He heard a door open and tensed up. All they did was ask him questions that he didn't know the answers to and shook their heads with disappointment when he told them so.
"Captain, my name's Ruth." said a new voice. A woman appeared above him like an alien. Her heavily made-up face could not disguise the acne and scarring. She was plump and from that angle he could see the beginning of jowls. "I understand you have been refusing to co-operate with my colleagues?"
He tried to shake his head. "No, no I haven't." He sounded scared but of course he did. They called him captain but they didn't treat him with the dignity or respect that the position deserved.
She ignored him. "I hope you won't treat me the same way."
She waited for him to speak but he couldn't think of anything to say to her.
"Very well, we shall begin." She began to pace anti-clockwise around the chair that he was tied to. He watched her disappear above his head and then reappear on his right hand side. She walked down to his feet where he also lost sight of her and then back up his left. "What are your people doing on our island?"
"There was an accident," he said. He had told them all of this before, explained every last detail of it, but he told it again.
She continued to circle him as he spoke, she made no comment or interruption. When he was done she said, "who do you work for?"
"PBI Cruises," he said.
"And this 'PBI', what do they do?"
"They run cruise ships. If you let me contact them I can prove it."
"I expect you can captain. I expect you and your organisation have all of the documents to prove what you say."
"They do," he said, feeling a small amount of hope that this time he would be believed.
"I expect that if you were to tell me you worked for a bakery or in a shoe shop you would also be able to prove that."
"No, I..." the penny dropped and he realised that she didn't believe him any more than the others had. "I'm telling the truth."
She stopped walking and he could see her out the corner of his eye on his left. She sighed but he thought it was just an act. "Captain you might be telling the truth, I understand that. But please understand that it is my job to assume you are not. Do you understand?"
He tried to shake his head but of course he couldn't. "No I don't."
"Somehow, whether by accident or design, you have ended up on an island used for extremely secret research. In all likely hood this was, as you say, an accident. We have numerous security measure in place that make it virtually impossible for anyone to find us."
It was then that Trevor realised that the chances of him living long enough to get home were tiny. In a way he supposed it served him right. He had fled the sinking ship on a raft big enough for twenty people. He didn't know what had happened to them but if they were dead, and they probably were, it was his fault. Another part of him panicked and yet another part of him resolved to do anything he could to stay alive.
"So yes," continued the woman, "I expect you are telling the truth but, due to the small chance you are here to spy on us, I have to torture you."
"I can help you," he said. He blurted it out so that it sounded like one word, icanhelpyou.
She raised her eyebrows but said nothing.
He repeated what he said, slowly this time. "I can help you find the others."
"And what makes you think we need help?" she said.
He didn't have an answer to that. She gave him a few moments to think about it but nothing came. Then she started to pace around him again.
"As I was saying captain, it's my job to torture you until you tell us what we need to know."
"But I don't know anything," he protested. He pulled at the straps around his wrists and ankles but they didn't move at all.
"That really is more your problem than mine," she said.
Nothing had been done to him yet but he started to panic. A cool sweat covered his skin. "Okay fine," he said desperately. "I'm here to spy on you."
It was like being kicked in the gut, except his whole body was a gut. Everything went black for a moment until the pain began to recede. When it had gone he realised he had been electrocuted.
"You mustn't tell me what you think I want to know captain. You must only tell me the truth. Do you understand?"
He nodded. He felt too weak to talk.
She disappeared from his view for a moment and when she returned she brought with her a platform on wheels. On top of it in a neat line there were shiny scalpels and surgical pliers. The sort of thing you might see in a dentists office.
She picked up a scalpel and held it up to the light before putting it down again. She picked up a device that looked like a tiny corkscrew and held it against his face. It was cold against his cheek.
"Now captain, tell me what you are doing on my island."
He tried to back away but he couldn't move. He screamed when the blades were held against his skin and he felt his flesh burn cold. He told her everything, answered every question honestly but it wasn't enough to save him.
The door opened again. By now he knew he was little more than flesh and blood, the agonies of his ordeal had pushed every other though from his mind.
"He's telling the truth," said the woman.
A mans voice replied, "dispose of the body. Come and see me when you're done."
Then he was gone.
25
When the night settled in it was cold. The whole island seemed to stop. They couldn't keep the fire burning after they'd eaten in case someone saw it. Samantha covered it in dirt and shivered. She refused to complain to Billy that she was cold.
He was sitting a little way back in the forest. Cloaked in shadow so that all she could really see were his legs. They hadn't spoken in nearly two hours.
"We should get going," he said, standing up and disappearing for a moment in the darkness.
She stood up, dusted herself down.
