by Perrin Briar
Fritz watched Jack, who was visible between two broad leaves.
“Go on,” he said under his breath. “You can do it.”
Ernest, exhausted and dripping with sweat, paused to look at how far he’d managed to climb and how much farther he still had to go. He groaned. He was barely off the ground. The broad leaves above parted and he caught a glimpse of a pair of paper-white legs. They crouched down and prepared to jump.
“Jack, don’t!” Ernest said, reaching up with his hand. He regretted it instantly, losing his grip and falling to the ground.
Fritz stood over him.
“If my animal is a hawk, and Jack’s is a monkey, yours must be a buffoon,” he said.
He extended a hand to Ernest, who took it and got to his feet.
“Did he make it?” Ernest said.
“Of course he did,” Fritz said. “Did you ever doubt it?”
Jack slid down the tree, leaping from ten feet up and rolling to his feet, all in one smooth movement. Jack jammed his finger in Fritz’s face.
“Ha!” he said. “You thought I couldn’t do it! Ha! I proved you wrong!”
“Well done,” Fritz said, a proud little smile on his face.
Jack frowned. This was not the reaction he expected.
“Thanks…” he said. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“A monkey is a monkey,” Fritz said. “There’s no changing our nature. Nips is still stupid, though. And as one of his brethren, I suppose that makes you stupid too.”
Jack barrelled toward Fritz, who ran away, laughing. Jack leapt at a tree and used it to gain extra momentum. He slammed into Fritz, knocking the wind out of his lungs. He flew backward, into a forest of green-white canes. A white powder showered down from the top, like a thin drizzle of snow onto Jack’s head. Nips breathed it in and sneezed.
“That’ll teach you!” Jack said aloud.
There was no reply. But a shadow appeared from the white mist.
“Fritz?” Jack said. “Are you all right? I didn’t mean to hit you so hard…”
Something solid and white smacked Jack on the face and exploded in a puff of white. Another ball came from the bamboo cane forest and struck Jack on the arm. It didn’t hurt. Jack bent down and scooped up a handful of the powder and formed his own ball. He pulled it back and waited for Fritz to come at him. Another ball flew from the mist. Jack ducked, identified the origin and threw his own ball. It disappeared inside the mist.
“Ow!” Fritz’s voice said. “You got me in the eye!”
“Serves you right!” Jack said. “You would have hit me in the eye except you’re not a good shot.”
“Only joking,” Fritz said.
Another ball flew from the mist and struck Jack on the chin. Jack growled under his breath and bent down to scoop up another ball.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Ernest said. “Stop this. You don’t even know what you’re playing with. It could be poison for all you know.”
“Why don’t you taste it?” Fritz said, emerging from the mist. “You’re a fan of trying out new food.”
He jammed a small ball of the white powder into Ernest’s mouth. Ernest turned and spat the ball out, rubbing his tongue clean with his fingers.
“You idiot!” Ernest said. “That could have been dangerous!”
“As dangerous as eating a cocoon full of grubs?” Fritz said.
“I took a calculated risk,” Ernest said. “It didn’t pay off, but that was my mistake to make. You just forced something into my body without even knowing what it was!”
“Taste it,” Fritz said, white powder drizzling his head and shoulders.
“I’m not going to taste it,” Ernest said.
“I can see you’ve already tasted it,” Fritz said. “Your eyes have dilated.”
“Dilated?” Ernest said. “What are you talking about?”
“Taste what’s in your mouth,” Fritz said. “I could taste it in the air. It’s not harmful.”
Ernest smacked his lips. His head snapped toward Fritz.
“It can’t be,” he said.
“What?” Jack said. “What is it?
Ernest snapped off one of the white-green canes and a thick substance dribbled over his fingers. He sniffed it and put it to his tongue.
“Sugar?” he said. “These are sugar canes?”
“Mum’s cooking is about to get a whole lot better, don’t you think?” Fritz said.
“I’ll say!” Ernest said, upending the cane into his mouth.
“Give me some!” Jack said.
“Get your own!” Ernest said.
Jack did, snapping off a cane and sucking on the end.
“Looks like we have a replacement for fruit,” Fritz said. “What’s Nips going to harvest now?”
Nips sat in the white powder, tossing it up into the air with a big grin on his face. He laid back and made a snow monkey.
“I don’t think he’s too worried about being made redundant,” Jack said.
“Hold up, guys,” Ernest said. “You’ve got to come see this.”
Fritz, Jack and Francis’s smiles faded.
The turkey’s body had been torn open, the insides consumed with ruthless efficiency, the feathers spread across the ground.
“What do you suppose did this?” Ernest said.
“I don’t know,” Fritz said. “Something big.”
“We should tell Father,” Ernest said.
“Let’s get back to the treehouse,” Francis said, eyes wide with fear.
Jack couldn’t take his eyes off the bloody fly-infested mass.
“Okay, let’s go,” Fritz said. “Jack?”
Jack didn’t move, and just stared at the bird. Nips hugged his leg.
“Jack!” Fritz said.
Jack started out of his reverie. He turned to face Fritz and Ernest.
