‘Bugger,’ Elaine muttered to no one. She rubbed her eyes.
Was it cruel to involve her son in the hideous task of moving the co-pilot’s body? Did it make her a bad mother, or was she just doing what was necessary? The fact remained, she couldn’t lift the man alone, and Eric could.
Upon request, he casually hauled the co-pilot from the panel and gently placed him back in his seat, the whistling crackle amplifying. Leaning over the panel, she fiddled with the controls and blurted desperately into the receiver. ‘Hello…is anybody there?’ Nothing responded. She tried again but only white noise sang back at her.
Teri appeared in the doorway. ‘I found a first aid box and a tool kit. Threw them out on to the sand. Stewardess was clinging onto the medical kit like her life depended on it. Whatever the bitch's life depended on, it wasn’t that.’
Elaine explained to her about the radio. ‘I just don’t know how to use the damn thing.’
‘Can I get my magazine now, mom,’ Eric persisted.
‘Pumpkin,’ Elaine said firmly, ‘another time, okay!’
‘But I hadn’t finished reading it.’
‘I know that, kiddo, but we don’t have time right now.’
‘But mom, I was reading about the new –’
‘Forget the fucking magazine, retard!’ Teri snapped.
Eric reeled like he’d been slapped. His eyes widened into large confused discs.
Elaine stood rigid. ‘What did you say?’
Teri didn’t hesitate. ‘I told this big goofball to forget the goddamn magazine!’ And then to Eric, ‘Don’t you get it, dumb ass, we were in a plane crash, your magazine is gone. It’s smoke, dust, fucking ash!’
Elaine took a step forwards. ‘How dare you –’
‘Save it, Grandma, you don’t frighten me! I’ve seen autopsies with more life in them than you!’
‘It’s okay, pumpkin,’ Elaine assured her son. ‘We’ll find your magazine.’
Teri scoffed. ‘Whatever.’
‘Just get out of here!’ Elaine yelled. ‘You’ve done enough damage, you snotty little brat. You think you know hardships? You couldn’t walk a day in my son’s shoes!’
‘They wouldn’t fit me,’ Teri smirked and turned on her heel, leaving a wake of devastation in Eric’s head.
The big man was frantic, disorientated. He was focused on his hands, his twiddling thumbs. Nervously stepping from foot to foot, he didn’t know how to stand.
Rallying to her son, Elaine began to soothe him with practiced words and platitudes. It would take at least an hour to bring him back, she knew this from experience. It broke her heart to see him this way. Eventually he would push the attack from the forefront of his mind and into a box in a shadowy corner like he’d learned, but the process of getting him there was a hardship nobody needed right now, least of all Eric.
The crackle of static continued to interrupt the silence.
Elaine's eyes rolled gently closed. They hadn’t come here for this.
19
The final whispers of light had retreated over the horizon by the time James and the others staggered back into the camp. The moon seemed too close, illuminating the white sand in long glowing strips. Waiting patiently, Abbey prayed they’d be returning with good news.
And they were, for sprawled out on the sheet of steel was the still form of a man, his chest rising and falling gently beneath his shirt. She couldn’t help noticing James, toned and golden, wearing only shorts and boots, the remnants of his shirt wrapped around the unconscious man’s leg. She shifted her gaze away when he caught her looking.
‘My god, you weren’t joking,’ she gasped.
‘Did you ever doubt me?’ Oli wheezed.
‘This way,’ Abbey directed. ‘We’ll put him in one of the tents.’
Without a word, Anthony abandoned his post and walked down to the shore. Watching Anthony leave, Oli looked to James in confusion.
‘Just let him go,’ James muttered.
‘What! How is that fair?’
‘Oli,’ he said firmly, ‘let him go.’
‘Fucking slacker,’ Sebastian grumbled, earning raised eyebrows from James. ‘I’m just saying out loud what everybody’s thinking, chief. Don’t see why we should break our balls when your man gets to shirk off. He's bloody weird anyway.’
‘I second that,’ Oli agreed.
