The Acid Vanilla Series

by Matthew Hattersley

  He flailed around in a final death throe, desperately trying to get her off of him. But Acid tightened her grip, shifting her weight onto his upper back and shoving his whole head into the plant’s greedy stench pit. There was a loud gurgling sound. A guttural groan. Then nothing.

  Acid stayed on him a while longer, before slowly relaxing her grip and getting to her feet. The look and smile she emerged with sent goose bumps cascading down Spook’s arms.

  “See. I told you I’d handle them.”

  Spook brushed herself down and nodded at the man, face first in the pitcher plant. “What a way to go.”

  “Tell me about it. I remember Davros drowning a mark in one of the chemical toilets at Glastonbury. On the final day too, if I remember correctly. Horrible. But that can’t have been far off.”

  Acid prowled over to the fallen friend. Careful of the stream of blood still gushing from his throat, she removed his belt and fastened it over her own. She wiped the paring knife on his shirt and slipped it into a leather sheath hanging from the belt.

  “Does it suit me?” she asked.

  “Beautiful,” Spook replied, feeling her cheeks burn. “What now?”

  Acid picked up the crossbow and eyed it lustfully. “Well, that’s easy,” she purred, her eyes shining with intensity. “Now we hunt.”

  Eleven

  The blistering sun beat down on the two women as they trudged onwards through the sticky rainforest alive with millions of tiny bugs and stinging insects. Eventually they found themselves at a large clearing, revealing an idyllic scene that wouldn’t have been out of place on an expensive shampoo advert. A small waterfall flowed down a series of layered rocks that looked almost man-made, to collect in a small but incredibly inviting splash pool. The perfect environment for a cornucopia of exotic plants to thrive. Flurries of exotic orchids the colour of raw meat stood out amongst sprawling masses of dazzling purple tendrils. Blood-red flowers the shape of lobster claws hung down beside vermillion gourds and neon yellow flowers. Every extreme of the colour spectrum was here. And the smells. A sweet and heady mix of deep and mysterious scents filled Acid’s soul with a renewed life force. She couldn’t have pointed them out, but she was certain there were coffee plants and cacao trees nearby.

  “Woah,” Spook cooed beside her, and for once Acid couldn’t help but share the sentiment.

  “Yes. Pretty special.”

  “It’s amazing. Like something from the movies. Shame we can’t stay here a while.”

  Acid looked at her. Threw up an eyebrow. “Who says we can’t?”

  “Umm, not sure if you remember, but there’s a bunch of billionaire trophy hunters trying to kill us.”

  She placed the crossbow down. “Five minutes won’t hurt.”

  “Acid, please. I don’t think we should.”

  But Acid was already heading for the inviting waters of the splash pool, and scooping up handfuls of the refreshing H2O that burnt her parched throat but instantly revived her.

  “You need to drink, Spook,” she called over. “We’re both dehydrated.”

  Spook shuffled closer. “We don’t have time for this. Hunters could find us any second.”

  Acid sat back, listening to the gentle sound of the waterfall as it trickled over the rocks and into the pool below. “Don’t call them that – hunters. Makes what they’re doing sound normal. And yes I know coming from me that’s rather hypocritical but there you go.”

  “What should I call them?”

  Acid considered the question. “Dead pricks walking.” She nodded at the crossbow. “It’s going to be fine. Don’t worry. So come here, will you? You’ve got to be bloody thirsty.”

  Spook hunched her shoulders and knelt beside Acid before shoving her entire head into the clear water.

  Acid laughed as she came up for air. “Quite the technique you’ve got there.”

  Spook looked over, wet hair covering the top half of her face. She grinned childishly and they both laughed some more. A moment of relative calm amongst the dark chaos.

