Lost Island Rampage

by Gustavo Bondoni

  They had just survived possibly sinking out at sea, and still had a bit of a hike in front of them before they could even be remotely considered safe. But if she knew human nature, there would be someone griping in 5… 4…

  She wasn’t surprised that it was one of Lai’s young executives who started grumbling something in a language Cora didn’t understand but assumed to be Malaysian. But before she could tear him a new asshole, Lai himself stepped in and gave him a dressing down that, even though she couldn’t understand the words, was very, very clear in substance. The executive lowered his head and sprang into action, pushing with the best of them.

  And the best of them was Lai himself. The man might be a billionaire now, but she knew he’d come up through the ranks of the Malaysian oil industry, starting off as an oilfield engineer before starting his own companies with the knowledge he’d gained there. She already knew he’d lost none of the work ethic—the hardest part of her job was simply keeping up with the man so that either she or someone from her security team had eyes on him at all times—but now he proved that living a life of luxury hadn’t dulled his passion for getting his hands dirty. He pushed as hard as the rest, harder than most.

  Once, after a long, hot push, they got the boat above the visible tide line and tied to a tree, she turned to him. “You would have made one hell of a Marine sergeant,” she said.

  Lai smiled and bowed. “Coming from you, I know that is a serious compliment.”

  She returned the grin. “The highest I can think of. Now, how about we march these pussies across this island.”

  “Until we’re back in civilization, you’re the boss,” he responded.

  That, she thought, was probably why this man had as much money as he did. Knowing when to delegate and whom to delegate to were critical once your organization became large enough that you couldn’t do everything yourself.

  She looked at the trees that abutted on the beach. They weren’t happy tropical palm trees. These were thick trees, dark trees.

  “All right then. Just to stay on the safe side, I say we walk along the beach. It will be wetter and a bit longer, but I really don’t want to have to herd this circus through the trees.”

  Lai nodded and they set off.

  Chapter 4

  Mary climbed through the door of the lifeboat and into the rain. She would have preferred to take the other lifeboat, the one that the big muscular security woman would be on, but they hadn’t given her that choice. Hell, they hadn’t even allowed her to change out of her Union Jack bikini.

  She shrugged. It wouldn’t make much difference. Swimwear and flip-flops were the right attire for a tropical beach in a hot rain. For once in her life, the overdressed people were the ones in the wrong clothes.

  They left the lifeboat half-beached behind them and headed towards the tree line. When she stopped dead, Jana, the only other person in a bikini, nearly bumped into her.

  “Bubbles, you okay?” Jana asked.

  She hated that nickname, but it had been with her ever since she’d gotten her boobs done when she was sixteen. At first she’d barely tolerated it, but later found that men found it unthreatening, and that they were a lot less likely to do macho posturing around someone who called herself ‘Bubbles’. In the end, she’d gone with the dumb blonde bit because it opened doors. And in that role, she was Bubbles to the hilt.

  “I thought I saw something move in the trees.”

  “People? We should ask them for help.”

  “You think people would hide?”

  “They’re probably just as scared of us as we are of them.”

  Mary laughed. “Have you looked at us? Would you be afraid of a couple of blondes in bikinis?”

  Jana winked. Like Mary herself, most of her wide-eyed bimbo innocence was an act. “They probably should be.”

  “I’ll tell the sailors.” She turned back to the rest of their party, who seemed to be discussing something about what to do with the lifeboat. “Guys,” she called out. “I think I see something up there, in the trees.”

  A dozen faces looked at her. Half belonged to the rest of the girls on the trip, who, unlike Mary and Jana, had dressed to kill before lunch, complete with platform shoes, short dresses, deep necklines which showed more than the bikinis, and jewelry. It would have been ridiculous if she hadn’t been so scared. The other half were sailors, five men and one more woman, a stewardess who seemed to be making a serious effort to separate herself from whatever species she considered the female guests to be. All of the crewmembers were in white uniforms. The woman had her hair tied in a bun so severe that she could have fit it under a regular sailor’s hat. That had to hurt.

  “There’s nothing moving,” the cook said after a cursory glance.

  “Well, there was something just now. I saw it.”

  “Probably just a bird of some kind,” he replied and turned back to the argument about the ship. He was the only one that even acknowledged her comment. The rest had ignored her after the initial look to see who was making so much noise.

  Mary looked back up the beach. The spit of white sand they were standing on ended in leafy underbrush. Beyond were tall trees that, to her eyes, seemed to be about four or five stories high. But whatever had moved—it was hard to see clearly in the rain—had not flown into the upper leaves, but had been moving on the ground. If it was an animal, it wasn’t a bird, and it was pretty big.

  And if it was a person, they were working hard to avoid being seen.

  Moments later, three of the white-uniformed crew marched past her towards the jungle, followed by a straggling line composed of the rest.

  She took up station beside the cook, a dark-skinned guy who spoke with a strong Filipino accent.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  He gave her a lopsided smile. “I got outvoted… everyone to one. I wanted to push the boat up the beach so it wouldn’t get washed out by the tide.”

