Nineteen
Moving slow and steady, Acid and Spook made it down the sloping side of the small ravine and found themselves in a dried-up riverbed that wound around the side of the island.
Acid paused, assessing the situation. “If we follow this track, it should take us to the foothills on the west side of the complex,” she muttered, speaking aloud to better align her thoughts. “We’ll stick to the trees on the far side.”
Spook glanced up the steep side of the bank. “Can we keep to the flat a little longer?”
“We’re pretty exposed here, kid. I’m not sure we should.”
“Fine.”
Taking it one step a time, and with Acid behind her, Spook made it up the far side of the ravine. The trees were denser here, the leaves thick and green, criss-crossing over each other to provide a web of cover. By following the dry river but hanging back a way, they should stay out of sight. If Acid’s calculations were correct, they were near to the west of the island, some way from the centre. Her hope was there’d be fewer hunters around.
She stood on the side of the barren riverbank, peering over the tree tops. Up on her toes she could now see the high cliff on the northern tip of the island and the grand steel and glass structure of the resort complex. It was a good way off. Her estimation was now nearer three hours before they even reached the bottom of the cliff. With Spook’s damaged ankle, more likely four.
“We’ll get closer and take shelter for a few hours,” she told Spook. “I’ll make a move at first light.”
“You’ll make a move?” Spook asked. “Don’t you mean we will?”
Acid threw up an eyebrow. “No, sweetie. I can’t have you slowing me down. You’ll be fine. We’ll find somewhere safe for you to wait it out.”
“Jesus, Acid,” Spook said. “This is so typical of you.”
Acid turned to face her, a million tiny bat fangs nibbling at her psyche. “What the hell does that mean?”
“You know what it means. Acid Vanilla: the one-woman army. The only person who can possibly get the job done. You know, it’s okay to accept help once in a while. It’s a good thing, in fact. No woman is an island.”
Acid scoffed. “And what bloody good are you going to be, hobbling along like you are?”
Spook frowned, didn’t reply. Didn’t have a leg to stand on, did she? Or at least, she only had the one. Acid sneered and marched on. She was only trying to protect the kid. Why couldn’t she damn well see that? And why did she have to make everything into a bloody therapy session?
Truth was, she had been managing her moods well lately. Sure, they were up and down (she’d never want to level out those times when she felt indestructible and super-creative) but it was good to be on more of an even keel. Even relatively speaking. Although, this recent stillness of mind had provided space for too much self-reflection. When that happened her reaction was the same as it always had been. Reach for a bottle of something strong. Drink until the bad thoughts went away. And sure, it was a Band-Aid on a knife wound, but it worked in the short term, and short term was all she could ever hope for. What she wouldn’t do for a bottle of Chivas right now.
“Did you hear that?” Spook whispered, snapping her focus back to the present. “Up ahead. Listen.”
Acid froze. Off in the distance there it was, a shrill squeal, half-way between a scream and a laugh. But it was human, she was certain. A human in distress.
“We need to help them,” Spook said, pushing past and marching on ahead.
“Ankle feeling better?” she asked, taking a step back.
Spook turned and did that face. A scowl on top of a sulk. “Please, Acid.”
“All right, but nothing changes,” she replied. “I mean it, Spook. We have to step careful. Stick to the trees. Stay quiet.”
“I’m not a complete idiot. Despite what you think.”
Acid opened her mouth but thought better of it. She watched as the young American limped away, brushing fronds of foliage angrily from her path as she went. They had only known each other for eight months, but they’d spent a lot of time together in that period. Long enough for Acid to understand she shouldn’t be too hard on the kid. She was being a prissy little bitch, but she was scared. Stress affected people in different ways. It wasn’t always turned inwards.
She joined Spook amongst a grove of banana trees that stretched up to where the track turned into a rocky incline.
“They’re on the other side of these rocks,” Spook whispered. “They sound like they’re hurt.”
Acid listened, but couldn’t hear anything. “Or they want you to think they’re hurt.”
