The Acid Vanilla Series

by Matthew Hattersley

  “Well, shit,” Acid mouthed, peering over the rim at the fast-flowing river below.

  Spook grabbed Acid’s arm. “What now?”

  Acid cupped her hand around her ear and closed her eyes. In the distance Spook could hear more gunfire. Male voices. Something like, We’ve got the bitches. Acid had heard it too. She moved closer to the edge as Spook’s stomach did a backflip.

  “Ah, no, Acid. I can’t. It’s got to be a hundred feet or more. And that water looks deep. We could drown.”

  “Yeah, well, we wait here we’ll get our heads blown off,” Acid retorted, eyeing up the drop. She fixed Spook with a steely gaze. “You ever seen Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid?”

  Spook frowned, wracking her brain. “Is that the one where they—”

  “Yeah, they do this,” Acid yelled, grabbing Spook around the shoulder and running them both off the side of the mountain.

  “Ahhh, shiiiitttt!”

  Spook’s internal organs shifted into her chest, threatening to burst out of her throat. The drop was intense and scary and exhilarating all at once and she wondered if she might piss her pants. Then she actually did piss her pants. Not a problem though, as a second later she disappeared under the water. The impact knocked all the air out of her but, driven by instinct over strategy, she’d had the foresight to grab onto her glasses. Now she held them tight in her fist as the water slowed her trajectory. A second later she felt the rocky riverbed below her feet and pushed off, searching for the surface.

  She flailed her arms, kicked with her legs, but she was getting nowhere. She tried to open her eyes, but the water was murky and the subsurface view confusing. She closed them and kept going, stretching her neck upwards, as if the few millimetres this allowed would do any good. Her chest felt tight. Her lungs ached. The crushing water was beating her. She kicked some more. Desperate now. There was no air left in her body.

  She was drowning.

  Actually drowning.

  Then, finally, she felt heat on her face. Bright sunshine permeating through the skin of her eyelids. She opened her eyes and gulped down a deep lungful of fresh air, treading water as best she could. The river current was rapid and was moving her quickly downstream. She scrambled to put on her glasses, frantically searched for Acid.

  “Spook get over here quick.”

  “Wha—” She squinted into the sunlight, seeing Acid a few metres upstream, holding onto a large rock that jutted out of the water.

  Spook doggy-paddled over to her, letting the current do most of the work. As she got nearer, Acid reached for her hand and dragged her around the side of the rock. Just as a bullet pinged off the other side.

  “Woah. Who is that?” Spook rasped.

  “I can’t see with the sun behind them. But there’s at least two.”

  “What do we do?”

  Spook flinched as another bullet ricocheted off the jagged rock. Beside her, Acid strained her neck and squinted. “They’ve got hunting rifles, look like Mauser 18s.”

  Spook nodded, unsure why she was doing so. “What does that mean?”

  “If memory serves, they hold five rounds a piece,” Acid went on. “I’ve counted eight shots so far, so they’ve got two more before they have to reload. We wait till they’ve used those and we move.” She gestured downstream at where the river disappeared around a low-hanging tree. “Push off from the rock and keep under water as much as you can. Once we get around the bend, we should get a little breathing space.”

  Spook sniffed. “But what if one guy shoots then reloads, leaving the other still loaded?”

  “Yeah, well.” Acid sighed. “I didn’t say it was a good plan. But we can’t cling to this rock forever. We don’t know what’s in these waters.”

  That got Spook’s attention. She stared at Acid, searching her face for a sign she was joking but got nothing back. Another shot pinged off the rock, sending loose gravel crumbling over their heads.

  “You’re right,” Acid spat. “We can’t wait for him to reload.”

  Before Spook could reply, Acid hauled herself up over the top of the rock and shoved her index finger in the air. “Come on, you bastards.”

  She dropped back just in time as the final bullet struck the rock a few inches from her head. “That’s the one,” she yelled. “Move.”

  Spook didn’t need telling twice. Finding purchase against the side of the rock she pushed away with all her strength, following Acid and dipping her head beneath the fast running water. The current transported them around the bend and under the cover of the dense vegetation.

