by Matt Hilton
Shelley dragged herself from the surf, but stayed on her hands and knees, water sluicing from her clothing and hair, staring in disbelief at the scene of carnage on the beach. Annie’s remains were buried under the landslide of rocks and dirt. Jenna and Hayley crouched at the boundary of the landslide, distraught, clinging to each other as they screamed for their friend.
‘Leah? Are you OK?’ Pete helped her to stand. Her knees almost gave way. She struggled to get a grip of her body and emotions. She nodded at her ex, whose hair was an inch thick in dirt. The blood on his face though was primarily from his earlier beating. She touched his cheek, and imparted her silent gratitude to him. She’d thought him a coward; he’d just risked his life to save hers. His fingers held firmly to her upper arms, and she felt him move to hug her. Before he got any idea about their relationship being back on track, Leah wormed out of his embrace, and reached to help up Dom.
‘Aah, son of a…’ Dom hissed. ‘My bloody knee!’
‘What’s wrong?’ Leah asked, and immediately felt foolish for asking the obvious. They’d just survived an avalanche, but not without casualties. Still on the ground, surrounded by loose rocks and pebbles, Dom worked his left leg, gingerly. Apparently his injury wasn’t as bad as he’d first feared. He grimaced sheepishly, and rolled on his side. Wincing, he pushed up to his feet, and limped out from under the looming cliff, waving Leah and Pete to follow. He headed for where Effie still lay unmoving under Becks’s frantic attempts to wake her. As they passed the settling mound of debris under which Annie lay, they carefully averted their eyes. There was no helping the girl; Effie’s welfare was now the priority. By the time Dom stumbled to Becks’s side, one steadying hand on her shoulder, Effie moaned, and her mouth writhed in pain. Her eyes slipped open, feverish from witnessing Annie’s death rather than from her own predicament. She tried to crane to see where the girl was, but Becks enfolded her in her arms, kissing her partner’s cheeks and forehead in relief. ‘My shoulder…’ Effie’s features contorted, and another keening moan escaped her. ‘I…I think my arm’s dislocated.’
She was correct. Her arm hung loose and ungainly, but as she was helped to stand by her fellow team leaders, Becks cupped the afflicted elbow until Effie could help herself. Effie moaned in agony, but ably assisted, she managed to unzip her coat and insert her arm inside to employ it as a temporary sling. The brief first aid was perfunctory: everyone knew they must get off the beach as soon as possible. The bogus McBride had proven he didn’t need an axe or gun to harm them: it was apparent that the maniac had pushed the first rock from the cliff and caused the landslide. What hellish assault would follow? While her friends helped support Effie along the beach, Leah and Pete jogged ahead to gather up the other girls. Without exception the three surviving girls wanted to go to their dead friend’s aid, but it was neither the time nor place. Leah was sensitive to their grief, but still got them moving with a pointed reminder that they could all end up as dead as Annie if they didn’t get moving. Jenna was first to plunge into the surf to retrieve one of the floating oars. She hefted it as if she meant business. ‘Yes,’ Leah told the girls. ‘Gather up more of the oars. You too, Pete.’ She even faced her worst fear, and waded out into the crashing tide to grab up an oar, and one for Dom. Becks had her hands full with Effie, and it would be a while until the latter would be able to wield a weapon of any type.
The radio on Jim McBride’s boat was still their best option for hailing a rescue party. ‘Hell, I can sail the damn boat if it comes to it,’ Dom announced. ‘Or we can use those holed kayaks as floatation devices and swim to the mainland.’
‘We can’t leave Ben behind,’ Jenna squawked.
‘Or Harry,’ Shelley added pointedly.
‘Don’t worry,’ Dom told them, ‘we only need to get out far enough to be safe from a shotgun, once we’ve called the coast guard, the cops, and whoever else has their ears on…we won’t leave the lads alone, but my priority is getting’ the rest of you to safety.’
