by Michael Bray
“It’s over. We can’t get past those. Not without weapons. We’ll never make it.”
Moses had joined them, a limping, wheezing shell of a man who seemed to have wasted away in an incredibly short space of time. He glanced at the dinosaurs with little interest, then put his hands on his knees and tried to catch his breath.
They stood silent, rain driving down. There was nowhere to go. Above them, the night was almost complete, and with no moon to illuminate the way, seemed particularly imposing.
“We can’t just stay here,” Chase said.
“I’m all ears if you have any suggestions.”
Before he could say anything, they were both distracted by the light coming from below. It was like some kind of illusion. They stared at the perfect square of light in the face of the large cluster of boulders below. As they watched, Lomar exited, closing the hidden door behind him. He hadn’t seen them. He was crossing the valley, running in a half crouch, rifle thrown over his shoulder.
“What the hell?” Chase said, watching Lomar as he continued on his way.
“Of course,” Ryder said, smiling. “This is all manmade, remember? Stands to reason that the slimy fucker would have little rabbit holes where he could go and resupply.”
“We should get in there. See what we can find,” Chase said.
“No, that’s not the game. We need to get to the end.”
“Are you serious?”
“Deadly,” Ryder said, the aggressive note in his voice impossible to ignore.
“We should at least look. There could be medical supplies, maybe a way to contact the outside world.”
“For what? You think that broadcast would ever go out?”
“Why are you so unwilling to even try?
“Because that’s not how this works. We go to the door, one of us walks out. I don’t know how much more clear I have to be.” Ryder was angry now, and was squaring up to Chase. Even with one injured arm, Chase wasn’t a physical match.
“Then maybe we should just go our separate ways. You go on to the end; I’ll go see what’s in that room.”
Ryder shook his head. “No. That’s not the game. Surely you remember how it goes?” he shifted position, a subtle gesture but one which got the message across. Ryder had put his palm on the handle of his hunting knife.
“So we go with you, try to survive then let you kill us?”
“Way I see it, we’re the only ones left anyway. The old guy is on his last legs. May as well get to the end first and then fight it out there.”
Chase thought of his daughter and his wife, sitting in that cold room, neither of them knowing why they were even there. “Looks like I don’t have a choice,” he said, lowering his eyes.
Ryder grinned, and relaxed. “Good. I’m glad we–”
He never finished the sentence. Chase was still thinking of his wife and daughter, and no matter what, he wasn’t about to let them die there. He lurched forward, then, just like he had before, shoved Ryder as hard as he could over the edge.
TWO
Ryder tumbled and rolled, crashing down the steep slope, rocks and stones following him down. He came to rest with his feet in a narrow creek, bloodied and groaning. Lomar heard the commotion and flicked his head around. He saw Ryder first, groaning at the bottom of the hill. He then flicked his eyes to Chase and Moses, then back to Ryder. He started to approach the creek, pulling his rifle into position, the expression on his face one of betrayal and anger. By finding the pit of bodies, Ryder had almost cost Lomar everything, and the billionaire was determined to eliminate this particular threat. He fired, the gunshot rolling through the air, a shower of rock and dirt exploding inches from Ryder’s head.
Ryder lurched to his feet, half-stumbling, half-running back under cover of the forest. Lomar gave chase, breaking into a run, not willing to give up the hunt yet.
Chase turned to Moses. “Can you walk?”
Moses nodded.
“Come on then, let’s go.”
Chase helped Moses down the slope, both of them half-sliding, half-falling to the bottom. Moses was moaning again, his eyes glassy. Chase threw the old man’s arm over his shoulder and helped him to the cluster of rocks. With an approximate idea of where to look, finding the door was easy. They approached it as two gunshots echoed out from the trees beyond the creek.
“What’s that? Are they shooting at us?” Moses mumbled.
“No, not at us. It’s something else.”
Before Lomar could come back and find them, Chase opened the door, wincing at the harsh light, shoved Moses inside and followed, closing the door.
