Survive

by Tom Bale

  They watch the screen to see if Borko’s intervention has come too late. Gabby is gnawing on her fist like an overanxious fan in the closing seconds of a cup final.

  Sam looks beaten, which Gabby has realised is a bad thing in this context. It means he has nothing to lose. And the pause, while he weighs up his options, is sheer agony.

  But it’s Jody who makes the decision. That’s clear from the way Sam turns to her, then drops his gaze and tosses the walkie talkie at Luka’s feet.

  Borko issues instructions, then his man motions to Jody and hands her the walkie talkie.

  ‘Jody,’ Borko says, ‘I need you to go back to the beach. Help is on its way.’

  She snorts, turning to find the camera. ‘How can we believe anything you tell us?’

  Borko replies smoothly: ‘Please remember that Luka will shoot you if I ask him to. It’s down to my goodwill that he hasn’t already done so. Now go.’

  He turns to Gabby. ‘Satisfied?’

  She knows better than to celebrate, but says, quietly, ‘Yes. Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’ There’s a quality to Borko’s smile that suggests she has just walked into a trap. ‘And now I need something from you.’

  They walk in single file, Jody leading the way with Sam behind her, then Dylan, then Grace. The guard who placed them in this order comes last, ready to shoot one of the children if Sam or Jody cause trouble. Even with his poor English, Luka has made it plain that Grace will be the first to die.

  Sam is fuming at Jody’s insistence that they do as Borko says. ‘We can’t just roll over and surrender.’

  ‘Yes, we can. Don’t you dare get any ideas.’

  Sam hasn’t: that’s the problem. But he can’t bear to accept failure – not when the price of that failure is likely to mean their deaths. Jody, for some reason, can’t seem to see that. She’s choosing to place her trust in Borko – and how sensible is that, given what they know about him?

  Back at the beach, they’re made to sit in a tight cluster a few metres from the boat. Luka checks on his colleague while talking urgently on the walkie talkie. As far as Sam can tell the other man is still alive, just about. For the first time it occurs to Sam that he might end up guilty of murder – manslaughter at the very least.

  In his own view, he’s not guilty of anything. He was forced to take extreme measures after being put here against his will. But he doubts if the courts on Sekliw – Borko’s courts – will agree with that.

  They wait in a miserable silence. The children are trembling, their eyes blank with shock. A feverish heat pours out of Grace, while Jody is hugging Dylan close, singing to him beneath her breath. It’s getting hotter now the sun is up, and they’re all desperately thirsty. Jody asks the guard for some more water, but he only sneers in her direction.

  It’s probably fifteen or twenty minutes before there’s another brief message on the radio. Luka stands up and peers out to sea, and a moment later they hear the low thrum of a speedboat. Jody exchanges a look with Sam, shaking her head as if he’s just put forward some crazy idea. He answers with the same gesture, so it looks like they’re both saying no to something.

  He has no ideas left, crazy or otherwise.

  The kids have sensed the tension and are staring at the sea as the boat comes scudding into view. Sam spots several figures on board. Suddenly he feels weak with dread.

  He watches Luka, who has maintained a safe distance while monitoring the boat’s approach. Every couple of seconds his gaze flicks back over his prisoners. No way he’ll be distracted enough to give Sam a chance.

  It’s a suicide mission to fight back. But isn’t that a better way to go, a more… honourable way to die than like this, helpless and afraid?

  The engine cuts out, and Sam turns back as the speedboat drifts into the shallows. A man in shorts and t-shirt drops over the side, carrying a rope fixed to a metal spike that he drives into the sand at the shore. Another man climbs down, a medical bag over his shoulder, and unloads what appears to be a stretcher. He races up the beach, heading for the unconscious guard, and when he moves out of their sightline, Sam sees the first man helping someone else climb out of the boat.

  He groans.

  Jody has never thought of herself as remotely violent, but the sight of the rep threatens to unleash a whole new personality, a demented creature capable of tearing at Gabby’s long blonde hair and gouging out her bright green eyes.