“Geez. Not everything’s a trap, Acid,” Spook spat. “Try to trust people a little more.”
She was off again, dropping bombs and hobbling away like she knew what the hell she was talking about. Acid sneered, cracking the dry mud on her face.
“Trusting people gets you killed,” she replied, catching up with Spook as she weaved her way around the trees.
“I trusted you.”
“You shouldn’t have.”
“What a dumb thing to say.”
Acid didn’t like this, Spook getting in her face. It wasn’t the way their relationship worked. There was only room for one short-tempered bitch with a sharp tongue.
“Anyway, you’re wrong about not everything being a trap,” she replied, conscious of how much of a brat she sounded, but unable to stop herself. “It’s just a matter of timescale. That’s all. Love, marriage, work, friendship. It’s all a trap.”
Spook stopped at the bottom of the incline and slumped against a large boulder. “You really think that?”
Still going with the teenage angst, Acid shrugged. “Don’t know. Maybe.”
“Because I knew you were cynical but, shit, you really think friendship is a trap? Is that what this is all about, you treating me like this? You scared I’m going to hurt you?”
“I just want to get off this bloody island and find Caesar,” Acid spat, folding her arms. “I want to continue my mission.” She looked away, feeling Spook’s stare burning into her cheek.
“Fine.” Spook sighed. “Best keep going then.”
As if to highlight the point, another loud wail rose over the other side of the rocks. This time they both heard it.
Acid tensed. “Come on,” she rasped. “Follow me. Keep low.”
They made their way up the incline, keeping cover as much as possible, moving from rock to rock until they got to the summit. Acid grabbed Spook’s arm and pulled her down into a squat behind a row of tall ferns. From this position they could see down into the clearing ten feet below where a short, stout woman was stooped over the lifeless body of a man. The wails were hers. And to prove it she went again, crying out like an ancient banshee. She beat the man’s chest with her fist, shook him by the collar. But it was useless. Even from this distance Acid could see the large exit wound in his stomach, and his intestines pouring out like a grotesque squid trying to escape. Acid held her arm out, holding Spook back.
“We need to go to her,” Spook whispered. “She needs our help.”
“Does she?”
Acid squinted at the woman. The bats were rousing in her consciousness. Manic energy fizzing across her synapses. Something wasn’t right. Acid might not trust people, but she trusted her instincts and her heightened senses to propel her through. The bats. They hadn’t let her down yet.
From her vantage point, she watched the woman as she slowly got to her feet and brushed a strand of yellow-blonde hair from her face. The sweltering climate was on the wane now as dusk arrived, but the sweat was pouring off her. Her once-white shirt, now splattered with blood, stuck to the small of her back. Her black faded leggings were torn and dirty.
“What are we waiting for?” Spook asked, brushing Acid’s arm away. “She’s hurt. Upset.”
“Not so fast,” Acid said, not taking her eyes off the woman. “Could be a trap.”
She felt Spook’s glare even if she c
ouldn’t see it.
“You kidding me?” the kid whined. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. You’re too cynical for your own good. You see the world through this frame where everyone’s a bad guy. But that’s not the case. It really isn’t.”
“So you’re telling me there’s no bad guys in the world? Hmm, weird that, sweetie. Seeing as we’re here at the behest of a bunch of shits who want our heads hanging on the walls in their boardrooms. I’d say they were bad people, wouldn’t you?”
“What’s that got to do with us helping that poor woman?” Spook whined. “Yes, there are bad people in the world, which is why you need to help others a little more. The good ones.”
Acid wasn’t having it. She snapped her head back to Spook. “That’s what you said about the journalist chick who stole my jacket. Remind me again, how did that turn out?” Spook looked away. “That’s right. She fucked off. Ran away. And good for her. Because she didn’t trust us. Because she was savvy.”
“This is different. She’s all alone. Distraught. One of those hunters could pick her off in a second.”
Acid curled her lip, speaking through a snarl. “We haven’t got time for this.”
