by Larry Dodson
“So you’re telling me you won’t care if I wanna bang her?
Amanda overheard Mikes comment as she entered the site. She walked directly over to where Jordan was sitting.
Staring directly into Jordan’s eyes she handed him the jug as she spoke in a soft voice, “Water as requested sir.”
“Sir?” Mike mimicked. “What about me? I’m more of a man than his skinny ass.”
Amanda without showing emotion picked up the jug and walked over to Mike. With her back to Jordan she repeated the process of looking him straight in the eyes and whispered, “I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last pig on this island you fat smelly bastard!”
Amanda had succeeded in hitting his rage button. Mike reached out and grabbed her by the hair before she had a chance to back away.
“You fucking little whore.
Holding her head down by her hair he used his left hand to unzip his shorts.
“I’ll show you what you’re gonna suck.”
Jordan sprung to his feet. Without a second thought he ran over to Amanda and whacked Mike between the shoulder blades. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Let her the fuck go!”
“This bitch is gonna suck my cock. Back off Jordan, I’m warning you!”
Richard, Mark and Brandon stood in the ditch watching the situation escalate. Amanda continued to twist and punch as Mike started forcing her head toward his crotch.
Jordan whacked Mike again. This time using more force. The butt of his rifle firmly impacting Mike’s rib cage. You could see Mike momentarily wince in pain. He released his grip on Amanda’s hair and in a single motion twisted around to attack Jordan. A split second later he was swinging like a madman.
Mike’s massive weight easily overpowered Jordan. Within seconds he had him pinned to the ground. His fists delivered blow after blow to Jordan’s head as he straddled Jordan’s chest. In an act of desperation Jordan frantically searched for anything to ward off the savage beating. His left arm was securely pinned under the weight of Mike’s body. He managed to free his right hand and frantically search the small area within his reach. His fingers felt a large section of what remained of the broken water bottle. In one final burst of energy he rammed a piece of broken glass into the side of Mike’s neck. Thirty seconds later the last spurts of blood signaled the end of Mike’s cruel existence.
George laying on the couch was startled by the sound of two gunshots. He immediately went for the portable radio he had placed on the kitchen table.
“Where’s the VHF?”
The girls just gave him a puzzled look.
“I don’t know George. Where did you leave it?” LuAnn said.
George immediately ran toward the bedroom to retrieve his gun. Moments later he returned to the front room and in a panic turned his attention to an ugly old vase sitting on a shelf. He used his right arm to knock the vase to the ground revealing a box of .38 shells that had been hidden in its base. He quickly inserted one of the clips into the gun as he ran out the front door closely followed by Judy and LuAnn.
The sprint across the yard would only take seconds. He cautiously slowed as he neared the tree line.
As George and the women approached from behind they could see Jordan holding his rifle on Brandon and Richard. The two men stood near the lifeless body with their heads bowed down mourning the loss of their friend. His body lay crumpled and bloodied face down in the shallow depression.
LuAnn cried out, “Mark? Oh my god you killed him!”
LuAnn instantly broke into tears. Judy put her arm around her waist to help steady her collapsing stance.
George couldn’t break his stare at the pit as he walked past Jordan for a closer look at the lifeless body.
“He wasn’t much of a man anyway.” Showing no signs of remorse he smiled as he turned to face Jordan.
“Welcome to the party mother fucker!”
One shot rang out. The last two things this evil monster would ever see was Mark wearing Jordan’s hat and shirt, and a .223 slug going into his head.
Chapter 18
Speed Bumps
The group stood in complete silence waiting for the piercing sound of the single shot to quit ringing in their ears. It was over. In one unflinching moment the pain and suffering inflicted on the group, both physical and emotional lay embodied in the lifeless lump sprawled in the dirt. George’s reliance on Jordan and Mike to carry out his bidding enabled the group to manipulate their individual character flaws with covert precision.
Jordan wearing Mark’s shirt lay face down in the hole. He slowly raised his head up. Using his arms he pushed his body into a seated position facing the group. He kept his head bowed, down avoiding eye contact as he sat awaiting his fate. Mark removed Jordan’s shirt and hat and disgustingly threw them in Jordan’s direction. Luanne ran over and embraced Mark realizing he wasn’t dead.
“What are we going to do with him?” Mark asked, as he kept the gun pointed at Jordan.
“Let’s tie him up for now. We can decide later.” Brandon replied. Judy volunteered to return to the camp to get the clothesline.
Richard requested Judy take Amanda back to the house. It was a father’s way of trying to prolong having to face the inevitable reality of the new world they were living in.
“What about the bodies?” Mark asked.
“The hole looks deep enough to me.” Brandon quipped as he motioned for Richard to join him.
“Help me drag Mike’s body over here. The hole’s shallow but we should have enough dirt to cover them up.”
LuAnn, now standing near George’s remains commented, “Yeah, should be just enough to keep the flies off and that’s more than he deserves.”
Mark and LuAnn had endured more mental torment from George than the other members of the group. His death would be seasoned with their “worst of wishes” for him in his afterlife.