  The rep is barefoot and wearing a close-fitting black dress, clingy where it’s damp, as though she’s here for a photoshoot. Jody tracks her progress up the beach. Gabby acknowledges Sam first, with a slightly pleading half-smile. Her gaze passes quickly – guiltily – over the kids, and then she greets Luka with a nod.

  She doesn’t look at Jody until she’s only a couple of metres away. By then the man from the boat is behind her, a gun in his hand. Suddenly Jody’s feelings about the rep seem trivial. Are they about to be shot dead, and their bodies dumped at sea?

  ‘Guys, look.’ Gabby raises a forefinger, squaring her shoulders as if to make it clear that she cares about their welfare but isn’t going to take any crap. ‘I can imagine how you feel–’

  ‘You don’t have a fucking clue!’ Jody shouts. ‘You sold us to him, didn’t you?’

  Jody looks at Sam, wanting him to agree that their theories have been proved right, but he only nudges his shoulder against hers and whispers: ‘Later.’

  Gabby looks shaken by the ferocity in Jody’s voice. But Sam is right, and now she understands why his mood is less bleak than it was a few minutes ago. Gabby’s presence might be a sign that they’re not facing immediate death.

  Sam indicates the man tending to the unconscious guard. ‘Grace needs a doctor. Can he help her?’

  Gabby nods. ‘You’ll all get checked over. There’s so much to explain, but for now can you hold off on the questions and come with me? We’re only minutes away from somewhere you can clean up and recover.’

  ‘So the “game” is over, is it?’ Jody asks, her tone still caustic.

  ‘Like I say, I will explain. Let’s get moving.’

  As they stand up, Grace’s bad leg gives out. Sam lifts her into his arms. The guard looks pleased that Sam is now less of a threat.

  ‘Where are we going?’ he asks Gabby.

  ‘Somewhere safe, I swear.’

  Jody cuts in: ‘A town? A harbour? The airport?’

  Gabby’s smile is weak and condescending: Now you’re being silly. Perhaps, to her, this is no different from fending off complaints about blocked toilets or lumpy beds, just scaled up a little.

  Behind them, Luka and the doctor are preparing to lift the unconscious man on to the stretcher. Jody watches them for a moment, then gazes at the battered old rowing boat, the wooden stakes and the netting, the remnants of the food they retrieved from the cage full of rats.

  It might not be true, but she wants to believe that anywhere will be better than this.

  67

  Gabby hangs back, letting the guard, Zivko, herd the family down the beach. It’s the same tactic she employs towards the end of an overpriced excursion: any hint of dissatisfaction from the punters and she’ll make herself scarce, reappearing only when the coach driver has taken the brunt of the whinging.

  She was petrified of how the family would react when they saw her. She tried to persuade Borko to send someone else – Naji, maybe – but Borko refused. Gabby was the one who wanted them spared, brought back to civilisation, so she has to play her part.

  But they’ll hate my guts for this, she wanted to tell him. As if Borko would care.

  She can’t really blame the family for their attitude towards her, but still she feels a little resentful. If only they knew how she’s been advocating on their behalf… though of course she couldn’t risk trying to explain or justify herself in front of Borko’s men.

  Luka and the medic carry the stretcher down to the shore. After a quick discussion they decide to transport their patient in
the dinghy – it’s easier to get him aboard, and a quicker landing at the other end.

  Gabby wades into the sea and attempts to help Grace, who is struggling even to grip her mother’s hands as she and Sam try to lift her into the speedboat. Jody gasps at the intrusion, but swallows back an insult when Gabby’s assistance makes the difference.

  Jody is next to climb aboard. For a second, Gabby is alone with Sam; just enough time to whisper, ‘I’m on your side, remember that.’

  Sam looks scornful but says nothing, and Gabby feels another stab of resentment. If you understood what this is costing me.

  Borko told her that while she was doing this, he intended to rouse Jesse and turf him out. And he was scrapping their proposed business deal. ‘Partly because I can’t have him here while this is going on. And partly because I can’t stand the man.’

  Clearing the decks, in other words.

  The speedboat has limited seating, so there’s a tense atmosphere from the start. As Zivko gets underway, easing the throttle open, Gabby notices Jody toying with her jewellery and decides to make an effort to lighten the mood.

