The Heat

by Alice Ward

  It was much cooler now, almost cold in the room. My clothes were still damp and dirty, and I was both shivering and sweating at the same time. I might have had a fever. I’d only eaten a few bites of rice in the past eighteen hours, and I’d thrown all of it up in the boat, so my throat felt like it was being scraped with razor blades. My arms ached, and as I massaged my wrists, I realized that the top layers of skin were peeling off in chunks where they’d been rubbed raw from the restraints.

  The man turned to me. “Hello,” he said in perfect English. “Looks like you’ve had a tough journey.”

  This was a trap. It had to be. I didn’t speak. I buried my hands under my thighs, the skin rough with goose bumps.

  He stepped out of the closet and motioned for me to follow him. When I didn’t move, his eyes narrowed, causing a new surge of fear to crash over me. “Stay there if you wish, but I think if you and I are going to have a proper conversation, it would be nice if we did so in a more comfortable environment.”

  I hesitated for only a moment before staggering forward and lowering myself into the chair he indicated in the other room. A library or office, from the looks of it.

  “Good,” he said. “Now. You are an American, are you? Have you ever been to the Perhentian Islands before?”

  Is that where we were? I’d never heard of them.

  He smiled. “You look confused. We call this island Pulau Cinta, which actually means the Island of Love. It’s just a stone’s throw from Pulau Susa Dara, which is the Island of the Virgin’s Milk. You see, nothing bad can happen here, in such a beautiful place.”

  He seemed nice, almost grandfatherly. But he was a liar. How could he say that nothing bad had happened here? Wyatt and I were here, bleeding, being held against our will.

  Although I was terribly afraid, I could feel my wild impulsiveness squirming under my skin, begging to be released. I forced it down. Now was not the time to show my teeth. Not when there was a much larger, much more predatory shark in the room.

  “What are you going to do with me?” I made my voice small, meek, but fury still flashed across his face. I didn’t think he was expecting me to be brazen enough to ask a question, and any last bit of my impulsiveness melted away.

  “I will ask the questions.” He began to pace the floor, hands behind his back. “Why don’t you tell me who you are, and why you were out there today. If you cooperate, it will be to your benefit.” When I only stared at him, his eyes narrowed. “You might be interested in knowing what those men were talking about. They were bidding on who would get to fuck you first.” When I started to shake harder, I hated myself, especially when he smiled at my reaction. “I told them to go away. So, perhaps you could show me a little gratitude and answer my questions.”

  My voice cracked when I spoke, my throat dry from screaming Wyatt’s name over and over. Should I tell him the truth or lie? How did either benefit or harm me? When his eyes narrowed farther, I blurted out, “I’m Atlee. I was just hiking through Malaysia on vacation.”

  He leaned back a little. “And how did you meet the gentleman?”

  I shrugged, my mind scurrying for a story. “I don’t really know him. I just met him. I was hitchhiking, and he offered me a ride. That’s all.”

  He leaned over, and I could smell the cigar on his breath. His voice was too light, his smile flat and evil. “I don’t believe you.”

  I bit down hard to keep my teeth from chattering and ground out, “I’m telling you the truth.”

  His lips flattened into an unreadable expression. Quick as lightning, he hauled back and slapped me hard across the face.

  Reeling, I lifted my hand to my cheek, blinking against the stars in my vision.

  His smile broadened. My skin burned, raw. He leaned over and came to eye level with me. “What do you have to say about that?”

  My head lolled in exhaustion and fear and pain, but he lifted my chin so my eyes met his. I thought of Wyatt. Had they beaten him? Was he dead already?

  I opened my mouth and spat out the only thing that came to mind. “Kongkek mak kau.”

  He recoiled, then lifted his hand to slap my other cheek.

  This time, I raised my hand to block him.

  If I was going to die, then I was going to fight.

  “I already know your friend is Wyatt Watts, an important American businessman. What I don’t know is who you are and why you’re traveling with him,” he snarled, wrenching me up from the chair and shoving me back into the closet.