‘You saw how he was with the bodies,’ Sebastian said. ‘You telling me that was normal?’
James shrugged. ‘One problem at a time, huh?'
They raised the pilot once again, Abbey taking the absent corner. It took only a couple of minutes to get him settled into one of the tents and feed him some water. Sebastian too decided he was shattered. He told the others he was going for a walk along the beach to clear his head, and when he came back he insisted he was going to sleep like one of the deceased.
‘Where’s Elaine and the others,’ James asked.
As if on cue Teri came sauntering along the sand alone, the lit tip of her cigarette dangling from between her lips. She was carrying something.
‘Speak of the devil.’
‘Yeah, literally,’ Oli murmured.
As Teri neared, she dropped her goods onto the sand. ‘Happy? First aid box and a tool kit.'
‘Where are the others?’
‘God knows. The retard had some kind of breakdown, so I left them to it.’
Oli bent down and scooped up the first aid box. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were talking about Eric.’
‘Smarter than he looks, this one.’
‘So how about calling him Eric?’ James suggested.
‘Whatever,’ Teri scoffed and walked away, planting herself down in her usual spot by the trees. She lit another cigarette.
All eyes turned to the pilot’s tent as a soft moan emanated.
‘What’s wrong with him?’ Abbey asked. James glanced away casually, but for the briefest moment she caught a fleeting shadow pass over his face.
‘Oli?’ Abbey pressed.
The student didn’t seem to know how to stand. He thrust his hands into his pockets, withdrew them again. Shifting from foot to foot, he couldn’t meet Abbey's eyes. Instead he muttered, ‘I’m going to leave you two lovebirds to it.'
‘Look at me, James,’ she insisted. ‘What’s going on?’
‘The pilot’s in a bad way,’ James said at last. ‘I mean, most of his wounds are superficial, they’ll heal fine.’
‘But?’
‘He has a huge gash on his thigh, opened right up. I’ve wrapped it, stemmed the flow of blood, but I can’t even imagine what’ll happen if we don’t get the man some drugs. If gangrene sets in…well, you do the math.’
Scooping up the abandoned first aid box, she said, ‘What about this?’
‘What about it? It’ll have clean bandages and wraps, but there won’t be any drugs. First aid boxes like this don’t carry them.’
Abbey skimmed through it quickly. There was nothing inside in tablet form, not even painkillers.
‘Tomorrow, we’ll begin a search through the luggage for penicillin, and I’ll dive the wreckage, see what I can find out there. Somebody on that plane will have some antibiotics.’
‘You dealt with anything like this before?’
James shook his head.
Abbey exhaled wearily. Neither had she.
*
Having returned from his walk, Sebastian had quickly smoked a cigarette and disappeared into one of the tents, the soft hum of his snoring spilling out onto the sand.
Anthony had not returned.
Placing stones in a small circle, Teri had built a crude campfire in front of the tents. Now she was loading it with twigs and shredded paper. The night had grown cool, forcing Abbey to throw on an extra layer – a thin pink cardigan she’d found amongst someone’s clothes. James too had pulled on a black v-neck sweater and pushed up the sleeves. Elaine and Eric had still failed to show.
‘I’m starting to get worried,’ said Abbey. ‘
They should be back by now.’
Standing by her side at the shoreline, James didn’t respond. Instead he stared out to the darkened horizon, his eyes glazed over.
As Abbey began to stress her point, Elaine walked wearily towards them, arms linked with her son. Eric looked mildly distressed, his enormous figure taking small infantile steps, his arms rigid by his sides.
‘We were about to send out a search party,’ Abbey said as they approached. ‘Did you get lost?’
‘Eric did,’ Elaine replied. ‘In a sense.’
‘Everything okay?’
‘It is now,’ muttered Elaine. ‘Would you mind watching him for a second?’
Not waiting for a reply, Elaine marched up the sand, beeline made out for Teri. The tattooed girl was still loading up her campfire.
