Redhead

by Ian Cook

  “Thanks, Larry,” she said, still feeling bruised at Jim’s indifference and wondering what had caused his apparent change of attitude towards her.

  She walked over to Pablo. “Will you come with me, Pablo?” He picked up a carving and pointedly studied it. “I don’t think you need me,” he said.

  “Why not? What’s the matter? Of course I need you. What’s bugging you today, Pablo?”

  “Well, I suppose I don’t know what to make of you any more. One moment, you seemed quite normal. The next moment you started screaming and saying that you could see things that nobody else could see.”

  “Look! I was well and truly petrified last night. Something very strange happened during that dinner. I don’t know what it was exactly. Maybe it was to do with the old lady – or the girl – or the drumming. Maybe it’s just this place.”

  “Perhaps you shouldn’t have been drinking.”

  “Listen, I had one glass of wine, and I was not overtired. I thought someone was having some sort of horrible joke,” said Rebecca.

  “Then why was everybody else okay?”

  “How should I know? How could I know why nobody else could see what I saw?” She suddenly lost patience. “Listen. You’re supposed to be helping me – that’s what you’re paid to do. Everything was okay until last night. We were getting on fine, weren’t we? I felt we were starting to get a really good story together. So what’s changed? Have I done something to upset you, or offend you? If you simply don’t want to help me, you can go. I expect I can manage by myself.”

  He glowered at her. “Maybe you should not have come here at all. All this questioning people, being nosy. Why? It’s really none of your business.”

  Yet there was something about his sullen look that gave her the distinct feeling he was holding something back.

  “Listen, Pablo. You are supposed to be assisting me, but if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I’m really not bothered one way or the other.”

  Pablo did not reply. His sullen silence bordered on rudeness.

  Rebecca gave up. Turning her back on him, she walked over to Larry and Jim. “I’m going for a stroll,” she said, and strode off towards the coastal path. She glanced back over her shoulder towards Pablo.

  “Bloody useless creep,” she muttered, as she heard his bike start up and the noise fade into the distance.

  Now alone, her anger rapidly faded and she felt lost and betrayed. What’s going on? she thought. Why the change in Pablo? And why the sudden change in Jim? Is it my fault? Everything was going so well – it’s as if I’ve upset everyone. But surely I’m not to blame, just because I saw those hideous things last night?

  CHAPTER 33

  As she walked along the craggy clifftop, Rebecca became increasingly conscious of the strangeness of the ancient island culture that clearly still continued to exist beneath the veneer of modern civilisation. It made her feel increasingly alone and uneasy.

  Far below her, the waves broke against the rocks and seagulls circled around her. No trace remained of the previous night’s storm and the sky had cleared. The sun was now high and she found its warmth relaxing, enabling her to think clearly for the first time. She made a decision there and then that she had to do this story, whatever it cost her.

  “Hello! ¡Hola!” she called out, hoping Señor Nata or one of his family would respond, but the only reply was the piercing shrieks of the gulls.

  She rounded a promontory, cutting off all sight of Orongo, and was surprised to see a solitary statue standing on a low stone platform. This one looked a bit forlorn and was slightly tipped over. It was smaller than the other statues she had seen, and the red stone headdress, if it had ever had one, had long since disappeared. She stopped and looked around the barren landscape for any sign of life. But there was nothing.

  Wondering where to go next, she sat down on the platform under the statue and looked out over the sea. The sunlight glinting on the gentle swell had an almost hypnotic effect on her, and she was soon deeply absorbed in going over in her mind all that had happened.

  She had the distinct feeling that people were becoming unfriendly towards her. Was it really because of her hysterical reaction to the events of the night before? The receptionist, friendly enough before, now completely ignored her. Pablo, who had been charming, now seemed surly and disagreeable. Okay, he had flirted with her and she had tactfully rejected his advances, but he didn’t seem particularly upset at the time. Now, though, he seemed to be annoyed by her and to blame her for all that had happened. Even Jim, who had, till now, been so warm and lovely towards her, seemed distinctly cool. Only Larry seemed openly friendly and sympathetic.

