Survival Island

by Matt Drabble

  “Any other thoughts?” Morrison asked in a soft voice. “No? Then let’s continue.”

  “You’re insane,” Quinn said, the words out of her mouth before she could stop them.

  “Quite the contrary,” Morrison replied. “This is business 101, Miss Quinn. These monks, these... Niners as I believe you call them, they have something I want. I sent one of my men, one of my best,” he said, regretfully looking down at Shane’s cooling corpse on the ground by his feet.

  “I sent Rollins in to get me what I wanted. When he didn’t return, I assumed that he had betrayed me, but now..., well now, I’m starting to think that your friends here caught him and made him disappear.”

  “So this is about your vengeance? Seeking retribution for your friend?” Quinn asked, puzzled.

  Morrison laughed riotously. “Oh, my dear, no,” he said as if speaking to a child. “Rollins was just the hired help - a mook, a goon, a lackey, if you will, but he was mine, Miss Quinn. Rollins belonged to Calvin Morrison, and if I let this slide, then my name is worth nothing on the street, and I may as well go and hang up my spurs, so to speak.”

  “You really are insane,” Quinn breathed.

  “Maybe,” Morrison replied, honestly considering the question. “But at least it seems like I’m in the right place for it.” He laughed and Quinn felt a chill in her bones.

  “What now, Boss?” Walker asked, trying to keep the fear from his voice.

  “Now? I say we go meet the man of the house.”

  ----------

  CHAPTER 22

  Onion layers

  Dr Simmons looked around at the remaining people in the shelter. Some were tired, some were angry, but all were scared.

  Tempers were fraying on a regular basis now, and no amount of reasoning seemed to be doing the trick with her fellow islanders.

  Casey Parker had given up trying to get people to eat or drink now, and most of the temporary residents were sulking off in one dark corner or another.

  “You want some water, Doc?” Casey asked her as she circled over.

  “I’m good,” Simmons answered, raising a rather pleasant bottle of Burgundy that she’d found at the back of the larder.

  “You know I’m gonna charge you for that, right?” Casey frowned.

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Simmons smiled back and raised the bottle in a toast.

  “Miserable bunch of bastards, aren’t they?” Casey snarled as she took a seat next to her.

  Simmons flinched at the uncaring volume of the bar owner’s voice as those within earshot glared at them.

  “Take it easy, Casey,” she whispered, knowing the woman’s tendency for indiscretion.

  “Hey, if they don’t like it, they can piss off,” she barked, shouting the last part to the shelter as a whole.

  Simmons didn’t like the way that most people seemed to be staring at them now. She was well aware of cases of people being driven to acts of violence by extreme isolation, but they’d only been cut off by the storm down here for a few hours. The larger problem keeping them down here now was the Niners, and she for one didn’t fancy venturing outside just yet.

  “I say we leave. Some of us have businesses that need checking on. Some of us still have things of value,” Pearl Christian announced, and Simmons wasn’t surprised - the woman had a pathological need to constantly hear the sound of her own voice.

  “Relax, Pearl,” Simmons countered. “It’s not safe to go roaming around up there. We should stay down for now.”

  “You may want to hide away from bogeymen, Doc, but I’ve had quite enough nonsense for one day. The storm has passed by now and I’m leaving.”

  “Let her go. With any luck, she’ll get her head lopped off,” Casey snarled with a dismissive wave of her hand.

  “Maybe we should wait until Constable Bowman comes back,” Mary Clark piped up timidly.

  “Maybe you should mind your own business and let me mind mine,” Pearl retorted.

  “Why don’t you shut your mouth before I shut it for you?” Casey countered.

  Simmons felt a charge run around shelter as the others started to take an interest. There was an electricity in the air, one that just flat out smelled bad to her, as though things were about to explode.

  “Why don’t we all just take a breath?” she said standing as Casey stood up and Pearl took a step towards her.

