by Meg Ripley
The nurse picked up her instrument and tweaked a couple of buttons, satisfied after her fourth adjustment. Without any preamble, the nurse tugged Rayne’s earlobe and stuck the metal cone into her ear canal, going a bit deeper than Rayne would have liked. After several long moments, the nurse pulled out the device and read the screen, a little disappointed by the looks of it.
“Am I alright?”
“You fine, enjoy day.” It was the most she had ever said, and as quickly as she arrived, she swept out again leaving Rayne to rub her sore ear.
A motley crew of canoeists stood on the shore of a slow-flowing lagoon that they were told wound down to the beach. The group had been shepherded by resort staff and shoved into brightly-colored life jackets. Rayne stood alone to the side, unsure of how the rest of the guests would react after the previous evening’s debauchery, but the strangers made no outward sign of registration. They mingled in small pockets, fiddling with their jackets and adjusting the straps to fit. The very last person to arrive was Billie; she floated into the group silently and looked around at her surroundings, bewildered.
“Like the latest fashion?” Rayne had sidled up to Billie and struck her best attempt at a model pose.
“Sorry...what?” Billie’s voice was impassionate.
“Oh, the jackets; aren’t they a crime to your eyes?” Rayne forced a chuckle.
Billie shrugged and looked blankly into the distance. Billie didn’t look anything like she did previously; her face was devoid of makeup and she lacked her usual animation. Maybe she’s just unwell, Rayne thought. “Hey, did you have a nurse see you this morning?”
“Hmm? Y--Yes.” Billie turned and walked away toward the pile of waiting canoes, her interest in the maybe-rich Rayne fleeting.
Fine, you magenta-haired bitch, let’s see you out-paddle me.
The tour had been surprisingly fun. The guide had pointed out that the forest had an unusually high level of native medicinal plants and that scientists were still unravelling the mystery of the island to unlock medical marvels. He also pointed out locations where quiet visitors might spot certain animals, and they sat milling in the stream while a family of tiny monkeys jabbered and leapt across branches. Rayne was a keen rower at school; it felt good to feel the muscles tighten around her back and shoulders as she cut through the water.
Finally making it to the ocean, the group dispersed when they were told there was a lunch marquee waiting for them. Despite being the last to make it over, Rayne wasn’t in a position to go without; there was more than enough food for several tour groups. Rayne was concerned about Billie, who had picked up a sandwich but was nibbling mindlessly at it. Billie hadn’t interacted with anyone on the tour, and had taken only fleeting looks at the amazing scenery, which was unusual for someone who made an impression everywhere she went. She had also caused some concern with the other guests, who muttered among themselves that they found her intolerably rude.
Without the hostess watching, Rayne gathered up a selection of foods and snuck it back to the tour guide and his staff who were busily loading the canoes into a trailer. “This is just an extra thank you. You can’t refuse--I insist you take them. Throw them into the trees for all I care.” She pushed the food into the hands of the guide, spun around and left, satisfied when she heard the first crunchy bites into a bread roll.
The rest of the evening had been uneventful. She had sunbathed on the beach, had a long shower and was getting ready for dinner. Tonight, her dinner was to be prepared by a personal chef in the cabin kitchen. A menu had been slid under her door and she had ticked the boxes promptly before popping it on her door handle. An evening alone in her cabin had been an attractive option, but knowing that there was a sex god roaming the island made her want to fling the schedule into the wind. Nonetheless, she endured the chef and his amazing culinary skills. She ended up eating--and sleeping--alone.
****
Rayne woke earlier than usual the following morning. Slipping into another bikini, short and t-shirt combination, Rayne had planned on using one of the canoes and hoped to score a private hire for the morning. Just her luck: the guide and his team were setting up for the morning as she arrived. They all smiled; it was easy being recognized when you’re the largest woman on the island.