  Acid leaned back, enjoying the pleasing chill of the water vapour as it bounced off the rocks onto her skin. The last few days had left her frazzled. The last few months, if she was really honest. Her muscles ached and her nerve endings throbbed with brittle energy. Tiny bat fangs nibbling at her psychology. Acid Vanilla still talked a good talk – tried to at least, especially in front of the kid – but lately she’d noticed her resolve slipping. Not that she’d gone soft. She was still raging at the world, and a mighty force to be reckoned with. But once she’d been the best. The most feared assassin in the business. Now, every day she spent in the civilian world she felt her mind and body growing weaker. So despite the desperateness of the situation, it was important to take a time-out. To reset and refocus. Remember who she was. Who she could be. And sure, a dingy bar with a bottle of whisky for company, and something loud and snotty on the juke box, would have been her first choice for a therapeutic escape. But when in Rome…

  She glanced at Spook who was sitting on the edge of the pool, face towards the sun.

  “See?” Acid said. “Much needed.”

  Spook smiled through a shiver. “I guess. I don’t think we should stay here too long, though.”

  “Yes, yes.” Acid squinted into the scorching sun peeking over the tops of the trees. “Excellent work, by the way, distracting Dumb and Dumber back there.”

  “No problem.”

  Her tone was nonchalant, but it was clear she was pleased with herself. Acid’s resolve may have softened over the last six months (and she blamed Spook in part for that), but in return she’d toughened the kid up. Timid nerd to slightly less timid nerd. Still, it was something. Plus, when Spook wasn’t getting them caught up in a lethal game of cat and mouse, she was good to have around.

  “What do you think happened to Sofia?” Acid asked. “We scare her off?”

  “You did, maybe. Her whole demeanour changed when she found out who you were. What you were.”

  “I noticed that, as well. Poor girl seemed rather perturbed.”

  Spook snorted. “Oh, you noticed, did you? I bet.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. Just, I saw how you were looking at her. What was it, some kind of self-love fantasy?”

  “Excuse me?” Acid sat upright.

  “Well, you obviously were attracted to her. Thought maybe because you look alike.”

  “Oh my god,” Acid shrilled. “Are you jealous, Spook?”

  “No. I think it’s odd, that’s all.”

  Acid smiled to herself. “Well, don’t worry. I’m not planning on running off with her. Besides, she’s probably dead by now. Stuffed and mounted on some banker’s wall.”

  “Acid! You know I hate it when you talk like that.”

  Acid got to her feet and picked up the crossbow. “Gallows humour, sweetie. You know how it is. Gets one through the dark times.”

  Spook turned away. “She’ll be okay. She seemed pretty tough.”

  “That’s what I meant to say,” Acid replied, aiming the crossbow at a brightly coloured parrot that was sitting in a nearby tree. “Smart too. Although not enough to realise we’re her best chance of getting off this island alive, but still.”

  “Do you think she’s right?” Spook asked. “About there being a reason we’re all here on this island?”

  “A reason other than bored, psychopathic billionaires wanting to blow our brains out?”

  “But why us specifically? The woman we met, the judge, before she died she said something about it being her fault. And Sofia was clearly brought here to shut her up. Is it all linked somehow?”

  Acid leaned back, the sun’s rays like hot hands on her face. “I have been wondering the same. But why me and you? If Caesar is behind it, which he seems to be, why send us here? Why not just get it over and done with? Cleanly. I know he’s getting paid well, but the more I think about it, I don’t think that’s enough.”

  “But th
is way we suffer before we die.”

  Acid shook her head. “He could have made us suffer more than this if he kept us captive. No. I don’t get it. I’ve killed five of his best operatives in the last year, not to mention the damage done to his reputation after the whole Cerberix disaster.”

  “Maybe that’s it. He needs money,” Spook offered. “This Engel guy must have paid him a fortune to bring us here.”

  Acid scrunched up her face. “There’s something else. If everyone on this island is here for a reason, then I want to know why.”

  “This whole set-up is so scary-weird,” Spook mused. “Hunting human beings. Murder as sport. It’s the sort of thing you imagine rich white men doing, but never really believe it would happen.”

  Acid swung the crossbow over her shoulder. “Well, you know what they say, doll. If you can imagine it, no matter how sick and twisted it is, somebody somewhere is already doing it.” She helped Spook to her feet, ready to give examples, when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. She stopped dead.