  “You don’t tell me what to do, Casey Parker,” Pearl bristled.

  “Yeah, well, somebody sure as hell should.”

  “Ladies, please! This isn’t going to get us anywhere,” Simmons pleaded again.

  Some of the others were moving in now for a closer look, and Simmons was dismayed at the eagerness for a fight in their eyes. These were her friends and neighbours and had been for her whole life, and yet right now, she barely recognised any of them.

  “You’re nothing but a loud mouth bully and it’s high time someone shut you the hell up,” Casey snarled.

  “And you think that’s you!” Pearl laughed. “You’re a gin-soaked drunk, Casey Parker; it’s no wonder you never married. Who the hell would have you?”

  “You’re a fine one to talk about marriage! Everybody knows where you used to spend your nights,” Casey retorted.

  Simmons watched the last barb strike home. Most people on the island had heard rumours about Pearl and Haider Clayton, and judging by the flushed look on Pearl’s face, they must have been true.

  The sight of the two older women squaring up to each other should have been funny, but Simmons had never felt like laughing less.

  “Drunk,” Pearl sneered.

  “Whore,” Casey replied.

  The two women were almost nose to nose now, fists clenched and faces reddened by pure rage.

  There was the briefest moment when they suddenly stopped, an oasis of calm like the lull as the storm passed over. Simmons watched as the two women suddenly seemed to realise where they were and what they were doing. But then someone threw a can from the back of the room which hit Casey on the shoulder, and the calm broke - and broke violently.

  Casey screamed an incomprehensible battle cry and lashed out with a swiping blow. Pearl’s eyes bulged with the sudden attack, and rather than try and block the blow, she absorbed it and shot her arms out with fingers curled into talons. In the blink of an eye, the two women went from trading barbs to rolling on the floor trading blows.

  Simmons rushed forwards and was almost swallowed by the feral cat fight. Several people standing around started to scream in excitement with others yelling out violent encouragement.

  Simmons tried to pull the two women apart, but she didn’t nearly have the strength to separate them. After a few moments of trying, she backed away helplessly.

  Casey was now sitting up on Pearl’s back, having gained the advantage. She had hold of the cafe owner’s hair and was repeatedly slamming the woman’s head into the hard shelter floor.

  Simmons was appalled by the sudden outbreak of animal violence but now she was also terrified as mini fights started to break out around her. Friends, and even family members, started to push and shove each other with increasing force until brawls were breaking out throughout the shelter.

  She had spent a summer working at a private hospital as part of her education. A psychiatric rotation had been mandatory and her time at Blackwater Heights had left a lasting impression. It wasn’t what she had seen that had stayed with her but more the constant aroma that lived there despite the pungent chemical smell that hung in the air. Crazy had its own scent, and right now, it was filling her nostrils once again.

  The shelter door was locked from the inside, and Simmons worked her way through the throng of fighting bodies until she reached it. Moving through the mass of limbs was tough as the effects of the Burgundy she’d consumed still rattled thickly around her head.

  She slid the bolts back on the heavy-duty doors and went to pull them open, but just as she did, someone painfully grabbed her hair and yanked her back in
to the room.

  She stumbled backwards and found Mary Clark wild-eyed and full of murderous intent.

  “Mary?” Simmons managed before fingers were tightening around her throat, choking off her ability to speak.

  She sank to her knees under the increasing pressure. She dug her fingernails deeply into her attacker’s forearms, hard enough to draw blood, but Mary wasn’t for letting go now, no matter how much pain it cost her.

  Simmons’s vision was starting to blur, and she knew that she was about to black out. With her knees on the ground now, she dimly felt shards of broken glass from the jars smashed around her cutting through her jeans. In a last ditch attempt before she was choked out completely, Simmons reached out and snatched up a piece of glass. She stabbed down hard, this time making more of an impact than her fingernails alone.

  She jabbed down again and again in a frenzied stabbing motion until both her own fingers and Mary’s forearm were soaked through with blood.

