by Ward, Steve
Jessica grew sick of eating fish and thought long and hard about trying to vary the diet. She suggested they go after the seagulls for the boiling pot, but she was voted down. Early one morning, Christina and Billy decided to explore the interior of the island and hunt for something new to eat. Billy fashioned two sharp spears for makeshift weapons. They got up early marching off at sunup to take advantage of the cool air.
Tired of laying awake as the morning temperature soared, Jessica woke her friend and suggested they snorkel out on the reefs for the day’s bounty. Just one-hundred yards off the beach was a long, jagged line of coral, a goldmine of groceries. They decided to try a new area down at the other end of the beach. Jessica loved the feel of the tepid water in the gentle surf. On their morning swim to the local supermarket they came upon a dark area on the inlet floor. Weird, Jessica thought as she swam down for a better look. It was a sinkhole about twelve feet across and forty or fifty feet deep. Waiting for her eyes to focus in the dim light, she saw large groupers and snappers teeming in the depths. Wow, the mother lode, she thought.
An expert diver and strong swimmer, Jessica cocked her spear-gun, got a good breath and dove straight down into the abyss. Without hesitation she found a target and fired her weapon under a large coral ledge. A huge red snapper struggled on the end of her lance as she fought her way back to the surface. She was excited with the kill, much bigger than their usual fare. Surfacing to show off the catch, she could see Heather was pleased, giving her a double thumbs up. With the “fish of the day” already in the bag, the girls started looking around in the shallows for other delicacies to accent the evening meal.
* * *
Two Bahamian natives sat aboard their fishing boat three miles offshore, peering through large field glasses. Thomas gasped with excitement at the sight of an airplane.
“Come ta mama, dee dah dee dah, mah lucky day. Chickens come to roost.”
“What you think it is?” asked his partner.
“What it is, James,” he answered in disgust, “is a fuckin’ airplane.” Sometimes he wondered how the guy managed to get along without even a trace of brains.
“Assho. I see de plane. How you think it got there?”
Thomas scratched his head. “Probably our folk. They always running outta gas and ditchin’. Let’s go take a look.”
“Careful,” warned James with an anxious tone. “Dats a fire. Somebody der.”
Thomas maneuvered their boat in a wide arch to the back side of the island and hid it in a protected cove. He strapped on his pistol and hunting knife, while he tried to guess the value of the find on the black market. It was an easy trek across the corner of the atoll to the location of the airplane. They stayed low and walked carefully. Approaching the smell of smoke, Thomas could see plenty of footprints and quickly noticed the two swimmers snorkeling on the reef. He tapped his buddy on the shoulder and pointed at the commotion in the water. Placing two fingers over his lips, he motioned for James to move in behind the tall rocks, where they could get a better look.
The two men made their living off the drug trade. They didn’t buy or sell drugs, they “acquired” boats and sold them to drug runners. They specialized in finding vulnerable sailboats, taking possession by getting rid of the occupants. Of the thousands of people who sailed down the Bahamas each year, most cruisers were well advised not to venture out alone and to remain armed and alert for self defense. But there were always a few rookies who preferred to get away from the crowd and go it alone, sometimes a fatal mistake.
Navigating around the islands, Thomas and James were always on the lookout for easy prey. It was slim pickings in the summer, because most cruisers avoided hurricane season. On the other hand, the tourists they found then were sure to be grossly inept. Discovering a nice sailboat anchored in a private cove without escort, they would pretend to be fishing and observe from afar to check out the crew. If they turned out to be a typical man and wife team with the appearance of novices, pay dirt!
Thomas suffered a bitter hatred for those rich whities who came down every year to exploit their waters, while his people starved in poverty. Cruisers were considered fair game. It was a simple matter to swim to the boat in the wee hours on a dark night, board the vessel and kill the occupants in their sleep. Just to add a little spice, standard practice was to grab the man’s hair, yank his head back and slit his throat. The victim’s bedmate would always wake up stunned, paralyzed with terror at the sight of her partner gurgling to a bloody death. The body would be chopped up on the fishing boat and ground into a soupy chum to attract big sharks.
Without further prompting, the female partner always submitted, doing anything they wanted no matter how disgusting or painful. They could take all the time they wanted. If one happened to be young and attractive, they would sometimes relish in dragging the torture out for days. When they tired of their prey, they would ceremoniously make the victim beg for her life, slice up her skin to get the blood flowing and throw her naked body overboard. Few people had ever seen a living human being ripped apart by a pack of hungry sharks, chummed into a feeding frenzy. They thought it was great sport, and the sharks always did a thorough job getting rid of the evidence.
Towing newly acquired boats to a secret den of drug runners would result in top dollar, hard cash. Thomas figured the job was a win-win. They could make good money and cut down on the number of cruisers at the same time.
Peering over a big pile of limestone near the airplane, Thomas and James watched and waited for the swimmers to come out of the water.