She asked demurely if she could borrow a canoe for an hour to paddle down and then back upstream. After some haggling and promise of more bread rolls, Rayne clipped on a life jacket and slipped into the stream with a canoe. Paddling upstream is hard work, and being unconditioned, Rayne took her time floating downstream for a while before paddling strongly back to the starting position. Her shoulders were burning pleasantly, and her silence on the water meant that more wildlife was about. Rayne slid into one of the many lagoons and decided to take an extra-long break. She lazily paddled around, watching amphibians climb the damp rocks back to their perches.
She had come to the end of one rocky formation and was going to cut across the middle of the lagoon to the next when something she saw made her freeze--there was something bobbing in the water. Rayne silently slid her canoe over to check it out; it looked like a matted buoy caught under the surface of the water. Using her paddle, Rayne gave it a shove. The mound dipped and began to spin, revealing--to Rayne’s utter horror--a bright magenta plumage and a torn, gaping mouth.
Rayne jolted in her canoe and would have gone overboard had she not sat so deeply in the water. The rest of Billie was gone; it was just her head. Rayne gasped and felt bile rise in her throat. She splashed away from the head and made it to shore, pulling herself out onto the soft earth and throwing up into a bush. I have to go back and tell someone. Rayne climbed dizzily back into her canoe and was prepared for the long paddle upstream when she heard voices coming from afar.
“Where did you hide it?”
“By the lagoon above section three.”
“What? You know that’s tidal--it could be anywhere along the river by now!”
“Nah, it’ll be there.”
Rayne had no other alternative; she paddled as quickly and silently as she could away from the voices, downstream. Getting behind a bend, Rayne climbed out of the canoe, hoisted it onto the bank and crept slowly back. Two men wearing yellow biohazard gear emerged from the undergrowth, their faces covered. One made a show of pointing in a direction and freaking out that the head was gone. They glanced at the downward stream path and would have walked over to reveal Rayne’s hiding spot had they not taken another look at the lagoon and seen Billie’s bright hair. The men walked around the lagoon and waded in, dropping Billie’s torn up head into a thick black bag. The men then walked back to where they came from, their yellow suits disappearing into the green undergrowth.
What in the actual fuck is going on?
The rest of the morning was a blur for Rayne. She had returned the canoe to the chirpy staff and wandered aimlessly in the forest for over an hour until she careened into Ben.
“Rayne, where have you been?”
Shaken, Rayne looked around uneasily “Why?” she couldn’t hide the edge in her voice.
“There’s been an evacuation called. Plus, I didn’t see you yesterday. I was worried; they said guests have gotten sick. More have disappeared today.”
Evacuation? Today? More missing?
“Well, where were you? Yesterday, I went canoeing and sunbathed; dinner was served in my cabin.”
“I was… I was… around, I guess you could say.”
Rayne went to back away, but Ben’s firm hand grasped her wrist. “What have you seen?” he asked, his once friendly brown eyes now taking on a frightening blackness. “Where is Nelson Patrick? Where’s Billie Toms?”
Before she could open her mouth to scream there was a thundering explosion from behind them; gunshots peppered the serene rainforest atmosphere. Ben had released Rayne’s arm, giving her the perfect chance to take off. Spinning on her heels, Rayne pumped her arms and legs down a track and then off into the dense underbrush. Behind her, she could hea
r Ben calling her name and his heavy footfalls—he was gaining on her!
Rayne leapt over logs and used trees to swing herself down the slope without tumbling head over heels. Another noise joined Ben’s crashing: motorbikes. Shrill, revved engines tore down the slope in front of and behind Rayne, causing her to skid to a halt.
“Hey, hey! Over here!” she waved her arms.
With an almighty crash, Rayne was spear-tackled to the ground from behind just in time to hear a thick shot of bullets blast where her torso should have been. Rayne gasped for air from under Ben’s crushing body.
“You hurt?” Ben hissed into her ear. “No? Good, this place has gone to fucking hell and we need to get out of here. Come with me.”