  Mary roared in pain and anger but she released her grip and Simmons fell away, coughing and spluttering for air. She ignored her natural instincts to check on Mary and instead concentrated on crawling away.

  There were multiple cuts on her fingers from using the glass shard as a weapon and she smeared the door handle with blood as she exited. With great reluctance, she closed the door behind her and shut the madness inside before staggering away.

  It was only when she reached a safe distance that she checked her own wound and made to wipe the two blood samples away, but something stopped her; the part of her mind that was always a doctor broke through and the ghost of an idea started to form.

  ----------

  Caleb reached the monastery outskirts with Cooper dragging up a reluctant rear. He couldn’t see anyone in sight, but the darkness was thick and imposing and the monastery didn’t seem to have any exterior lights.

  He moved slowly and carefully around the low outer walls that marked the edge of the Niners’ territory. He had no idea how many men and women were inside the building, but he knew that there were too many for a direct assault.

  Leading Cooper, he moved around the lower fields which appeared to have been farmed but thankfully were currently deserted.

  He was working hard to keep the fear from taking him over and causing him to be of little use to Quinn when she might need him the most. The men who had brought her here had no idea what they were walking into, or at least he hoped that they were still to find out.

  “This is crazy,” Cooper hissed. “We should get the hell out of here while we still can!”

  “We’re not leaving until I find Quinn,” Caleb replied.

  “We don’t even know if she’s still alive, for Christ’s sake. Morrison might have killed her the second she got him here or the Niners might have already found them. How the hell does us dying help anyone?”

  “She’s still alive.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Yes I do.”

  “You can’t!”

  “If she was dead, then...”

  “Then what?” Cooper exclaimed, exasperated.

  “Then I’d know,” Caleb finished firmly. “I just would.”

  He turned to his travelling companion and could feel Cooper weighing up his fleeing options while facing Caleb directly. The man would undoubtedly run if given the option, but right now, he’d have to fight his way out. There was a short but tense standoff, but Cooper’s cowardice ran strongly through him and eventually he capitulated.

  “We can sneak in, find her, and then get out,” Caleb continued, relaxing a little. “We just have to find a way in without being noticed.”

  “And how exactly do we manage that?”

  “We use her,” Caleb said as a woman suddenly pulled into view.

  The woman wore Niner robes as she made her way quickly across the fields towards an outbuilding at the bottom of the field.

  “Come on,” Caleb ordered as he moved quickly to intercept her.

  He kept low and kept Cooper in front of him, knowing the man would bolt if he gave him too big an opportunity.

  They moved silently with Caleb watching the wider view to make sure that no one else was accompanying the lone woman. Once he was sure that she was alone, he moved in behind her as she approached the large shed.

  Cooper was at his side now as they crossed the field, stepping out into the moonlight away from cover. Caleb couldn’t help but notice Cooper’s bravery now that they were confronting a lone woman.

  The woman reached out to unlock and then open the rickety old door. Caleb timed his run so that just as the door opened, he ran into the back of the woman and shoved her inside, following her in and out of sight. He just had to hope that there wasn’t a nest of Niners inside to greet him.

  The woman started to scream and he clamped a strong hand down over her mouth to stifle it at birth.

  “Not a sound,” he hissed into her ear, trying to scare her while hating himself a little for doing it. “You understand me?”

  The woman nodded, and he felt her trembling under his grip.

  He let her go and she turned around slowly.

  The first thing he saw on her face was recognition of him and she relaxed a little, but then she also recognised Cooper as the other man entered the shed, and then her expression changed back to fear again.

  “Hey, don’t I know you?” Cooper asked quizzically. “I’m sure I do.”

  “You should. You tried to assault her at the fruit stand. What’s the matter, Cooper? You try and assault so many women you forget their faces?”

  “Hey, wasn’t my fault if the lady couldn’t take a compliment.” He shrugged.

