The Girl on Shattered Rock: A gripping suspense thriller

by Matt Hilton

  The only sound in reply was a sharp crack!

  It could have been the sound of a loose stone kicked against a boulder, or a snapping tree limb, or even the hard clap of a hand, but it was none of those. They all stumbled together to a halt, listening, breathless and terrified.

  Finally it was Leah who said what they all thought.

  ‘That was a gun shot.’

  ‘Oh God!’ Becks moaned. ‘What now?’

  The three younger girls held onto each other. They had been racing directly to the source of the gunshot. Now they looked as if they were about to split up and flee to random corners of the island.

  ‘We have to go on,’ Leah shouted. ‘We don’t know who has that gun, but it might be rescuers. They probably fired off a shot from the beach to summons us back.’

  The way in which Becks eyed her, she obviously sounded as stupid as the words felt hopeless to her.

  26

  ‘You flaming wee eejit!’

  The stranger grabbed Harry by his jacket and shook him so hard that his glasses fell off and rattled on the pebbles. At that moment Harry didn’t need his specs; his eyes were screwed tight in anticipation of the next shot. His ears rang, pulsating in waves of white noise and the thrum of his pulse. He waited for the agony to set in, because he was positive he had been shot. It only surprised him that he still retained any sense because hit point blank he thought death would be instantaneous.

  ‘Get up!’ The stranger shook him again, and this time Harry croaked a response. ‘I said get up! Get over there with yer pals.’

  Tentative, Harry opened one eye. The stranger loomed over him, a silhouette against the morning sky. Harry was shaken a third time. Both eyes snapped wide, and as much in surprise that he was still alive. He shuddered, and felt a loosening of his bladder. Relief. The stranger wasn’t trying to kill him, only move him. He made it to his hands and knees, and saw where the shot had blasted the ground a few inches from his head. His fingers went to his ear, his cheek, the closely shaven hair on his skull. Tiny shards of stone chips adhered to his flesh, but he couldn’t find any blood. He studied his fingers; still unsure if any ricochets or flying pellets had hit him. His fingers were a blur, and he realised his glasses had fallen off. He scrabbled around in the pebbles for them.

  ‘Here. Put them on, for God’s sake.’

  His glasses were pushed into his hand, and he groped them up and on. The action felt uncoordinated, his finger shaking, and it took a few tries before he had the glasses settled again. Still on all fours he craned to look over his shoulder at the stranger. The guy still clutched his shotgun, but took more care about where he pointed it.

  ‘You almost shot me!’ A three-year-old girl voiced Harry’s announcement.

  ‘That was yer own stupid fault, you wee eejit. What the hell were you thinking grabbing for a loaded gun like that?’

  ‘What were you doing pointing at me in the first place?’ His voice was still a few octaves too high, but he was beginning to regain a little courage now he understood that he wasn’t about to be shot to death. Not that he could be certain, but it was apparent that discharging the gun had never been the man’s intention. He turned so he was on his backside, feet splayed in front of him. He peered up at the man, then quickly for Ben and Jenna. They were huddled ten feet away, holding on to each other for support. The sound of gunfire had curtailed any race for freedom. Now they stared expectantly at the stranger, ready to obey his every command.

  Now he had a better look at the stranger, Harry saw the man was as shaken by the close call when his gun had accidently discharged. His features were grey and his gaze slightly hazed out. The man looked down at him again, shook his head — maybe trying to find lucidity — and his face morphed from shock back to anger. Colour rushed in to paint his weathered cheeks and forehead in broad strokes. ‘I could’a hurt you! What were you flamin’ thinking? Jesus…if that gun had been a few inches closer…’

  ‘I…wasn’t thinking,’ Harry croaked, ‘I thought you were gonna shoot me. You were threatening me…what did you expect me to do?’

  The man swore under his breath, then turned away, and Harry wasn’t sure if he was searching for someone else or if he was seeking confirmation of Harry’s stupidity in the rock face behind him. Instantly the man swung back and pointed a trembling finger at Harry. He was about to berate him again. But the words didn’t come. Instead the man rubbed forcefully at his mouth. He closed his eyes, threw back his head and emitted a shuddering sigh.