“Well, we need to make some time.” Spook shrugged her away and set off, the pain in her ankle clearly taking a back seat to her anger as she traversed the dusty slope.
Acid made to call after her, but stopped herself. What was the point? Trusting strangers, helping people, they were both alien concepts to her. Not only that, she knew she was in the right here. Trusting people never worked out well. If you were lucky, they only broke your heart. But in Acid’s experience, they could also get you killed. Or kill you themselves. Spook was different, of course. She was… well, Spook. Commendable, honest, lame but loyal. Annoying as hell, but kind of adorable too. Acid raised her head, watching as Spook reached the flat basin and approached the woman. Stupid kid. Too trusting by half.
Acid gritted her teeth and snarled into the sky.
“Fuck!”
She got to her feet and, moving at an angle, sliding her right foot in front of her and steadying herself with the left, hastened down the slope. She just hoped that she was wrong about this. Because if not, down there in the open there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
Twenty
Getting closer to the woman, Spook could see she was in her early forties, and out in the real world (without this blistering sun and the horrors of their situation beating on her) she would have been a good-looking woman. Today, however, an unfavourable mix of sunburn and vast amounts of crying had made her face red and puffy. Her over-bleached hair was stuck up at all angles. Dry and frizzy in the tropical heat.
“Hey,” Spook tried, speaking softly. “Are you okay?”
The woman looked up at Spook and froze, as though the fight-or-flight hormones were battling for supremacy in her system.
“Who are you?” Her accent was hard to place. Eastern European, perhaps.
“Question is, who are you?” Acid called, striding past Spook and going to the woman. She gestured to the body lying on the ground. “And who’s this?”
From her current position Spook couldn’t see the man’s face, but she was glad of that fact. Before meeting Acid she’d never even seen a dead body in real life. Even at her parents’ funerals it was closed caskets all round. It wasn’t that she was squeamish, but being so close to death always cast a harsh light on her own mortality. Spook would still rather stick her head in the sand than face things head on. She knew Acid found her habit of disassociation in vital situations annoying at best (worrying at worst), but she was unsure how to change.
The woman looked Acid up and down. “This is Seb Logan, he was my friend. They killed him. Those bastards.”
“Who killed him?”
The woman shook her head disdainfully. “I do not know their names. But they are guests of my boss. Thomas Engel.”
“Engel is your boss?” Spook asked, stepping forward and holding her arms out in a show of peace. “Can you explain?”
The woman looked down at her friend and her face screwed up into more sobs.
Acid leaned into Spook. “We can’t stand around while she mourns,” she whispered. “Look how exposed we are.”
Spook bit her tongue. “She’s upset. Give her a break.”
“You can’t stay here,” Acid offered, stepping towards the woman. “I understand you’re upset, but there’s nothing you can do for your friend now. We need to get away from this area.”
The woman hunkered back a nostril of snot. “I understand. But where? They are everywhere.”
“It’s okay,” Acid replied, looking at Spook as she spoke, throwing her an I’ll-get-you-back-for-this look. “Come with us, you’ll be safe.”
The woman forced a smile. “Thank you. What can we do?”
Acid had already grabbed her arm and was guiding her towards the edge of the jungle. “We’ll think of something,” she said, beckoning Spook to follow. “Right now, we need to find shelter. My guess is the hunt’s over for today, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t still hunters out there.”
The three women hurried over to where the open basin met the edge of the jungle, finding themselves amongst a sea of bright red plants with tiny flowers that resembled yellow stars. Spook was musing how beautiful the flora on the island was when Acid grabbed hold of her shirt and pulled her into the gloom of the rainforest.
“Get in here. Quickly.”
She gasped as the air quality went from being the freshest she’d ever encountered to something resembling the reptile house at London Zoo, heavy and wet and smelling of rotten fruit.
“What’s the plan?” she asked as they traipsed deeper, winding around thick fibrous trees, brushing vines from their faces.
Acid didn’t look at her as she spoke. “We’ll find a spot to hide out, and then I want some answers from your friend. If Engel is her boss, she might be of use to us. Good work.”
