by Keri Hudson
“Shit,” the other said.
“Well, maybe they killed those fucking things before they bit it. I mean, AK-47s? What’s gonna stand up to that?”
“Makes sense,” his friend said. “I don’t hear anything.”
Paul crept a little closer, able to see the men more clearly. They were sitting on a rocky outcrop, Lisa still unconscious on the ground at their feet.
“She’s pretty hot,” one said.
“Yeah.”
A mean little moment passed before the other said, “They’re not expecting us back on the yacht. We’ve got the only RIB, so it’s not like anybody from the crew is just going to… to show up.”
“What are you…? Dawkins, no…”
“She won’t know, look at her! If she wakes up, we’ll zap her again.”
“She’ll rat us out to the old man! We’d have to kill her, for Christ’s sake!”
“No, she’ll… after all this, and you saw her on the beach, she was delirious, hysterical. She won’t even be able to trust her own memory, much less make a credible accusation.”
The other man sighed, taking a moment to consider before he said, “She is pretty hot, I gotta say…”
Paul took another quiet step. Dawkins looked around and Paul froze, lowering himself as far as he could, belly against the forest floor.
“Wait, I think I hear something.” Birds fluttered in the canopy above them as the men surveyed the area.
The other yelled, “Oh shit!” He raised his rifle as Peter jumped out of the foliage. He got off a few shots, but Peter was too fast and the man disappeared under his charge. Paul knew it was his time to attack, running up and spotting Lisa on the ground just where he’d figured she was. He leapt over her at the other man, who was firing on Peter and only saw Paul coming once it was too late. Paul smashed into him, biting into his throat and ripping it away for a quick and decisive kill. The man’s finger squeezed off a few errant shots into the rock, his last death twitches.
Paul turned to Peter, who was standing over his own kill. The brothers shared a moment of mutual reassurance, their bond stronger than ever before. But Paul could see that Peter had taken a few more shots, and he was weakened and bloodied, barely retaining his footing.
Paul had heard of phones, though he’d never seen one. And this was bigger than what he’d expected to see, not a tiny palm computer but a boxy transmitter with a long black prong reaching out from the top. But Paul knew it was the only way to communicate with Lisa’s father and that yacht. Peter seemed to understand the same thing. He picked it up carefully in his jaws as Paul took even greater care with Lisa. He took her forearm in his jaws, making sure not to apply any more pressure than was necessary to drag her limp body away from the two dead men, back to the hideaway, which was not far off.
They arrived, three weary souls. The yacht waited off the island, with no other gunmen on the island, as far as Paul knew. It was still possible, but one or two more lone gunmen would only need to look upon the bodies of their fellows to be inspired to make a hasty retreat.
But they could take that boat, Paul considered as he laid Lisa down and then lay down next to her, Peter also resting to recover his strength. They could report Lisa dead and the father may retreat, leaving the three survivors on that island for the rest of their lives. With the pigs and the orcas and the octopi getting more aggressive, they wouldn’t be on that island long.
Paul inched toward Lisa’s face, giving her a few gentle licks to wake her. She winced, eyes flickering open, then clamping shut again.
“Ouch, Jesus!” She pushed herself up and looked around, clearly trying to refocus on her surroundings. She knew the hideaway, she knew the boys in their lupine forms. There was no reason for fear or being startled, but there was plenty of reason for concern. She looked at Paul’s butchered body, another bullet falling from the hole it had created as his body tried to heal itself. She looked at Peter, the same sorrowful expression on her lovely face. She didn’t need any explanation and she had no questions about what had happened or what was going to happen.
Lisa clearly knew that she was with two severely injured lupes. All their strength and cunning and superior senses had been used to their utmost, and there was little more they could do. But Lisa had skills too, skills neither of them had or ever could employ in their lupine form. And with their injuries, both were far from being able to shift.
Lisa turned and spotted the transmitter, picking it up and pushing a few buttons, twitching with uncertainty. She raised it to her face. “Hello? Hello? Over.”