BEHIND THE SCENES
DAY FIVE
9:20 PM
Chase blinked, taking it all in. The bunker was laid out much like the others around The Island, this one, Station Forty Five, was smaller than Station Thirty Two, but still possessed the essentials. An armoury, a bunk, a cabinet with medical supplies, and an array of television screens showing camera views from around The Island. Chase walked Moses to the bunk and sat him down, trying to think what to do. There were several handguns and rifles on a steel table in the centre of the room, as well as a half-finished cup of coffee and a plate containing the fleshy remains of a ham and cheese sandwich. It seemed Lomar had stopped by to grab a drink, a bit to eat, and to resupply whilst they had been fighting for their lives. Chase grabbed one of the handguns, verified it as loaded and slipped it into his belt. He looked at Moses, who was rocking on the bed, and turned his attention to the medicine cabinet. Bandages and plasters, painkillers and morphine. It was a well-supplied cupboard, with more than enough to treat any injury. Chase wasn’t sure what to give Moses. He was looking for antibiotics, and wondering how much he could take with him.
“Are you allergic to anything?” he said, calling over his shoulder.
“Moses, I need to know if you have any –” he turned, and then stopped talking.
Moses was standing by the table, pointing one of the remaining handguns at Chase. He was still wheezing, and his eyes were still glassy, but they still shone with the desperate determination to survive.
“I’m sorry it…had to…come to…this,” he said, each wheezing breath coming in a wet rasp.
Chase held his palms up. “Look, you don’t have to do this. It’s not what you think. Lomar is playing us all.”
“No, it’s not… It’s not what you think.”
“What are you talking about, Moses?”
“I’m not who…you think I am.” He tried to smile, but it came out in a grimace which forced him to stifle a cough.
“I don’t care what you did in the outside world. You’re a good man. You proved that more than once. Let me help you, we’ve come so far.”
Moses tried to chuckle, it came out as a wet rattle. “I was never a part…of this. Not as a…contestant like you.”
Chase waited, unable to take his eyes from the black eye facing him which could end his life before he could do anything about it.
Moses was catching his breath now, his speech returning to normal, wet rasp aside. “I’ve worked for the Lomar family for years, my father before me, his before him. I used to drive Lomar’s limo. Can you believe that? I was so scared of him. So intimidated back then. You think any of this is new to me?” He waved the gun at their surroundings, then trained it back on Chase. “This is my fifteenth game on this island. Fifteen. My job is to make sure you people go the right way, to make sure you don’t go wandering off into places you shouldn’t be.” He coughed, and Chase eyed the gun, wondering if he could close the distance and grab it, but quickly dismissing it. The table was in the way. He would be dead before he took three steps.
“Why would you do that?” Chase asked, trying to buy time to think.
“It pays well. I need the money. Usually, it’s not so hard. I make sure Mr. Lomar always knows where you are. That all changed when Ryder found the body pit and made us ditch all of our GPS trackers.”
“But the illness…”
“But people will see you. They will know you’re a contestant from last time.”
“Will they?” Moses said with a grin. “Go to the console. Type show world feed.”
Chase did as he was told, hand shaking as he keyed in the commands. “It’s asking for a password.”
“Type Aweyo-fifty-seven.”
Chase did it, watching as the password was accepted. The largest of the screens came to life with images of The Island from the various tree cameras.
“This is going out tonight. Yesterday’s show,” Moses said.
Chase watched, feeling his stomach tighten as the package aired. It was completely out of context. Chase had been painted as the heartless hero determined to win for his family, with Ryder as the eye candy who was the true leader.
“You see me on there anywhere?” Moses said quietly.
Chase watched. Moses was there, or at least in body. His face had been digitally altered. The man on screen was young, maybe in his twenties with a short goatee beard. It was absolutely flawless.
“Meet Simi. My digital alter ego. He’s named after my cat.”