  ‘Ooh, that’s an unusual ring.’

  Jody gives a start and lifts her hand. Peering closer, Gabby can see the ring has been crudely formed from a strip of metal that appears to have numbers stamped on it.

  ‘My husband made this for me,’ Jody says, and Gabby starts to frown – she didn’t think they were married? – when Jody adds, coldly: ‘Because we thought we were going to die here.’

  Sam can’t work out what Gabby’s up to, but he’s aware of an unexpected voice in his head, telling him to trust her. It’s occurred to him that, up against someone as powerful as Borko, the rep might not have a lot more choice about this than they did.

  When the boat picks up speed, it gets quite cold. Sam draws Grace close, and Jody does the same with Dylan, all four of them hanging on tight. The driver (or whatever he’s called) isn’t worrying too much about making it a pleasant ride.

  They hit a wave and for a second they’re airborne. Sam is stunned when Dylan gives a little yelp of excitement. That’s cause for hope, isn’t it? In time the kids, at least, might be able to put this behind them.

  After racing out to sea, they turn right and run parallel to the shore for a few minutes before moving back in. They’ve passed the high boundary wall and are heading towards a wide sandy bay with a timber jetty at one end. The beach here is steeper, with a rocky cliff at the rear. There are steps cut into the cliff, and on top there are neat lawns and terraced gardens arranged around a house so large it might be a resort hotel.

  Half a dozen men in uniforms are waiting on the jetty, one of them holding a stretcher. For Grace, it turns out, and it’s badly needed. Although she’s conscious, and even manages a brave smile as Sam prepares to lift her out, she can barely stand.

  A couple of the men help to lift her from the boat. Sam then takes Dylan’s hand, waiting while Jody clambers out first, determined to stay by her daughter’s side.

  Gabby says, ‘We’ll look after her, Jody. I promise.’

  Sam thinks Jody hasn’t heard, till she glances back at the rep and snarls, ‘Your promises are worthless.’

  Gabby seems more disappointed than upset. She meets Sam’s eye as he prepares to climb out. ‘Whatever you may think, I’m doing my best for you guys. But you have to stay calm.’

  Sam scowls at her. ‘Is that a threat?’

  ‘No, but it is a warning. For your sake, please don’t ignore it.’

  Jody accompanies the stretcher across the beach. Instead of taking the steps, the men veer off to the left and move into a shadowy opening cut into the cliff face. Inside, to her astonishment, she finds a long marble corridor containing a couple of toilets, a changing room and an air-conditioned elevator large enough to take the stretcher and the three adults.

  She looks back. Sam and Dylan are with Gabby, heading for the steps. She has to stifle her panic, tell herself the separation isn’t for long.

  Sure enough, they’re soon reunited in a wide hallway with a series of archways on one side. Jody glimpses an outside dining area, a striped lawn as immaculate as the centre court at Wimbledon, and a long sinuous swimming pool that seems to form a figure of eight, complete with various bridges and slides.

  As they climb a couple of steps, Jody finds that her feet are aching. She realises it’s because she has become so used to walking on sand; these manmade surfaces feel hard and jarring.

  They cross a palatial living room, filled with sumptuous furniture and dazzling modern art: paintings, sculptures, photographs. It’s blissfully cool, almost cold, and yet there’s no one in here. Jody is plagued by a sense of unreality: after the past few days in such a tough environment this is far too plush, too rich.

  It feels like a trap.

  68

  In Sam’s view, the property looks like it could claim the centrefold in Fuck Off Homes magazine. They step inside, and with the cool wash of the aircon he’s immediately aware that he stinks. They all do, probably. Their clothes are filthy, soaked with three days’ worth of sweat, and yet he’s barely noticed until now.

  Gabby mutters something about seeing them later, then vanishes. The family is led through the house and across a tree-lined courtyard to a single-storey outbuilding. The door is opened by a woman in a nurse’s uniform. She takes charge of the stretcher, ushering the men into a bedroom where a gawky young man is setting up some equipment next to the bed.