Spook gulped back a lungful of sour air, ready to tell her cynical companion how she was missing the point. That it wasn’t just about being of use. That people had worth whether they could help you or not. But she stopped herself. It wasn’t the time. Stay present, that’s what Acid tried to drum into her. When people lost focus they made mistakes.
“Stop here,” Acid called out to the woman, pointing to a circle of trees with large palm-like fronds that hung down low over the ground creating a tent-like structure. “We can rest for a while.”
“Will we be safe?” the woman asked, looking at Spook.
“Safe enough,” she replied, forcing a smile. “Acid won’t let anything happen to you.”
Acid brushed against Spook on her way past. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, sweetie,” she whispered, arching an eyebrow. “We don’t know her story yet.”
The three women moved under the cool shade, Spook sitting cross-legged facing the other two.
“My name is Spook Horowitz,” she offered, once the woman had settled herself. “And this is Acid Vanilla. We’re being hunted, like you. Do you know why you’re here?”
The woman’s eyes flitted from Spook to Acid and back. Her lips moved, as if rehearsing her words, but she didn’t speak. Spook smiled and nodded, reassuring her as best she could. Difficult when Acid was leaning over to the woman, jabbing a finger at her.
“I don’t remember seeing you on the list,” she said.
“Excuse me?” the woman blurted. “What list?”
Acid was upright, one hand on the paring knife in her belt. “The list of people who’ve been brought here. To be hunted as prey. We saw the list earlier. You weren’t on it.”
“Wait, Acid,” Spook said holding out her hand. “Are you absolutely certain?”
“I can explain,” the woman said, hanging her head. “As I say to you before. I work for Mr Engel. Used to work for him. My name is Magda. I was a cleaner and cook for him. On this island, but mainly on Mr Engel’s other island.” The way she said ‘othe
r island’ – nose scrunched up, clearly seeing things in her mind’s eye she never wanted to see again – it made sense. Her story matched Sofia’s description. Pleasure Island. Not pleasurable at all for those made to work there. Spook kept one eye on Acid. She was still fingering the knife handle, but she was listening.
“Go on, Magda,” Spook whispered. “What happened?”
Magda shook her head as a solitary tear rolled down her cheek. “My friend back there. Logan. We worked together, making sure everything was to Mr Engel’s liking. For him and his guests. I am not proud of this. We were never told exactly what happened outside the walls of the compound, but we knew. We knew, and yet we continued to work for him. What does that say about us?”
Acid seemed to relax a little, enough to let go of the knife at least. “You do what you have to. I get that.”
Magda smiled through the tears. “The money was good. And Mr Engel treated us well, even though he made it clear we should never talk about our work with anyone.”
“He threaten you?”
“Not in so many words. But then a few months ago another of Mr Engel’s staff told me she’d been speaking with a journalist. Selling information on the islands.”
“Sofia,” Spook gasped, shutting up when Acid shot her a hard stare. “Sorry. Go on.”
“A few weeks ago, I found out my friend had died. A break-in gone wrong, they said. But we all knew that wasn’t true. After this I was distraught, Logan was too. Distraught and angry. But we kept our heads down. Kept working. Then a few weeks ago this journalist reached out to us. By email at first, using an encrypted address and a false name. I was stupid. I replied to her. We struck up a conversation, but Logan and I, we were conflicted. She asked us to talk about Mr Engel, about our friend too.”
“And did you?” Spook asked, risking another look from Acid.
The woman shook her head. “I wish I had. Two days ago, Mr Engel came to our quarters himself and asked Logan and I to take a trip with him around the island. We were scared, but you don’t turn down an offer from Mr Engel. No matter what it is. He drove us in his golf cart to the south shore and told us to get out. We did as instructed, and then I saw a side of the man I’ve never witnessed before. He was enraged. Shouting that we had betrayed him. That we were fools for replying to the journalist. And that we would pay with our lives.”
The Acid Vanilla Series Page 61