  I stumbled back until I hit the hard wall and slid down against it, every part of my body aching.

  “We’ll try this again tomorrow. And if you lie next time, I won’t hold my men off. I promise I’ll have them fuck you repeatedly, until you scream out the truth.”

  He slammed the door, and I heard a key twisting in the lock.

  I sank to the ground, hugging myself, trying to calm my stuttering heart. There was nothing to stop them from doing what he said whether or not I told them what they needed to know.

  After a moment, the light that had been filtering in from the crack under the door burned out, and then the only light was from the window outside. I looked up at it. The moon must’ve been full and directly overhead now because moonlight shone through like day.

  I felt like it was calling to me.

  I climbed to my feet and searched the room, then went back to the boxes I’d seen before. I lifted the lid off one to find file folders and paper, nothing consequential. I shoved it directly under the window, then hefted another on top of it. I climbed on top of them, but I could still barely reach the high window. How tall were these damn ceilings?

  It was small, and I wasn’t even sure I could slide through. I ran my hands around the perimeter, searching for a latch or a mechanism to open it, but found nothing. I pushed on it with all my strength, but nothing happened.

  Jumping down, I began to move things around, searching for something to break the glass.

  Just then, I heard noises at the door.

  Oh god. Had the old man decided not to wait until morning? Had he come back with his men, ready to make good on his promise? Or was it one of the other men who’d grown impatient?

  I looked wildly around. The clothes hangers were the thick plastic kind. If they’d been metal, I could have used them for a weapon.

  The doorknob jingled, and I nearly screamed. Out of time, I hefted up a box. It was heavy, and I didn’t think I could throw it very far, but dammit if I wouldn’t at least try. Resting it on my shoulder, I braced myself against the wall, and waited.

  “Atlee?”

  The whispered voice was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard.

  At first, I thought I must be hearing things. I set the box down and ran to the door. “Wyatt?” I whispered. “Oh my god, is it really you?”

  For a moment, I thought they must be teasing me… taunting me… torturing me.

  Then his voice came through again, even lower. “Yeah.”

  I covered my mouth with my hands to suppress a sob of relief. “Oh, my god. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Are you?”

  “Yes. But I can’t get out. The window is too high and too small.”

  “All right. Let me look for a key.” A long pause. I heard the faint sound of drawers opening and closing outside. “No key. He must have it on him. Stand back from the door.”

  I heard scratching at the door, and nearly gasped when the blade of a knife slid through the crack above the lock. After a few moments, he succeeded and burst into the room, holding the knife at his side.

  I threw myself into his arms, burying my face in his bare chest, sobbing. He was covered in grime, like he’d been through a mud run, but I’d never seen anyone look better. “I didn’t think I’d see you again. Who are these men?”

  He didn’t answer but hugged me stiffly, and when I looked up at him, he was wincing. There were fresh, purplish bruises on his forehead, and one eye was swelling shut, the lid bulging. Blood crusted on the si
de of his face. But I’d never seen anyone more handsome.

  “Come with me,” he whispered, gritting his teeth as he grabbed my hand. That’s when I noticed a large gun slung onto his back. The sight of it made me shiver and simultaneously almost cheer in delight. If we had a gun, maybe our chances of escaping increased the slightest bit.

  “I’ve seen a shit ton of guards so far,” he whispered as he pocketed the knife and took the gun from his back, hefting it in his hands, looking for all the world like he knew what he was doing. I certainly hoped so. “We need to sneak past them. Even with this…” he indicated the gun in his hands, “we don’t stand a chance against so many. So do exactly what I say.” He gave me a pointed look. “No arguing.”

  I nodded my head quickly. All my arguments had seemed to evaporate in the heat.

