by Mark Mosley
Eric huffed. “If he knows who Miguel ‘Exceso’ Altimirano is, he’ll shut his mouth and do what he’s told.”
“Right. At least, if he wants to avoid being killed three times,” Sam said, reminding us how Miguel got his nickname.
“Maybe,” I conceded. “But I find it hard to believe.” I’d probably bow down to Miguel. But I wasn’t sure Mason would—the guy cut out his own eyeball, then killed the two people that helped save his life afterwards.
“When’s Miguel coming back?” Cammie asked.
“According to the map, three days,” I said.
“Enough time for them to get home, unload, refuel, do everything they need to so they can get back for the last X,” Sam concluded.
“That means we’ve got just a few days to figure out what we’re gonna do to bring down this operation,” Cammie said.
“End the operation?” Mitch asked. “It’s impossible for me to care less about their operation. I ain’t no DEA. The only thing I care about is the boat—that’s our ticket off this prison.”
I didn’t know if nobody else had considered this or not. I certainly hadn’t. But he was right. “What’re you gonna do?” I asked. “Sneak on board with all those workers? Ask Miguel nicely if he’ll let you hitch a ride? If you wanna get on that boat, the operation needs to be stopped.”
Mitch gave me a hard look. “You gonna be the one to kill ‘em?” He stood and walked over, holding my gaze. “And it might not just be one. Might have to kill some workers, along with Mason, Zigor, and Miguel ‘Overkill’ Almi-whatever-the-hell-it-is. Can you stomach that?”
It grew silent and eventually everyone dispersed, clearly made uncomfortable with Mitch’s point—no matter what, blood would be spilled if we planned to leave.
Lying in my bed, I thought about Mitch’s comment. Was my return to civilization worth the lives of the innocent workers trimming the plants? Or maybe they weren’t really innocent at all—if they were members of a drug cartel, would it be so bad for them to be eliminated? I felt sick at my own thought—as if my life was even worth the life of another man. Who was I to say I deserved freedom more than others deserve life?
The following days dragged on. There was a lot of arguing about how to get off the island without being killed, or at the very least, knocking Mason out of power. The consensus was that we could deal with Miguel making island visits every seven months if he left us alone—but the thought of true freedom had us thinking.
On January 9th, I woke up just before sunrise and found a secluded area to watch the beauty unfold. The beach had a darker brown hue to it as the white and silver sea foam quickly ate its way up and then sucked its way back out to sea just before new waves crashed in. Some birds made themselves known, communicating with one another in the distance, diving into the water every now and then for breakfast.
The sky just above the horizon was red-orange with the sun smack in the middle—shapeless but bright. Two tufts of clouds were separated above the sun, like two herds of horses about to collide, manes and tails flitting through the air as blurs.
This was the only part of the beach I enjoyed. Forget the sand. The beauty of a beach lies in the sky above your head, not the sand beneath your feet. With the sounds of waves coming in and going out, I thought about my brother. I couldn’t shake that his name was on the map. It could’ve meant nothing. It could’ve meant everything. My hyperthymesia transported me back to that awful night the men attacked us. What was my brother mixed in? If they were willing to use me and his fiancé as threats to get what they wanted, it must’ve been pretty bad. For some reason, the white guy in the suit that had stayed in the car stuck out to me.
Eventually, I walked back to the others and found Cammie, Danny, Mitch, and Eric eating their breakfasts on logs. Sam paced back and forth, dragging a stick in the sand behind her.
Cammie finished her crab and put her arms in the air. “I’m just sayin’ that if we don’t play this right, we might lose the opportunity. Miguel could close shop if it becomes too much of a hassle. He may as well find another island if we make life difficult for him.”
Sam was still pacing. “True. His next pickup could be his last if he fears convicts on the island getting out of hand, yeah?” She was right. If Miguel was worried about this becoming a nuisance, he wouldn’t have planted a new round. It was too much effort—there were a lot of acres of marijuana.
“But he’s already prepped the other two spots,” Danny pointed out, his eyes following Sam. “He won’t just ignore those and not come back for ‘em. He’ll risk it.”
