, you guys. No one needs to babysit me. I’m not going anywhere.’

  ‘I think I should come with you,’ James says. ‘Tiggy needs to wait for Giles, but she shouldn’t be on her own.’ He smiles at her and Tiggy smiles back, but it’s forced.

  Amelia wonders what it was that Tiggy and Giles fell out about. She feels protective of Tiggy. Something about her feels vulnerable. Tiggy still seems wary of her, after her outburst at the visitor centre about this marketing person she thinks is meant to be here instead of Amelia. But maybe she’ll confide in Lucy instead. It’s obvious now, after Scott’s accident, that Amelia is meant to be here. To help the others deal with the outdoor environment. She looks over at Lucy, who has an arm around Tiggy.

  ‘You sure you’re OK, Tiggy? Maybe Lucy and James could—’

  ‘She’s fine here with me,’ Lucy says. ‘Off you go and find Brenda.’

  Amelia wants to say more, but she’s cut off by the sound of a high-pitched scream coming from the hill.

  ‘Oh, that’s just great,’ Scott says. ‘Something’s happened to Brenda now. Any of you getting the distinct impression that we aren’t going to make it down to that darn tiki hut? I thought the mind games were bad enough, but now—’

  ‘Scott,’ Lucy says, laying a hand on his good leg. ‘Shush now. You need to rest.’

  James grabs Amelia by the elbow. ‘Come on, let’s go. I think we should hurry.’

  Amelia nods. ‘Stay here, please,’ she says to the others. ‘We’ll be as quick as we can.’

  They march off together up the hill, and from behind she hears Scott muttering, ‘Who died and put her in charge?’

  ‘Ignore him,’ James says. ‘You’re right to take control. Someone has to. I suppose this is the kind of thing you do in your job?’

  ‘Not really. It’s more about infrastructure. Transporting supplies to remote areas. Helping to lay pipes. Digging wells. Distributing food parcels . . .’ She trails off as the hill inclines. ‘Sorry,’ she says, gasping for air. ‘Need my breath for this hill. I’d thought I was quite fit—’

  ‘You are fit,’ he says. ‘You didn’t see me earlier when you sent me on the lookout for sticks. I was panting like a dog chasing a rabbit. You’ve barely broken a sweat—’

  ‘Come on,’ Amelia says. ‘We need to conserve our energy for this hill.’

  There’s another scream. Louder now. Closer. Then a ‘Help!’ coming from somewhere not too far away.

  Amelia marches faster. She can’t run at this gradient, and she’s already far too hot from the sun beating down on her. When did she last have a drink?

  James catches her up. ‘I think she’s still in the clearing where we left her.’

  Amelia swears under her breath. They’re nearly there, but when they reach Brenda they’ll have to get her back down to the others . . . and then further still, down to the bay. Assuming that she’s hurt herself, judging by the screams. Amelia hopes that all this physical exertion has been forced on them to make them appreciate the luxury they all signed up for – because so far, there’s been no sign of anything of the sort. She doesn’t know what James has asked for, or Lucy, or Scott. She doesn’t even know what she wants for herself. But surely they all have to get it soon – or else what is the point of this?

  She makes it to the clearing a moment before James. She sees it a split second before he does. Just long enough for an ice-cold shiver to slide down her hot back. ‘Stop,’ she whispers.

  James thumps into her. ‘What the . . . ? Oh.’

  Brenda is standing still, next to a red-and-white tablecloth with a picnic hamper on top of it. A plate of food lies at her feet, and she has her arms spread out to the sides, like a scarecrow. Her face is colourless, except for two red spots high on her cheeks. Sweat is beaded across her brow, glinting in the sunlight.

  Wound around her left leg is a darkly patterned snake with its head turned towards them, watching them. Trying to decide on its next move. Its tongue slithers out of its arrow-shaped head, then it opens its mouth and makes a strange, breathy hiss.

  Brenda’s eyes are closed tight.

  ‘It’s Amelia . . . and James,’ Amelia says to her. ‘Has it bitten you? Open your eyes for yes, keep them closed for no.’

  Her eyes remain shut.

  ‘You’re doing good there, Brenda,’ James says. ‘It’s probably harmless. Just fancied a bite of your sandwich.’

  Brenda lets out a small whimper. ‘Please,’ she says. ‘Please get it off me. I . . . I have such a phobia of snakes.’

  Amelia takes in the scene in front of her. Has a good look at the snake. She hopes it’s just an adder, but she’s never heard of an adder coiling itself onto a human like this.

  ‘Do you know what to do?’ James speaks quietly, close to her ear. She doesn’t know much about snakes, and clearly he doesn’t either, but all three of them have the sense to assume that no sudden movements and no loud noises might be the way forward.