  “What is it?” gasped Spook.

  Acid held up her hand for quiet, her already heightened senses in overdrive. She scanned the trees, certain she’d seen movement just now, but it was more than that. A strange feeling in her abdomen told her someone was watching them.

  “Don’t move,” she whispered.

  Putting herself between Spook and the trees, she heaved the crossbow to her shoulder.

  “Who’s there?” she shouted.

  Nothing.

  “Come out, you fucking coward.”

  Still nothing.

  She gulped down a deep breath, consciously allowing her awareness to spread, shifting into peripheral vision. Her nerve endings itched with manic energy. Her muscles were taut, ready to move when required.

  “What are you doing?” Spook whispered, as Acid padded over to the edge of the clearing. With one eye down the crossbow sight, she traced a wide arc, her finger firm on the trigger.

  “I know you’re there,” she snarled at a large banana tree, its plentiful green fruit hanging down at eye level. “What are you waiting for?”

  She remained static, ears pricked for movement. But except for the white noise drone of a thousand chirping insects, the jungle was calm. Slow, cautious, she advanced into the trees, moving all the way around the perimeter of the banana tree until she was back where she’d started. No one in sight. She relaxed her aim, about to tell Spook she’d been mistaken, when she heard a twig snap.

  Got ya!

  In a flash Acid was in kill mode, her vision zooming from macro to micro. She spun around, swerving out of the way of a tall figure as they emerged from the gloom and stumbled forward. Homing in on the target, she aimed the crossbow.

  “Wait,” Spook yelled.

  “Wait,” the target yelled – now identifiable as a man in his early twenties. “Please. I’m on your side.”

  She held her ground. Her finger quivered on the trigger. The bats screamed in her head.

  Kill him.

  Destroy.

  “Acid, please,” Spook tried again. “Look at him. He’s not one of them.”

  She kept the crossbow raised as she snorted back a long deliberate breath, stepping away from the edge mentally if not physically. She assessed the situation, taking in the man’s pleading eyes. Pure white globes shining out from his dark skin wet with perspiration. No danger here, her guts told her. But she’d been wrong before.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “M-My name’s Will. Will Foster,” the man gasped. “I’m an activist. Don’t shoot. I swear I’m on your side.”

  “I don’t have a side,” Acid spat. “What sort of activist?”

  “Political corruption. Big Pharma. All sorts of righteous shit. You name it,” he splurged. “I’m one of the Nameless Greys. The hacker group. We’re the good guys. I swear it.”

  Acid shot Spook a look.

  “I’ve heard of the Nameless Greys,” she said, nodding emphatically. “They’re awesome.”

  Acid lowered the crossbow a touch as her sharp tunnel vision began to fade. Looking at this weedy character, with his high-top fade haircut and ironic bow tie, it was hard to think of him as anything but a harmless computer geek.

  “What were you doing watching us?” Acid asked him, not ready to let him off the hook so easy.

  “I was wary. I’ve been running for my life the past twenty-four hours. I wanted to make double-sure it was you.”

  “You know us?”

  Will held his hands up. “Can I get up? I’ll explain everything.”

  She lowered the crossbow finally. Gestured for him to stand.

  “Thanks,” Will gasped, getting to his feet.

  Upright, he was well over six-foot tall but with no real muscle mass to speak of, as though a regular-shaped person had been stretched. Along with the bow tie, he wore a button-down short-sleeve shirt that had once been white. Dark blue chino shorts and a pair of old Nikes completed the look.

  He brushed himself down and looked sheepishly at her. “You’re the guys who took down Cerberix, right?” he said. “Acid Vanilla and Spook Horowitz.”

  “That’s right,” Spook exclaimed, before catching Acid’s eye and backing off.

  “How did you know that?” Acid asked.

  Will held his arms out. “Like I said, I’m a hacker. I live for that sort of shit. Saw the keynote live. The video you made. Man, that was fire. We all knew those cats were dubious motherfuckers.”