Billy the stranger stepped into the moonlight and she saw how much he had changed. It wasn't just the beard stubble that had grown on his chin, it wasn't just the cuts and scrapes that covered his cheeks. It was the look in his eyes and the way he held himself. The Billy who had burned himself on the coffee maker and tripped over his own feet when they snuck off to smoke a joint together was gone.
Samantha realised that she missed the old Billy, even if this new one was more useful in their present situation. She wished she had given him more of a chance. Then she dismissed the thought; the old Billy wasn't gone, he had never really existed. He had just been a persona worn by a spy to fool her.
"Come on then," she said and walked away from the smothered fire without waiting to see whether he would follow her. Icy rain began to fall.
"It shouldn't be raining," said Billy.
She turned to look at him and realised that he was right. This was a tropical island and they did get rain but not like this. This was British rain and should have been striking lead tiled houses not palm trees.
"I think we should find shelter," said Billy, already peeling away from her towards the forest.
She followed him but it wasn't until they were beneath the leafy canopy that she realised something other than the sudden shift of climate was wrong.
The rain, she saw, wasn't rain at all. Little black dots clung to their clothes and made them look as if they were behind television static. Billy's blue t-shirt had begun to fray and there were holes in it where there hadn't been holes before.
"Get it off your skin," she said, already madly slapping her own face and arms. She saw the startled look on his face turn to understanding and then he was slapping himself as well.
"What the hell is it?" he said.
"I don't know. Just get it off."
"It's on my back," he said turning around.
She wiped her hands on her face and they came away clean. Either she had managed to get it all or there was nothing else she could do. She wiped them off Billy's neck and then he did the same for her. By the ti
me they had finished they were both exhausted and fell to the floor panting.
"What the hell was that?" he said.
"I don't know but it wasn't rain."
His shirt looked about a hundred years old. She could see his tight stomach muscles rise and fall as he breathed.
She realised he was staring at her and when she looked down she saw her own top had been torn away to expose her own stomach and chest.
"Sorry," he said and looked away.
She decided she didn't actually mind him staring. What was irritating was that she didn't have access to any other clothes. She was going to have to go native.
But Billy was on his feet again. He lifted his t-shirt over his head and she found herself unable to look away from his hard stomach. "Here," he said.
She looked at the t-shirt he was holding out for her and took it from him. She might have kissed him and, even in the forest with the clock ticking, that might have gone further. But that stuff, those black dots, were still everywhere and the thought of getting them anywhere near her privates wasn't worth considering.
So instead of a kiss he got a smile and instead of a fuck he got a "thanks".
Beyond the forest canopy the black dots continued to fall from the sky. They had see what they had done to their clothes and made it very clear to each other that the thought they could do the same to flesh. They were trapped with no way of knowing how long the things would continue to rain down for.
26
She waited beneath the thick leaves and counted down from 300 in her head. That was how long she would have to wait for the blots to stop falling. Once they were on the ground they would be harmless until their program was activated.
The complex was more than two hours behind her now. She was past the halfway point of her journey. The first part anyway. Now all she had to do was find him, get back and somehow smuggle him aboard one of the boats without anyone noticing. She was sure that security would be searching people as they boarded but she thought she could get around that.
She reached zero and a few moments later the black rain ended. She could see it on the ground like sand. Cautiously she stepped away from the tree. She was practically running now. The blots had been sent sooner than she expected. The delay beneath the tree wasn't one she had anticipated. She had already spent longer than ever before breathing the island air.
She walked along the mound to the access ramp, too quickly to notice anything amiss. Then she heard the faint voice calling, "Hello?"
She stopped and looked around. Her heard was beating frantically but that may have been the air. She couldn't tell where the voice had come from.
"Is somebody there?"
It might have been a hallucination but she didn't think so. Hallucinations wouldn't come until later.
She looked around again for the source of the voice but saw none. She took a few steps forward and there it was. The terrible result of prolonged exposure to the islands toxic air.
The speed at which the toxins affected you varied from person to person but eventually everyone succumbed. The haz-mat suits protected them but they weren't perfect. Gradually the toxins built up just the same which was why the Grigori insisted that everyone leave the island for one month out of every 6. It meant your system could detox.
Grace was only a month in to a six month stay on the island which was why she felt able to risk the journey. Annabel, whose grotesque form she now saw before her, had to be near the end of a six month stay.
"Oh Anna," she said and clasped her hands to her mouth.
They had never been close friends, Anna worked mainly outside while Grace was usually confined to the lab, but they were on speaking terms. They always nodded to one another in passing.
"What is it?" said Annabel. Her words came out slurred, her mouth was pressed up against the fish bowl helmet where her face had swollen. "Have I changed?"
Grace crouched down beside her and wanted to stroke her head. The pattern was always started the same; the hallucinations and then the change. Where it differed from person to person was whether they survived after that point. It wasn't immediately clear which way Anna was going to go.
