by David Moody
“And it’s too bloody dangerous to stay here!” Rachel yells. Frank puts a hand on her shoulder to calm her down, but she angrily shrugs him off.
“You’re forgetting, we killed the killer, Rach,” Gavin tells her. “Get a grip and chill out.”
“You really think that’s the end of it?” She looks around the group. “You think we’re safe now we’re all tucked up nice together? Have you not been listening?”
Only Natalie picks up on the implications of her comment and her sideways glances. “Wait, wait, wait … back up a little, Rod. These so-called Haters … who are they exactly?”
“That’s the whole damn point. No one knows. They’re everybody. Anybody. Like I said, there’s no connections between any of them that I know of. There was no indication that girl was going to go crazy in the restaurant or that Jayde’s mother’s partner was going to kill her. One minute they’re normal, the next they’re fucking psychos.”
“And you’re certain this isn’t a media thing like Ronan said? Copycats?” Frank asks.
“And it’s not some kind of disease?” Paul says. “People aren’t catching it from dirty toilet seats or whatever?”
“Come on…,” Matt says.
“Or bites?” Paul continues, on a roll. The rest of them just look at him, unimpressed. “I’m kidding, okay? It’s just that this sounds like the start of a shitty zombie movie, that’s all. It sounds fucking stupid, if I’m honest. We’re miles from anywhere here and there’s less than twenty of us. We should be all right.”
“Did you really just say that?” Matt asks. “It’s already happening here, don’t you get it?”
“No, it’s already happened here. That kid must have brought it here with him from the mainland.”
“Have you not heard anything I said?” Rod says. “Like I told you, it’s random. Everybody’s struggling to join the dots. As far as I can tell, this can happen to anyone at any time, and even if you don’t become one of them, there’s every chance you’ll end up getting caught up in the carnage of someone else’s meltdown. There’s no trigger that I know of, and once it starts, there’s no stopping it. I saw that girl in the restaurant go from cooking breakfasts to slitting throats in a matter of seconds.”
“That’s my point exactly,” Rachel says, “but you lot aren’t seeing it.”
“Spell it out to us then,” Frank says, getting annoyed.
“My point is that this is just the beginning. It could be any one of us next. If what he’s saying is true, any one of you could be the next to change and start killing.”
14
Food.
Supplies are limited and appetites are poor but, as Ruth takes great pains to point out, they have to eat. She’s cobbled together another hot meal from the food she already had in the kitchen: basic provisions she kept in reserve. Stomachs are churning, tensions are high, but everyone’s here.
Rachel’s the final one to arrive. She emerges exhausted from the dorm where the girl they found on the beach is still resting and sits down on a bench between Gavin and Frank. “No change since you gave her that last shot earlier,” she tells Ruth when she asks how Louise is doing. “She opened her eyes a couple of times, but that was all. Poor little bugger’s still in shock. She’s shut down, I reckon.”
It’s a basic stew for midafternoon lunch, overseasoned and undernourishing, but tasty and warm. Watery gravy. Tinned meat. More potato than anything else. Copious amounts of bread that’s on the verge of going stale. Eat it now, Ruth’s already told them, otherwise it gets binned. Black teas and coffees all round. There’s no more milk.
The mess hall is subdued and has been since Rod and his daughter arrived. Matt’s sitting with his back against the wall, struggling to concentrate on his paperback. Paul’s opposite him. Rod and Jayde are several empty tables away. Natalie, Stuart, Rajesh, and Nils are eating with their boss. “Weird how it’s changed the dynamic, isn’t it?” Matt says, looking over the top of his book.
“What?” Paul replies, slurping his stew.
“That bloke Rod turning up here. Before he arrived, it felt like we were all in this together. Now it’s like they don’t want to mix with us.”
Paul shrugs. “Who cares? You going to eat all that bread?”
Matt has four slices of white piled up at the side of his bowl. He halves his stash and passes two of them over, then prods and pokes at what’s left of his lunch. “Don’t feel like I can say anything. My mouth’s as dry as that bread.”
“What are you on about?”
“All this stuff that’s going on … it makes it hard to start conversations, doesn’t it?”
“Then don’t.”
Matt ignores him and keeps talking anyway. “I mean, I don’t want to talk about home because I don’t know when we’ll get back there. Can’t talk about our friends and families because if what we’ve heard is true, they could be in all kinds of grief. Can’t stand thinking about Jen on her own.”
“She’s in a better place than you are, mate. You’re under the bloody thumb, that’s your problem.”
“Says the bloke who thinks commitment is buying a girl a second drink.”
“Get lost. Anyway, I’m still not convinced. I don’t reckon this is half as bad as they’re making out.”
“You can’t be serious? After everything we’ve seen and heard?”
“Coincidence.”
“You’re still holding on to that? What’s it gonna take? One of this lot coming at you with a meat cleaver?”
“Something like that. Hope it’s you. I wouldn’t have a problem then. I’d snap you like a twig.”
“Nice. Thanks for that.”
“Pleasure.”
“You can’t just dismiss everything, though. Can’t you feel it?”
“Feel what?”
“The tension? The nervousness?”
