Escape, the Complete Trilogy

by David Antocci

  Without a word, Bryce grabbed a fistful of her hair and lifted her off the ground. Her legs kicked wildly as he dragged her toward the stream. Panic and terror set in as he plunged her face under the water. Legs flailing, she reached behind her head and clawed at his hands with her fingernails. She was already out of breath and couldn’t hold it much longer. As she swung out with her fist, hoping to connect with any part of him, he shoved her head even further under the water. She contorted and twisted her body, but could not contend with his strength.

  She could not find the surface.

  Her heart pounded out of her chest as she filled with horror. Her eyes opened wide as her burning lungs gave way and sucked in what would be her final breath.

  * * *

  Abby shot up in bed, every bit as panic-stricken and soaked with sweat as she had been in her dream. She managed to stifle her scream as she remembered where she was. Her breath came in short gasps as she wiped her wet forehead with the back of her hand and eased back against the headboard to collect herself.

  The bright moonlight filtered through the large French doors at the far end of the bedroom, glittering off the ocean. She looked over and saw Eric sleeping peacefully. He did not sleep much, usually only four or five hours, but when he did, not even an air raid siren could wake him.

  Good thing, Abby thought. As the time passed and her last encounter with Bryce on the boat off the coast of Robert’s island got further and further away, her night terrors became worse. She and Eric had been living in their self-imposed exile for the better part of a year with no sign of Bryce. Yet, she had trouble getting past that.

  Abby swung her feet over the side of the bed and stood. She peeled off her soaked tank top and tossed it in the hamper. In what had become a semi-nightly ritual, she poured herself a glass of water and sat on the wicker chair on the side of the bed while she waited for her damp skin – and the damp sheets – to dry before she would put on a new shirt and crawl under the covers again.

  She envied the peace Eric seemed to have found in their new life. Abby knew that she was living in paradise, but was constantly haunted by the demons in her dreams. The nightmares were not always about Bryce, though often they were. She remembered the crazed look and sheer hatred in his eyes when he was bringing her out to sea to kill her. Had Eric not jumped onto the boat at the last second as they pulled from the dock, she might not have been able to fight her way out on her own.

  Aside from her terrors about Bryce, she often dreamt about the island where she had fought for her life day after day, before winding up in paradise. On Trial Island, she had to rely on her instincts to survive. She was a fighter, a winner, and had bested every other person who had been on the island. She had taken down Tom, the madman who had tried to kill them, and all of his followers. When she closed her eyes, she could still see her knife flying through the air, and the blood spraying into the trees after it sliced open his neck.

  Eric was also a winner, and a survivor, but he regularly reminded her that he wouldn’t be alive if she hadn’t plucked him out of the water when they were caught in the vortex of swirling water in that cave. Their redheaded friend, Emily, hadn’t been so lucky, leaving Abby and Eric as the only contestants to not only escape the island, but to survive it.

  Abby also dreamed of her family. Her parents, who had been killed by a drunk driver toward the end of her college career... What would they think of my life now? And she often thought of her sister, Sarah, who she had a falling out with shortly after their parents passed away. It all seemed like yesterday and, in fact, in her mind, these scars were only a couple of years old.

  She had to continually remind herself that she was missing ten years of memories. A key point of being on Trial Island was that none of the contestants knew why they were there or even that they were on a television show. They all had their memories wiped clean, dating back as far as the announcement of the show, erasing years from their lives. In Abby’s case, that was ten years.

  After escaping Trial Island, she chose not to have her memory restored. For the most part, she trusted the letter that she had written herself instructing her not to have her memories unlocked; that she was safer that way. But she did have moments of regret, especially when it came to how things had been left with her sister. She longed to know what had happened with her. Did we ever make up? Is she still alive somewhere?

  During one attempt on her life on the island, she managed to climb out of a pit in which she had been trapped, only to be smashed on the back of the head with a large rock. Ever since then, she had fuzzy dreams about her previous life. It was evident that they were hidden memories trying to surface, but she knew better than to give in. She was safest here, away from everyone and beyond the reach of the psychopath she had married. She also knew that anyone she left behind was safest without her in the picture.

  Abby leaned forward to feel the sheets. Still damp. She looked out the window to see the sky was beginning to lighten. The sun would be up soon. There would be no getting back to sleep at this point. She finished her water, pulled on a pair of yoga pants and a sports bra, gave Eric a kiss on the cheek and whispered, “I love you,” before heading out the door.

  As soon as her feet hit the sand, she was at peace. Running cleared her head. As she ran barefoot along the firm packed sand close to the water, she let her worries and fears slip away. This was her paradise. This island was where she was safe. The white sand went for miles, and she had run every inch of it at some point.

  When she ran, she saw things with a clarity that let her work through her problems. She thought of her dreams, or more appropriately, her nightmares. In reality, Bryce would never catch her. She had been in the best shape of her life when she woke up on Trial Island nearly a year ago and had not let herself slip one bit. She had gained a little weight, and therefore her womanly figure, but was as strong and as fit as she had ever been.

