Death Island

by Nick Carter

  "No," she said again. "I am not leaving without you. You will come back to the beach with me. Together we will find a canoe and we will return to Hiva Faui."

  "I have a job to do, Gabrielle. You can return to the beach or come with me. The beach is the easier alternative."

  "You're determined?"

  "Yes."

  "Then I will come with you," she said. She glanced up at the volcano. "Soon we will be on holy ground. It will be very dangerous if we are caught here. You will need help."

  "How do you know this, Gabrielle?"

  "That it is dangerous here? Everyone talks about it. Everyone knows that this end of the island is powerful. The last people who were here were killed when the volcano had a minor eruption. An act of nature or of an angry god. It makes little difference."

  Carter looked over at the still burning helicopter. "And that?" he asked. "An act of an angry god?"

  "Perhaps," she said defiantly. "The natives will think so."

  "Right," Carter said. The submarine would be here in less than twenty-four hours. He wanted to be ready for it. "Are you sure you don't want to return to the beach?"

  She shook her head.

  "Okay," he said. "It's this way." He turned inland, skirting the burning chopper, and followed the general curve of the hills that led up toward the smoking crater of the volcano.

  At times they scrambled over old lava flows filled with cracks and loose rocks. At other times, where enough topsoil had collected, they had to push their way through dense undergrowth.

  It had become very hot and extremely humid. Their clothing clung to them, and mosquitoes and other flying insects followed them in swarms.

  Gabrielle kept up with no problem, although she was sweating just as profusely as Carter.

  "I've lived in this heat for a long time, you must remember," she said once when they stopped to rest.

  Carter had lit a cigarette, and she looked at him with some amusement.

  "What is it?" he asked.

  They had stopped at a small spring from which clear, very cold water bubbled. It was pleasant in the shade of several large trees.

  "Smoking is one of many things these people do not understand about us. It is one habit they have not picked up."

  Carter was about to reply that they were smart, but an odd, high-pitched keening sound came to him from a distance. He looked up, cocking his head so that he could better hear the faint sound.

  Gabrielle heard it as well, and she got up from where she had been leaning against the bole of a tree.

  "What is it?" Carter asked.

  "It is them. The natives. It is their trail hunt cry."

  "It's us they're after," Carter said.

  "They have picked up our trail from where the helicopter crashed."

  Carter ground out his cigarette, then pocketed the butt. "We're not too far from what I wanted to see. We'll continue."

  "It will not take them long to catch up with us," Gabrielle said, following him away from the spring, the sun still off to their right as they headed inland.

  "Where won't they follow us? The volcano?"

  They had gone a hundred yards or so when she grabbed his arm and pulled him around.

  "They would not follow us up the side of the volcano, it is true," Gabrielle said. "But for good reason. Anyone who goes up there is a dead person."

  "Superstition," Carter said, glancing up toward the peak. Smoke curled lazily from the crater, which had to be three or four thousand feet above the floor of the jungle.

  "Yes, there is a lot of superstition here that the Japanese could not control, nor could we. My government has sent three separate teams of geologists up there. Set them down near the summit by helicopter. The first team simply disappeared. Their wrecked helicopter was spotted on the western slope near the peak. The second team… all but the pilot were overcome by toxic fumes. The pilot managed to take off and radio back what happened, but then he too passed out and crashed into the sea."

  "How long ago was that?" Carter asked.

  "This all happened a couple of years ago," she said. "The last team, about a year ago, came with gas masks. The volcano erupted while they were camped near the top. It is believed they were all killed instantly in their sleep. No one knows for sure. Neither their bodies nor their helicopter were found."

  The howling noises were much closer now, but Carter figured he and Gabrielle were coming up fast on the area he and Tieggs had pinpointed the previous night.

  If the natives would not follow them up the side of the volcano, he decided that he and Gabrielle could at least start up the lower slopes where they could conceal themselves until after dark when they could make their way back to the beaches.

  "You see, there is much more than superstition up there."

  "Then we'll only go a short distance up and hide until after dark," Carter said, and he struck out once again to the north, roughly parallel to the curve of the volcano, Gabrielle right behind him, and the natives farther back… but not much farther.

  * * *

  Ten minutes later they came around a wide outcropping of rock and a dozen yards or so below them Carter spotted a trail through a narrow opening in the undergrowth.

  The natives were very close behind them, and Carter figured they would come into sight at any moment.

  "Down there," he said, grabbing Gabrielle's arm and propelling her down the hill and into the underbrush.

  Twice she nearly stumbled and fell, but each time Carter held her up and she regained her footing on the rocky ground.

  "What is it?" she cried.

  "A path," Carter said as they pushed the rest of the way through the thick growth, finally coming out onto a wide, apparently often used trail through the jungle. From here it appeared as if the trail more or less paralleled their own path from the downed helicopter just below the first foothills leading up to the volcano.

  The place he and Tieggs had chanced upon the other night would be just a short distance farther north, he figured.

  "Are you all right, Gabrielle?" he asked. "Can you make it just a little farther?"