Sam stopped. “Then what suggestions do we have for our next steps?”
“Plant the explosives in the field,” Mitch said without hesitation. He stood and threw an empty coconut into the jungle. “We’ve got enough to just blow ‘em away and make a run for the boat.”
“No detonators,” Cammie said. “This ain’t the movies. We got sticks of boom but nothin’ with it. Unless you’re volunteering to be the hero, light the dynamite, and stay behind with it, then I gotta shoot that suggestion down.”
Mitch’s shoulders slumped—he was excited to blow crap up.
“Could we use ‘em as a diversion?” Danny asked. “Set ‘em off away from the area—just some guys light some sticks and throw them as far as they can—and the rest hide and run towards the boat when they hear the explosions?”
“Then the guys that lit the dynamite catch up?” Sam asked.
Danny shrugged. “More or less.”
“You volunteering for that job, huh?” Eric said.
“I could make it.”
Eric laughed. “You’ve never run that fast in your life. I’ve seen you jog up and down a basketball court, but never seen you run like you’re talkin’ about.”
“I never had dynamite blowing up behind me with a boat to freedom in front of me.” They both chuckled and playfully pushed each other.
“I like the idea of diversion,” I said. “But I also don’t want to leave anybody behind—including some guys that are stuck in Masonville. I think Darryl and Adam would come with us. Maybe John. And I’m definitely not okay leaving Xavier in the pit.”
“Ok. But you’ll need to get Xavier the day before the pickup,” Sam said. “We can’t split up and wait for anybody the day of the event. And I think you should bring someone with ya to pick him up.”
“I’m no cowboy. I’ll gladly take some company. Anybody super-eager to volunteer?” I smiled and put my thumbs in the air. “It went really well the last time I broke into Masonville.”
Hoping Sam jumped in, I waited for a terrified moment, afraid nobody would want to come. Just as I was about to start begging, Sam slowly put her hand up.
“Thanks for the enthusiasm,” I said.
“Don’t be an idiot this time.”
I couldn’t tell if she was teasing.
“Alright,” Sam said. “Let’s prep for the next pickup. I want supplies for the boat ride since we have no idea how long it’ll take. Cammie, you and Jhalon check traps. Austin…”
As Sam rattled off job details, Cammie punched my shoulder and told me to follow. She took me around the jungle to check traps she’d set. The first was empty, but she showed me how it was supposed to work. One end of a large stick was jammed under a log and the other end was propped in the air. It was like a mouse trap. Cammie lifted the end of the stick not under the log, released it, and it snapped hard back down to the earth.
“Damn,” I said. “That’d do some damage. But this stick was down when we got here. Does that mean it missed the animal?”
Cammie nodded. “May’ve been moving too fast.” She bent to set it once more, then led me through more foliage, checking traps. One had a small cat of some kind—maybe even the kitten of the rug in my cabin. There was a small bird under another one.
In a small path that squeezed between two massive rocks surrounded by thick jungle was the third trap. It was the largest, and also had caught underneath it the most in
teresting game.
Stuck with its neck crushed beneath a thick branch was a person.
Chapter 24
“Who the hell is this?” Cammie asked.
I was dumbstruck but managed to respond. “Devin. I guess he survived the explosion and tracked us here.”
A laugh escaped Cammie. “And the dumbass tried to squeeze through this bottleneck trap. A trap meant for dumb animals.”
I ignored Cammie’s callousness and knelt to take a closer look. The branch lay across the back of Devin’s neck. I lifted it slightly. The skin below the wood was bruised and bleeding. I gently let the branch down.
“His shoulder must’ve hit the trigger stick when he was slipping through,” Cammie explained, pointing to the trigger. “His head was just a bit further, just far enough for the branch to smash down onto his neck.”
There were lines in the dirt near his head and shoulders like he struggled to get out from under the thick branch. Dirt was caked under his filthy, long nails. He’d been choked to death, unable to wriggle himself out. What a horrific way to go—to slowly have the air escape you, knowing you’re about to slip away to eternal sleep. I’d never seen a freshly dead corpse so closely. His head was turned to the side. I stared into Devin’s frozen, lifeless eyes.