  When next he looked down at Harry, he’d got a grip on his emotions. ‘I could’a killed you, lad. One stupid wee mistake…Christ’s sake! That would’a been one hell of a tragedy. Now come on, get yerself up and join yer friends.’

  ‘What are you going to do to us?’ Harry wasn’t confident it would be anything good.

  ‘What d’you think I’m going to do?’ The man shook his head. ‘For God’s sake, I’m no’ going to hurt you. What do you think I am?’

  Ben showed some of the defiance he had to Harry earlier. ‘A bloody nutcase with a gun?’

  ‘Don’t, Ben,’ Jenna squeaked, ‘don’t anger him again.’

  A smile tugged at the stranger’s lips. ‘You can relax, lass. Your lad’s got a good right to think that. I suppose I did come on a wee bit strong.’

  ‘You can say that again,’ said Harry. ‘Who the bloody hell are you?’

  ‘That’s what I want to ken from you lot.’ The man made a brief perusal of the campsite, taking in the number of deconstructed tents, and the kayaks drawn up above the tide. ‘How many others are here?’

  ‘Why do you want to know?’ Ben challenged. Then, coming to a conclusion that numbers were in their favour, he added, ‘There are loads of us and they’ll be back any minute.’

  The man snorted at the ill-veiled threat. ‘Aye, I thought as much. You’re the same lot who’ve been sneaking here afore and having parties.’

  ‘We…we haven’t been here before,’ Harry said.

  ‘Maybe you three haven’t, but this isn’t the first time Cooper and his pals have stayed over night. First flaming time I’ve been able to catch any of you red-handed though. Starting bloody fires and leaving your rubbish lying all over the place!’

  It was doubtful that Cooper and his team would be responsible for leaving a mess behind, they were conscious and respectful of the environment, but Harry wasn’t about to argue. He didn’t want to make the guy angry again now he’d more or less relaxed.

  ‘We were just cleaning up our mess, and we were going to take it with us. Didn’t you see?’ To be honest, Harry hadn’t even thought about gathering up the leftovers from last night’s party; he was too busy with trying to dismantle the camp almost single-handed. His latter question gave him a moment’s pause. There was no sign of a boat, so how had the guy arrived on the island without them spotting him? ‘Ehm, where exactly did you come from, anyway?’

  The man flapped a hand distractedly towards the cliffs. ‘I’m moored at another cove over that way.’

  To gain access to the beach they were on the man must have taken one of two routes. He could have waded around the headland, which was unlikely as his boots and jeans were dry, or he’d come over the top and down the same steps the group had used to go inland. Harry eyed him with a hint of suspicion. How long had the man been on the island? He didn’t voice the question, because there was still a cartridge in the shotgun’s second barrel.

  Without prompting, the man offered an explanation of sorts. ‘You don’t think I was going to sail right in here, do you? I’ve been trying to catch Cooper and the rest of you red-handed for ages, so I came in from the north on the other side of the cliffs.’ He thumbed towards the steps. ‘Yous lot were too busy arguing to notice me coming down yon stairs.’

  Ben moved forward a pace, but was dragged to a halt by Jenna’s grasp on his sleeve. The man raised his eyebrows at the boy.

  ‘Do you own this island or something?’ Ben asked.

  ‘What
do you think, son? D’you think I’d be here to chase you off if it weren’t my business to?’

  That elicited a shrug from Ben, and prompted Harry. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I own Shattered Rock,’ the man announced. ‘The island is private property, mine, and yous lot are trespassing.’

  ‘I didn’t think there was a trespass law in Scotland,’ Harry said.

  ‘Doesn’t give anyone a right to go traipsing all over somebody else’s private land,’ the man responded. ‘Or if they do they should damn well respect the bloody place.’

  ‘We were gonna leave it as we found it,’ Harry assured him.

  ‘So you say, lad. But I’m betting that wouldn’t’a been the case if I hadn’t caught you here. Not the first time I’ve had to come over and pick up other people’s shite.’ The man snorted. ‘And that’s another thing: literally. Where the bloody hell have you been taking yer toilet breaks? I’d best not find any nasty little piles in those bushes or I swear to God I’ll make you pick them up and take them hame with you.’