“Hello? Lisa, honey, is that you? Over.”
“Daddy! Daddy, it’s me!”
“Thank God,” her father said, voice small in the little black device amidst the crackle and static. “What on earth is going on over there? Holy shit, the beach is a bloodbath!”
Lisa took a moment to consider her answer. She looked at Paul, at Peter, obviously knowing she had to think fast to save both of their lives. They’d saved her, and she was clearly ready to take up the mantle of doing all she could to return the favor. And by the way she looked at Paul, he knew she wanted to preserve him for more than reasons of honor or personal debt. There was no doubt about her love for him, her commitment to him, and if Paul never got off that island, he would die knowing he’d found the pinnacle of happiness even after a lifetime in the Valley of the Shadow of Death.
She pressed the button on the side of the walkie-talkie. “There are… there were creatures on the island, Daddy, but… but they’re all dead now, at least… the big wolves, your men killed them all.”
“What else do we have to worry about, then? And why aren’t you on your way back here right now? Over.”
Lisa glanced around, clearly unable to reveal the truth about why she needed more time before returning to the yacht. Paul knew she couldn’t tell her father that her shifter boyfriend and his brother needed time to heal from his gunmen’s bullets before returning to their human form so Lisa could marry Paul and have shifter children. That was her plan, Paul knew it and knowing it helped him heal faster. But she was too smart to stumble into an error like that.
“I… I have two friends here, Daddy, a young man, a very good young man, and his brother… they saved my life, Daddy, but they’re hurt. We’re in the middle of the island now, it’ll just take some time to get to the beach. Over.”
More static, more crackling. “We sent both our rigid inflatables, Lisa, and it’s too shallow for us to get any closer. Over.”
“No, I know, I… but I can’t leave my friends behind, Daddy, I can’t! Over.”
“Bring back the RIB and I’ll send some of my crew back to get them. Over.”
Lisa looked at Paul and Peter, and shook her head before returning her attention to the walkie-talkie. “I can’t leave them alone, Daddy, they’re… they’re not safe. We’ll come in together on the boat. Just be patient. But I’m okay, Daddy, and I love you so much! Over.”
“I love you too, li’l angel. Now come home, soon! Hurry. Over.”
Lisa set down the black thing and turned to Paul. “Can you walk?”
Paul looked at Peter. Both were badly injured, but they shared a nod and pushed themselves up, Peter ejecting another bullet and shaking his great torso, blood flicking in every direction. Lisa led Paul and Peter out of the hideaway and into the forest toward the south beach, a route she already seemed to know well. Paul looked back at the hideaway, knowing that he’d never see it again.
They limped through the forest toward the beach, the pigs snorting and growling unseen in the foliage. They’d taken heavy losses from their attack on poor Ruth, but they had defeated her. And Paul knew word of that victory would have traveled quickly among the porcine populace. They could just as easily be coordinating another attack. They’d be able to smell the blood, they’d be able to see how injured both Paul and Peter were, they’d know how vulnerable Lisa was, a normalo without any natural defenses or battle skills or weaponry. They were thre
e sitting ducks, a walking feast, and the pigs seemed to know it.
Tension rose with every step, Lisa looking around with those big, blue eyes. The pigs grunted, and Paul could hear them scuffling around. Peter clearly could as well, both lupes growling a low, rumbling warning.
They made it to the edge of the forest and to the clearing of the south beach. Bodies, human, lupine, and porcine, lay strewn across the blood-soaked sand. Beyond that, the white yacht sat in the blue Pacific, fifty yards or so from shore. It had blackened windows and looked small from a distance, but Paul knew it had to be eighty feet long or more. It was their rescue, their only hope for a happy life together, but it was also the source of that new and deadly infestation on the island—angry and misinformed men with guns and the license to use them.
But while that disease seemed to have been beaten back, there were other perils that could still overtake them, and they were still closing in from all sides.
Lisa looked at Paul. She seemed to understand exactly what he and Peter were going through.
“Are you… are you ready?”