  Reflecting on this, she suddenly became aware of a presence and, swinging round, she recognised the lone figure of Señor Nata. Where on earth could he have sprung from? Then, behind her, she noticed an entrance to a cave, semi-concealed in the rocks. She smiled at him, but he did not return her smile. He looked distinctly nervous and unsure of what to do.

  “I was looking for you. Please, could I talk to you for a moment?” she asked.

  He didn’t respond immediately, but continued looking at her, as if making up his mind. Then he nodded and beckoned her to follow him into the cave.

  The entrance was tall enough for her not to have to bend, and just wide enough for two people to go in together. Inside, although it was dark, there was a feeling of space. As her eyes became accustomed to the gloom, she quickly picked out the figures of the old lady and the two young men, sitting around a battered hurricane lamp. The light illuminated the walls, but it was clear from the deep blackness beyond that the cave continued further than she could see.

  As she took in the scene, Rebecca caught a glimpse of the young girl, barely discernible towards the back of the cave. Yet, as if startled by the appearance of Rebecca, the girl quickly turned and melted back into the darkness.

  Once in his own territory, Señor Nata appeared to relax a little and gestured towards the others, who were smiling at her. “These are my mother and my sons. My daughter is very shy,” he said, glancing towards the back of the cave. “We are very sorry you were frightened last night”.

  For the first time, Rebecca felt intensely relieved. At last, here was someone who would acknowledge that something had happened.

  “You speak English?” she asked.

  “A little. We sometimes take tourists into our home. Many Americans come.”

  “Señor Nata, can I ask you what happened last night? I know I saw those things, but nobody else seemed to see them.”

  Señor Nata didn’t hesitate. “We saw them also.” He went to the side of the cave and came back with a camp chair, which he placed near the lamp. He patted the chair, inviting her to sit down, and looked at the old lady.

  “Only my mother used to see things. She is an ivi-atua. She can communicate with the aku-aku – the spirits.” He waited a moment, before continuing. “She was the only one in the family. But now we can all see.” The old lady smiled and drew her shawl around her shoulders.

  “But how was it that I could see them?” Rebecca asked. “I cannot tell you,” replied Señor Nata. “But see, you, too, have red hair like us. Maybe that is why – it is a sign. But it was really you that they wanted to communicate with. Maybe you are special to them.”

  “Why would I be special?” asked Rebecca, worried.

  “I do not know,” said Señor Nata. “But the spirits seemed anxious to meet you.”

  “But I don’t understand. Why me? I’ve only just arrived here.”

  “Perhaps they are trying to warn you,” said Señor Nata. There was fear in his eyes. “Something is happening. Something foul. We feel it.”

  Rebecca chilled inside and tried to pull herself together. “How long have you been able to see these things?”

  “Only from one year ago. That’s when it started. But that was also the time when the murders started.” The family all nodded. “The wonderful thing is that our powers of vision
are getting stronger all the time. The moai kava-kava is our ancestor, you know. This is why we have the carving. Like you, we could all see him, all of us.”

  Rebecca noticed the mother was clutching the moai kava-kava close to her body.

  Then Señor Nata frowned. “But this man with the red feathers is quite new. We have not seen him before.”

  “Have you ever seen anyone like that before?” asked Rebecca.

  Señor Nata shook his head. “No, never. Yet we believe that, perhaps, he is also one of ours.”

  One of his sons, who seemed to be the eldest, was becoming restless and agitated. “But this is not good for us,” he said. “It is very dangerous. This is why we are hated. The others know we see things. They think the spirits help us.” He looked angry. “People know we are descended from the long-ears. Our hair is red and we look different to the short-ears. For many centuries they have not liked us. They remember we used to rule this island. They know we were the powerful ones who built the moai.”