  Abby quickly got past the man who terrorized her dreams and thought about the man she was living her dreams with now. They lived a very simple life on a very simple island. The local population consisted of a few thousand people, and the necessities of life – food, clothing, and shelter – were taken care of. Beyond that, there was not much, and she and Eric loved it that way.

  She didn’t know what her married life had been like with Bryce, but was sure that life with Eric was substantially better. They never spoke of marriage because they didn’t need to. Their lives were forever intertwined after what they had gone through. When they spoke of the future, it was a future to be spent together. Maybe someday, Abby would allow herself to dream. She knew it was cliché, but something inside her longed to be married to the man she loved. She wanted to proclaim to the world that they were together, forever. But for now, they were still getting used to their new life. That, and Abby was technically still a married woman.

  Absent the distraction of telephones, TV, and other media, they spent extra time enjoying their meals, talking, walking, and enjoying their surroundings. When the sun went down, they would read by candlelight, build a fire on the beach, or find other more intimate ways to distract themselves before falling asleep in each others’ arms. The next morning would be the same beautiful day, and they’d do it all over again.

  Having turned around a couple miles out, she could see their villa coming up in the distance. It was small and perfect. Set right at the edge of the sand, the side facing the beach had a small deck and French doors that opened into their bedroom. Really, the entire structure was, in fact, just one open room. A small, three-step staircase to the right of their bed led to their slightly elevated kitchen and dining area. Behind that were the bathroom and closets.

  From this distance, the pale yellow stucco exterior and thatched roof really made it blend in with the beach and the trees. It was their little piece of paradise. After parting ways with Robert, they had floated and bounced around the islands for some time before finding this one. The people were friendly, and, if nothing else, it w
as remote.

  They lived on the beach about a mile from the main village. Village may have been a generous term. They were able to find most of what they needed there, though with only a dozen huts, an open market, a church, a school, and a bar surrounding a town square, there wasn’t much to it. Most of the community lived on farms outside of the village, though there were a few fishing shacks dotting the waters close to town as well.

  While Abby and Eric were both multimillionaires as a result of having won Trial Island, they arrived on this island with a limited amount of local currency. Money was not a big thing on this island, though. Everyone pitched in, and for the most part, bartered for what they needed. Abby and Eric needed a home, and the many local farmers were always in need of strong backs to help with the work. After weeks of toiling on the farms to help with the harvest, the farmers and their families got together to help Abby and Eric raise their four walls and the roof to go over it.

  Abby was amazed at how quickly it went up. She knew Eric had spent many years working construction before they met, but she was impressed with his skills. Eric reminded her that anything was possible when folks pulled together, particularly if there are no building codes, no electricity, and only the most rudimentary of plumbing systems. It was where they called home, and as Abby slowed to a walk for the last hundred yards or so, she smiled at the thought that she would call this place home for the rest of her life.

  Eric was still lying in bed when she walked in. Lying there asleep, his light brown hair mussed and his face unshaven, it reminded her of how he was when she first got a good look at him. She had pulled him from the water in the middle of the night after waking up on Trial Island, but didn’t get a good look at him until morning. He was a classic good old boy from Texas, dimples and all. The manual labor he put in kept his chest and arms strong, and his deep tan gave away the time he liked to spend on the beach.

  He barely stirred as she kissed him, but he did smile, revealing his dimples. Abby smiled back and stroked his hair, much shorter than it had been on Trial Island, but she liked it just fine. She gave him another kiss, and then padded into the bathroom to shower. When she walked out of the shower in only a towel, he was standing in the kitchen drinking tea and admiring the view. If his smile didn’t tell her what was on his mind, his not so subtle tugging on her towel did.

  His hands ran down her body as they kissed, and she pushed him away. “Don’t get yourself all worked up, I’m going to the market.”

  He smiled. “You don’t have five minutes to spare?”

  She gave him a quick kiss before heading to the closet, “You’re such a romantic.”

  The closet was more of a small room where they kept all of their clothes rather than an actual closet. It was six feet by eight feet, and could be a very small bedroom if it had to be. Right now, though, it only housed a couple of racks with their clothes hanging up and a large dresser and mirror.

  She called to him in the kitchen, “Do you want to come with me this morning? Ben was asking about you the other day.” She was referring to the first friend they had made upon arriving to this island. A young boy named Ben, or at least that’s what they called him. He was exceedingly sweet, and was probably the best English speaker they had encountered here.

  “Not today. I’m going to head out for a swim.”

  Abby came to the door of the closet and gave him a disapproving look.

  “What?” he said with an innocent smile, doing his best to diffuse her glare.

  “You know I don’t like you doing that alone.”

  He walked over to give her a kiss. “I’ll be fine. I always am, right?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Right. Until you’re not. Need I remind you, that I had to pull you out of the water to save your ass more than once on Trial Island?”

  “That’s right, and I’m never going to let myself get into a situation where you have to do that again. That’s why I do this. I’ll be fine, OK?”