Ben yanked Rayne up and half dragged her through the rainforest. The bikes were still around, but making it back up the slope and sighting their quarry was virtually impossible. “They’ll have to circle back and guess where we’ve gone,” Ben explained.
Just as they reached the hire shack for the canoes—which was now deserted—there was a peppering of bullets and the wide, ancient trees next to them exploded. Rayne instinctively stepped back and grabbed Ben, pulling him away in time to see a large crossbow arrow split a neighboring sapling. There was another crash, and a figure in camouflage leapt out from the undergrowth, pulling Ben down. In a flurry of fists and kicks, Rayne could see that Ben was out of his depth with this raging killer. Instinctively, she rushed over to the hire shack, grabbed a double-ended paddle and charged back to the fray, bringing the blade of one paddle down hard on the foe’s head with a mighty roar. The attacker slumped and collapsed onto the ground, leaving Ben gasping for air. With no attackers watching them, Rayne dragged Ben toward the shack, lifted an unlocked roller door and shoved him underneath before climbing in. Luckily, there were no staff members hiding inside.
“What the hell is going on here? And who are you?” Rayne snapped out the words, carefully trying to tend to the cuts that opened on Ben’s face. “Ben?”
“I’m…I’m not Ben. My real name is Malcolm Derby. I’m an investigative journalist here to find out what’s going on, and I think I know what’s happening.” It had flowed from Ben/Malcolm’s tongue so easily that Rayne stopped what she was doing and sat back on her heels.
“What?”
“How did you get invited?” he asked, wincing from the pressure she applied to his wounded face.
“I accidentally picked up a card dropped by a woman at a train station.”
Ben/Malcolm nodded at Rayne’s confession. “That makes a lot of sense now. You’re not like the rest of them.” He looked up deeply into Rayne’s eyes. Ben/Malcolm went to move, but a searing pain rippled through his side and he hugged his ribs.
“Shit, let’s have a look.” Rayne started unbuttoning Malcolm’s shirt to expose his sculpted body. The exploding wood had ripped into his skin, and there were obvious signs of bruising from his fist-fight. Rayne saw a flask of water nearby and cloth. Grabbing both she dampened the cloth and started to gently clean the wounds.
It was several awkward moments before Malcolm broke the silence. “I loved that dress, by the way,” he murmured. “As did half of the room.”
“You’re not dying yet; you can save the petty lies.”
“Honest, half the room couldn’t keep their eyes off of you. I was hoping to chat with you sooner, but Billie swooped in. I sort of resigned to thinking you were an airhead when that happened. I’m glad you changed my mind when you came back.”
Rayne blushed. No one had ever sounded so thankful to be in her company before.
“This is quite a view you know. It’s not every day I find myself straddled by a woman who’s ripped open my shirt. It’s definitely up there in my top five experiences.”
“Oh really?” Although Rayne was focusing on cleaning his wounds, she couldn’t help that her hands wandered somewhat freely over Malcolm’s torso. It was making cleaning a slower process.
“Hmm-mmm, it’s almost worth going back to the waterfall to compare a second time--that is, if you’re up for the experiment.”
“Well,” Rayne had to focus to keep her voice even, “I would need to insist on several re-enactments of the original, just so we have enough comparable data of course.”
“Of course!” Malcolm winked and gave Rayne’s thigh a little squeeze.
Footsteps running past the shack put Rayne and Malcolm back on edge. As soon as the last wound was clean, Rayne re-buttoned the shirt and they quietly shuffled to a far corner of the shack.
They waited for several very long minutes until the sounds of the forest returned before recommencing their whispers.
“So, why are you here?” Rayne ventured first.
Malcolm failed to keep the sorrow from his face. “I’m trying to figure out why my best friend never came home from here. He told me over drinks he’d been given this exclusive invitation and wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about it, so naturally he showed me the card and everything. I thought nothing of it until his mother called me asking if I knew where he was. I did some digging and found that there have been increased reports of people going missing--people who would never normally be reported as missing.”
“But don’t people go missing all the time? It’s hardly enough to stage a huge investigation.”