  “What for? Isn’t the whole point to get us on land? Hasn’t it done its job?”

  He looked at the rapidly approaching trees. “I’m not sure. We might not be sinking, but there’s nothing here that I’d call civilization. Spending the rest of my life on a deserted island is not my idea of a good time.”

  “We’ll be fine.”

  “That’s what they said. And they also think the trees will stop the rain, and that pushing the lifeboat is too much work.”

  “Won’t they? Stop the rain, I mean?”

  He chuckled. “They stop the drops, yeah. But they also channel the water, so that when it does manage to get through, you’re pretty much in for a drenching.”

  “Maybe we should stay a few steps behind them and let them open the way for us.”

  “I like the way you think.”

  The leading group had finished walking up the full length of the spit of sand and were looking for a way into the impenetrable-looking greenery. A slight opening in the leaves was visible to their right, and they set off in that direction.

  Mary heard a whistling sound. That was their only warning. The female crewmember fell to the floor with a sudden gasp.

  Everyone turned to see what was wrong, but it didn’t take an expert to understand. A dark wooden shaft a meter long protruded from her neck. Even Mary could tell it was an arrow.

  “Oh my god,” one of the girls among the leaders yelled.

  Another screamed.

  But Mary, a few steps behind, had already seen what they couldn’t: several figures, features hard to discern in the rain, were charging towards them from the left, exposed on the beach.

  “Over there!” she yelled and, barely pausing to drag the cook along, sprinted for the gap in the greenery.

  She didn’t turn to see if the others followed. It wasn’t that kind of group. Other than Jana, she really hadn’t clicked with any of the other women on board, and even if she had, she wasn’t going to stop running to wait for any of these people. She kicked off her flip-flops and put on a burst of speed.
<
br />   Leaves and twigs cut her face, stuff impaled her feet, but she could worry about that when the guys with the arrows lost interest in her.

  And then Mary stumbled, and she knew she was dead.

  The cook had other ideas. He bent down, dragged her to her feet and pushed her along the path, forcing her to go as fast as she could. She heard the rest following, crashing among the trees behind her.

  A scream sounded—a male scream—and she redoubled her efforts. The opening had led them through the underbrush and then into a forest of tree trunks where, fortunately, it was easier to run.

  The downside was that everything on the floor seemed to want to cut into her feet.

  A couple of minutes later, she came to a clearing and stumbled, panting to lie on a bare patch of sand behind some bushes. Three more people landed next to her: the cook and two of the remaining sailors. Though she’d fallen by mistake, she realized—as her companions must have—that the place concealed her from the path they’d been running along. Desperate footfalls dashed past, but she only lifted her head in time to see one of the women on the ship moving slowly. Then, through the cover of leaves, she watched as a group of men with bows shot past.

  They were dark-skinned and rotund, but too tall to be pygmies. The muscles of their arms and legs were big and rounded, not fat. And there was nothing comical about the bows they carried. Some of the arrows looked much too long to be usable, at least as tall as she was in cases, but Mary had already seen how effective they could be. They ran through the jungle with the arrows held ahead of them, somehow threading between the trees without getting tangled. They wore only a tan belt, light against their dark skin, and otherwise appeared to be nude.

  Mary only realized she was holding her breath when the last of the tribesmen passed and she started breathing again, feeling the relief of air reaching her lungs.

  Incredibly, she realized that they’d gotten away undiscovered.

  Still, none of the people around her moved. They were all waiting for more of their pursuers to charge through, maybe someone left behind to sweep the trail for exactly this kind of situation.

  After a couple of tense minutes, however, none of them did, and the sounds of the pursuit were lost in the woods. The cook stood and pulled her up. Then he turned to the other two sailors.

  “We need to get back to the lifeboat and get the hell out of here,” the cook said.

  “You’re crazy,” one of the sailors answered. He was a sunburned Dutchman, blond and red. “We’re sitting ducks out on that beach. We should go that way.” He pointed at a ninety-degree angle to the direction the chase had taken. “We can move parallel to the beach in the direction opposite the one they came from. That way, we can move away from them without showing ourselves.”

  “And then what? This is an island. Eventually, they’re going to find us.”

  “The yacht should be here by then.”

  “So? Do you think the Captain will be able to hold off twenty men with bows?” the cook retorted.

  “He’ll shoot them if he has to.”

  “That won’t do us much good here on the island. We need to get the hell off this place and sail for one of the other islands.”

  “No.” The big Dutchman crossed his arms. “We do as I say.”

  “Screw you,” the cook replied. “I’m taking the lifeboat.”

  “It’s your funeral,” the bigger man responded. Then, without waiting for an answer he set out, and his companion followed him without a word.

  “Stupid,” the cook said.

  “I’ll go with you,” Mary told him.

  “You’re not afraid of getting spiked?”

  “I want to get the hell off this island.”

  “Good. And the tide is coming in, which is even better.”

  “Why?”

  “Because unless it’s floating, we aren’t going to be able to push the lifeboat off the beach without help.”