  “Shit, wait a minute! That big ape was protecting her; where’s he now?” Cooper asked as he ran back to the door to take a look outside.

  “Torvan,” Caleb confirmed.

  “He’s not here,” the woman answered.

  “What do you know about what’s going on here?” Caleb demanded.

  “Honestly? I have no idea. I can only think that the devil now walks amongst us.”

  “Lady, a couple of days ago that would have sounded crazy, but right now, I’m starting to think you might be right.”

  “It’s Gwendolyn.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Not ‘Lady’ or ‘Miss’ or ‘Ma’am’; my name is Gwendolyn.”

  “Okay then.” Caleb smiled in a friendly manner.

  “What the hell’s wrong with you!” Cooper exclaimed. “You’re making best friends with this bitch? You saw with your own eyes what she and her maniac friends did to us out there!”

  Caleb stared hard at the young woman. She was undoubtedly beautiful, but more than that, there was a gentle kindness in her eyes.

  “Not you, right,” he stated rather than asked. “And if not you, then I’m guessing it’s not everyone here either, right?”

  Gwendolyn looked back at him, seemingly sizing him up before answering. “Right,” she confirmed. “I don’t know what’s happened to my people but it’s not all of them; mainly it’s just Torvan and his followers.”

  “How many?” Caleb asked.

  “More than enough to bring about our ruination.”

  “Have you seen anyone else here tonight? Other visitors?”

  She shook her head in reply.

  “Okay, Gwendolyn, I’m going to trust you.” Caleb sighed.

  “Are you nuts?” Cooper gasped. “I say we tie the bitch up and leave her here. She’ll get our throats cut the first chance she gets!”

  “Gwendolyn,” Caleb continued ignoring the other man, “there are some men here tonight, bad men from the mainland. Now these men are dangerous, you understand? They’ve come here with guns to take something of great value to them from your people.”

  “Value?”

  “You know a Tunstall?”

  “Of course; this place is his,” she replied, motioning around them at the shed.

  “Well Tunstall was growing something tha
t these men want, a kind of drug that would be worth a great deal of money to them.”

  “And they’re coming here?”

  “They’re already here, somewhere, and they have my friend with them.”

  “If they’ve come here, then they may already be dead,” she said sadly.

  “You don’t understand, you dense cow,” Cooper sneered. “These men aren’t some hillbilly hicks. They have weapons - guns - and they know how to use them.”

  “It won’t matter. It won’t save them.”

  “So what will?” Caleb interjected. “What are you doing down here in the middle of the night?” he asked, suddenly aware that he didn’t know.

  She stayed silent for a moment, seemingly trying to decide whether or not she could trust them, or at least him.

  “I have gotten myself close to Torvan,” she began.

  “Close?” Caleb asked.

  Gwendolyn didn’t answer with words but her face flushed and he caught her meaning.

  “Sacrifices have to be made,” she continued in a small voice. “Torvan and his followers have to be stopped before they kill us all and destroy everything that our father built on this land. I came here looking for something to slip into his drink, some kind of poison, something to end his reign before it’s too late,” she said, taking a small pewter flask out of her pocket.

  “Hey, that’s great.” Cooper clapped. “She slips the big bastard something, he drops dead, problem solved!”

  “And Quinn?” Caleb demanded.

  “Hey, what can I say?” Cooper shrugged. “Besides, I told you she’s probably already dead.”

  Caleb’s temper slipped a notch and he grabbed Cooper by the front of his jacket and slammed him into the shed wall, hard enough to drop dust from above onto their heads.

  “Shit, man! I didn’t kill her,” Cooper wheezed as he struggled under the iron grip.

  “Please,” Gwendolyn said in a small tired voice, placing a soft hand on Caleb’s forearm. “This place has already seen so much unneeded violence. I honestly don’t think I can stomach anymore.”

  Caleb let go of Cooper and the man backed away nervously.