Savages

by Greg F. Gifune

  With caution, they all stepped into the open, exhausted and bathed in sweat.

  Though the jungle had taken back a good portion of what had been the encampment—including a few of the smaller buildings—the rest, though badly weathered and in various stages of dilapidation, remained essentially untouched. Debris, including large pieces of twisted metal and scattered remnants of what might have been furniture at one time lay scattered about, and what appeared to have been a Jeep-like vehicle sat half buried in a ditch that ran along the outer edge of the camp. Badly burned, the frame had since rotted and rusted.

  “This is a lot bigger than I expected,” Quinn said. “It’s kind of creepy.”

  Dallas looked around at the scattered fragments and general destruction that constituted many of the buildings. Several had sustained damage beyond what time and the elements could’ve caused, and had suffered some sort of fire damage. “Did they bomb this place?”

  “I don’t think so.” Gino wandered deeper into the settlement. “There’s no damage to the jungle around it, and there wouldn’t be this much still standing if they had. Looks like maybe they tried to burn parts of it though. From the looks, the rest were just trashed, gutted and abandoned.”

  “If they were leaving the island,” Herm said, looking around, “it stands to reason they’d try to destroy the place on the way out. Wouldn’t want anything falling into enemy hands. Then again, doesn’t look like they left too much behind anyway.”

  Originally, the encampment had consisted of six buildings, all made largely from materials likely found on the island. Elaborate huts, mostly, but one building, set in the center of camp, was not only the largest, but also the most extensive, and appeared to have been constructed almost entirely of brick and other materials the builders would’ve had to import from elsewhere. Of all the buildings, it was in the best shape. Two of the smaller structures were barely standing and had been retaken by the jungle. Wrapped and mostly hidden in thick vines and growth, they were beyond entering or exploring further without extensively clearing and cutting back jungle. The three remaining buildings were more basic in terms of construction, though one sported the remnants of what had been a porch of sorts.

  In the center of camp, there stood a barren flagpole.

  “Was definitely some sort of military outpost,” Gino said.

  “Murdoch was right,” Herm answered. “Had to be the Japanese. There wouldn’t be anyone else out here back then or since. No point, really.”

  Dallas looked to a row of palm trees on the far side of the clearing, and the small stretch of beach and lagoon beyond. “What would’ve been the point then?”

  “Who knows?” Herm said. “Must’ve had some strategic purpose.”

  “We got to check these buildings out,” Gino said, “but with the exception of this big brick bastard here, none of them look that safe, so let’s be careful and stay alert.”

  The building with the remains of a porch appeared to be living quarters. Once certain the steps were sturdy enough to hold their weight, they ventured up and onto what was left of the porch. The doorway was open, whatever door had existed years before long gone now. Inside it was mostly dark.

  “What do you think?” Dallas asked. “Barracks maybe?”

  “No, but definitely living quarters.” Herm was the first to cross the threshold and step inside. “My guess is the commanding officer’s quarters. It’s nicer and bigger than the others. Barracks would have a more open layout.”

  A desk with one of the legs broken had left it tilted at an odd angle, not far inside the entrance, the floor covered with sand and dirt, leaves and debris. There were also numerous old papers, files and drawers and such scattered about.

  “Probably an office here,” Herm explained. “With the living quarters in the back.”

  Moving carefully, they ventured deeper inside, and came across what had been a bedroom. An old bed lay eerily positioned against one wall, still covered with sheets now faded and filthy and littered with slashes and holes. More debris and trash covered the floor, and the windows, while shuttered, were mostly blown out or open. Additional pieces of furniture and a military-style trunk lay strewn across the room.

  “Look.” Dallas pointed to a Japanese flag, the rising sun, faded and in tatters, hanging on one wall.

  “Amazing,” Herm said softly. “Empire of the Sun.”

  “Even after all these years,” Quinn said, “you can almost feel them here.”

  Gino inspected the area then moved back toward the door. “Structurally it seems in pretty good shape. It’ll provide shelter a hell of a lot better than what we have now.”

  As they moved back onto the porch, Dallas motioned to the other buildings. “Okay, Herm, what’s your take on the rest of this place?”

  Enjoying his role as the resident expert, he grinned and strolled back down the steps, taking it all in. “My guess is those other two buildings are barracks. The bigger one to house troops, the smaller one used for officers. The two that are overgrown with jungle were likely used for storage. Again, a guess—albeit an educated one—but I’d say one for munitions and the other to store food and various supplies.”

  “Great,” Quinn groaned. “Those are the ones we need to get into.”

  Gino pointed to the largest structure in the settlement, the brick building at its center. “And what about this big bastard?”

  Herm pulled his glasses free, wiped perspiration from his eyes and gave a heavy sigh. “I’d say that’s probably the key.”

  “To what?”

  “Whatever the hell it was they were doing out here.”

  ***

  Harper and Murdoch stood side-by-side before the fire. Neither had spoken in a while until, without subtly, Harper scratched at her crotch and confessed, “I’d do some really crazy shit right now for a hot shower, I swear to God.”

  If Murdoch found any humor in what she’d said, he gave no indication. Instead, he stared into the flames with his good eye, entranced. “We need to get off this island.”