  The father looked at his son with patient understanding and spoke quietly. “Once, this island was a paradise. It was covered in trees.” His look darkened. “First the Europeans arrived and brought terrible diseases with them. Then the short-ears began to kill us. They still blame us for everything. It is because they know we can see spirits. That is why they are killing us now…”

  He suddenly fell silent, and Rebecca saw his face change to an expression of pure fear. As she followed his gaze, she too started in horror as, silhouetted against the entrance to the cave, she caught sight of the huge, beaked head of a bird.

  She found it hard to believe what she was seeing. The gigantic, human sized head, with its long and evil-looking curved beak, would not have been out of place in some carnival fantasy. But it seemed totally out of place here on this sunny morning.

  Everybody fell silent as the outsized head turned slowly towards them, peering into the cave with its yellow, unblinking eyes.

  The only sound in the cave was the defiant chanting of the old lady, who seemed utterly oblivious to the menacing bird. She was holding out the moai kava-kava in front of her and staring at it. The sound of her voice echoed around the walls of the cave with increased intensity, reverberating in Rebecca’s brain.

  Yet as she watched, transfixed, a second bird’s head appeared on the opposite side of the entrance, rapidly followed by two more. She looked towards Señor Nata for reassurance, but felt a surge of panic as she saw the expression of sheer terror on his face and on those of his sons. They seemed to shrink back into the cave. Only the old lady seemed calm and accepting, as she continued to chant.

  The giant bird stepped into the cave. It seemed to have the body of a man, a very well-built man. A man who was naked apart from a white loincloth. His hairless body and rippling muscles gleamed in the dim light.

  Silently, he surveyed the scene in the cave. Then, half turning, he beckoned the others to follow. As he came into the darkness, eight more bird-men appeared from the entrance to join him. For a moment, they stood there, menacingly.

  There was no chance for the family to escape. The bird-men went for the men first, easily overpowering them and pinning their arms behind their backs. Señor Nata’s mother stopped chanting and clasped the moai kava-kava figure to her chest. An iron grip on her elbow forced her up and dragged her towards the entrance. When two bird-men edged towards Rebecca, half terrified, half furious, she sprang up and faced them.

  “Don’t you dare come near me!”

  As she struggled violently, it took both bird-men to get her under control. Yet she, too, was forced to follow the others, screaming and carried with her feet off the ground.

  “Get your bloody hands off me! Let me go!” she yelled, kicking at her captors’ legs.

  It made no difference. The huge bird-men forced their captives out of the cave and into the brilliant sunshine. Only the young girl had escaped them. Somehow, she had disappeared completely into the fathomless depths of the cave.

  Kicking and struggling still, the group was dragged along the path, until they reached the front of the solitary stone monument.

  The leader of the bird-men stepped forward, his eyes staring coldly at his prisoners. His head was larger and more resplendent than the others. His orange beak was curled cruelly like that of an eagle, and his rich brown feathers ruffled in the breeze. Now the captives all fell silent, Rebecca staring helplessly at the captors in disbelief.

  The leader of the bird-men moved first. Stepping forward, he grabbed the carving from the old lady. The bizarre figure studied the carving, before placing it carefully to one side on a rock. His head swivelled around backwards, the body barely moving, and he nodded to the bird-men behind him.

  Two of them instantly tightened their grip on Señor Nata’s arms, the remaining bird-men surrounding the others and hemming them in. Señor Nata’s face was rigid with fear. As they locked their arms under his armpits, the bird-men dragged him to the statue and lifted him on to the flat, stone platform underneath it. Panic-stricken, he tried to struggle free, but the bird-men easily pinioned him down.

  For the first time, Rebecca felt their fate was inevitable. There seemed no way out of this. Yet in her mind, she couldn’t help thinking, this is like some ancient Inca sacrifice – with the chief bird-man as the priest.

  She was now starting to shake with terror, unable to control herself. At last she found the voice to scream. “Oh, my God! Jim – Larry – help, help. Help me! Help us!”