“Yeah, but I still reckon it’s manufactured. It’s one of those self-fulfilling prophecies. Go on about something for long enough, and it’ll start to happen. I learned about shit like that on that business-psychology course Ronan sent me on last month.”
Matt ignores Paul. “I feel like we’re just waiting for it all to kick off.”
“Don’t reckon it’ll be long.” Paul gestures back toward the others. Voices are raised again. Matt looks past Paul and sees that Ronan and Stuart are squaring off against each other near the kitchen serving hatch.
“There’s no need to question my priorities. Of course I’m concerned about the safety of my staff, how could I not be?” Ronan says.
“Then put your damn laptop away. Focus on your people, not your paperwork,” Stuart tells him.
“It’s a distraction.”
“They’re scared.”
“I’m scared.”
“People are starting to think they might not get back.”
“We’ll get them back,” Rod says.
Stuart responds without hesitation, turning on his boss. “How? You won’t get Joy back. Vanessa won’t get back. Those kids aren’t going home.”
“Then we’ll get the rest of them back!” Rod says louder. “I want them gone. This is my island. I’m staying here with Jayde and I really don’t care about anyone else.”
“All for one, eh?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.”
“So my people are just going to be discarded, is that what you’re implying?” Ronan says. “Are you going to start splitting us up? If we can’t get home, are you going to start giving us less food than your team?”
“Don’t give me ideas,” Rod grumbles. Ronan’s really starting to annoy him.
“We’re all screwed if we don’t do something,” Stuart says. “It doesn’t matter how many of us are left here if we all run out of food. Doesn’t matter if you divide nothing by ten or by a hundred, you get the same results. No one gets anything.”
“There are as many of my people here as your staff,” Ronan continues, his anger
unabated.
“What, are you considering a coup?” Rod laughs, leaving Ronan temporarily bewildered.
“I don’t reckon you could handle the responsibility,” Stuart sneers.
Matt laughs involuntarily, enjoying seeing his boss on the ropes. Ronan turns on him. “Well, thank you for your support, Matthew.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You never bloody do, and that’s the problem.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re hardly a team player, are you?”
Matt is flummoxed, genuinely surprised. “Where’s this coming from?”
And now Gavin has him in his sights. “It could be him next.”
“What are you on about now, Gav?” Frank asks, confused.
“You keep your cards too close to your chest for my liking. I never know where I stand with you, Matt. We did that personality-test thing at the last managers’ meeting, remember? You came out in a completely different section of the results to the rest of us.”
“So?”
“So you’ve never really fitted in, have you?”
“That’s a bit harsh,” Paul protests, but Matt doesn’t need his support.
“Yeah, and do you remember after we’d got our results when the facilitator was talking about how having different personality types benefits an organization? I’m an introvert, not a pervert.”
“Are you saying I’m a pervert?” Gavin gasps, his emotions getting the better of him.
“I’m not saying anything of the sort.” Matt looks around for support, but feels like he suddenly doesn’t have any. “What, so now you think I’m one of them? You think because I’m less vocal than the rest of you that I’m somehow one of those Haters?”
“I don’t know what I think anymore,” Ronan says, eyeing him up and down. “Gavin’s right, though, you’ve always been something of an outsider. Even this weekend when there’s only been a few of us here, you’ve still done all you can to keep yourself to yourself.”
“Are you serious? I think you’ve mixed up being an introvert with being a psychopath. Just because I’m not always shouting my mouth off like most of the rest of you doesn’t mean I’m about to flip out and kill someone.”
“So what have you been doing when you’ve been hiding away on your own here?”
“Reading my book, mostly,” Matt answers, waving his paperback at his boss, well aware of how dull he sounds. “I like my own company. Is that such a bad thing?”
“You do spend a lot of time away from the group,” Frank says.
“Yeah, and like I said, I like my own company. That’s not a crime. Just listen to what you’re implying. And you think I’m the one who’s lost their mind?”
Suddenly a noise is coming at Matt from all directions. Ronan, Gavin, Rachel, Stephen … they’re all ready to put the boot in. Paul stands up and gestures for them all to shut up. “Matt might be a bit of a dick, but he’s no killer.”
“How d’you know?” asks Gavin, sounding almost disappointed. “He’s the one who was fussing over that kid’s dead body yesterday.”
“I couldn’t have left him out there like that,” Matt explains, trying to dig himself out of a hole he’s still not sure how he ended up in. “Regardless of what he did, it wasn’t right. If you must know, I wanted to make sure he was dead, and I also wanted to move him because we don’t know how long we’re going to be stuck here. I didn’t like the thought of there being a corpse on the doorstep.”
Matt has a point. There’s another brief pause in the arguments and counterarguments as the others consider his words.
The next voice is quiet and unexpected: Jayde Hazleton’s. “You wouldn’t all be talking like this if you’d seen them. They look at you and you know that all they want to do is kill you. I’ve seen them hunting down innocent people like dogs. All they want is to kill. They can’t help themselves.”
But still Gavin won’t give up. “And all I know is he showed more care and consideration for that killer than anyone else. He’s got the potential to be one of them, I know it.”
Matt remains in his seat, listening to this baseless character assassination, too numb to fight back.