  We raced to the door of the office, and he opened it a crack and peeked out, then motioned me forward. I wasn’t sure what time it was, but the long hallway I’d been dragged down earlier was dark. We moved as quickly as we could without making noise, stopping at the opening for the mess hall. There were men at one of the tables, playing cards, assault rifles that looked like the one Wyatt carried on their backs.

  He put a finger to his lips, then quickly skirted the opening, flattening himself on the other wall. The men didn’t take notice.

  He motioned me forward. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and ran to him, staying on my toes.

  When I made it, he yanked my wrist, and we flew down the hallway. He made a right, then a left, and then he slowed, breathing hard. I could nearly see his heart beating out of his chest as he slumped against the wall. Closing his eyes, he lilted to the side, his face in a grimace of agony.

  My eyes trailed down to his side, and I realized that the stripe of dark red dampening the side of his pants wasn’t mud.

  It was blood.

  His hand covered the wound, right above his left hip so I couldn’t see it. But blood was seeping between his fingers.

  Before I could react, he whispered, “It’s not bad. Doesn’t even hurt.”

  Not bad? It was bleeding everywhere. I wanted to know more, but before I could ask, he took my hand, his own sticky with blood. “Come on.”

  We raced down a stairwell and found a door. He pushed it open, and we slid out into the humid night air. Before I could have a look at where we were, he shoved me up against a wall. “Shh. We have to get to one of the boats. Follow me and stay down.”

  I did. The door emptied us out onto a lawn behind the building, so we had to crawl through sand on our hands and knees to the front, where the courtyard and the dock were. It had to have been excruciating for him, but he still managed to do it faster than I did. Whenever he stopped, though, the moonlight revealed the agony on his face. Only for a second, though. When he saw me watching, his face always turned stony.

  We made it to a patch of vegetation close to the pier, where he sat up, his front covered in sand. He pointed to a small wooden shack on the dock, cloaked in darkness. “The boat is there.”

  My eyes kept drifting to the wound. “But… what if someone is there?”

  “I don’t think there is anyone guarding it, but just to be sure, keep down.”

  We climbed up to the wooden pier. It stretched out into absolute blackness. Beyond us, the only sound was that of the waves and the far-off screech of seagulls.

  He was right. The boathouse, which only housed three boats, was deserted. We found the speedboat we’d come in on and climbed in together. He lifted the line tethering it to the dock, grabbed an oar from the pier, and started to push the boat away from the landing. I found another oar and started to do the same. Slowly, the boat drifted out to open water.

  We were really going to do this. We were going to escape.

  “Wait,” I said when I went to the front of the boat, where the steering wheel was. “There’s no key in the ignition. We need a key.”

  “Shit.”

  I held my breath as he dove into the water, coming up at the pier we’d just pulled away from. He went back inside the boathouse and was gone for what seemed like eternity. In the distance, a light came on in the mansion. Then another. My gut twisted in agony.

  Then Wyatt reappeared, dove back into the water and surfaced next to the boat. I thrust my hand down to help him up. “No luck. I couldn’t find a key. We’ll have to paddle.”

  Paddle? On the dark, wide open sea, with no clue as to where we were or which direction to go in? This sounded bad. “Wait, no—”

  “It’s either this or a bunch of drunk men with AK-47s. Help me out,” he muttered, leaning over the edge of the boat with the oar.

  In the moonlight, I saw the dark black gash in his side, the blood glistening down his leg with the streaming sea water. I rushed to the side of the boat and started to paddle. I pushed against the oar, feeling more exhausted than I ever had in my life, and got maybe a couple of feet of movement from it. The waves provided too much resistance. The boat started to veer sharply to the right, the result of Wyatt paddling much harder and better than I was capable of.

  My loose hair whipped in my face, and I shoved it behind my ears for the thousandth time, frustrated. “It’s not working.”

  “Try harder,” he said, the annoyance thick in his voice. “Here.”

  He switched sides with me so that we could straighten out. But then we started to veer sharply to the left. It pissed me off that I could use all the strength in my body and yet it still couldn’t match what Wyatt could do, injured and bleeding and in obvious pain.