Judy returned with a couple of short lengths of rope just as the finishing shovel loads of dirt were thrown. Their graves looked like two speed bumps on a car less island. There was no service, words or even an afterthought as they all silently left the area.
Entering camp, the men securely tied Jordan to the base of a tree fifteen feet from the house. The women had gathered wood to build a campfire a short distance from the shed. The fire would afford little heat for Jordan, but would aid them in keeping an eye on their former guard.
Oddly, no one seemed the least bit interested in entering the house. The house now represented the epicenter of evil in their minds. They had no reservations sleeping in the shed one more night.
As the sun set they all gathered around the blazing fire. The day’s events were retold in glorious detail. Richard recapped how they were able to manipulate Mike and Jordan against each other.
“We started digging the hole. We knew we had to come up with a good reason for Amanda to join us. Brandon, right on queue, deliberately broke the glass water jug. Jordan got on the radio and presto, Amanda shows up with more water. She deserves an academy award for her part in getting Jordan jealous. Amanda won’t tell me what she said to Mike, but it definitely set him off. We counted on him going ballistic and banked on Jordan coming to her rescue. While they were distracted, slugging it out, I grabbed Jordan’s gun. We didn’t plan on Jordan killing Mike but so much the better. Killing him quietly with a piece of glass gave us plenty of time for Mark to trade shirts and hats with Jordan. We had Jordan lay face down pretending to be dead and believe me, had he moved he wouldn’t be here tonight. We drug Mike’s body behind a bush, when the scene was staged we just fired two shots into the air and waited for curious George to show up. The rest you already know.”
The previous night’s whispered escape plan was now subject to open cheers and congratulations. It was a time of celebration among the co-conspirators. For the first time that night the group felt totally at ease on the small island. They agreed to sleep on Jordan’s fate and deal with him in the morning. Though he had unknowingly played a critica
l role in their freedom, he would have to pay a price for his hand in carrying out George’s crimes against humanity.
Around ten o’clock they decided to call it a night. Mark volunteered for the first two hour watch over Jordan. Richard and Brandon split up the remaining watches. This promised to be the first restful night’s sleep since their arrival. Promises were meant to be broken as one loose end remained tied up to a tree resulting in another restless night’s sleep.
As the morning sun broke the horizon, the arduous task of dealing with Jordan lay before them. No one in the group could have ever imagined having to participate in the trial of someone they knew. Today they would truly take on the cliché role of judge, jury and potential executioner.
Jordan was moved from the tree to a chair placed at the head of the picnic table. His hands were untied but his legs and feet securely bound preventing escape. The rules of trial were simple. Each of the group would have a chance to evaluate Jordan’s participation in their captivity. Everyone present could speak as much or as little as they felt comfortable with. All agreed to abide by unanimous vote. They also agreed to let Jordan speak on his own behalf. The hearing offered less than a stateside civil trial but afforded Jordan more rights than he would receive with a kangaroo court.
Richard was first to speak. “I’m not sure he would have shot us but I don’t know. He certainly had no qualms about following George’s orders. I mean like, would I be here today if we hadn’t thrown a wrench into George’s plan? Good guy, bad guy I really don’t know. If you think he deserves to die I won’t blame you.”
Jordan showed no emotion to Richard’s statement as Amanda stood to take her turn, “I don’t think he’s an evil person. He always treated me nice. I’m confused about him making my dad dig that hole. We don’t know for sure if George would have ordered him to shoot, and if he did tell them, I’m not positive Jordan would have.” She sat back down at the table.
Judy declined to comment one way or another.
Mark stood up next. “I think he would have followed George’s orders to the T. I think he and Mike would have shot us with without hesitation. He had no problem watching George fuck around with our women, Amanda excluded, for what it’s worth.”
LuAnn then spoke, “I agree with Mark. I think he’s a piece of shit who would’ve gladly carry out anything George told him to do. I don’t believe in trusting other people’s feelings. Sorry Amanda, but to me he’s no better than George or Mike. The world’s better off without the other two and I’m not sure if it wouldn’t be better off without him as well.”
Brandon was the last to stand and make his statement.
“Judy and I told you about the small sailboat on the way to this island. The hull of the boat was riddled with bullet holes. The blood soaked cabin made me sick. The animals that attacked and butchered the people onboard should have to face the consequences of their actions. I will say this, I know without a doubt Jordan had a hand in the attack. I can’t prove he actually killed anybody on board, but watching him parade around camp wearing a “Sanity” t-shirt proved to me he’s just as capable as the other sadistic monsters who did. Jordan might have a soft spot for Amanda but I have a gut feeling he wouldn’t have thought twice about putting a bullet in any of our heads.
Jordan was asked to make his statement to the group.
“All I can say is I’m sorry for following George’s orders. I never thought it would come down to this. George made it clear if Mike or I didn’t do exactly as we were told he’d have no problem shooting us. I know that isn’t an excuse, but that’s why I carried out what he wanted in order to stay alive.”
Richard stood up and asked if anyone had anything to add. No one spoke. He then requested Jordan be removed from the table and retied to the tree. Richard wanted everyone in the group to be able to speak freely, un-hampered by Jordan’s presence, as they deliberated his involvement and subsequent penalty.
