Fresh Flesh
Page 22
All the more reason for her to die the same way.
* * *
His hands burned her throat.
"We will both be fresh flesh," the dirt-man said as one of his dirt-encrusted eyeballs popped out and bounced off her shoulder.
The muscles in Jessica's neck bulged, a mystery bone cracked. Pain coursed to her brain in potent doses. The world spun around her. Her eyes were only able to focus on one thing.
The tree-branch spear.
Jessica tried not to look at the gore. Her mind spun.
Tonight I'll teach you how to make a spear. Just in case.
Jessica reached for the spear.
In case what?
She clutched it tightly.
You see, we have some wild animals on the island. Mostly night creatures. They probably won't bother you but I'd feel much safer knowing you can protect yourself.
Jessica stared into her attacker's dark, angry face with one eye caked with dirt.
With a tree branch?
Her attacker's grip tightened as he began to twist her neck.
Don't knock it. A finely-honed tree branch can go through you like butter.
She thrust the branch-spear into her attacker's face. True to Richard's words, it went through her attacker's forehead like butter.
* * *
Torque saw it coming, but was too stunned to stop it. The last feeling of life he had was a prickling sensation somewhere behind his last intact eye. Soon the dirt popped that out too, revealing two holes filled with dirt.
And a brief picture of Nina and he, Wally Adamson, not Torque. They were riding bikes over a bridge with water running beneath it and a child never born on the back of Wally's bicycle.
And then a hand rose from the water connected to a body with the face he'd seen last night in the airplane. The face of the island creature snatched him from the bike and pulled him into the cold water.
Torque emerged from the water and back into the dirt-man body on the beach.
ETERNITY, MY SON.
* * *
To Jessica's astonishment, the dirt-man reached up and pulled the branch-spear out of his face. He began to laugh as pieces of his mouth and teeth came out with a sickening, wet sound from his face.
"Fresh flesh," he said again, reaching for Jessica's neck and choking her.
An explosion rocked the east side of the island and the dirt-man released his grip. He turned and something that might have been fear filled his dirt-dripping face.
"No!"
Jessica saw another missile shooting from one of the ships in the distance heading toward the island. She grabbed the raft and pulled it toward the ocean as the dirt-man stayed locked in place twisting and turning in agony as another missile struck the east side of the island.
The ground shook as Jessica put the raft in the water and started to wade out further. Fire and smoked filled the sky as she saw the dirt-man topple to a knee. The sand swirling around his body and caught him in a mini-tornado.
When she was in waist deep, she climbed up on the raft and kicked at the water forcing it to move out further. At some point when she'd put thirty feet from the shore, Jessica pulled Richard's photograph out of her tattered red blouse pocket.
The tide rushed in, dragging her further out to sea and closer to the ships in the distance. She wasn't surprised the raft floated well. She believed Richard could have done anything if only he'd made better choices with his life.
It was up to Jessica now. She needed to have the chance for both of them.
The ships grew bigger. The water lashed her. She had no fear of dying. It wouldn't have fazed her if Bobby and the Crawlers emerged from of the water and jammed a few tunes for her. She was riding on fate, win or lose, black or white, dead or alive.
She didn't look behind her again.
But she heard another missile strike.
It was a thunderous boom. It sounded as if a million people rallied together and screamed.
The boats are here for the island—them—not me.
It was the first of multiple explosions.
The missiles struck their target behind her, burning the island's face.
A part of me will always be with you.
She could see men on the ships. Hope surged in her chest. They could see her. They were motioning her direction.
The island fire and smoke filled the sky behind her.
* * *
"Jesus, do you see that?" a young, red-haired ensign cried. "Admiral, look. In the water there's a raft."
Admiral Bodecker came down to the bow and took the binoculars. He'd seen pictures of the woman before. They had been right all along about what happened to her.
Jessica Stanton was alive.
* * *
She could see the men on the closest ship to her waving. They scrambled to get into a small boat. They were coming to rescue her at last.
That was when the wave climbed up over the raft.
She had seen a similar wave the night of the storm. When Edward and her had gone up on the deck the waves were there waiting to claim them. She'd seen it creep out of the distance. A hulking, perilous wave that swallowed the yacht.
Instead of the ocean executing her, similar to what some faceless, secret group did back in the states with the death row convicts, Jessica had been granted a sentence on the island. Two months of impossible time.
The ocean formed the prison walls. She should have known all along this was how she was meant to die. Her brief terror-filled stop on the island was a premonition of this moment. She could escape Bobby, Bat Jackson, The Indian, Kyle Roberts and dirt-man but not the ocean.
Richard, I'm coming to join you.
The loudest of all explosions sounded behind her. It came out badly distorted and muted because she was already underwater. The wave was taking her down, deep down to the murky black. Down to the LADY STANTON and all the other vessels the ocean had claimed. Down, she sank deeper, still clutching Richard's graduation picture, refusing to let the ocean's hungry jaws pry away that one last important item.
Hands pushed through the water, grabbed and pulled her body. She was hoisted out of the water and into a boat. She looked back at the island ablaze in the distance.
"It's ok," warm rescuer voices said. "We've got you now."
Jessica looked down at Richard's picture in her hands.
A part of me will always be with you.
When she looked up, she saw the island burning in the distance. She zoomed in and focused on the southwest beach. The tide rolled in there, unfazed by the smoke and flames. While most of the island was dying there still existed one place where something fresh could wash ashore, something the ocean prison wasn't ready to claim.
###
ACKNOWLDGEMENTS
This adventure began November 2, 1988 and thanks are due to a number of fine people that along with me have believed in this story. My agent Sandra Dijkstra and first associate agent Kathy Saideman (Goodwin). Numerous editors have offered suggestions after reading the original manuscript, but the most thorough was Jeanne Cavelos. Beta readers David Green and Debbie Brumby gave feedback on the 2011 draft. Proofreaders Lloyd Porter and Debbie Powell helped send the gremlins back to the dirt.
Perhaps most importantly: you. Thank you for reading. Can I ask one more favor? I would be grateful if you'd travel to the review sites and leave a few words with your feelings about the book.
Horrifically Yours,
Todd Russell
September 28, 2011
The next book in the FRESH series . . .
(not actual book cover art)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Todd Russell loves reading and writing scary, thrilling, suspenseful stories. He lives with his wife in the small city of Orting, Washington overlooking beautiful, active and deadly, Mount Rainier.
Mental Shrillness, a collection of horror short stories, was his first book and is available in both paperback and ebook. FRESH FLESH is his debut novel and is also a
vailable in paperback.
He is working on more books while trying to set a world record for the most consecutive days writing a new short story. Learn more and follow his progress at his website: toddrwrite.com
Correspondences for the author should be addressed to:
Todd Russell
PO BOX 256
Orting, WA 98360
Connect with Todd Russell Online
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