  Anger made me only try harder.

  With each stroke of the paddle, I promised God or the Universe or whatever being was in control that I’d never take life for granted again. I wouldn’t take Wyatt for granted either. I’d never, ever think of him as a scumbag again.

  Sweat was streaming off me in rivers when I looked back at the island. To my amazement and absolute joy, I saw that we’d managed to get farther away than I thought we had.

  “You know what…” he said, snatching the paddle from me, “I’ll do it. You just look around and take inventory. Okay? See if maybe the key is hidden somewhere.”

  Gritting my teeth, I reminded myself I wouldn’t take him for granted again. Even when he was being an asshole.

  I stalked around him.

  I went through the boat, lifting cushions, going through supply boxes. I found a first-aid kit under one of the seats and a couple of black-skinned bananas that were crawling with fruit flies. Two water bottles, one empty, one half-full. A canvas tarp with saltwater stains. Two old life vests. Lots of sand and papery strands of brown seaweed.

  That was it. I listed everything to Wyatt, who proceeded to ask me if I’d checked every single one of the places I’d already checked. I bit my tongue before I said something I’d regret.

  I will not take him for granted. He saved me. He is a good man.

  After all, he was working hard. Wyatt went back and forth between the sides of the boat, paddling us even farther into the open sea. Eventually, the current caught us and started to help, drawing us away from the shore, where the tide’s pull was even stronger. We began to move faster. Gradually, the dark outline of the island disappeared into the distance.

  An hour later, I looked around, and in every direction, all I saw was the midnight blue of the sky meeting the black of the ocean in a perfect, straight line. The water was much calmer, which was a good thing, but we were utterly alone out there. “Do you think they’ll be searching for us?”

  He shrugged. “They might be, but it won’t be easy to find us. They’d have to cover a lot of ground.”

  “Oh. Is this the Pacific?”

  “Nope. South China Sea.” He continued to paddle now and then, pointing us in the direction he wanted us to go in, his back muscles moving with great effort. Maybe his excellent sense of direction was guiding him. His voice was strained. “There are hundreds of islands off the coast of Malaysia. We could float right into one.”
<
br />   Much of what the old man had said to me had gone over my head because I’d been so scared, but I suddenly remembered a little of it. “We’re near an island called Virgin’s Milk.”

  He looked over at me. “Virgin’s…” He shook his head. “I don’t know where that is. Dammit. I know every fucking town in Australia, and I know nothing about this country.”

  I stared at him, confused.

  “Forget it,” he muttered. “My best friend and I were going to take this epic trip to Australia. I planned it for years, but then my dad had a heart attack, and I had to assume the helm of my company instead. But I didn’t plan this trip at all, and…” He shrugged and swiped his forehead with his arm.

  “Oh.” I felt worthless too. The most I knew was how to insult someone in Malay. “My impulsiveness actually got me here too.”

  He snorted. “You? Impulsive? I didn’t see that one coming. Especially when you were grabbing my keys and driving away from me.”

  Not taking him for granted. Not taking him for granted. Not taking…

  I climbed to the front of the boat and checked the controls. There wasn’t even a compass there. “We could float into an island… or we could spend days drifting, and not see another soul. Right?”

  He nodded.

  “Maybe we could… I don’t know. Hotwire the boat?”

  Wyatt wiped the sweat from his brow and looked back at me. “Go ahead, tough guy.”

  I frowned. “I thought you could. Because you’re a multimillionaire… or are you a billionaire?

  He stared at me. “What’s your point?”

  “So you probably own like, twelve yachts, don’t you?”

  “No. I don’t really get into sailing,” he muttered. “And I’m not MacGyver. I thought you could hotwire it. Because you know everything.”

  I bit my tongue. Hours ago, when I thought I might never see him again, I promised I’d treat him differently. Were we really going to get into snipping at one another so soon after we’d almost died? Why was it just so easy to fight with him?