The next couple of hours were spent in a heated discussion as each member advocated for their version of “fair”. Some sounding like a defense attorney pleading for Jordan’s life. Others, an inflamed prosecutor demanding the death penalty. Brandon brought up the question if they decided on handing down the maximum penalty if anyone among them would have a problem taking on the roll as executioner. It came as no surprise when Mark volunteered for the job.
Jordan sat quietly in the shade of the tree he was tied to as the deliberations came to a close. A consensus was reached. It was agreed not to inform Jordan of their final decision until tomorrow.
Chapter 19
Curbside Justice
Sunrise was greeted by a thankful group of sailors. Thankful to rejoin their previous life of independent movement. Thankful to have the opportunity to distance themselves from the memory of this island, and most of all, thankful to be rid of George and his tyranny. They vowed to never fall prey to another person’s power crazed visions of grandeur and “wanna be god” mentality.
The morning, as joyous as it was, would not be free of the mundane task of restocking their boats. Due to their recently gained freedom the transfer of food and equipment felt more like a privilege than a chore. They marveled at what took days to unload now looking like hours to restock. It was amazing how quickly they erased all signs of their presence as the camp started to transform itself back into the dilapidated looking farm they first entered. Replete with the rusty old tractor near the rear of the house.
A group discussion that morning to torch the house was voted down. As eager as they were to physically erase the symbol of the misery they endured, they had to consider George’s story of persuading the old codgers to leave. As slim a chance as that appeared, they couldn’t burn down another person’s home. That said, most agreed if they had to make a wager they would have bet on their bodies being buried somewhere on the property.
Each took a short turn keeping an eye on Jordan as he sat securely tied to the tree. The suspense of not knowing the final penalty he faced must have led him to wild speculation. Each trip out to the boats and back represented a sort of dwindling count down. The men seem to enjoy the mental torture Jordan was having to endure. After all the hell he, Mike and George had dished out on a daily basis, it gave them little reason to be concerned for his feelings. Everyone knew that pay back was a bitch.
Richard, reluctant to sound like he was giving an order inquired, “What do you guys think about taking a break?”
Everyone agreed on the suggestion and sat down in the shade some thirty feet from Jordan. Amanda poured a glass of water and made her way toward him. As she got close he embarrassingly declared, “I pissed my pants.”
“That doesn’t come as a surprise. How long have you been tied to the tree, twenty-four hours, it could be more. The guys didn’t want to run the risk of you escaping by having your hands untied.” She knelt down placing the glass to his lips. He quickly drank down the water. Amanda was the first person to talk to him that morning and he was eager to learn of their decision.
“What are they going to do with me?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
Before Amanda could answer Richard yelled at her to return to the group. She gave Jordan no indication of his fate as she turned and walked back to the table.
“I think we should search the farm one more time before we leave. No one knows for sure how many guns George stashed on the property.” Mark said.
“I’m sure Jordan could save us the time with a little persuasion.”
Everyone knew what Richard was referring to.
“Wouldn’t that be something George would have done?” Judy questioned.
“Are you thinking I meant torture? I was merely suggesting enhanced interrogation techniques.”
Everyone laughed and agreed they wouldn’t have the stomach to torture another person. Especially having to live with his conscience if he truly didn’t know if there were any more guns hidden on the island. Their remaining time was not going to
be wasted looking for illusive guns that may or may not exist.
The last hour in camp was spent gathering, cleaning and folding Richard’s sails that had served as ground cover under the cushions and hung as a shed door. Satisfied everything was in order, they made their way toward the beach. Jordan was untied from the tree and escorted by a well-armed Brandon and Mark.
Never was a group of people more excited at the prospects of being reunited with their waterborne homes. Each pair launched their dinghy into the light surf. Jordan with his hands still bound was the sole occupant of George’s dinghy. Mark attached a twenty foot tow rope to pull Jordan over to the boats.
Brandon made a slow course change that set him motoring toward George’s boat. As he got within 20 feet he put the rifle butt to his shoulder and began shooting small chunks of fiberglass out of the hull just below the waterline. George’s boat instantly started to take on more water than its bilge pump could remove. Within minutes the once perfectly sound vessel made its way to the sandy bottom ten feet below. Only the mast and rigging protruding into the air remained visible on the surface marking the boat’s final resting place. The mast and spreaders took on the form of a modern looking cross. A boat’s version of a metal tombstone.
Jordan felt relieved to be returning with the group. His greatest fear of capital punishment for his involvement put to rest with each foot made good toward the boats. Perhaps in time the group would totally forgive and accept him into their fold. If he could prove himself worthy, maybe Richard would allow him to develop a relationship with Amanda. Future possibilities instantly whirled through his thoughts.
With everyone on board their respective boats the engines were started. Everyone that is but Jordan, who remained tethered to Mark’s stern some twenty feet away.
“Hey, what about me? What’s going on?”
“Hold tight”, Mark yelled back over the noise of the diesel. ”We haven’t forgot about you.”