“You’re absolutely right, but the people I found who were going missing were influential fringe-dwellers. Bankers, stock traders, socialites, trendsetters. People who sit somewhere in an area of influence, but wouldn’t draw a lot of attention; there were about a dozen cases in the past month.”
“So, then…”
“I did some digging and found nothing on this resort, its builders or even its location. I tried to contact the authorities, but they said this place never existed. Eventually, I worked through all my contacts and paid a lot of money to wrangle a card out of someone who was invited…Ben, an advertising guy.” He gritted his teeth as he shifted into a different position. “You a nurse back home?”
“No, I am—well, I was—the go-to first aid person in my office. I don’t know if I can still say that I am; I don’t know if we’ll make it alive off this island.”
Malcolm gave a slow nod. “For all it’s worth, I’m glad I met you.”
Rayne paused and gave Malcolm a small smile, “Me, too.”
There was a long pause, before Malcolm continued, “Why did you run from me before?”
Rayne let out a long deep breath and mentally braced herself. “I found Billie Toms’ head in a lagoon this morning, and it was collected by men in biohazard suits. I was in shock, so when you asked where she was, I thought that maybe you had something to do with it.”
Malcolm pulled Rayne into a crushing hug. “I’m so sorry I scared you. I had been sneaking around trying not to get caught—I had just avoided getting tased by some guys in those suits who ambushed the group I was with. I had stopped to read some stupid plaque on a tree, and before I knew it, I had to hide under the boardwalk and crawl back to the resort. I thought something dreadful happened to you...wasn’t far off the mark in the end, was I?”
Rayne squeezed her arms around Malcolm. “So,” she mulled the words over in her mouth, “why do you think people are disappearing? Why was Billie murdered?”
Malcolm released her from the hug but reached out and held Rayne’s hand, his warm grip returning her to the reality of the situation.
“I’m not completely sure, but I know that the guests who disappear have acted unusual. The day before you turned up, I noticed a male guest acting differently. He was a big talker and had a huge personality. I only noticed his strangeness because in the morning he was complaining of chills and hot flashes, but by lunchtime, he had completely shut-up—you couldn’t get a word from him. He never came to dinner, and has been absent ever since.”
“Is it possible he was bitten by something?”
“Possible, yes, but then other guests have been acting strangely and disappearing. I had an activity w
ith Nelson yesterday. We were supposed to go for a rainforest hike, but he was pulled out when he started complaining of headaches and never came back for the rest of the day.” Malcolm looked thoughtful for a few moments, “I think that’s what happened to Billie.”
“Doesn’t explain the reasoning though.”
Malcolm looked surprised. “You are very shrewd,” he smiled. “That part, I’m not sure of yet. But I think we’re being exposed to something. Why else would you send thirty strangers to a remote island?”
Rayne nodded and bit her inner cheek; she didn’t want to blubber in front of this amazing man.
“You have anyone waiting for you at home? Parents, friends, partner? Because there’s always hope that they will also sound the alarm.”
At that, Rayne blinked a few large fat tears.
“Hey, hey, hey...don’t cry, Love. We’ll be fine; I’ll figure it out.” Malcolm propped up onto an arm and, with his free hand, gently stroked the tears away. “I would never normally say this, but you are just breaking my heart.”
“This is the worst date I have ever been on.” Rayne sniffled, muffling her choked laugh. Malcolm beamed back, and despite the matted blood on his face, he looked more handsome than ever.
“What do we-” Rayne’s voice was cut off by a delicious kiss from Malcolm. He snaked a hand through Rayne’s damp hair and cupped her head ever so gently. The danger and rush of surviving pumped wildly in her veins, Rayne couldn’t help but return the deep kiss.
“So,” Rayne managed breathlessly, “what do we do now?”
****
There was blood everywhere. It coated the walls, the floor--there were even spurts on the ceiling. Rayne held a double-ended canoe paddle in both hands and braced herself; this was not in the brochure.