* * *
Jessica was feeling good about her success. The snapper and oysters would make good eating when Christina and Billy returned. As they walked up the beach dripping wet, she heard a strange noise and turned to see her worst nightmare. Two huge, dark-skinned men running full speed were on their heels. Before she could scream, both girls were knocked to the ground in a daze. Heather appeared unconscious, but Jessica squirmed in agony as the man on her back quickly tied her hands and feet with leather straps. She squealed in pain as they were dragged by their feet across the sand to the airplane.
“Yooo hooo!” one man shouted in delight. “Thomas, dis a lucky day. Two babes and a plane ta boot. What ya think we git?”
“Donno, maybe a hunerd thou.”
“An what dese hos worth?”
“Donno. Why don we try ‘em an see?”
Jessica cringed when she saw the larger man ogling Heather’s limp body. She struggled to loosen her bindings, petrified with fear. Knowing their lives were on the line, she tried to think clearly, the way Christina would. She struggled to come up with something clever.
“You better let us go. Our husbands will be back any minute. They got guns.”
The one called Thomas looked around and snorted, “Funny, you got no ring. Ya lying mebbe? How da hell ya git dat plane on dis beach?”
She had her opening. “We’re exploring islands for a nature study commissioned by the Bahamian government. The Bahamian police are on their way,” she replied as Heather started coming to.
“What ya think James?”
“She lie. Ain no pigs ‘roun here,” he barked.
“Mos white folk don write HELP on da beach,” Thomas hooted. “Ya hos is helpless.”
She tried again, “Okay, we’re not married, but we’re not stranded either. We can fly out of here anytime we want. You’ll get yours when our boyfriends get back. If you don’t believe me, look in those bags.” Scared shitless, Jessica summoned the sternest voice she could muster.
Heather looked around dazed and asked, “What. . .what happened?”
Thomas yelled at her, “Ya find out soon ‘nuf.” He appeared to be looking around for signs there might be anyone else on the island. He climbed up on the rocks to scan the area and just as quickly returned.
James went through the bags. “Thomas, look, man’s clos.” He held up a handful of underwear. Eyes shifting back and forth, he looked nervous when he said, �
�Why don we take dese bitches an git outta here?”
“Stupid fucker!” scolded Thomas. “Dey find dey hos gone, dey fly dat plane outta here. Jes kill de hos now and de boys when dey git back.”
“Why do you have to kill us?” begged Heather, crying. “You can have plane. It’s not ours.”
“Shut up! Already got de plane.”
Jessica watched Thomas walk over to Heather and grab her hair. He planted a forceful kiss on her lips and ripped off her bikini top with his free hand. Holding her head back, he took out his large hunting knife and used the sharp point to outline each breast. Then, with the look of a deranged maniac, he raised the blade to her neck. “If ya wanna keep des, ya shut dat mouth.”
“Please don’t hurt her,” Jessica tried to reason. “We’ll do anything.”
James looked around nervously.
Thomas scanned Heather’s body. “Damn right, ya will. James, dis better dan anythin we see.” He grunted and drooled. “Git up on dat rock and watch fo de boys. Gotta have me some.”
James scrambled up to the high ground.
Jessica watched in horror as the one called Thomas found four thick limbs and used a rock to hammer them deep into the sand. He untied Heather’s hands and retied the wrists tightly to the two upper stakes. She started to panic, struggling wildly, but he overpowered her. He spread her legs wide tying her ankles to the two lower stakes.
Fearing the worst, Jessica wriggled her tiny wrists behind her back as hard as she could. She was pulling so hard the bindings cut into her skin and blood was running down one finger. Trying to ignore the pain, she could hardly stand to look at her friend. The gruesome scene made her think of a time long forgotten, when she was being strangled by that monster, Roy Pitts.
Spread-eagle, like some kind of medieval sacrifice, Heather’s eyes were wide with terror. She flopped around and pulled against her restraints without success. Determined to get loose, Jessica couldn’t turn away. Visions of torture and rape pumped adrenaline as she frantically yanked her restraints.
The big man stood over Heather and said, “If ya wanna live, ya be still an do what I wan.” His eyes moved down to the junction of her perfectly shaped legs. “Nah les see what we got.” Pulling his huge knife out of its leather scabbard, Thomas cut the strings holding her bikini bottoms. He slid the big blade underneath the tiny garment and flipped it to one side. “Ooooh, nice,” he moaned. “Hey James, look at dis.”
Heather turned pale. She looked as though she would be physically ill, like she was about to throw up. With all remaining energy, she fought to get loose, but the stakes held firm.
“Be still.” He dropped his knife in the sand and got down on his knees between her legs. He grabbed at her breasts and rubbed his face all over her body. “Nah les see,” his hand went up between her legs.
Jessica turned her head and winced as Heather squealed. She couldn’t bear it. With her eyes clamped shut she could hear her friend scream at the top of her lungs, “Help meee!” She heard the man slap Heather across the face. “I toll you shut de fuck up.” Jessica opened her eyes and saw the shiny blade glistening in the sand. She pulled with all her might, blood pouring down her wrist, and felt a little slack. Twisting and pulling, one hand slipped free, and she quickly untied her feet. Neither man noticed, both spellbound by Heather’s agony.