  She nodded. "But we had better do it quickly, Nick. They will be on us any second."

  "This way," he said, and he headed north in a long-legged stride that Gabrielle could barely keep up with.

  Within a quarter of a mile the trail turned sharply downhill to the east but then immediately opened into a fairly wide natural amphitheater of grass that was ringed on three sides by huge, overhanging trees. From the air there would be little to see down here, Carter realized. It was perfect for a concealed meeting.

  At the far end of the depression, which was set into the side of the hill, was a strange grouping of large boulders, one of which was unnaturally flat, much like an altar stone used for sacrifices in some ancient cultures.

  Carter and Gabrielle hurried around the rim of the bowl to the flat boulder, but a few yards from it, Gabrielle stopped short, her right hand going to her mouth as she stifled a cry.

  The flat boulder was splattered and stained with blood. Carter stepped up to it. The stench this close was almost overpowering. Even the trampled, hard-packed earth at the base of the stone was stained with blood, and insects worked at bits of rotting tissue.

  It was definitely a sacrificial altar. And Carter suspected, from the stone's general shape, that ordinary animals were not the victims. This place was for human sacrifice.

  The natives were very close now. Probably on the path. They were howling and whistling and hooting as if on a hunting drive, beating the bush for animals that would be driven toward waiting marksmen.

  Which is exactly what was going to happen. Carter suddenly realized as several dozen natives, who had been hiding along the rim of the depression, popped up, bows drawn.

  "Down!" Carter shouted as he spun around and raced the few steps to Gabrielle.

  He pushed her out of the way as a dozen arrows thudded into the ground where she had been standing.

  Other a
rrows barely missed them as they ducked behind the altar stone.

  Gabrielle was terrified, and she was shaking and retching as they crouched in the horrible odors of death and decay.

  The arrows had stopped flying, at least for the moment, but a high-pitched crying began that echoed eerily throughout the amphitheater.

  Carter peered out around the edge of the stone. Other natives had joined the first, and he estimated that now there were at least a hundred of them, all armed with bows and arrows. They ringed the depression on three sides.

  But not on the fourth, Carter noticed as he ducked back and looked up into the rocks behind the altar.

  He almost missed the chance reflection of sunlight off something very shiny. But then his eyes came back to it. High in the rocks was a piece of metal or glass. Something fairly large but partially camouflaged. Something definitely man-made, but not by these natives.

  He searched the jumble of rocks to the left and right as well, and he spotted two more round, intensely shiny objects. They were like flat pieces of glass or plastic embedded in the stone.

  Definitely not natural. And definitely not a product of the skills of these islanders.

  The crying became louder and then changed into some sort of a rhythmic chant.

  Carter peered out around the stone in time to see the natives slowly coming down the hill, down toward the altar as they chanted.

  "It is their death march for criminals," Gabrielle said at his side.

  "No appeals?" Carter asked, again studying the rocks at the back of the amphitheater.

  "We are here, so we are guilty as far as they are concerned. This is hallowed ground."

  Carter picked out at least two possible paths up through the rocks to the rim seventy or eighty feet above them. Beyond the rim were the hills that led even farther up onto the slopes of the volcano. They would be exposed only for the first few yards, and then they would be behind the larger boulders.

  "I want you to say something to them," Carter said.

  "What?" Gabrielle asked, confused. "We're going to surrender? They might not kill us at first. I could talk to them. They might listen."

  "Tell them that if they do not surrender to us, we will call upon our gods to strike them down."

  "I do not understand, Nick."

  "Just do it," Carter said. "Loudly so that they can hear you."

  She was very confused. But she peered over the top of the stone at the advancing natives still chanting the death march. She glanced back at Carter, who nodded for her to go ahead.

  Gabrielle turned back and shouted something, and the chanting stopped. She shouted something else as Carter pulled Pierre, the tiny gas bomb, from his crotch.

  She finished speaking, and the chanting resumed even louder than before.

  "It did not do any good, Nick. They are still coming."

  "Warn them once more." Carter said.

  Doubtfully she shouted out the warning again; this time the chanting did not stop.

  Carter armed the tiny gas bomb, and without getting up he lobbed it well over the altar toward the advancing natives.

  The gas bomb made no noise, and the gas was colorless and odorless. It worked on the central nervous system and was very fast and extremely effective.

  A silence suddenly fell over the amphitheater. Gabrielle let out a little gasp, and Carter peered around the edge of the altar stone. A half-dozen natives lay on the ground. They were dead from the effects of the gas. The others had fallen back and were looking with awe from their fallen comrades to the altar stone.

  Carter ducked back, pulling Gabrielle with him. He pointed up toward the rocks. "Do you think you can make it up there?"

  "What did you do, Nick?"

  "There's no time for explanations now," Carter snapped. "Can you climb?"

  She looked doubtfully up at the rocks, but she nodded. "I think so," she said.

  "Good. Then go, now. I'll be right after you."

  "I… I…" she stammered.