  Amelia shakes her head. ‘I’ve come across snakes in the jungle, but I had a guide. A local. Someone who knew what to do.’ She’s annoyed with herself again. Why doesn’t she know what to do? This must have been covered in that bushcraft course, but ever since she arrived on this island it’s as if all the things she took for granted inside her head have become dimmed, out of focus. She hadn’t wanted to voice her concerns before, but she’s now sure of it. But she doesn’t even have one of the embedded trackers. If something is trying to make her mind fuzzy, it’s not via that route.

  James places a hand on her shoulder, giving her a little shake. ‘Amelia?’

  She blinks. Brenda is staring at them, wide-eyed. ‘I’m sorry,’ Amelia whispers. ‘I zoned out for a second.’

  He ignores her. He’s looking at Brenda. ‘Listen to me,’ he says, keeping his voice low. ‘I’m going to do something now. It’s all I can think of. I’ll be quick, and then it will be over. Can you stay still there for me? You’re doing a great job.’

  Brenda nods. Her face is wet with tears.

  ‘OK then,’ James says.

  He takes a slow, careful step, gently nudging Amelia out of the way. He keeps his eyes locked on Brenda the whole time.

  ‘It’s OK,’ he says, inching forward again.

  The snake is still staring at them, and Amelia looks away – a memory of a childhood movie; a snake’s hypnotic gaze.

  James takes one more step towards Brenda, then slides his hand into his pocket, removes something that Amelia can’t see. Then, in one deft move he tosses the object to the ground with his left hand, lurches forward and grabs the snake around the middle with his right. The snake’s head has turned to track what he’s thrown and its body seems to have relaxed just enough for him to get a grip around it and yank it from Brenda’s leg. It whips off like an elastic band, and he tosses it as far as he can, sending it pinwheeling away from them. Then he drops forward onto his knees and lets out a long, slow breath.

  Amelia makes it just in time to catch Brenda as she faints, veering towards the picnic basket. James stands up and takes Brenda’s other arm, and they lead her away from the clearing. From the food and the cushions and all the things that had been laid out for her relaxation.

  ‘It didn’t bite you, did it?’ James whispers in Brenda’s ear.

  She gives a small shake of her head, but something feels false about the gesture. Though why would she lie about having been bitten? Amelia puts the thought away. ‘Well done,’ she says to her as they walk slowly away from the clearing.

  She glances over at James, takes in his pallor. He’s in shock, she thinks. ‘How did you know what to do?’ She needs to keep him talking. Brenda too.

  ‘I saw a documentary . . .’ His voice trails off, his strength gone. They are all suffering from the post-adrenaline slump.
>
  As they pass the entrance to Tiggy and Giles’s love nest, Amelia says, ‘We should go and get Giles. Tell him he needs to come back with us.’

  ‘What happened?’ Brenda says, her voice shaking slightly as she valiantly attempts to get over her trauma. ‘Isn’t he with Tiggy?’

  Amelia shakes her head. ‘We don’t know yet. An argument of some sort.’

  James lets go of Brenda’s arm and she falls into Amelia, before righting herself. ‘I’m OK,’ she says, giving Amelia a small smile. ‘I’ll be fine in a minute. Thank you.’

  James disappears down the little path, and they stop to wait for him.

  He arrives back barely a minute later, shaking his head. ‘Well, I guess he’s already got bored and headed down to meet the others.’

  ‘He’s not there?’ Amelia says. She’s surprised. She imagined him to be a bit of a sulker. Waiting there until someone came to beg him to come back.

  ‘Nope. No sign of him.’

  ‘OK then,’ she says. ‘Let’s get back to the others.’ As they start to walk something occurs to her that she’d meant to ask straight away, but it slipped her mind. ‘Just wondering . . . what was it you threw?’

  James gives her a puzzled look.

  ‘You know . . . to distract the snake?’

  He looks away. ‘Ah, that. Nothing. Just some crap I had in my pocket.’

  Just as with Brenda, Amelia feels sure he’s lying, but she doesn’t know why. She decides not to push it. If it’s relevant, she’s sure he’ll tell her later. And if it’s not, well, she’ll just have to trust him.

  Tiggy

  ‘So,’ Lucy says, ‘are you going to tell us what happened with Giles?’

  Tiggy sighs. ‘It’s such a mess. I just . . . No doubt everyone who’s ever met Giles would say “I told you so”, but I honestly thought he loved me.’

  ‘How old are you again?’

  ‘Twenty-five. Why?’

  ‘And how long have you been dating . . . ? I mean, properly. Not like the buck-toothed eleven-year-old who gave you a Valentine’s card and asked if you wanted to come to his weekender in the country and play with his ponies.’