Paul pushed the last slug from his side, the holes from the other shots already healing. But he’d need a few minutes more, and Peter seemed to need the same. Lisa nodded, glancing out onto the beach and then around the forest. “Okay, we… we can wait, I think.” But the pigs were grunting louder, and what began worrying Paul was what they would do once he and Peter shifted back into their human form. But they had to do that in order to reappear on the beach. Paul was certain Lisa’s father was surveying the beach from the yacht. It was the only way he’d have known of the massacre on the island. And he could under no circumstances know their secret. Lisa was clearly dedicated to keeping it, but her father would be another matter altogether.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Paul wasn’t quite ready to shift, and a glance at his brother told him he was even further from being able to do it. Lisa seemed to understand the same thing. But she was clever, resourceful, and forward-thinking. She looked around and said, “Okay, stay here, do what… whatever you’re doing, I’ll be right back.”
Paul was worried to have her step away, but he lacked the words to stop her. Keeping a keen eye, Paul knew she was aware of the orcas, the octopi, the pigs. She knew the risks, but she clearly had something in mind. She stepped carefully through the field of heads, bowels, and dead pigs to find the nearest gunman. She grabbed his legs and pulled him backward, across the sand and into the forest where Paul and Peter waited.
“I figure my father is watching,” Lisa said as she unbuttoned the man’s belt and wrestled with pulling off his pants. She glanced at Paul and shrugged. “I can’t have you meet my father bare-assed naked!” She set the pants aside and unbuttoned his shirt. “This all right for you, Peter? It’s got a long tail, you’ll be fine.” Lisa pulled the shirt off the dead man, setting it next to the pants to roll the man’s body to the side. “Okay, you boys ready?”
The pigs started to grunt and squeal with greater excitement. Paul knew it was the proximity of the dead man, a ready meal even if they didn’t dare take on the two shifters despite their injuries. The smell of the blood would soon rile them beyond their fear, and they would attack anything and everything, heedless of the danger, their bloodlust propelling them.
Paul wasn’t sure if he could handle the shift, but he also knew time was running out. He looked once more into Lisa’s face, the picture of pretty perfection in his mind, knowing it could well be the last time he’d ever see it.
Paul shifted, his body writhing in pain. There was still damage, and it would not heal any faster in his human form than for anyone else. He felt every bruised internal organ, every battered muscle, every fractured bone.
“Paul, are you okay? Paul!”
Paul winced and tried to sit up, Lisa easing him upward. Peter hadn’t shifted, and Paul knew he was waiting to see if Paul survived, if Peter himself would survive. Lisa wrapped her arms around Paul and pulled him close, pressing her cheek against his, stroking his long, brown hair.
“Sshshshshsh, baby, it’s gonna be okay, you’re gonna be all right, you have to be all right, you have to be!”
“It’s… it’s okay,” Paul tried to say, “I’m okay…”
“Thank God, thank God! I love you so much, Paul, so much…”
Peter was watching them, a low growl in his throat as the pigs started grunting and barking louder, foliage crackling around them. Peter shifted, his lupine form quickly replaced by his human self, handsome face bruised and black hair mussed, body still bloody.
“Peter,” Paul said, “too soon?”
“No time,” Peter said, “I’m… I…” He seemed to have to gather his strength, wincing in pain, eyes clamping shut. “Let’s go… now… now…”
“Wait, the clothes!” Paul was strong enough to pull the pants on himself, Lisa helping Peter on with the shirt. With the two men barely clothed, Lisa stood between them to support both as they hobbled out of the forest and into the clearing of the beach, where their rigid inflatable boat waited and beyond it, rescue.
But a spout of mist from the water drew Paul’s attention to the black back of an orca just off the beach, and it wasn’t alone.
They limped past the dead body of their sister Ruth. She’d been torn apart by the pigs after a brutal shooting by the normalo gunmen. It was a tragic and hideous sight, one Paul could not stand long. As the pigs crunched and tore with juicy vigor at the man’s naked body back in the forest, Paul knew as well as the others that they had to go immediately, that Ruth would never have a proper funeral. In the end, little trace of her or any of the others would remain.