From the shoreline Abbey watched the scene unfold like something from a movie. Following the word “Bitch”, spat vehemently from Elaine’s lips, was the most vicious punch to the nose Abbey had ever seen delivered by a woman. Teri went down like a lead balloon, clutching her burst nose, blood spraying down her heavy shirt.
‘The next time you speak to my son that way, God help me I will literally pop your head open! How’s that for stones!’
With that she walked back towards the shore to collect her son. In her wake, Teri writhed on the sand clutching her bloody nose.
‘Jesus, Elaine, what the hell was that?’ Abbey gasped.
‘She had it coming.’ Elaine didn’t smile. ‘I can defend myself, Eric can’t. When someone abuses that fact, I defend him. Which of the tents are free?’
‘On the end.’
Elaine took Eric by the arm and led him away, disappearing into the end tent.
James still hadn't moved, his fixed gaze unbroken. She placed a hand gently on his arm. ‘James, you alright?’
The physical contact seemed to wake him up. ‘Hmm,’ he murmured. ‘Fine. You?’
She tilted her head. ‘Come on, let’s take a walk.’
Sticking close to the shoreline, they moved away from the camp. In one direction they would pass the aircraft, in the other the mass of bodies pressing against the arm of rock. Death would be their companion, whichever way they went. They chose the aircraft.
‘How're you holding up?’ James murmured warily.
‘I’m okay. I’m not worried about me.’
‘Eric?’
‘Everybody. My husband’s going to be going out of his mind.’
‘I didn’t realise you were married,' said James.
Abbey smiled. ‘Why would you?’
‘You’re not wearing a ring.’
She fanned out her fingers. ‘I was on my way to a sales pitch in Auckland. Always take my ring off in case I need to flirt a little to seal the deal. When all else fails…’
He smiled at last. ‘So your husband, he knew which flight you were on?’
‘I usually text him the flight numbers so he can check that I landed safely. He’s going to know by now that the plane went down.’
James didn’t reply.
‘I miss him, James. I’ve been threatening for so long to give up my job and stay home. God knows we can afford it. But I kept putting it off and putting it off. Just one more year…I’ve been saying that for a long time.’
Wrapping an arm gently around her shoulder, he said, ‘We’re going to get off this island, Abbey. You’ll see your husband again, I promise.’
‘You can’t promise something like that, James. The truth is, my husband thinks I’m dead.’
‘You don’t know that. Any guy who can get a girl like you is no fool. All he knows is the plane went down. We haven’t been found so they won’t write us off just like that. If the media haven’t, then I can guarantee your husband hasn’t either.’
She smiled through thinly pursed lips. ‘How’s a guy like you single?’
‘Who says I’m single?’
‘Oh, you’re single! Here’s me jabbering on about Edward and you haven’t uttered a single word about a loved one.’
Shirking the topic, he asked, ‘Who were you on the plane with? I’m assuming you don’t travel alone.’
‘My colleague, Milo. Shit, he was such a good kid.’
‘What happened?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said honestly. ‘The plane struck the water, I was knocked out. When I came to, Milo was just sitting there. There was no blood, nothing. But when I lifted his head his neck was so twisted, all gnarled, as if something had been yanking on it, trying to rip it off. I threw up in his lap, right before I got out of there. I was the only one left alive in my section.’
‘And then you found me?’
‘Saved your drowning arse, you mean?’
He offered a subdued smile. ‘I’m sorry, Abbey.’
‘For what?’
‘For Milo, for Edward, for being stranded in the middle of nowhere with me.’
They walked on in silence, the cool breeze dusting them as they strolled. They passed the aircraft and carried on walking, the silence between them strangely comfortable. When it seemed like the right time to speak again, James said, ‘So what’s the story with the girl?’
‘I really don’t know,’ Abbey replied resignedly. ‘She hasn’t spoken a word but it doesn’t seem to be shock. One minute she clings to me as though the floor is giving away around her, the next she’s throwing up tents like they’re made out of Lego.’
‘Do you know who she lost?’
‘I don’t know anything, she has no ID. The only thing she does have is the flimsy locket around her neck, but she won’t let me see it.’