“You alright?” Cammie asked.
I shuddered. “He and Smiley were always together. I wonder if Smiley’s dead.”
“Or they split up.”
“Or they split up,” I repeated.
“Well, they can’t have known where our camp is. They’d go home and let others know to come get us, ya know?”
“I just wish we knew if Smiley was…” I trailed off.
“Still smilin’?” she joked, slapping my shoulder. I jerked at the touch. Cammie put her hands in the air. “Woah, easy, fellah. Let’s check my other traps and head back.”
“We’re just gonna leave him here?” I didn’t know what I wanted to hear.
She slowly shook her head. “Not sure what you think we should do. Bury him?”
I shrugged.
“Waste of time—we’ll be outta here and off this rock soon enough anyway.” Cammie turned and walked away.
“Seems wrong to just leave him, rotting.”
“That momma boar won’t let him rot. They’ll dispose of him—bones and all,” She gestured towards the boar nest.
The image of pigs devouring Devin’s flesh and bones made my stomach ache. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”
I was about to catch up with Cammie when, like a flash, something streaked through the brush, running into Cammie. They rolled around the jungle floor and when they stopped, Cammie was straddled over the attacker.
With his wrists pinned to the ground, chest heaving up and down in spasms, Smiley barked, “Get off me!”
“You and Devin tracked us here?” I asked.
“I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’.” He spat in my general direction, but the spit wasn’t a clean shot and came out more as a spray, falling back down and covering his own face. He made a funny face and blinked away his own saliva from his eyes. Moron.
Cammie head-butted him. “Not sure if your dumb ass has realized it or not, but your stupid friend got himself killed, so you’re on your own. In our territory.”
“You kilt ‘im! He didn’t get hisself kilt! You kilt him!”
Standing, Cammie twisted Smiley’s wrists behind him. “Come here, moron.” She walked to the corpse. “Look at this idiot. He got his neck busted by a trap meant for game.”
I actually saw tears in Smiley’s eyes. They really had been close. I felt a bit sorry for him.
“Now you wanna tell us exactly what’s going on?” Cammie asked. “Or do I need to beat it out of you?”
Smiley sat, eyes taking in the scene. Still looking down at his friend, he whispered, “If I tell you anything, Mason’ll kill me.”
“If you tell us nothing, I will,” Cammie responded. “I’ll throw you off one of our cliffs. You may not die right away. Might break a leg. Or bust your head open and slowly die as your tiny brain slips out your cracked skull. I can’t guarantee a clean death. Just a death.”
Smiley considered.
I said, “Mason will never know you talked to us.”
“Whatcha wanna know? I may be able to say somethin’.”
Cammie jerked her head at me, authorizing me to perform the interrogation. “Do you know about the map?”
“Course I do. Has the spots where we make the dope, and Mason tracks where cons are dropped.”
“How long has the drug-making been going on?”
Smiley made a quick move to escape, then Cammie’s hands clenched like a vice. She spun him over to a log and forced him to sit. Inhaling deeply, Smiley continued as if nothing happened. “Since I been here. Before me even.”
I stood in front of Smiley. “How’s Mason know Miguel?”
He took his eyes off the ground. “Mason’s Miguel’s new guy.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Miguel was settin’ up an empire here using the cons. The first one here was kilt by Mason. Mason had no idea. When Miguel found out what Mason done, he liked him. Brought him in to work for him.”
“Why would Mason do that? He scared of Miguel?”
Smiley shook his head. “Shooooot no. Mason ain’t scared of nobody.”
“Then why work for him?” Cammie asked. “What’s he get? He still lives in a crappy little cabin on an island prison.”
“For now.”
“What happens in the future, then?” I asked.
He debated whether or not to say more. “Miguel tol’ ‘im if he kept the plants alive long enough he’d take him off the island with ‘im and give a nice spot in his gang.”
“Is that time now? Is he cashing in that ticket with these drops?”