  “Duh, Captain Obvious, but how?”

  “We need to find a way. Build a raft, something. We don’t, we’ll die here.”

  “You don’t think they’ll ever find us?”

  “Girlie, I wouldn’t bet that bouncy little butt of yours they’re even looking anymore.”

  Harper left her crotch alone and hugged herself despite the heat. “For real?”

  “Your boyfriend thinks he knows what he’s doing. He doesn’t. We’re not careful, he and that damn fool with the wig are gonna get us all killed.”

  “Herm’s gross and kind of a jerk. Gino’s really smart, though.”

  A short burst of barking laughter escaped him. “Compared to who?”

  “Huh?”

  “Sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph, woman, do you speak English?”

  “Of course I do.” Baffled, Harper stared at him as if his weathered face might yield clues. “What do you think I’m speaking right now?”

  “Christ Almighty.” Murdoch sighed, rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s gonna get worse, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. I’ve been down but I’ve been listening, paying more attention than you all think. We’ve only been stuck here a few days and things are already breaking down, people infighting and jockeying for position, for power. We’re here long enough, things are gonna go from bad to worse. Ain’t gonna be any rules except for those the strongest make.”

  “Gino’s the strongest. He’ll protect me.”

  “Maybe so, but I need to get my strength back before it’s too late.”

  “Too late for what?”

  “To survive each other. There’s no one on this island but us. Get that through your pretty little head, missy. Whoever was here years ago is long gone.”

  “What about what happened to Andre?”

  “We don’t really know what happened to him, now do we?”

  She shrugged, her eyes glistening. “I just want to go home.”

&
nbsp; “You and me both, kid, but I’m trying to warn you that—” Murdoch’s legs suddenly buckled and he let out a raspy groan.

  Catching him in time, Harper helped him down onto the sand. “You okay?”

  “Goddamn it, I—I’m still not myself, I…”

  Harper gave his shoulder a quick pat. “Just…like…chill.”

  “I’m fine,” he said, waving her off. “Just got a little dizzy is all.”

  With a shrug, she moved away and down to the water. She removed her sneakers, emptied dirt and sand from them then let the water wash her bare feet a while.

  Frustrated, Murdoch drew a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves. He was a man used to being in charge and in control of himself and others. Weakness had never been something he accepted in himself or anyone else, and since this nightmare began he’d felt nothing but. Weak and useless, he thought. His mind raced as his thoughts turned to Gino. That sonofabitch. Were it not for his injures and sapped strength, he’d have shown him what this old man could do. Arrogant bastard. Murdoch had brawled his way through some of the most dangerous ports and bars in the world. Like he was about to take orders from some punk like that. Soon, he thought, I’ll be back on my feet and that’s when I’ll make my move.

  A strange smell wafted all around him. Like a combination of rancid garbage and an oddly human smell, one of hideous perspiration and bodily fluids, it drifted down from the jungle and across the sand, assaulting his senses like a slap to the face.

  Murdoch turned toward the smell and pawed quickly at his good eye. Damn vision was still terrible, but he could make out a vague outline of the palm trees and stretch of sand between his position and the jungle.

  Suddenly, something large separated from the ground, materializing in a burst of dirt and flora that resembled a huge puff of smoke. It was as if the figure had been expelled and vomited forth by the earth itself, materializing before him like a nightmare.

  “The hell?” Murdoch muttered, squinting in an attempt to bring whatever this was into better focus. But his vision wasn’t strong enough to reveal further detail. He rubbed at his eye and looked again, to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. He knew damn well dehydration and lack of food could lead to—

  A strange growl emanated from the shape. Human, or something similar.

  Heart pounding, Murdoch struggled to his feet and looked behind him. It took him a moment to find her, but he was eventually able to make out Harper, sitting in about ankle-deep water, not far from shore.

  The growl became a raspy howl, as if whoever was making it had either been screaming for hours, or hadn’t made a sound in a very long time.

  Murdoch spun back in its direction, nearly losing his balance.

  The shape was running right for him, the glare of sun and Murdoch’s limited vision conspiring to conceal what it truly was, even as it appeared to raise something above its head and increase speed, closing on him in seconds.

  He wanted to say something, to call for help or to return this thing’s howl with one of his own. He wanted to run right at it, fists clenched and at the ready to defend himself, to the death if need be. He wanted to do many things, but only had time to stand there, stunned and confused, as the figure swung what it was holding over its head down and across him in a rapid sweeping motion. All Murdoch saw was an odd glint of white light as sun caught steel, and then the breath snagged in the base of his throat and he tasted blood and bile. As his brain registered he’d been struck with something, hard, deep and with a savage precision he’d have never believed possible, the pain arrived, exploding through him like electrical current.

  And then everything stopped. Time, sound, everything.

  Vomit and blood filled his mouth, spilling free and spraying forth as the world tilted and spun. He collapsed and hit the sand. Above him, the sky, so beautiful and vast, was alive somehow, he was sure of it. Yet in that strangely horrific moment, Murdoch found himself wondering if there really was anything up there. Was God looking down upon him, watching these final moments, or was he alone, dying beneath an empty and soulless sky?