‘Could be a family heirloom. We should probably pin her down and take it.’
Abbey smirked. ‘Yeah, that’ll help with her trauma.’
A little further along the bay, James paused in the sand and lay down flat on his back.
‘What’re you doing?’
‘Lie down,’ he said.
‘I’m not lying in the sand, it’s freezing.’
‘It’s not cold,’ he assured her.
‘It is cold.’
‘Trust me,’ he said patting the sand.
Reluctantly she lowered herself down and lay back.
‘See, I told you, it’s bloody freezing.’
‘Ignore it,’ he muttered. ‘Look at the sky. Did you ever see anything as beautiful as that?’
Draped over them like an enormous black duvet, the sky twinkled back at them, a million stars in perfect lucidity. They appeared closer than she’d ever seen them.
‘My mom always used to say that no matter where you were in the world, you’re seeing the same night sky as a billion other people. Somehow it always made me feel closer to home.’
Abbey didn’t reply. She just absorbed the moment.
‘It’s going to be okay, Abbey,’ he murmured. ‘You’re going to see Edward again. They’ll find us.’
*
My neck is bleeding. I can feel the sticky patch against my skin.
The month is January and today is my birthday. Frost has bitten the ground and transformed it to stone. When I fall, it hurts like concrete. By means of incentive, I am allowed only underwear.
I am not permitted to fall.
If I do, I am punished.
From head to toe I am covered in scrapes and bruises, and my arm is bent at a funny angle. I fell from the frame and landed on it. There was no crack, but now it’s swollen, and it throbs.
I am not permitted to react to pain.
It is against the rules.
Each time I fall, I am dragged back to the base of the frame, the objective: complete the itinerary before sundown. There will be no food should I fail.
I must do it until I get it right.
I must do it until I get it right.
I must do it until I get it...
The words are ingrained, yet they do not assist me. Knowing the assignment is different from completing it.
Stepping onto the frame, I imagine my arm to be uninjur
ed and haul my body-weight up. I realise now the source of the blood. With each rung, I bite into my bottom lip. It stops me from screaming. I tongue the paper-thin skin. I have almost bitten right through.
On the far side of the frame there is a cargo net, after that a rope swing, a frozen crawl tunnel and a water pit, recently filled.
The water is not yet frozen, but it soon will be.
Unable to climb further, I topple from the frame and crumble onto the uncaring frost. In an eruption of blood, I am lifted from the ground by the kick to my ribs. It takes a moment to realise the blood is mine, the remains of my lip spraying it in a haze across my small chest. But I do not scream. I do not cry.
I am not permitted to react to pain.
It is against the rules.
I am nine years old today.
20
London, 1992
A heavy blanket of mist had descended upon Wimbledon as Derek Holliday walked. There was no need to rush. He sauntered in hazy contentment, solidified by the carefully rolled blunt secreted between his index and middle finger. The streets were empty, the thick mist giving him a dank chill.
He rarely left the house anymore, and when he did he would wait until all those judgemental cunts were tucked up in bed. He didn’t mix well with others. Not that he gave a shit. The fewer people knew about him the better, but of late some people had begun probing into his affairs. The guy down at the corner shop told him only that morning that people had begun asking questions about him, the mysterious new bloke living in their street. He was an unknown, an outsider. If word got out who he was, what he was, he imagined he'd be fucking lynched. He didn’t need that. Not again.
Overhead, a low guttural thunder rumbled. He looked up. Seriously, tonight he could do without rain.
He crossed the street to the park entrance. Pausing between the two tall gate pillars, he relit the blunt. Fucking things were always going out on him. As the flame licked, he was inhaling deeply when he spotted the dark patch in the fog across the tarmac.
Everything suddenly felt too calm. There were some real weirdoes around here. Whoever was watching him never moved, just stood there.
Holliday took another drag and turned his back. Weed was making him paranoid. No one would be stupid enough to be out in this weather, least of all any self-respecting smackhead, and there weren’t many of those.
Hunting Abigail: Fight or Flight? For Abigail, it's both! Page 11