  “Okay, granted,” Acid replied, as beside her Spook bristled with silent pride. “But that doesn’t explain how you knew we were on the island.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Will went on. “But I can explain. I found something yesterday that blew my mind. If you come with me, I’ll show you.”

  She tensed. A glance at Spook didn’t help. Her just nodding and smiling like an eager puppy. As if to say, let’s go.

  “How can we trust you?” Acid asked. “You could be part of this sick game.”

  “Seriously?” Will asked, waving a limp hand down his body. “You think I look a part of this macho hunter bullshit?”

  “No. Course not,” Spook butted in. “We can trust him, Acid. I’m sure of it.”

  Acid let out a loud sigh, as much to signal her scepticism as anything. “Fine,” she told Will, holding the crossbow at waist height. “You lead, but the second I see anything I don’t like…”

  “Got it,” Will told her, raising his arms. “But I swear, I’m on your side. Now follow me. This is something you’re going to want to see.”

  Twelve

  Sofia Swann shrieked as a bullet zipped past her ear and splintered the trunk of a young fig tree a few feet in front of her. Only now did she hear the crack of gunfire echo through the trees. So, it was true what people said, you never hear the bullet that kills you. Pushing the thought away, Sofia swerved into another turn, scrambling through the dense vegetation as fast as her aching limbs would carry her. A cursory glance over her shoulder told her she couldn’t let up. The old bastard was sprightly, despite his wizened appearance, and with Sofia now weak with hunger, he was gaining on her. Another bullet whipped past as she ducked under a trailing vine. He was getting closer, but still firing wide. If Sofia had been a glass-half-full kind of gal she might have felt herself lucky her pursuer’s aim was so poor. As it was, she could only curse herself and Engel and every other one of these evil pricks for her being here.

  Around the next bend and the trees opened out to reveal the crumbling walls of some old building. An ancient temple, perhaps. The footprint of the building was about twenty square metres, with the largest remaining wall disappearing beneath a low-hanging eucalyptus tree. There was plenty of rubble lying around, so Sofia grabbed up a decent-sized rock, felt the weight of it in her hand. Moving swiftly but silently, she swung around the side of the ruined wall and knelt beside it. It was a risk, hiding rather than running, but she felt sick with fatigue and it was only a matter of time
before she was caught. She crouched further, pressing her body against the ruined wall and secluding herself from the path. With any luck the old man would pass straight by, but she kept the rock in her hand all the same. Kept her eyes fixed on the path. Every pulse point in her body throbbed.

  She waited, gasping silently for air but not daring to move. Not for the first time in the last few hours she cursed herself for being so dumb, running off on her own like that.

  Who the hell did she think she was?

  She might have fancied herself as a tough cookie but she was fast realising it was all relative. City girls weren’t cut out for the jungle. Especially when it was full of damn psychopaths. Besides, there was safety in numbers. Three heads were better than one and all that shit.

  Yet at the time it had been a no-brainer for the wily New Yorker. There was just something not right about those two chicks, with their weird-ass names and even weirder personalities. Plus one of them was an assassin, for Christ’s sake. She’d killed people. Plenty of people.

  How could she have trusted someone like that?

  But as Sofia’s time on the island had ticked away, her predicament had become more and more desperate. She was alone, hungry, despondent, terrified. To the point where she was now starting to reason that a trained killer might be the exact sort of person to help her through this. Well tough shit, right? She’d made her own bed. Thinking that way was the road to nowhere good. Sofia had to accept it, she was on her own and no one was coming to save her.

  Staying low beside the cold surface of the ruins, her thoughts turned to Mike, her heart firing out over oceans and continents.

  What was he doing right now?

  Worrying himself sick, most likely. Poor guy. She could hear his voice, telling her to drop the article, as more damning and grotesque allegations came to light. They’d fought over it. Many times over the last few months. Mike saying she was playing with fire, that it was a job for the FBI, not a journalist. But Sofia being the hot-headed person she was, had framed his protestations as a lack of belief in her. Only now she saw the truth. He was scared. Worried for the safety of someone he loved. Someone he was due to marry in a month’s time.