  “Oh. Right. Makes sense.” She hesitated. “So do we just walk down the same path we just ran up?” It felt wrong, somehow, as if they’d simply turn back time and run into the locals again.

  “I think that would be best. I… I’ve never been in a situation like this before.”

  “You should come visit my family in Lambeth sometime. Would get you trained right up. Especially if you come at night.”

  “Lambeth… in England.”

  She nodded. “London, but not the good part.”

  He stepped back onto the path and, seeing he wasn’t immediately speared, Mary got the courage to do the same.

  “Ow,” she said as a root found a bruise on her foot. “I might need some help.”

  He looked at her feet. “Ouch. I’ll carry you.”

  “You? You’re a bit small for that, aren’t you?” He was about as tall as she was and thin to go with it… and he was wearing shoes, so he was probably shorter than she was in real life.

  “Can you get on my back?” he responded, ignoring her words.

  “I…” she tried to take an unaided step, show him she was capable of moving on her own, but the pain told her she was lying. “I’ll try.”

  She couldn’t remember the last time a guy had taken her piggy-back riding without wanting to get into her pants. And though this one might—she’d caught him looking where all guys looked when she wore a bikini—she had to give him the benefit of the doubt. If it hadn’t been for this tiny little dude who she’d never spoken two words to before they got off the lifeboat, she would be in the hands of the islanders, captive or worse.

  “Thank you,” she whispered as the guy showed a decent amount of speed despite the extra weight. She could feel his muscles through the uniform: wiry, but strong.

  “You can thank me if we get out of this,” the cook replied. “Buy me a drink or something.”

  She laughed. “You’re one of the good guys, aren’t you?”

  “I’m one of the scared guys.”

  They reached the edge of the forest and looked out at the lifeboat. It looked much farther away than she expected.

  “Let’s give it a few minutes,” the cook said.

  “Why? Do you think someone will come?”

  “No. I want it to get afloat. See, the water is already almost under it. Just a few more minutes.”

  It seemed much longer to Mary. Hours, probably. Weeks, even. But she watched the water creep up centimeter by centimeter, concealed among the last row of bushes and jumping at every sound in the jungle behind them. Had there been that much noise when they were running for their lives? She had no clue.

  “All right. We need to go now. Run for the boat. If I don’t make it, hit the big red button until you hear the engine and then pull the silver handle all the way back. That will move you into the sea. Then turn the boat using the steering wheel until the front is facing the waves and move the handle forward. You got that?”

  She nodded. “I’ll figure it out if I need to. But I won’t. You’ll be there.”

  “Go!”

  He let her go ahead and then ran behind her. Any arrows coming from the trees would hit him first. Then his presence behind her was gone. Had they killed him?

  Mary tried to will herself to look, but she just couldn’t do it. Every step she took convinced her that she next would bring an arrow between the shoulder blades. She began to cry, sobbing and puffing until, with a shriek, she threw herself behind the boat, hidden from the coast. She scratched at the doors, clawing at the handle until she got inside.

  Then she crawled inside, carefully keeping her head below the glass, out of sight of the animals with the bows and arrows.

  She found the button the cook had told her about and punched it.

  “Come on, you little fuck!” she screamed, hysteria threatening to overcome her. The engine fired and she reached for the handle.

  Before she made it, the door was yanked open and two people crashed in, knocking her violently to the floor. She screamed.

  Then she felt the boat reversi
ng into the sea, catching on something and then moving again. Then it turned to face the waves.

  Mary opened her eyes to see the cook, sweating and wide eyed, working the lifeboat controls.

  She looked beside her to find that the second person was the crewwoman who’d taken the arrow to the neck.

  “You stopped to get her?”

  “I had to check.”

  “Check what?”

  “If they’d killed her.”

  Mary gasped and stared at the woman beside her. She was pale, bloodied and had a fucking arrow through her neck.

  But she was breathing.

  “You can come out from there now,” the cook said.

  But Mary couldn’t move. She couldn’t do anything but laugh hysterically. She knew she was out of control, but she couldn’t stop. It went on for quite a while until the cook cut the engines and knelt beside her.

  “Are you all right?”

  Mary managed to get herself under control. “You asked me for a drink,” she said. Then she started laughing again. It was worse than marijuana laughter… she just couldn’t stop. Not for the life of her.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “I was just wondering what you’ll ask of her if she survives.”

  His own laugh was just a dry chuckle. She, on the other hand, still couldn’t control the guffaws.

  ***

  When she recovered, they began a slow navigation around the island.

  “What are you doing?” Mary said. “Let’s get the hell away from here.”

  “I’m checking to see if anyone made it back out of the jungle,” the cook replied.

  She didn’t argue. She wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for him. In her book, that meant he could do whatever he wanted.

  “What about her?”

  “I don’t know. We’re moving in the right direction for Nicobar, so it’s not as if we’re losing too much time. And it might be worth it. At least now that the goddamned rain’s stopped, we can see again.”

  It was true. Minutes before, the beach beside them had barely been visible. Now it felt like they could see clear across the ocean.

  “Look!” Mary said. She pointed to the beach a few hundred meters ahead.