  They were safe.

  For the time being, at least.

  Five

  Once safely out of sight, Acid swam over to the riverbank and hauled herself out. Exhausted, she lay back in the shade of an enormous tree that arched over her head. She had no idea what species it was. Nothing she’d ever seen before. Its large plate-like leaves were a dark bottle-green and the thick sinewy bark spiralled around itself like the veins on a weightlifter’s forearm. She closed her eyes, letting her other senses take over, enjoying the rich floral notes that drifted into her nasal passage, still stinging a little from the ammonium. Each smell was alien but exciting, taking her back to childhood and London Zoo’s tropical house. She remembered visiting with her mum. Back when things were happy and well, which in reality was a small window and would have made her around six years old, before her mother had her fall and life sank into a quagmire of shit. It was a gentle time and one that Acid had always hung onto, but now the memory had pain attached and she brushed it away.

  She propped herself up and looked over to see Spook cleaning her glasses on her shirt.

  “You okay?” Acid asked.

  “Just about. You?”

  “You know me, Spook. Hard to love. Harder to kill.” The remark got zero response from the kid.

  Tough crowd.

  Spook shoved her glasses onto her face and got to her feet. “Should we keep moving?”

  Acid paused, savouring the relative tranquillity and sliding her tongue around her lips. Fresh water. That was something, at least. She sat up and held her hand out to Spook, who obliged, straining hard to pull Acid to her feet.

  “You don’t seem too concerned that people are shooting at us,” she said.

  Acid rolled her shoulders back and looked about her. “Obviously, I’d rather those things weren’t happening. But there’s no point getting stressed. Is there?”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “Listen, sweetie,” Acid said, attempting something close to a compassionate smile. “I’ve spent the last sixteen years handling my emotions. Staying cold. Clinical. But it doesn’t mean I don’t take things seriously. Doesn’t mean I’m not worried about our current situation.”

  Spook nodded. “I’m not sure if hearing that is reassuring or not.”

  “No. Me neither.” She laughed humourlessly. “The sooner we find out who the hell is shooting at us and where the hell we are, the better. We might stand a chance of getting off this island alive.”

  She threw her gaze up the river as another loud gunshot cracked the atmosphere in two. A flock of tiny birds burst through the treetops, squawking their distaste.

  “This way,” she said, already brushing aside a leafy fern and heading into the darkness of the trees.

  “Will we be safe?” Spook asked, almost on her shoulder as they pushed deeper into the humid jungle.

  Acid didn’t turn around. “Relatively safe.”

  She knew it wasn’t the answer Spook wanted, but it was the best she had. Truth was, her heart was pounding heavily in her chest and she could sense the bats awakening in the pit of her soul. Times like this, the bats (the anthropomorphised way Acid related to the manic side of her bipolar energy) could be a huge help. But not always. Over the years, she’d created an array of coping methods to best deal with her condition, honing the frantic, chaotic energy to her advantage. Indeed, in her old life, taking huge risks, requiring little or no s
leep, and having access to wild, off-the-wall creative thinking was incredibly helpful.

  Until it wasn’t.

  The two women reached a clearing and stopped for a moment to catch their breath. The deeper they went in the jungle, the more oppressive the heat and humidity. The air here was wet and heavy and hard to grab hold of, as though at high altitude.

  Acid wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. “We need somewhere to hide out,” she mused to herself. “Find weapons of some description.”

  “Weapons?” Spook gasped. “You want to take these people on?”

  Acid turned and screwed up her nose. “What did you think we’d do?”

  “I don’t know. Find some sort of boat. Escape. Did you see the big building as you parachuted in? What do you think it is?”

  “Not somewhere I expect we’d be welcome,” Acid replied. “But as far as I could see, that’s the only man-made thing on the island. Wait. You hear that?”

  Acid closed her eyes. Another benefit when the bats were in town was her senses became super-heightened. Sometimes unbearably so. Like needles in her head. She listened. Someone, or something, moving fast through the undergrowth, brushing against bark and tendrils. She could hear panting. The sound of desperation. But more than that, she sensed fear. Could feel it in her guts. Bad energy coming through.