“But how…”
Moses shrugged. “Technology. It’s surprisingly easy. Moses Aweyo doesn’t exist, not to them. Out there I’m Simi Rayoro, illegal immigrant taking part to provide a better life for my family, much like you. They have used my illness of course, it’s too good not to.”
“This makes no sense,” Chase said. “Why would Lomar go to all this trouble to set this up and then change how it goes out?”
“What does it always come to with rich people? It’s all about money.” Moses smiled, then stifled a cough. Chase watched the gun, hoping Moses didn’t pull the trigger in the midst of a coughing fit, but he managed to hold it together. He went on. “There are betting rings. Of course, there are ones out in the streets, those are small time though. There are private rings, ones where hundreds of millions are staked on people like you. Lomar likes to wager, but he doesn’t like to lose, so he makes sure things go the way he wants it to go.”
“What about the prize?”
“Oh, that’s real. Someone has to win. You shouldn’t have found out a lot of the things you did. They will fix that for next season though.”
“I think I understand,” Chase said. He took a step towards Moses. “I think you said too much.”
“Stop, stay there. Don’t make me shoot you.”
“You won’t shoot me,” Chase said, closing the distance. He was now standing on the opposite side of the table. The gun was less than three feet from him, pointed at his chest. “See, I spoke to Lomar. I saw him out there in the woods when you and Ryder were in the water.”
Moses frowned and shifted position.
“He told me I was the favourite. His personal pick to win. That’s why I know you won’t shoot me. You can’t. You’re not allowed to kill the favourite, not if Lomar has put money on it.”
“Stop, I’m warning you,” Moses stammered.
Chase reached out and took the gun from Moses. “I think I’m starting to learn how this game works,” he said, turning the gun on Moses. “What if I decide to shoot you? What do I have to lose?”
Moses didn’t look afraid, just tired. “I saved your life. More than once.”
“And I saved yours. You just didn’t know it.”
“I don’t think you will shoot me, Riley. People out there, the public like you because you’re a good man. You won’t pull that trigger.”
Chase pointed the gun at Moses, finger poised over the trigger. He knew just a little pressure, and it was all over. Moses would be dead. It was conceivable that Ryder was also already dead. He had heard the gun shots. Maybe Lomar had killed him already.
One in two at worse.
Maybe one in one.
Good odds.
Very good odds.
He stared at Moses, who looked back. There was no fear in him. Chase held his breath, telling himself he had to do it. He squeezed the trigger, wondering when it would kick back and spray Moses’s brains all over the wall. He let out his breath and lowered the gun, slamming his fist on the desk.
“Shit!” he screamed, then stat in the swivel chair by the console, head in hands. Moses returned to his bunk and sat down. The room fell silent, only the hollow sound of the rain clattering on the outer imitation rocks for company.
“What happens now?” Chase asked.
Moses shrugged. “No matter what, I’m done. I can’t go on. I have pneumonia, and my feet are destroyed. I’m going to wait here and rest.”
“So it’s just me?”
“And the dinosaurs,” Moses said.
“And you swear you won’t come after me and kill me?”
“Trust me, if I was allowed to kill you, you would have been dead the moment I picked the gun up.”
Chase nodded and walked to the door. He paused and turned back to Moses. “Thanks for saving my life.”
“Thank you for not taking mine.”
Chase opened the door, and turned to step outside, then was shoved back into the room. Caught off balance, he sprawled to the floor. In the doorway, covered in blood, Ryder stood, his eyes alive with fury. He dived onto Chase, clawing and scratching at his face with his good hand.
“You fucking tried to kill me,” Ryder grunted. Chase struggled to fight him off, but Ryder was incredibly strong. Moses crossed the room and grabbed him, but Ryder shrugged him off, sending him crashing ribs first into the table and tipping it over. He was a man possessed. He closed his hands round Chase’s throat, muscles bunching as he squeezed. Chase couldn’t fight it, he felt the air squeezed out of him, and his vision started to dim. He saw his family, his beautiful family who he had put himself through hell to try and save, and as now going to fail at the last hurdle. Chase looked up into the furious, bloody face of Ryder, then it was gone. It drifted away, disappearing in a shower of blood.