Their conversation happened while moving. As a group they headed for the steps, bristling with raised oars, Effie and Becks at their centre. Leah and Pete led the way. She glanced at her ex repeatedly, noticing strength of resolve in him that hadn’t been apparent before. Perhaps she’d severely misjudged him. Had she become so wrapped up in her rocketing stardom that she had neglected him? Had his jealousy manifested through his fear of losing her to a different circle of associates who — to be fair — somewhat excluded him? Had she been unfair on him, instead of understanding the turmoil the change to their relationship had brought through her sudden fame? All the anger she’d felt towards him fled and instead she ached to tell him how sorry she was for leaving him.
As if reading her mind, Pete regarded her, and he squeezed out a sad smile, before knocking loose some of the dirt stuck in his hair. He pushed ahead and went up the carved stairs first, holding the oar he’d gathered up as if it were a broadsword and he was off to face a dragon. Dom’s assertion that he should be forced to go ahead of the pack to draw fire must have hit Pete. He wanted to prove he had more worth. Leah was suddenly seriously concerned for him, and would have called him back, except somebody had to go first and if not Pete, it would be her. She knew fine well Pete wouldn’t allow it, and not through any misogynistic reason. She placed her left hand flat on his shoulder as they progressed up the steps: her gesture said she was with him, and would be all the way. Afterwards, well, that still remained to be seen.
At the top, Pete paused, checking between the large boulders for any hint of an ambush. He gave a couple of warning prods with the head of his oar. Leah checked along the trail. Beyond fifty metres the track was hidden in gloom, with no sign of either missing boy, or of the madman stalking them all. The others bunched together on the flat, in the space where Leah had last spotted the bogus McBride. Dom limped heavily, but forced his way through some brush to peer along the top of the cliff towards where the landslide had been set off. As he watched, an errant rock lost its fight with gravity and tumbled to the beach below. The sound of it hitting the fallen stones below was as sharp as a gunshot. Everyone bar none flinched. ‘It’s okay. It’s not him,’ Dom announced unnecessarily.
‘We have to go this way,’ said Pete, indicating a narrow trail that hugged the edge of the large boulders at the trailhead. ‘It’s a tight squeeze at first, but opens up a little once you get past those bushes there.’
‘How far to the boat?’ Leah asked.
‘Two hundred metres maybe, not far.’
‘Far enough.’ It was ironic that only minutes earlier Effie had suggested that she and Becks run ahead, now they were the least capable to move at any speed. Perhaps Leah should suggest she and Pete push on while the others follow, but that went against her earlier assertion that they should stick together. Trusting Dom to cover the girls from the rear, she urged Pete forward, and waved the others to follow.
Negotiating the boulders proved problematic for Effie. The path was barely a patch of worn earth, sloping down severely from the edge of the boulders. With only one working arm, her balance was thrown off, and there was no way for Becks to fit alongside her on the narrow strip of dirt. Becks had to walk backwards, clutching the front of Effie’s coat, while Jenna lent a hand from behind. Effie cringed and moaned at the stabbing agony with each crab-like step she took. When finally she made it past the larger rocks, the strength went out of her knees and she almost collapsed: her injury was worse than a dislocation, more likely her clavicle was fractured. When she got moving again, it was with her left arm slung over Becks’s shoulder and Jenna supporting her from the opposite side — Jenna had to cast aside her oar to assist the injured woman. Shelley and Hayley guarded the shambling trio, their weapons held like spears. Leah couldn’t help feeling how pitiful a bunch they presented.
The path, ancient and seldom used, wound through brush that gave way to the deeper forest on one side, and the open gulf of space over the sea to the other. There was a view back towards th
e mainland, and tantalizingly a speedboat scudding south less than a quarter of a mile away. It was pointless hailing those on the craft; the noise of its own motor would drown the thin strains of even their loudest shouts. They had to get to Jim McBride’s boat and his radio.
Pete halted, throwing up an arm.
Leah bent at the waist, trying to see what concerned him. It was nothing visible. Pete turned, eyes wide. ‘Do you smell that?’ he asked.
The air current wafting over the edge of the cliff was acrid. A couple of seconds later it turned black, as a cloud of smoke rolled over them. Cries of disbelief, of disappointment, were replaced by coughs. Leah dug her chin against her chest, pulling the front of her jacket up over her lower face. The air was poisonous. She turned. ‘Go back!’