They walked past their father’s body, only a suggestion of the head remaining. Paul’s emotional pain rose up to surpass his physical pain, tears pushing out of the corners of his eyes, brain dizzy with the tide of anguish that was overtaking him.
Paul knew that this was not what James Landry would have wanted or expected. He’d been a man of prodigious strength and discipline, and he’d have no less from any of his children. They’d fought together and on the side of rightness, of love, of one another. Their deaths had been sacrifices in the name of the greater good; for their family line, for the lupine race, and ultimately for the entire human race. Paul braced himself, regretting only that his brother had seen his flash of sentiment. One glance at Peter’s own tear-streaked face, however, told Paul his brother felt the same way.
They limped to the boat, big enough for twelve men or more, with a hard shell around inflated tubes. Paul was wary of the octopi, which he knew could fade into the background and become nearly visible. Once the boat was moving, no octopus was likely to be a great danger to them, but until that time, they were a deadly threat hovering just beneath the surface. Visions of Matthew’s demise still flashed in Paul’s memory, the terror and struggle and all in vain. Injured though he was, Matthew had been in his lupine form and stronger than any human being could ever be; two hobbling humans and a mere young woman would not fare quite so well against such a formidable enemy.
“Help him in,” Paul said, and Lisa guided Peter’s beleaguered steps into the RIB before she came around to stand side by side with Paul to push the boat into deeper waters. They shared a smile, love confirmed even if their futures still weren’t assured. They jumped into the RIB and Paul inched his way to the engine. Lisa seemed to know how to work it, pulling a plastic handle at the end of a long, metal line. She tried it again, and then again, but her lithe little arms weren’t up to the task. Paul wrapped his arms around her and together their combined strength turned the engine over. It roared and gurgled, water frothing as Paul sat back down.
Paul asked, “You know how to drive this thing?”
“I’m pretty sure.” Lisa grabbed the handle of the engine on the back of the boat, turned it, and cranked the red rubber tip. The engine roared louder and the boat pushed forward, bouncing and wobbling on the waves before Lisa could set its course toward the big, white ya
cht anchored not far off the breakers.
Paul and Peter shared one last look at the island. It had been the only home Paul had ever known, but both a prison and a shelter to them both. And if Paul had been right, if the island did have a kind of spirit of its own, he doubted that she would let them go so easily. She had mysterious purposes, but they seemed propelled by a kind of loneliness. It was almost as if the island couldn’t live without them, without somebody beyond a pig or a parrot.
But she’d have to go without. Paul and Peter both had given more than enough, and they’d take their lives and Lisa’s and never look back at whatever remained behind them. It was behind them, that was what mattered, and all that remained in front of them was life, love, society and community, and possibility at long, long last.
But the orcas blew their warnings, an almost impossible barrier between them and salvation, and their little boat was racing right toward them.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Lisa knew the danger, but the orcas didn’t seem certain of the craft. She steered it in a direct route toward her father’s yacht, Paul and Peter trading a worried glance. Peter was bent to the side, holding his ribs. He’d shifted too early and was still badly hurt, Paul could tell that with a single glance. But he was leaning to the wrong side, over the edge of the boat, bouncing on those choppy waves. Paul pulled Peter back toward the center of the boat, Lisa behind them manning the engine.
Paul looked back at her, amazed at the sight. The sea breeze and speed of the craft blew her blonde hair back, bright and beautiful face looking ahead. She was no spoiled rich brat, she was a woman, his woman, and she always would be.
The orcas swam up on both sides of the RIB, Lisa clearly concerned as she cranked the handle. Paul called, “Faster?” She shook her head. Paul and Peter focused their attention on the pod of orcas escorting them, one bumping the side of the boat to jolt it off course. Lisa recovered, but the same orca struck again, pushing the boat away from its direct line toward the yacht, only a few hundred feet away.