“We need to make sure what did this,” he said. “Make sure, or Father will return to the way he was. We’ll never be able to go out alone like this again. If they’re here they must have come recently or we would have seen them already.”
“We should warn Mother and Father as soon as possible,” Fritz said.
“No,” Ernest said. “As much as I dislike admitting it, Jack is right. If we tell Father now we’ll end up scouring the jungle in this area anyway. We should look now. It might have just been an animal attack.”
After a moment Fritz nodded.
“Fine,” he said. “But from here on out we travel armed.”
He reached for a thick strut of wood that jutted out from the side of a tree. He snapped it off and handed it to Ernest. He broke off a smaller one for Jack and Francis, and a larger one about the size of a large baseball bat for himself.
“Let’s go,” he said.
Chapter Fifty-Six
BILL AND LIZ lay in bed post-coital. Liz played with Bill’s chest hair with her finger.
“We did it,” Bill said. “We made a home on this Godforsaken island.”
“Godforsaken?” Liz said. “We might well be the only safe people in the world.”
“True,” Bill said. “Still, it was no picnic. But we can’t ever let our guard down. At some point those creatures are going to get onto this island.”
“You don’t know that,” Liz said.
“On a long enough timeline anything is possible,” Bill said.
“There’s a happy thought,” Liz said.
“It’s not happy, but it’s realistic,” Bill said.
“The virus might already be gone for all we know,” Liz said.
“Or it might be running rampant, tearing across the world,” Bill said. “Hopefully many miles from here.”
“I suppose we’ll never know until it happens,” Liz said. “Do you think the boys will be okay?”
“They’ll be fine,” Bill said. “It’s us I’m worried about.”
“What do you mean?” Liz said.
“The house seems very empty without them, doesn’t it?” Bill said.
&n
bsp; “It is very quiet,” Liz said.
“Then we’d better make some noise,” Bill said.
“Sounds great,” Liz said.
They kissed.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
“THERE’S NOTHING here,” Francis said, casting looks over his shoulder at the jungle. “Let’s go back.”
“We have to make sure,” Fritz said.
“We’ve made sure,” Francis said. “Now let’s go.”
“I understand you’re scared,” Fritz said. “But we have to do this for all our safety. Okay?”
He looked up at the treetops.
“See anything, Jack?” he said.
“Not yet,” Jack said. “You’re coming up to the coast now.”
The sea roared, beating against the beach. It was clean, clear and empty.
“Maybe it was just a normal animal attack after all,” Fritz said.
No one responded.
“We should turn back,” Ernest said. “Tell Father about what we saw.”
“Wait,” Jack said.
He leapt from one tree to another and scaled along a branch that hung over the beach. He peered closely at something below. He pointed.
“There,” he said. “There’s something in those reeds.”
Fritz made out nothing but reeds, poking out in every direction like the quills on a porcupine. He shook his head.
“There’s nothing there,” he said.
“No,” Ernest said. “There is. Look.”
The wind blew and the reeds moved in response to it.
All the reeds but one.
Fritz moved down the beach without noticing he was doing it, like the world was moving, not him.
He put his hand on the prow, for that was what it was; the prow of a small boat. Smears covered the sides, thick clots of red-black blood, a few spots on the parched sand. Snapped fish bones, a human jawbone and pelvis completed the ensemble. Fritz pulled the life raft out from the reeds.
His legs felt weak.
Etched into the side were the words: ‘The Long Journey’.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
“HOW MANY are there?” Ernest said.
“Three,” Fritz said, looking at the tracks. “Two adults and a kid, by the size of them.”
“Why does it say ‘The Long Journey’ on the side of the boat?” Jack said.
“There must have been a life boat on board that we didn’t see,” Fritz said. “They must have stumbled onto it and floated here the same way we did. It just took them a bit longer, that’s all.”
“We have to get home,” Ernest said. “Warn Mum and Dad about this. They won’t know they’re out there.”
Fritz nodded.
“We’ll have to run,” he said. “We don’t know how long these things have been here.”
They ran to the edge of the jungle and began jogging at a steady pace. Fritz’s longer legs carried him forward faster than the others. Jack kept up. Fritz turned to look back. Ernest was flagging behind. He had hold of Francis’s hand. Fritz dropped back.
“You go on,” Ernest said. “We’ll catch up.”
“Those things could be anywhere,” Fritz said. “Give me Francis.”
He picked Francis up.
“I’m going to give you a piggy back,” Fritz said.
“Okay!” Francis said.
“I need you to hold on tight, okay?” Fritz said. “Don’t let go.”
“All right,” Francis said, wrapping his arms around Fritz.
“Wait,” Ernest said. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t fall off.”
Ernest jumped, grabbed a vine, and pulled hard on it. He wrapped it around Francis’s back and Fritz’s chest, lashing him tight.
“Are you ready?” Fritz said over his shoulder.
“Yeah!” Francis said.
“Here we go,” Fritz said.
Fritz began at a steady pace, Francis’s weight weighing him down. He measured his breathing and pumped his legs as hard and as fast as he could. Francis’s bodyweight bumped and cajoled him, occasionally knocking him off-balance. Finally he got used to it and found his rhythm.