‘The boat?’ Dom called from the rear of the pack.
‘It has to be. The maniac has set it on fire to stop us escaping!’
‘We can’t be certain it’s the boat,’ Hayley croaked, then broke into a fit of hacking coughs.
‘Get back,’ Leah repeated, and they retreated to where they could at least see each other again. ‘It can only be the boat. The bastard caused that landslide to keep us busy while he destroyed it.’
She was assuming a lot, but it was a logical theory. This wasn’t smoke from a regular campfire. The fire wasn’t fueled by timber, but by accelerants and plastic and rubber, and whatever other components a modern boat comprised. The killer was ensuring there was no way off the island for them, and no hope of calling for help.
‘Maybe we should still check,’ Pete suggested, and he too had his sweater yanked up over his lower face. His eyes streamed from the stinking fumes. ‘Maybe the fire won’t completely destroy it, maybe there’s still a chance we can sail it—’
An explosion rocked them. They felt the detonation as a solid buffet; it compressed the air in their lungs and ears. A ball of fire roiled into the heavens, chased by more bitter smoke.
‘No,’ said Dom, and he wore a wry expression. ‘I think we can safely stroke McBride’s boat off the list.’ He pointed upwards. ‘I was goin’ to suggest lightin’ a signal fire. At least we won’t have to do that now; those guys that went by in the speedboat will probably spot it and come to investigate.’
Leah didn’t answer, a fact burned her mind as surely as the boat was being consumed: could anybody reach them in time to save them?
33
In a group, they clustered at the end of the trail where it met the glade. The cabin was a short distance away, across open ground where they would be at their most vulnerable from a gunman. The solid walls offered protection, though, and it had been a group decision to barricade inside until help could arrive. The burning boat was certain to attract attention, so it was only a waiting game. If they could hunker down, they could sit out the killer, and hopefully he’d flee once he realised others were coming.
Leah was doubtful he’d run away.
Those arriving would have no idea what they were up against, and as vulnerable to gunshot or axe as their group was — damn it, even another bloody landslide could take them out! It was unlikely that armed police would descend on Shattered Rock simply due to reports of a fire: more likely it’d be another concerned sailor who made first landfall to check things out. By leaving the cliffs they were putting any new arrivals at risk. She’d made her thoughts known, even suggested she’d be willing to be the one to stay behind and warn anyone arriving on the island, but had been argued down, and democracy won out.
So they’d headed en masse for the cabin, and yet, now that they’d reached the glade none among them wanted to be first to show themselves in the open.
‘What if he’s made it here before us?’ Hayley asked tentatively.
‘He can’t be everywhere,’ Dom supposed. ‘He was on the cliff, pushin’ down rocks, then beat us to McBride’s boat, but we must’ve been ahead of him when we came back here.’
He looked at Leah for confirmation. But how could she be certain about anything? She’d met the murderer, but had no inside track on his abilities. He obviously knew the island better than any of them, and probably knew the most direct routes — animal paths or something — from point A to point B. He could have got ahead of them while they limped along, half carrying Effie at times.
So too could he behind them, aiming his shotgun at any of their spines.
‘I’ll go first,’ said Pete.
Leah appraised him, surprised again by his bravery. He had a lot to prove to her, but not at the expense of his life.
‘We’ll go together,’ she told him.
He shook his head. ‘No. Stay here with the others. I’ll run over there and check things out. When we know it’s safe, you can bring the others over.’
‘You’re hurt, Pete.’ He was more mobile than Dom and Effie, and there was little chance Becks would leave her girlfriend’s side. ‘I’m not. I can move faster than you.’
He coughed out a rebuttal. ‘I’ve only got a few bumps and scrapes. I’m okay, Leah, honest. Besides, I’d rather you not get hurt…’
‘I don’t want you to get hurt either,’ she said, and reached to touch him, but her fingertips fell short. His mouth quirked in a brief smile, but there was sadness in his eyes. Leah included the others in her next statement. ‘I don’t want anyone getting hurt.’
‘It’s a bit late for that,’ Dom said gruffly, but he rolled his neck, and nodded in meagre gratitude at Pete. ‘If you’re gonna do it mate, sooner’s better than later, yeah?’