  “Hide,” she told Spook, gesturing at a large rubber plant whose leaves were big all the way to the ground. Big enough to hide them.

  They hurried over, ducking behind the plant as a woman appeared, glancing anxiously about her. She was an older woman, of indiscernible age. Which meant she was probably wealthy. Her caramel skin was stretched taught on her cheeks and forehead. The result of surgery rather than Botox. But it was excellent work. You wouldn’t have looked twice if it wasn’t for the pronounced sternocleidomastoid muscles and the crêpe paper skin on her neck. Her dark, short hair was cut into a pixie style, longer at the back and sides. Her black tights were laddered and ripped in many places and the grey power suit she wore was covered in dirt.

  “Help,” she whispered into the leaves. “I saw you. Please. If you can hear me. I need help. They’re trying to kill me.”

  Acid glanced at Spook and shook her head. No. Not happening. In turn, Spook did that weird thing with her mouth that made her look like a frog. Albeit a frog with the power to twist Acid’s arm.

  Bloody hell.

  She got to her feet and moved into the open. “Who are you? Quickly.”

  The woman spun round and stared at Acid, her face frozen in startled shock (though it could have been the surgery.) She flapped her mouth a few times before speaking.

  “M-My name is Grace Philips. I’m a high court judge. From Bakersfield. California.”

  Acid moved a little closer. “Why are you here?” she asked her. “Do you know who’s trying to kill you?”

  Grace gasped. “Don’t you know? This is their game. They’re sick. All of them.”

  “Who are they?” Acid grabbed her by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length, locking eyes. “Who are you talking about? What game?”

  She sobbed, falling limp in Acid’s arms. “My husband kept on telling me to be careful,” she wailed. “Said I was skating on thin ice with those people. But I never thought… I never thought…”

  Through her tears she gazed into Acid’s face and raised a hand up to her cheek. “We’re all going to die. And it’s all my fault.”

  Acid gritted her teeth. Tried again. “What do you mean? Talk to me, Grace. Explain. Properly.”

  Grace let her hand drop, her shoulders too. Acid released her grip and took a step back. Waiting.

  But the answers never came.

  A loud bang splintered through the undergrowth, followed by a low whooshing sound, followed by Grace lurching to one side and blood and brain matter splattering up Acid’s face.

  “Shit. Get down.”

  She ran for cover, dragging Spook with her into the jungle and putting distance and a labyrinth of dense trees between them and whoever had fired the fatal bullet. Over her shoulder she could hear voices, laughter. But no one was giving chase.

  Why would they?

  This was their game.

  It made sense now. These people, whoever they were, they didn’t see this as combat. It was sport for them, something to savour and enjoy. And Acid and Spook – and whoever else was unlucky enough to be in one of those parachutes – were nothing but prizes.

  Six

  The hunters may have been less than hasty in their pursuit, but that didn’t stop Acid and Spook from running as fast as they could go, for as long as possible. Which, incidentally, wasn’t that far. What with the stifling heat and the thick vegetation they had to deal with.

  Soaked with sweat, and with her leg muscles burning and pulse points throbbing, Acid slowed her pace. Up in front, through a gap in the leaves, she could see a rock formation. Caves, perhaps. She stopped by a large banana tree and waited for Spook to catch up.

  “We need to keep going,” Spook wheezed as she got closer. “They could be coming for us.”

  Acid leaned against the rough bark of the tree and narrowed her eyes into the sprawling mass of vines and fern leaves.

  “I don’t think they are,” she said. “Not with any real purpose.”

  Spook put her hands on her hips, still battling through the pain of exertion. “What does that mean?”

  Acid twisted her mouth to one side, pondering how much she should say. “I mean, the way those guys were laughing and joking back there,” she said. “They aren’t worried about us fighting back. We’re not a threat to them.”

  “Yeah, I think you’re right. But does that mean they’d come after us?”