Smiley nodded. “Sho’ is. Mason’s time’s up. When this last crop is harvested, he gone.”
“Is Zigor the next in line? Same deal for him?”
He nodded slowly, making it clear to me he wasn’t happy about the appointment.
“You and Devin…you got overlooked.”
He tightened his jaw.
“That must’ve upset you. You’ve given Mason everything—Devin even gave his life. How do you get off the island?”
Brooding for a few seconds, Smiley’s eyes betrayed his poker face. “Jus’ gotta put our time in.”
Cammie gestured to Devin. “Only you now, Smiley. Your boy ain’t making any trip outta here. Maybe that’ll bump you up the line though, huh?”
Smiley looked hurt. I swooped in. “Is that how it works? Will you be groomed for the replacement? Mason groomed Zigor, and maybe Zigor grooms you?”
“’Course,” he said. But it wasn’t convincing. “Ya’ll ain’t any smarter than me. None of ya can even figure out why you were sent here.”
“What do you know about it?” I asked, hopeful he’d actually—miraculously—know something.
“Ya’ll messed with the wrong folks, that’s what. Killed the wrong people. Pissed off the wrong people. But ya’ll are connected and are too dumb to figure it out.”
Cammie glanced at me. “He’s full of crap. What should we do with him?”
I thought he was all talk, too. Of all the people on the island, he’d be the least likely to know anything. Mason kept him in the dark about everything. “He doesn’t know where our camp is. They just ran into a game trail. They’d never be able to find us.” I looked at Smiley. “We let you go, you gonna hunt us down? Mason’s gonna be leaving, so there’s no point directing him our way.”
I really didn’t want Cammie to kill him, but she looked hard at me. “When you’re in prison and show mercy, it bites you in the ass. You get someone on their knees, you don’t let ‘em up. You kick ‘em in the teeth.” She gestured to Smiley. “He’s on his knees.”
“He’s got no teeth,” I joked.
“You know what I mean. Letting him go isn’t the smart option.”<
br />
“Let’s make a deal,” Smiley suggested.
Cammie gave me a look that told me not to be swayed.
“You bury Devin, I won’t say nothin’ when I get back. I’ll say a boar or cat got ‘im. We’ve lost guys to ‘em before.”
“This isn’t a negotiation,” Cammie sounded bitter. “You’re outnumbered and held captive. I have as much trust in you as you have teeth in that mouth.”
Without a word, I walked to Devin’s corpse. I lifted the branch from Devin’s neck and rolled him out from under the trap. Grabbing his feet, I dragged him down the trail until it opened up, revealing a small flattened area. A pile of rocks was heaped at the bottom of a decline, like some hilly trail just spit it out. Cammie shook her head at me, wordlessly telling me I was an idiot.
I put Devin in a little ditch against a small hill and moved rocks over to cover him. It was sweaty work, though not exhausting. Hopefully the gesture would encourage Smiley to keep his mouth shut. And it made me feel better than leaving Devin to rot in the open. When finished, I walked up to Smiley. “Fair enough? We let you go and you never come back or say a word about this place.”
Smiley gave me a quick nod.
For a moment, I thought Cammie would kill us both. She hated what I was doing. Was she weighing her options? Would the smart play be to kill us? What did they really need me for? Instead, she grabbed the back of Smiley’s neck. “If we get wind that you said something, or if we ever see any Masonites around here, I’ll cut off your head and leave you for the boars.”
“Won’t see me this way again.”
Cammie released her grip. Smiley limped over to the pile of rocks and touched a stone. He stood for a moment as if saying a final prayer over his lost companion. Then he walked into the jungle.
“That was really stupid.” Cammie turned her back on me and walked away. “Really, really stupid.”
I couldn’t help but think it was the right move. I hoped I wasn’t wrong.
Chapter 25
“Jhalon totally screwed us over,” Cammie told everyone.
Could I justify why I’d let him go? I wasn’t even sure why I’d done it. I let her tell them what happened, but I left before they could yell at me. For all I knew, they hated me and thought I was the world’s biggest moron. I prayed Cammie was wrong.