Pete handed over his oar to Becks, the only able-bodied person unarmed beyond a small knife. ‘I can move quicker without that.’
‘You might need it,’ Leah said.
‘What? To block shotgun pellets? I don’t think it’ll help.’
Leah glanced down at the ground between her feet. Back up at him. ‘Hopefully he’s out of ammo.’
‘Hopefully he’s still on the other side of the island,’ Pete said with a flick of his eyebrows. He offered another brief smile for all their sakes. ‘Sooner rather than later, it is.’
He moved out, following the trampled grass, moving slow at first, alert to his surroundings. As he progressed he picked up speed with each step, until he was jogging, his gaze fixed squarely on the cabin. Leah watched him, but also his surroundings. A cold dagger of ice was between her shoulder blades, and she tensed for the inevitable gunshot. Thankfully, Pete made it to the cabin. He looked back at her, raised a hand of caution, and made his way to the edge of the building, checking the approaches from the back of the glade, and also made a cursory check of the small outbuilding housing the generator. Backing towards the cabin door again, he offered a brief thumb’s up to show everything was in order.
‘OK,’ Leah said to the group. ‘Let’s get ready to move.’
Pete approached the door, but took a glimpse inside the cabin through the partly open blinds on the kitchen window. Again he checked on Leah, and she indicated he should go round the side. There he could mount the small deck and have a better view inside through the patio door. But Pete, who’d never visited the cabin before didn’t get her message. He went directly to the door and laid a hand on the handle, his other palm flat against the door. It opened under scant pressure, and he edged it inwards a few inches. From his posture, he was listening.
That the door was unlocked was unsurprising. Leah couldn’t recall securing it after she’d gone to fetch her belongings with the girl’s earlier, but after abandoning the plan she couldn’t remember locking it either. The unlocked door wasn’t a concern, except it could also have allowed access for the killer to enter before their arrival at the glade. Hopefully Dom was right: the killer couldn’t be everywhere.
Pete took a step inside, then turned to check again on Leah and the others. He held up a single finger, meaning to wait a moment before coming over. The door was suddenly thrust into him and he staggered. Pete’s yelp of alarm was accompanied by a furious shriek. Forgoing any thought for her safety, Leah lurched for
ward. Before she’d made it more than three loping steps, Pete backpedalled from the open doorway, his heels catching on the shallow stoop, and he almost lost his balance. Beyond him in the doorway loomed a figure, backlit by the daylight slanting through the patio window. Details were indistinct, but the shape of a raised kitchen knife was stark in Leah’s vision. It stabbed again at Pete but he was beyond its range as he half turned and saw Leah charging towards him, her oar clenched in both fists. His mouth opened in warning…no, his entire features begged a question.
‘Pete? Pete?’ Leah shouted as she ran.
He had his hands cupped to his upper abdomen. He sank to one knee, now facing Leah. He held out one palm to halt her. It glistened red.
He’d been stabbed!
His assailant wasn’t finished with him. He pursued Pete outside, raising the large knife over his shoulder to stab down.
‘Noooo!’ Leah screamed.
Her voice caught Pete’s attacker’s attention. His head snapped up, the knife still held aloft. His mouth worked soundlessly, his gaze feverish as he stared at her in confusion. Somewhere along the way, he’d lost his spectacles.
‘Harry,’ Leah yelled, even as she slowed, and cast aside the oar to hold out both palms at the terrified boy. ‘Don’t hurt him. He’s not the killer. He…he’s a friend.’
Bewildered still, Harry kept the knife up. It was the same blade that she’d armed herself with previously: he must have found it when taking refuge within the cabin, and his desperation was so acute that he was prepared to use it to defend himself. With no idea whom the stranger entering the cabin was, he’d attacked, driven by fear for his own life.
‘Harry…drop the knife.’ Leah continued moving, slower, hands out, her attention skipping between the weapon and Pete who’d sank to both knees. He bent over, head hanging low. The thunder of footsteps and shouts behind her was subdued to Leah, her heartbeat filling the inside of her skull to capacity.