  "Now, Gabrielle, before it's too late," Carter said.

  She kissed him on the cheek, then scrambled from the altar, jumped up on the rocks, and began climbing. Carter had taken out his Luger. He turned back and peered around the side of the altar as a cry went up.

  Several natives brought up their bows.

  Carter fired three shots, each hitting one of the islanders. The others fell back. Carter turned and scrambled up to where Gabrielle had gone, then he fired two more shots over the natives and leaped up on the rocks.

  Several arrows clattered on the boulders below him a second or two later, but he was within the protection of the large rocks now.

  Gabrielle was about ten or fifteen feet above him, pulling herself up hand-over-hand with little or no problem.

  She reached the top and pulled herself over. Carter pulled himself over right behind her.

  Below, the natives were streaming out of the amphitheater and heading around on the path. They would be up this far very quickly.

  Carter got up and helped Gabrielle to her feet. "Up," he said, and they both turned and crashed their way into the jungle that led up the steep hills.

  Far above them the uppermost slopes of the volcano were visible against the backdrop of an incredibly blue sky. Smoke poured from the crater. It looked as if the volcano were coming alive and would soon erupt.

  They did not have much of a choice at this point, however, Carter figured. It was either here with the islanders or up there with the volcano.

  About a hundred yards above the rocky rim of the amphitheater, Gabrielle tripped over something and went sprawling on her hands and knees.

  Far below them and off to the east they could hear the natives screaming and wailing.

  Carter helped the woman to her feet and was about to continue up the hill when he spotted what she had tripped over. He bent down to have a closer look.

  It was a cable. An electrical cable with thick rubber insulation. It had been buried beneath the jungle soil, but a section of it had worked its way to the surface.

  Carter tugged on the loop, and the cable snaked out of the ground toward the rocky rim of the amphitheater and up the hill before it snagged on something and he could pull no more out of the ground.

  "Wire," Gabrielle said. "What is it here for? Did your people put it here?"

  "Not us," Carter said, looking up the hill in the direction the wire led.

  It was evidently connected to something in the amphitheater. The three shiny objects high on the face of the rocks came to mind immediately. Whatever those devices were connected to was somewhere up this hill in the direction the cable ran.

  "Then who? Surely not the natives."

  "I don't know," Carter said. "But we're going to find out."

  They continued up the hill, sweat pouring off them in the intense midmorning heat, the sounds of the natives far below them becoming fainter and fainter.

  "Oh!" Gabrielle cried twenty minutes later as she crested the first hill.

  Carter was up with her a moment later. He had to smile. He had found what he had come looking for. Or at least he had found a sign of it.

  In the hollow of a half-rotted tree, which had apparently been struck by lightning some time ago, was a small dish antenna that was painted with a camouflage pattern.

  "I do not understand any of this, Nick," Gabrielle said, looking from the dish to Carter and back again. "Does this have something to do with your base?"

  "I don't think so," Carter said, approaching the dish. He turned so that he was facing in exactly the same direction as the dish was pointed.

  They were high enough in the hills now so that they could see a long distance across the valley. Far off, out across the jungle, Carter thought he could see something, but he wasn't sure.

  He turned back to the dish antenna and hunched down beside it. There were markings on the lip of the dish and along one of the struts. They were on small identification plates. One contained a long serial number. The other con
tained a number of figures. Chinese characters. The dish was Chinese.

  Nine

  It was night. They had remained by the communications dish through the remainder of the morning and into the afternoon. Whoever had installed the device had undoubtedly convinced the natives that here was holy ground… that this was the work of gods.

  Carter figured that as long as the natives believed that, he and Gabrielle would be perfectly safe where they were. The natives would be too frightened to come this far.

  And he had been right. No one came up after them, although they heard the islanders howling and wailing far down the hill for most of the afternoon.

  Around three, Carter and Gabrielle had managed to slip down the hill to the spring, where they drank their fill. They gathered a few coconuts and some kiwi fruit, then made their way back up the hill to the communications dish.

  Several times Gabrielle questioned Carter's insistence that they remain by the dish, and each time he gave her the same answer.

  "We'll wait until after dark. Then we'll go back down the hill if nothing happens."

  "What do you expect is going to happen?" she asked.

  "I don't know," Carter admitted. He looked out across the long valley for another glimpse of whatever it was he thought he had seen earlier, but it was gone — or never had been there in the first place.

  The sun had gone down an hour earlier, and some clouds had moved in from the west, gradually filling the sky and blotting out their meager starlight.

  The temperature had not dropped with the sun, and the humidity had risen sharply. As they sat looking down the hill, their backs to the tree, they were bathed in their own sweat.

  Gabrielle was becoming impatient. "It is dark now, Nick," she said. "You said we would go when it became dark."

  Carter nodded, somewhat disappointed. He had hoped something would have gone on tonight down in the amphitheater. Yet he was not really surprised it had not. The attack on the base had come yesterday. He suspected it had originated here. Another ceremony probably would not occur so soon. Eventually another would occur, but…