  Harry grimaced. He had no idea where the others had toileted, but he’d been conscientious enough to bury his. ‘We’ll leave the place spotless,’ he promised.

  ‘Aye. See that you do.’ The man peered up at the cliffs. ‘So where’s Cooper, anyhow?’

  Harry exchanged a glance with both his friends. ‘Missing.’

  ‘Missing? What do you mean?’

  Harry pursed his lips at the man.

  ‘You mean he’s got himself lost on the bloody island?’

  ‘He walked Leah back to her cabin last night and hasn’t been seen since,’ Harry explained. ‘The others are out searching for him now. We were hurrying to pack up the camp in case he needs help and we need to leave quickly.’

  The man looked disturbed, and he didn’t respond for a long time. His gaze went to the top of the cliff as if Cooper would make an imminent reappearance. Slowly he lowered his head and peered directly into Harry’s eyes. ‘You said there’s someone called Leah staying at my cabin? You’re positive about that, son?’

  ‘Yeah, of course. Leah Dean. She’s a famous author…’

  ‘Bloody hell!’

  The man’s reaction was unexpected. He grabbed at his jacket, pulling up the tail to yank free a small walkie-talkie radio from his belt. Before he could speak into it though, Harry stopped him. ‘What’s wrong?’

  The man held up the shotgun, not aiming it, but as a barrier to silence him. ‘Langston?’ He almost shouted into the radio. ‘Come in. D’you hear me?’

  There was a long drawn out pause before he received a reply. Through it, Harry, Ben and Jenna again exchanged glances, this time of confusion.

  ‘Go ahead, McBride.’ The man’s voice was southern English.

  ‘You’d better get yerself on over here.’ He eyed the youngsters with an expression Harry couldn’t fathom, but it sent an uneasy shudder through his body. ‘I’ve got some bairns with me who know about your lass being here.’

  ‘Roger. I’m on my way!’ Even through the crackle of poor reception, the man’s urgency was unmistakable. ‘Don’t let them leave until I speak with them, McBride.’

  McBride pushed away the radio, again clipping it to his belt. He settled the shotgun in both hands. When he spoke his voice was gravelly. ‘Yous lot had better sit yerselves down.’

  ‘Why?’ Harry demanded. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Sit down.’ McBride was brusque, and he used the gun to point at the ground. ‘Just sit down like I bloody well told you.’

  ‘Why?’ This time it was Ben that challenged him. ‘What for?’

  ‘Just do as I say, and don’t bloody well move until Langston gets here.’

  A second figure plunged around the northern promontory, stamping his way through the low surf.

  Harry didn’t know who Langston was, but he looked pissed off. And what was the deal with the axe? He blinked up in dismay at McBride. He was unaware of the man now striding up the pebble beach, his attention darting between the three youths and the top of the cliffside steps. But then he caught the crunch of boots and half turned towards the approaching man. He spotted the axe in the man’s hand, and then the insane glare in his eyes, and his mouth opened in a startled question.

  The man was a few strides short of McBride when he whipped the axe through the air and it thudded solidly into the older man’s sternum. McBride croaked in alarm, the shotgun falling from his flexing fingers, and he fell over on to his back, even as a chorus of screams broke from the throats of the youths, and they scattered. Harry, horrified at what had just happened ran, but with one eye over his shoulder. He watched as the stranger stood over McBride, yanked the axe out of his breastbone, and then finished the job on the old sea captain with two savage blows to his skull.

  27

  ‘What was that?’ Effie jerked to a halt, head swivelling to get a direction on the sharp sound. The woods played havoc with the acoustics, and the original sound was lost amid the echoes.

  Ten metres away, Dom had also come to a stop. He craned towards the northeast, a frown screwing his forehead tight.

  ‘Dom? What was that? A gun shot?’

  Dom looked at her, his freckled face still screwed in confusion. ‘Sounded like it.’

  Effie spread her hands. ‘Who has a gun with them?’

  ‘None of us.’ Dom began picking a way towards her, stepping high over a fallen tree trunk. ‘Poachers?’

  Effie had no clue if poachers ever trespassed on the island. There were deer, rabbits, and who knew what other types of game on Shattered Rock, but travelling all the way to the island seemed like too much trouble for somebody hoping to bag a brace of pheasants or whatever. ‘Are you sure it was from the island?’