The pressure eased as Ryder slumped forward, spattering blood onto Chase, who could at last breathe.
Moses had saved him again. He was sure of it. He wiped the blood from his eyes, shoving Ryder’s body aside with one hand.
Something was wrong.
Moses was still on the floor by the table, clutching his ribs. Chase flicked his eyes to the door.
Alex smiled, lowering the gun to his side. The crust of filth and dry blood on his face gave him a monstrous appearance. He stepped into the bunker and kicked the door shut.
SHOWDOWN
DAY FIVE
9:54 PM
Lomar opened his eyes, blinking through the blood and trying to unscramble his mind. He was face down in the dirt. He winced and shifted position, shifting position from the tree root which was jammed against his ribs. He sat up and leaned against the tree, trying to recall what had happened. He was dazed and bloody, but otherwise okay. He took a moment, allowing his brain time to settle. He noticed that the GPS tracker in the sleeve of his jacket was missing. The entire lower portion of the sleeve had been cut away, leaving a few superficial cuts on his tanned forearms. For the first time he could recall, Lomar felt panic. He was confident as long as he knew where the dinosaurs and contestants were. Now that his information had been removed, he was in as much danger as any of them. He let his mind go back, trying to piece together how he had ended up bloodied and face down in the jungle. He recalled leaving the bunker after a short resupply, and then seeing Riley shove Ryder over the edge of the ridge. He recalled how he couldn’t believe his luck that the one man he had to make sure died had been presented to him.
He had taken off his gun, but his first shot was rushed and went wide. It had been enough to send Ryder running into the trees, and him in pursuit. He forgot in his anger and determination to eliminate this one particular problem that, like him, Ryder w
as a keen survival expert. He knew all the tricks. Lomar had stalked through the woods, looking for the tell-tale signs, perhaps in some way made complacent by the clumsy movements of the others. Ryder, however was a completely different story, and even wounded, wasn’t about to be taken so easily.
He recalled seeing it out of his peripheral vision. He had been less than five feet from Ryder and hadn’t seen him. He had camouflaged himself with mud and leaves, and launched out of the forest like a wailing demon.
He had tried to swing his gun around, but was too slow. Ryder had grabbed it, and it had gone off, blasting into the trees. Lomar pulled away, and tried again to level the weapon, and almost managed to get it on his subject when Ryder had thrown a kick at it, knocking the muzzle up and sending the second shot into the air, bringing down a fluttering rain of leaves onto them. Lomar spotted the bandaged arm, and swung the butt of the rifle at it, Ryder screaming as it connected, giving Lomar a little breathing space. Hands shaking, he tried to reload the gun. But Ryder wasn’t to be denied. Fuelled by adrenaline, he had launched himself at Lomar, driving the older man backwards into the trunk of a tree. Winded, Lomar had reacted, bringing an elbow down onto the back of Ryder’s neck. It was to no avail; Ryder reached down and grabbed Lomar’s legs, pulling them up and sending him to the ground hard, the back of his head connecting with the tree.
That was when he had started to beg and plead for his life, knowing that he was no match for the younger, stronger man. He knew what Ryder had done, what he was capable of. He had seen the footage of the brutal way he had murdered Perrie, and knew he was next. Ryder had dragged Lomar to his feet, and stared at him. Eye to eye nose to nose. With his mud and blood mask and the wild glare in his eye, Ryder looked terrifying. Lomar was about to offer him money, even a free pass off The Island, when Ryder launched his head forward, making a perfect connection between forehead arch and Lomar’s face. It was then that the lights went out, and Lomar had awoken, bloody and in pain, but still alive. Either through mercy or by accident, Ryder had let Lomar live.