She nodded, there was no point hiding it from her. There was nothing that either of them could do now. It was one of the many peculiar things about the island.
"Will you take off my helmet?"
"It won't..." she realised that she was crying. She could only manage to shake her head, the helmet wouldn't come off now.
"It hurts," said Anna.
Her wristwatch bleeped and she looked down. Her third hour exposed to the atmosphere of the island. She stood up and hardened herself to what she was going to do. She couldn't help her friend now.
"Where are you going?" said Anna. She sounded hurt and confused.
"I can't stay with you," she said. She didn't wait around for a response. There was nothing she could do for Anna but she might still be able to save herself, and Mikey, of course Mikey.
27
They moved on through the night. There were no more stars but a purple mist hung beneath the top of the trees. Sam wrapped what was left of Billy's t-shit around her and wished they had built another fire. She had thought that the walking would warm her up but it hadn't.
She glanced at Billy. He was topless and covered in goosebumps but he didn't show it. If she had to name things she liked about the new Billy that would be one of them: He was stoic.
Before the black rain had stopped she had suggested they just pick a direction and walk for a few hours, hope to find the other survivors but if they didn't then they would start looking for the dock. He had suggested a different plan and now they were skulking around the edge of the forest looking for signs that people had passed this way recently. So far they hadn't seen a thing.
The black dots were on the ground now. They moved to make space every time she put her foot down but didn't seem to be doing any harm.
"Do you see anything?" she said.
Billy had stopped by a tree and leaned down to get a closer look. "I'm not sure, come here a second."
She walked the few steps over to where he was standing and crouched beside him. As far as she could see it was just an ordinary tree trunk. Much bigger than the ones they had back home but other than that nothing out of the ordinary. She told him so.
"Don't you see that?" he said.
He pointed at the trunk but she couldn't see anything worth drawing attention to. "There's nothing there," she said.
He stepped back and rubbed his eyes, looked at her for a moment and then bent back to examine the tree. "I thought..." he trailed off.
"What?" she said.
He stood up shaking his head. "I could have sworn..." he shook his head more forcefully. "Never mind, there's nothing there. Come on."
So they stated walking again and she wondered what it was that he'd thought he'd seen. She was sure there hadn't been anything there but maybe there had. Maybe he wasn't seeing things, maybe she was not seeing things.
28
Their voices seemed to carry on the wind, whispering to him his darkest thoughts. Peter looked at the girl in front. She walked like a timid dog.
'Cut her throat,' said the voice on the wind.
He understood that he was the one who had made her that way but it showed a complete lack of character on her part.
'Stupid bitch, take her ears off.'
At least the dirty girl had stuck up for herself, even though it probably meant she was laying dead somewhere. He would trade the skinny bitch for her now. Maybe even throw her a fuck. She'd been fun to have around.
'Kill her.'
He was close to his marks though and he needed her. He could kill her later, after he'd seen to Samantha and William. Then he could have his fun. Maybe find the dirty girl and take her to that cocktail party. Afterwards give her a private party.
'Kill her, kill her, kill her!'
He shook his head and the wild thoughts disappeared. He would kill her,
of course he would, but he had other things to do first. He had to find the girl and the boy. He needed to take their fingers back to claim his bounty.
"Are you alright?"
He looked up and realised that the skinny bitch had stopped walking. She was also completely naked and didn't seem to realise it. He tried to answer but his mouth was full of creepy crawlers.
"You don't look very well," she said. Then she came towards him, her little titties barely swaying. She had a little patch of blond fuzz above her woman parts.
"You've got a temperature," she said. Her hand was on his forehead. "Maybe you should rest."
Suddenly he realised she wasn't tied up anymore. She must have slipped out of the vine handcuffs without him noticing. He started to panic, what was to stop her running away and leaving him now.
He grabbed her wrist but something didn't feel right. It was crumbly and dry and chunks of flesh peeled away beneath his fingers. He pulled his hand away in disgust.
"Are you alright?" she said.
He looked up because her voice was coming from somewhere else now. She stood a couple of metres away from him, fully dressed and bound.
"Are you alright?" she said again and he realised it wasn't her speaking. She just stood there looking straight through him with her big sunken eyes.
He felt as if he had been possessed for a moment. He was back in the real world, he was sure of that, but it seemed unfamiliar and dreamlike.
"Keep moving," he said.
She turned away and he felt the pull on the vine that connected them.
'Kill her,' said the voices on the wind. 'Kill her now.'
He ignored his dark thoughts but promised himself that she would not leave the island alive.
29
They remained close to the forest. In part because it offered the best means of finding tracks but also in case the black rain fell again.
Three Stories Tall Page 22