Jack and Ernest ran alongside him on either side. Nips, somehow sensing the urgency of their pursuit, clung stubbornly to Jack’s shoulder the same way Francis did to Fritz’s.
They leapt over obstructions, ducked under low-hanging boughs and bunches of vines. Sweat dripped down Fritz’s face and dampened his chest before he had covered even a fifth of the total distance.
Black spots danced in his vision, and his heart pounded at his temples, a raging headache gripping him. But he persevered, his brothers keeping stride with him, and every time he felt himself slow, his lungs burning and screaming at him to stop, he pushed on, knowing that every second he dallied was another second his parents were in danger.
He bent his head down and pushed himself harder.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
BILL STRIPPED the chicken bone of meat and was about to toss it over the cliff edge to the sea below when Liz took it out of his hand and put it with her bones in a small bowl.
“I’ll make a soup with it,” Liz said.
“I’m not sure if the boys would much relish the idea of eating a bone I’d been gnawing on,” Bill said.
“What they don’t know can’t hurt them,” Liz said.
She took something out of the picnic box and held it behind her back.
“I got you a gift,” she said.
“What is it?” Bill said.
“Close your eyes,” Liz said.
Bill gave her a flat look.
“Trust me,” Liz said, “you’ll want to close your eyes.”
Bill did. Liz placed a rectangle box in his hands.
“Okay,” she said. “Open them.”
Broad leaves had been used as wrapping paper, veins from a larger leaf as twine.
“Can I open it?” Bill said.
“No, you have to stare at it,” Liz said.
“It does look nice,” Bill said.
“Tear it open!” Liz said.
Bill did. His mouth fell open.
“Where did you get this?” he said.
It was a battered Meccano tin boxset.
“It washed up one day,” Liz said. “Some of the pieces were missing so I got the boys to make replacements. They all fit together and work like the original pieces.”
“Thank you,” Bill said.
He leaned forward and kissed Liz on the cheek.
“I can’t wait to play with it,” he said.
“Now,” Liz said, closing her eyes and holding out her hands. “Give me my gift.”
Bill took something out of his pocket and placed it in Liz’s hand. Liz opened her eyes. Her excitement fizzled. It was a candle.
“Oh,” she said. “Thanks.”
“This isn’t all,” Bill said. “You have to put it in a very specific place.”
“Where?” Liz said.
Bill stood up and took her by the hand.
“For that we need to go on a short trip,” he said.
“I’m not wearing the right shoes for long walks,” Liz said, getting to her feet.
“It’s a very short trip,” Bill said.
Chapter Sixty
THE BOYS burst through the foliage and immediately fell to their knees. Francis struggled free of his bonds. He stood over his brothers, who gasped for air, breath rasping out of their throats.
“Come on!” he said. “Get up!”
They could barely breathe, never mind move. Francis turned and ran for the treehouse.
“Mum?” he called. “Mum? Dad?”
There was no answer.
Francis climbed the ladder into the treehouse. After a few minutes, Fritz, Ernest and Jack began to stir. Francis came back down the ladder.
“They’re not here,” Ernest said.
“I’m gasping,” Jack said. “I’m going to get some water.”
He climbed the ladder on jelly-like legs into the treehouse.
&nbs
p; “Where did Mum and Dad go?” Fritz said.
“I don’t know,” Ernest said. “But there’s no blood. That’s a good sign.”
“A picnic,” Francis said, winding a finger through his long hair.
“What was that, Francis?” Fritz said.
“They went on a picnic,” Francis said. “Mum was preparing it this morning.”
Fritz knelt before his youngest brother.
“Fran, I need you to think,” he said. “Do you know where they were going to have the picnic?”
Francis turned his head to the side in thought, and then nodded vehemently.
“Yes,” he said.
“Where?” Fritz said.
“The mountain,” Francis said. “They went to the top of the mountain.”
“We’d best go there and warn them, hadn’t we?” Ernest said.
Jack climbed down from the treehouse. He moved to a series of coconut buckets they kept spare water in.
“Why don’t you drink the fresh water?” Ernest said.
“It’s not coming out,” Jack said, spooning the water into his mouth with his hand. “There must be something wrong with the pipe.”
Ernest and Fritz locked eyes, the same thought passing through their minds.
Jack splashed some of the water on the back of his neck.
“That’s better,” he said. He noticed the look on their faces. “What?”
Chapter Sixty-One
BILL LED Liz down the mountainside, and around the corner, along a narrow ledge jutting out of the craggy rock.
“Is this safe?” Liz said.
“Trust me,” Bill said.
They followed the path around the corner, the sea smashing against the rocks below, frothing at the mouth.
“Later I’ll build a safe path through here,” Bill said.
“Wait,” Liz said. “Are we going to the bat cave?”
“Next to the bat cave,” Bill said.
Liz grimaced.
“Here we are,” Bill said, turning to face the cliff wall.
The wall was cloaked in shadow.
“Where?” Liz said.
“Close your eyes,” Bill said with a smile.