  The priest reached down and tore Señor Nata’s shirt open with both hands. Rebecca could see that his bare chest was covered in red hair. The priest held his hand out as a bird-man passed him a long knife. The blade was curved and caught the light as he raised it up to the sun with both hands, and the beak opened, seeming to utter a silent prayer. The priest then plunged the knife down and deep into Señor Nata’s chest.

  Rebecca could not look. Closing her eyes, she turned her head away. There was a long, unearthly shriek followed by wails and the sounds of sobbing. When she opened her eyes again, she began to vomit uncontrollably. The priest was holding up the heart of Señor Nata. It was still pumping blood.

  CHAPTER 34

  The four bird-men closed in on Rebecca and pounced simultaneously. She lashed out at them with almost super-human force, but they were well-built and completely lifted her off the ground. She writhed desperately as they carried her to the moai. Heaving her on to the stone platform, they pinned her down by her shoulders and legs. She tried to scream, but, as if in a nightmare, no sound came.

  The priest-figure moved quickly, and with one movement ripped her blouse open to the waist. Her mind froze in dread and revulsion. This is not happening to me. I can’t die like this. For nothing.

  The bird-eyes of the priest bored into her with sadistic hostility. “Now the girl,” he rasped, and held his hand out for the knife, still covered in blood.

  Rebecca started to sob. “Stop this! I haven’t done anything! I’m just a writer. People are looking for me. They’re not far away.” Again, she tried to shout for help, yet she did not recognise her own weak voice, strangled and contorted by fear.

  The priest, oblivious to her pleas, started to raise his arm again, more slowly this time, as if he were savouring a great pleasure.

  A sudden commotion behind him made him hesitate and then whip round. The eldest son had managed to escape from the group. He dived towards the carved figure on the rock, grabbed it and shook it violently. “¡Venga! ¡Venga!” he shouted.

  One of the bird-men tore the carving from his hands and threw it along the path, before bundling him back with the others. Two bird-men held him there, pinning his hands behind his back.

  Angrily, the priest turned back to Rebecca and swiftly raised the knife to strike again. For a second he closed his eyes. But, as he paused, a cold, hard, bony hand curled itself, like a handcuff, around his wrist. The priest swung around, his eyes glinting with fury. It was the moai kava-kava man, who now
stared at him, his teeth bared in the same repulsive grin.

  Rebecca, demented with fear, couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Though wizened and emaciated, the living corpse seemed to have an unearthly strength. Forcing the priest’s arm down with a final wrench, he smashed the priest’s hand on to the stone platform. The huge knife clattered to the ground.

  The rest of the bird-men froze for a second, before turning on their heels and making for the rocks as fast as they could. There, they simply disappeared.

  The moai kava-kava man, still grinning hideously, slowly released his iron grasp on the priest’s wrist and stood back. His bony face twisted into a monstrous grimace.

  The priest glared down at Rebecca and across to the huddled group of victims, who were still too terrified to budge. Then he turned again to look at the moai kava-kava man, before walking away and breaking into a run as he, too, made for the rocks and disappeared.

  Rebecca found herself lying there on the stone slab as if paralysed, staring at her unlikely saviour. Now expressionless, the moai kava-kava man turned away and walked stiffly towards the cave entrance. There, he stopped and looked over his shoulder. The face broke into a revolting, deathly smile. Then, abruptly, he vanished into the cave.

  Rebecca, still half-frozen with fear, weakly tried to heave herself up from the stone slab. Her macabre rescuer had disappeared before she could even utter any thanks. Turning around, to her sheer horror, she caught sight of Señor Nata’s mutilated corpse. The blood seemed to rush back to her weakened limbs, and she started to scream at the top of her voice. And she kept on screaming.

  CHAPTER 35

  Along the coast, Larry and Jim were absorbed in carefully brushing down a petroglyph on a wall inside one of the stone houses.

  Larry took out a magnifying glass from his linen jacket to study it more closely, while Jim stood back and admired it with mounting excitement.