  He smiled and kissed her again, leaving her to get dressed while he went out to their small deck on the beach to watch the waves. While she was getting dressed, Abby looked at her knife hanging off the side of the mirror. She took it out of its sheath and turned it over in her hand before sliding it back in. After brushing her now shoulder-length, dirty blonde hair and pulling it back into a short ponytail, she donned a baseball cap, a yellow tank top, pulled on her shorts and walked back into the kitchen. The knife slowly rocked in its sheath, still hanging off of the mirror.

  She never wore it anymore. She attracted enough attention being the lone white woman on the island and didn’t feel the need to attract any more by walking around with seven inches of steel strapped to her thigh. Every time she walked away from it, though, a little part of her mind tugged at her, wondering if today would be the day she would regret leaving it behind.

  2

  ERIC, VERY COMFORTABLE in only his boxers, leaned against the railing of the deck and watched Abby’s cute little backside as she walked down the beach and off into the trees to head toward the town center, turning to wave just before she was out of sight. He finished his tea and stretched his arms high in the air to flex and stretch his back.

  Looking at the white sand and crystal clear blue water in front of him, he thought about how his new life was infinitely better than his old one. This, of course, was by and large due to having Abby in his life. Had he not had the good fortune of waking up on that island with her a year ago, his life would certainly be in a very different place right now.

  Even if he had been on the show and won without her, he likely would have simply returned to Texas and spent the next few years squandering his winnings, living extravagantly and supporting his buddies, shortly finding himself back to swinging a hammer to pay the rent by the time he was forty. This was better. Much better.

  He also knew that the likelihood of him winning without Abby would have been much slimmer. She had dragged him from the water more than once to save his ass. Living on a small island, surrounded by the beautiful blue ocean... he thought about that constantly. It was this thought that brought him to his self-imposed task this morning. As he tossed on his swim trunks and headed toward the water, he wondered if he deserved all he had in life. This was a question he struggled with often. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, but he certainly intended to continue enjoying this life while he had it.

  Having nearly drowned several times on Trial Island, Eric made it his mission in life to become as strong a swimmer as possible. Almost every day, he swam along the shoreline for at least thirty minutes, often longer. He wasn’t exactly sure how far that was in distance, but it was a rigorous workout. He pushed himself hard. Never again did he intend to find himself in a situation where Abby needed to save him from the fury of the deep blue sea.

  Once a week, he pushed himself to his absolute limit. Today was that day. Instead of swimming parallel to the shore, he planned to swim straight out from shore, to the point of exhaustion. Only then would he turn around and swim back. It wasn’t the smartest plan, but the waters were mostly calm on this side of the island, and it forced him to push himself to the breaking point. He had to; otherwise he feared someday he would be dead.

  As he dove into the warm shallow water and began his journey out to sea, he thought about Abby. He felt as though he had everything he had because of her, and he loved her unconditionally. In his mind, he would trade everything he had for her, because without her, he had nothing. He pondered the improbable and wondered if, should it come to it, whether he really would trade his life for hers. Hopefully, he would never have to find out.

  A familiar ache in his upper back got his attention. It was his body’s way of telling him he didn’t have much time left before his muscles started to wear out. He stole a glance at his watch between strokes. Nearly thirty minutes into his workout. Not bad, considering he had to turn around to swim back at some point, but he could do better. As the ache intensified, he figured he had another seven to nine minutes be
fore his arms would simply refuse to cooperate, and he would have to float and stretch awhile before heading back.

  Doubling down on his determination, he began to stroke faster. Between the splashing, the adrenaline, the pain, and his ears being intermittently underwater, he never heard the approaching speedboat. With the sun rising over the island behind him, its rays were still low in the sky, effectively blinding the pilot of the boat, who had no reason to watch out for swimmers nearly a mile from shore. He also had no reason to ease back on the throttle until he was much closer to his destination.

  His face underwater, four strong strokes, head cocked to the right for a quick breath, and repeat. Eric continued like this, unaware that he was on a collision course with a three hundred and seventy-five horsepower missile darting through the water. He finally heard the low roar of the engine when it was only thirty yards away. He stopped and righted himself to look up and was immediately seized by panic. There was absolutely nothing he could do to avoid the boat rocketing toward him.

  Eric floated motionless, watching his end approach as if in slow motion, staring at the pilot of the boat who seemed to have no idea what was about to happen. At the last possible second, the boat mere yards away, he heard a shout and saw another man launch himself at the wheel of the boat as it veered sharply to his right. The engine screamed as the boat momentarily caught air, sailing over a swell as the high-speed propellers came out of the water.

  The engine immediately died as the pilot cut the power, the sounds of the boat replaced by two men yelling.

  He heard one of the men shout, “What the hell was that?”

  The other man unintelligibly shouted something back and started gesturing wildly around while looking for something in the water.

  Eric made himself low in the water as he watched the two men from twenty yards away. Two white faces. Not unheard of in these parts, but not terribly common either. He listened as they argued. The passenger who grabbed the wheel insisted that he had seen someone in the water.