Paul turns to face him. “Come on, mate, show a little backbone. I’ve said my bit. Are you just going to sit there and put up with this shit?”
Matt feels himself starting to panic. His skin is prickling with nerves. He wants out, but there’s nowhere to go. He’s not good at dealing with confrontation, never has been. Matt glares at Gavin as he rips Matt apart, thinking maybe he’s right about me, because all I want to do right now is kill him.
“Matt’s sound, leave him alone,” Stuart says, taking everyone, especially Matt, by surprise.
“So who are you going to pick on next?” Matt asks the group, taking his life in his hands. “Maybe Rajesh ’cause he’s Muslim? Or you, Gavin, because you’re gay?”
Matt visibly relaxes when the attention starts to shift elsewhere.
Rod’s been watching the cross fire. “Who you sleep with doesn’t matter, nor who or what you pray to, come to that. The killers have nothing to do with each other. There’s no common denominator. Like I told you, that girl cooking breakfasts didn’t look like a murderer, and neither did the old fella we saw beating on his missus just before we got off the mainland.”
“What old fella?” Gavin instinctively asks, even though he knows the details are largely irrelevant now.
“He must have been in his eighties. He was so frail he looked like a decent gust of wind would break him in half. I presume it was his missus, anyway. Whoever it was, she was in the middle of the road, and he was laying into her like someone half his age.”
“And you just stood back and watched?”
Ronan gets to his feet to try to take charge of the situation but fails miserably. “Gavin, please quiet down. We’ve all been through a lot these last couple of days. You need to take a time-out and—”
“And you’re as bad as the rest of them, if not worse,” Gavin screams at him. Gavin’s right in his face now, showing no mercy, yelling till his voice is hoarse. “All you’re interested in is your bank balance.”
“That’s not true.…”
“It damn well is true. You think you’re something special, but you’re not. You say all the things you think people want to hear. You flip and flop with the wind, changing your mind depending on who you’re gonna benefit the most from. There’s nothing behind your words. You’re at the office all hours ’cause you don’t have anyone at home to go back to. Work’s all you’ve got and it’s pathetic.”
“This isn’t helping anyone,” Paul says. “You’ve said your piece, Gav, now just—”
Gavin stands up and tries to get to the dormitory, but his way through is blocked. “All of you just stay away from me.”
He pushes through a tangle of chairs and collides with Stephen, who cowers in anticipation, figuring he’s the next to be subjected to Gavin’s wrath. Now Frank does his best to intervene. “Come on, Gav, it’s like Paul says, we’re all under a lot of pressure. Maybe you should just—”
In pushing Frank away, Gavin loses his footing and, because of his size, trips over his own feet and falls against an empty table. The collision sounds far worse than it is, but it’s enough to make Frank wonder if it’s Gavin who’s about to turn.
In frustration Rod slams his fists down on the metal counter outside the kitchen serving hatch. Cups and crockery jump up with surprise and clatter back down, filling the mess hall with even more noise. “For fuck’s sake shut up, all of you.”
Now Gavin’s incensed. Everywhere he looks stupid men are blocking his way.
And now he’s alone in the middle of the room.
Everyone’s watching him.
No one’s moving. No one’s reacting.
“Just stay away from me, all of you.”
With that he storms out to the dormitory, shuts the door, and l
ocks himself in.
15
The calm is somehow worse than the chaos. Rachel and Ruth take turns to sit with Louise, who’s barely moved. It’s almost two days since they found her, and she remains virtually catatonic.
In the mess hall, people are continuing to struggle. The lack of answers combined with the lack of action is hard to take. It’s like they’re balanced on a knife edge; nothing to do but sit and wait. Matt’s hidden himself away in the male dorm, wishing he could lock the door because the only escape from everyone else is sleep.
With the curtains closed he’s managed to doze, and according to the time on his phone, a couple of hours have passed. He opens his eyes and rolls onto his back, feeling disoriented, wondering what he’s missed.
“You’re awake then?”
Matt sits up fast and hits his head on the underside of the top bunk. “Christ, Paul, do you have to?”
“They told me to come in here and keep an eye on you, just in case you started acting weird.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
For a moment he’s unsure, the shadows and the silence hiding Paul’s true intent. The deception doesn’t last long. “Course I’m kidding. Just wondered what you were up to, that’s all.”
Matt swings his feet out over the side of the bed and sits up properly, still nauseous with sleep. “What’s going on out there?”
“Not a lot. Gavin’s calmed down. Bloody queen.”
“Leave him alone. He’s just worried like the rest of us. What are the rest of them up to?”
“Most folks are taking your lead and keeping themselves to themselves. Frank tried to get a card school going a while ago but ended up playing solitaire. Probably for the best.”
The sleep is starting to clear from Matt’s head. “I was dreaming about being back home.”
“We’ll be off this rock soon enough,” Paul says without thinking.
“And how d’you figure that out?”
No immediate answer. After a while, Paul says, “You could get us home though, couldn’t you? Didn’t you say you used to go sailing?”
“For a few months in the Sea Cadets when I was a kid, but that was a long time ago. I can read a compass, if that’s what you mean.”