The big man dropped his pants and fell on top of her, writhing in pleasure.
Jessica saw her chance. With some unknown energy, she quietly rolled over and grabbed the knife with both hands. Another flashback to Roy Pitts, I can’t fail this time. Raising the knife high in the air, she swung a big arch and plunged it with all her strength right between his shoulder blades. With a thud the sharp point penetrated bare skin, all the way to the hilt. Years of weight training paid off as she leaned into the butt and twisted the steel blade deep in his chest.
“Uuuungh!” a muffled scream. The knife skewered between ribs, and the man coughed up blood. Convulsing in a series of spasmodic jerks, finally, he was still. Heather pinned beneath, turned her head to one side, spewing vomit. She let go a choking yell, “Eeeyck. Get ‘im off. . .can’t breath!”
“What ya do bitch?” yelled the other man from his lookout perch.
Jessica saw him scramble down from the cliff, going for his gun. She had no time to cut Heather loose. She snatched the pistol from the dead man’s belt and struggled to pull back the hammer. The man was running across the beach, gun pointed. She lifted the heavy firearm in his direction and squeezed the trigger. About ten feet apart they fired simultaneously in a double thunderclap, both shots found their mark. The man flew backwards like he was hit by a train. Jessica felt a slight burning sensation when the bullet ripped through the center of her torso. She stood for a moment, not believing the spurts of blood shooting from her chest. She looked up and saw a bright light at the end of a long tunnel. She saw her mom. It was a peaceful scene as she was overcome by a pleasant calm. She waved to her mom, but before she could speak, the lights went out. Jessica Ward dropped to the sand in a heap.
* * *
Deep in the interior of the island, Billy was excited when they found a small pool of crystal-clear water that appeared to be a spring. To test its quality he mixed it with a water purification tablet from the survival kit. A virtual gold mine, he thought. It had a sweet taste.
“Guess we found our water supply,” Billy said.
Christina was about to reply, when they heard a strange booming noise.
“What the hell was that?” she asked.
“Sounded like thunder,” he replied.
“But there’s not a cloud in the sky.”
“My God!” Billy looked over his shoulder. “It came from the direction of camp.”
They both broke into a full run. For two miles, they picked the path of least resistance all the way back to the beach. When he heard the screams, Billy was gripped with fear.
“Help me, help meee.” The voice was fading, but it sounded like Heather.
Christina sprinted the final distance to the plane. Stopping hard in her tracks and gasping for breath, she was completely immobilized.
“What happened?” Billy came jogging up behind. He scanned the morbid scene. Two men were covered in blood, one straddled over Heather’s squirming form. He yelled, “Drug runners!”
Heather twisted in his direction. “Get this bastard off of me,” she sobbed.
Frozen like a statue, Christina couldn’t speak.
Billy’s mind tried to make logic out of chaos. When they left that morning, Jessica and Heather were sleeping peacefully. Now it was something out of a horror film. Stark naked, Heather was staked out, covered by a dark, bloody form. Protruding from the man’s back was the butt end of a hunting knife. Jessica lay twitching, strangely contorted, and another man lay dead on the beach. The scene was so horrific, Billy’s mind couldn’t take it all in. He couldn’t figure how this could’ve happened in such a short time.
Heather shouted again, “Billy! Get him off me. . .can’t breathe.”
Billy ran to the rescue. He grabbed the dead man by one foot and heaved to drag him back. When he was clear, Billy yanked the bloody knife from his back and wiped the blade in the sand. He quickly cut the ropes binding Heather’s arms and legs.
Heather tried to talk, but all she could do was sputter. She got up and ran across the beach like a wild woman, tumbling into the water. Flailing hands all over her body, she looked as though she was swatting bees. Grabbing hands full of sand she scrubbed away the wretched stench and the memory of her worst nightmare.
Christina finally thawed and went to Jessica. She sat down beside her and cradled her lifeless body. “Jessy! Jessy, what happened? Please don’t die.”
Jessica’s eyelids opened just enough to recognize her best friend. She struggled to smile. With lingering strength she whispered, “All for one. . .and one for all. Don’t lose my map. Promise me you’ll find it.” She coughed again and wrenched in one big spasm.
“I promise.”
“Tell my mom, I love her.” Her body went completely limp with one final sigh.
Christina just sat there cradling the bloody form like a newborn. “No, baby, please don’t die. Don’t leave me.” Back and forth she rocked, as though Jessica were still alive.
Billy wasn’t sure what to do, but he had the presence of mind to pick up the gun and look around. He pulled back the hammer and scanned the perimeter for any more bad guys. As he looked down the beach, he was shocked to see movement. Somehow the other man had managed to get up on one knee. He had a gun, and as if in slow motion, it came up off the sand and dropped again. It was clear the man was unable to lift it.