  The man greets them, speaking English in a soft French accent, and gives each of them a quick appraisal while Grace is being transferred to the bed. Then she becomes the focus of his attention. Once they’ve been reassured for the sixth or seventh time that she’s going to be okay, they allow the nurse to show them to another bedroom across the hall where they can shower and change.

  Sam is gobsmacked to find their suitcases waiting for them. Jody doesn’t take it well, angrily kicking one of the cases over. She lets out a shuddering sob.

  ‘What?’ Sam winces, remembering Gabby’s warning.

  ‘This!’ Jody shouts. ‘All of this. What a fucking, fucking stitch-up.’

  Jody knows that Sam doesn’t get it. How could he, when even she can’t really comprehend why she is so distressed by the sight of their cases? But it’s Sam’s job at the moment to be the calm one. No doubt, before long, it will be her turn again.

  There’s a sense of violation, she decides eventually. To know that Borko’s people – or, worse still, that evil cow of a rep – went to the hotel and packed up the cases, pawing through their clothes and personal belongings; things they had no right to see or touch.

  A hot shower calms her mood a little. Sam and Dylan go next. Blissfully clean, Jody dresses in shorts and a t-shirt and hurries back to Grace’s bedside. The doctor has hooked her up to a drip – for rehydration, he explains. He is at work on her leg, explaining how a mosquito bite became infected because of dirt in the wound. He has started Grace on a course of antibiotics, and he gently cleans and dresses the leg while Jody holds Grace’s hand and encourages her to be brave, promising that she’ll sleep away the pain and wake up feeling much better.

  ‘She will heal quickly now,’ the doctor says. He’s about their age, late twenties or so, with long limbs and a wispy beard. He has such an honest, open manner that Jody wants to ask whether he knows what has been going on here. But she’s too cowardly. This friendly interaction with a stranger feels so refreshingly normal that she doesn’t want to ruin it.

  Soon Grace is asleep, watched over by the nurse. The doctor accompanies Jody to the other bedroom and gives Dylan a thorough check-up, then does the same for the adults: temperature, pulse, blood pressure and so on. Sam, in the doctor’s opinion, is dehydrated to the point where a drip would be invaluable, but he flatly refuses. Jody guesses it’s partly that being tethered to the equipment will make him more vulnerable.

  Their cuts and grazes are treated, and painkillers doled out, along with creams to sooth
e the insect bites and sunburn. A maid brings a jug of a dark purplish liquid which, the doctor says, will help to restore their electrolyte balance.

  Remembering the fruit juice at the Conchis, Sam and Jody have the same reaction – is it safe to drink? Noting their hesitation, the doctor gives a sympathetic smile and says, ‘It contains nothing that it shouldn’t.’

  So he does know. Jody feels distraught that even this charming young man is part of the conspiracy.

  At Sam’s insistence, the doctor has to sample it first. Only then does Sam take a few sips. He grimaces – it’s got a blackcurrant flavour, which he doesn’t like – but signals that it’s okay to drink.

  The doctor recommends only a light meal to begin with; otherwise there’s a risk of vomiting. But when they’re ready, breakfast will be waiting for them in the living room at the end of the hall.

  Breakfast. That seems absurd to Jody. It feels like they’ve been up for hours, but according to the clock by the bed it’s barely eight a.m.

  She frowns. The clock has reminded her of something.

  Another maid passes by, wafting a smell of bacon that makes Sam moan with desire. Jody feels her stomach turning cartwheels in anticipation, but she ignores her hunger for a minute, flipping open the cases and digging through them. She finds her handbag, tossed in amongst the toiletries and clothes, and Sam’s wallet and keys are there, but other items are missing.

  ‘No phones,’ she mutters. ‘We haven’t got our passports or tickets back, either.’

  Sam just shrugs. Dylan is swaying like he’s going to pass out if he doesn’t eat. Jody checks the room. No landline phone, of course, and the window, shaded by a blind, turns out to be securely locked.

  ‘Come on,’ Sam says. ‘We’ll deal with this later.’

  They take the drinks with them, check in on Grace one more time, then hurry along the hall to investigate the buffet that has been prepared for them. Tea and coffee, fruit juice, scrambled egg and bacon and hot toast, and a handful of delicious sweet biscuits.