  Acid pulled at her lip. Thinking. “No. But I think they’re toying with us. Dragging it out. We’re part of some bizarre game.” She frowned. “But maybe we can use that to our advantage. Somehow.”

  Spook shuffled her feet, toeing a small rock. “This is all my fault.”

  “In what way?”

  Spook raised her head, opening her eyes wide to fight the tears. Acid looked away. When the kid got like this, it was best to keep quiet. Let her work through whatever worries were nibbling at her without interruption. She sat at the foot of the banana tree and leaned against it. The floor was moist and soft. The tree bark springy. Comfortable almost. In front of her Spook paced back and forth with a face like a constipated hamster. Every so often she stopped, as if about to speak, before thinking better of it and carrying on pacing.

  Jesus. Spit it out, will you?

  Acid took a deep breath, working on slowing her heart rate. No point both of them being stressed. She wished she had a pair of sunglasses to hide behind. The pacing continued for another few minutes before Spook moved over to join her at the foot of the tree.

  “I’m guessing you don’t remember much about what happened before you woke up on the plane,” she said, all in one breath.

  “Yes. I do.” Acid picked up a triangular piece of bark and sliced it through the dirt. “I’d come to rescue you.”

  “Ah, I see. I figured you didn’t remember. Otherwise…” She trailed off.

  “Otherwise what? I’d have kicked your arse?”

  Spook forced a smile. “I suppose.”

  Acid pointed the bark at her. “I am pissed off, Spook. Especially after I told you to leave it alone. But that can come later. Right now we need to stick together. Work out how we survive this.”

  Spook sighed. “Yeah. Cool. It’s just, Raaz mentioned something about an island. Said I’d need good luck. So I can’t help but think if I hadn’t gone looking for her then we wouldn’t be here running for our lives on this goddamn island in the middle of an itchy, smelly jungle that is so fucking hot I can hardly take it— Oww!” She recoiled as Acid slapped her hard across the face, almost knocking her glasses from her nose. “Hey, I wasn’t being hysterical or nothing. I was just venting.”

  “I know,” Acid said, getting to h
er feet. “But I’ve been itching to do that since I found out you were alive.” She reached down and helped Spook up. “Let’s call it even, shall we?”

  She flashed Spook her best smirk. Sassy, but with the devil behind it. The kid scowled back, but eventually signalled her acquiescence with a slight giggle and nod of the head. Worked every time.

  “You said we might use something to our advantage?” Spook asked. “What do you mean?”

  “Not totally sure yet. But if they continue to underestimate us, treat this like a game they can’t lose, that’s a good thing. When that happens people lose focus, they make mistakes.”

  Spook nodded, but she didn’t look convinced. “So what happens now?”

  Acid huffed down her nose. This was going to be a hard sell. “I’d say what happens now is we try and get hold of some guns,” she replied.

  “Sounds good. How do we do that?”

  She scratched at her neck. “How do you feel about luring those guys over here?”

  “Not great. You mean use me as bait?”

  “Sort of. I was thinking some kind of ambush.”

  Spook’s shoulders sagged. “What stops them from just killing me and taking off, like they did with Grace?”

  “I had considered that. But I was thinking…”

  She stopped. Off in the distance they heard the sound of a woman screaming. Acid closed her eyes, allowing her deeper instincts to take over. She knew from experience the key to survival was to stay out of your head. Muscle memory and intuition trumped intellectualising any day of the week.

  The screaming continued. Like a banshee wail filtering through the trees. But these were screams of fear, not pain. Whoever it was, they were still alive. The timbre and volume told Acid they were getting closer. Two hundred metres away at the most. She turned to Spook. Put a hand on her shoulder.

  “This might be our chance. Are you with me?”

  Spook nodded, her face serious. “I’m with you.”

  More screaming. Coming in rapid bursts. Frantic. Desperate. Acid set off in the direction of the sound, fighting through a bed of gigantic ferns as a cloud of buzzing insects kamikazed themselves into her face. The screams had now taken a turn, morphing from desperate wails to a softer more sorrowful whine. The sound of someone realising they had no power left.