  ‘Couldn’t tell you. Sounded like it came from the direction of camp. I doubt anyone on a boat is fishing with a shotgun.’

  His final statement didn’t qualify for a sensible answer. ‘A signal?’ Effie pondered, as Dom approached within a few feet of her. ‘I wonder if Rob’s been found and Becks used the sat-phone to call help from the mainland.’

  ‘What? And they brought a gun to put Rob out of his misery?’

  Effie emitted a scornful grunt. ‘That’s not funny, Dom.’

  He looked appropriately ashamed of his sick joke, but only for a second. ‘It’s too soon for help to have arrived from the mainland.’

  ‘Unless Rob made the call himself,’ she pointed out, and would have crossed her fingers in hope if another gunshot didn’t ring out. This time it was followed by the thin strains of a distant shriek.

  ‘Bloody hell! What’s goin’ on?’ Dom lurched into a run, but stumbled to a halt after only a few paces. He looked back for Effie. Her face was elongated with shock. He took a step towards her. ‘Come on. We have to check.’

  Effie craned over her shoulder, searching in the other direction from camp. ‘Becks and the others are that way.’

  ‘We don’t know that. They could have headed back to camp by now. C’mon, Effie. We have to check everyone’s okay.’

  ‘Didn’t you hear that scream?’ Effie countered, her voice barely more than a rasp.

  ‘Yeah, I heard it. That’s why we have to go back.’ He beckoned for her to follow, but she took a back step. ‘Effie! Come on.’

  ‘I have to find Becks.’

  ‘You dunno where she is. We have to go back where we know there’s people.’

  ‘That scream…Leah said she heard screams before. We heard a scream. Maybe it’s just…’

  ‘That was a girl,’ Dom snapped. ‘It wasn’t a wild animal. It’s one of the kids we’re meant to be lookin’ after. Now come on. Becks can look after herself, you know that.’

  ‘Against a gun?’

  ‘We don’t know that anyone’s bein’ shot at, just…’

  Effie’s head shook.

  ‘Effie, for fuck’s sake!’ He rushed towards her, grabbed her by her sleeve and tugged her with him. ‘I’m not leavin’ you out here alone;
you’re comin’ with me. If there’s some kind of trouble, we have to stick together.’

  ‘But Becks and—’

  ‘They’re probably already on their way back, as well. Becks understands our responsibility to those kids. You do, too. Now come on!’

  Dom towed her with him, but after a few steps she shook his hand off, but only so she could catch her balance. She ran, keeping within a few metres of him. Dom clattered through the lower branches, smashing a route for her, but both had to occasionally hurdle a fallen log or boulder. Effie was fit and strong, but anxiety pinched her throat. She gasped and croaked with every step, and by the sound of things, Dom wasn’t faring much better. Within four hundred metres, they slowed to a rapid walk, both gasping, Effie shivering to the core.

  A distant shout had them plunging forward again, heedless of the minor injuries they picked up from the twigs raking their faces and hands.

  ‘That was Harry or Ben,’ Dom gasped over his shoulder as he charged forward. Except for Rob, who else’s voice could it have been? To be fair, the shout had been so highly pitched with terror that it could have been any of the girls.

  All Effie cared for at that moment was seeing Becks again, safe and well. As she ran, images of her girlfriend lying bleeding to death on the ground bloomed in her mind. She became frantic, gasping Becks’s name over and over like a mantra. She vaulted over a fallen tree trunk slick with moss, and sprawled in the deep forest litter. Half-stunned, she was the one lying bleeding. She was far from death, though, the cut above her eye superficial but an inconvenience as she scrambled up again. Dom had paused at the sound of her tumble, but seeing she was on her feet again, he turned quickly and carried on running. Effie followed, dashing blood from her eyes with her coat sleeve.

  Querulous voices sounded to their right: a babble of female shouts.

  ‘Becks?’ Effie hollered, and angled for the source of confusion. Dom also altered his trajectory through the woods, turning to parallel her. They were heading back towards the trail they’d left earlier. ‘Becks?’ Effie shouted again.