  Right before he died, Murdoch thought he heard something in the distance, a scream, perhaps. But it sounded impossibly far away, and he was already drifting even further from it, gliding into the welcoming darkness.

  Blood flowed to sand, turning it black with death.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Water, earth and insect life had gotten inside the other huts and buildings, causing various degrees of damage, including a mossy growth on the walls, ceilings and floors. In some cases, the jungle itself—vines and plant life—had invaded the structures, but the main building, the large brick centerpiece of the camp, was sealed off and likely more pristine inside.

  Gino ran a hand over the door, a metal slab with a pull ring used to open it and a lock built directly into its face. It stood closed and was taller than he was by at least a foot. The door, dirty, rusted and dented in several places, was otherwise intact. With more effort than he’d anticipated he’d need, he was eventually able to pry the ring loose and pull it outward, providing him with a strong grip.

  “If it’s locked we’ll never get in there,” Dallas said.

  “Even if it isn’t,” Gino muttered, bracing himself and bending his knees, “this thing is stuck solid after all these years.”

  After a few attempts he was able to get the door to budge, but only slightly, so using the point of his stick, Gino scraped along the frame, clearing away caked dirt, rust and debris until he’d forced most of it free.

  Because of the heat and his waning strength, he had to sit a while. Then he tried again, and this time, managed to yank the door open three or four inches. The bottom scraped and caught along the cement slab positioned beneath it, so Dallas squatted down and helped, clearing it as best he could. Taking hold of the door’s edge with both hands, together with Gino, who was still manning the ring, he pulled with everything he had.

  Although they couldn’t get it completely open, they’d gotten it three quarters of the way there, enough for them to pass.

  A stale smell drifted from inside.

  Gino looked inside but couldn’t see a thing. Without any light to guide them, the darkness inside the windowless building was simply too great. “We’ll need fire before we can go in there,” he said. “Too dark otherwise.”

  Taking the lead, Gino crossed the remainder of the clearing and headed for the palm trees and beach beyond. The others followed, but none were prepared for what awaited them. While the other side of the island was more open and had a beach that went on for long stretches, this area was smaller and more secluded, like a secret oasis born of the surrounding jungle.

  “My God,” Quinn said softly, “it’s beautiful.”

  The beach, narrow and no longer than a mile or so, was dotted with coconut palms swaying in the warm breeze. At its center lay a small and peaceful lagoon. While the coral reef didn’t extend all the way around the island, a good distance out, rock formations protruded from the water to create a partial barrier to the ocean beyond. The constant roar of the sea remained but sounded distant and far less intrusive here.

  “If we’re going to head back and bring fire and the rest of the camp here,” Dallas said, “we better get moving.”

  “Have we already decided that’s happening?” Herm asked.

  Dallas scratched at his growing beard. “Don’t you think it makes a lot more sense to make camp here?”

  “It might be a little more comfortable, but—”

  “A little? We have shelter here, and it’s potentially a hell of a lot safer too.”

  “This is the back side of the island. The tide brought us in on the other side.”

  “So?”

  “So maybe whoever’s out there looking for us is going to look there. But here, they easily could miss us. The beach is much bigger there, which means it’s easier to see from the air or even from a greater distance at sea. Here, not as much.”

  Gino pointed to
the ocean. “You see that? That’s the same fucking ocean that’s on the other side of the island. Hell’s wrong with you? We go back, we make some torches to bring the fire, we gather what little we have and we move things here. We have shelter, possibly supplies and definitely access to more things we can use. Not to mention that lagoon’s going to make fishing a whole lot easier too. At least until we figure things out, this is the place to be.”

  “Says you.”

  “Yeah, Herm, says me.”

  “Maybe I’ll stay put. I can tend to the fire there and—”

  “Herm, come on,” Dallas said, “splitting up isn’t the answer. Besides, you know more about this place than the rest of us put together.”

  “I don’t know anything about this place, Dal.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I’m not sure I do, actually.”

  “Do you have to argue about everything?” Quinn stepped closer to Herm, leaving no question as to whom she was addressing. “I mean, seriously, is there any topic you’re agreeable on these days?”

  “This place.” Herm looked back at the buildings. “It feels...wrong.”

  “Wrong,” Gino echoed.

  “Yes, wrong. I don’t have a good feeling about it. I don’t know why, I just don’t.”

  Quinn sighed and rubbed her eyes. She was hot, hungry and thirsty, and wanted nothing more than to find some shade and lay down a while. “I know what you mean. Like I said before, it is kind of creepy. But it’s better than being out in the open, Herm.”

  “Yeah, I—you’re right, I—sorry, I guess I—I’m so goddamn hungry I’m having trouble thinking straight.”

  “We’re all hungry,” Gino interrupted. “Strap on a pair and hold it together.”

  “That reminds me, I have something for you.” Herm reached into the pocket of his jeans and came back with his middle finger held high and aimed directly at Gino. “Here you go. Enjoy.”

  Gino pushed by him, making sure to bump Herm none-too-gently with his shoulder as he did so. “Let’s head back and get the others. Sooner we get settled in here the faster we can try to find some food.”