by SLMN
They were alive.
The wind pummeled, the rain lashed, and the sky roared. But they were alive.
They climbed to the top of the steamer’s hull and used hawsers and rope falls to lower themselves the thirty feet to the rocks.
They scrambled over the rocks, but as they crested them, they could see that the Humvee was no longer by the head of the now smashed jetty. It had gone.
They ran to the edge of the jungle, and hunkered down in a hollow between a tringle of trees.
“I didn’t see what happened to Rosa. She slipped out of my grasp as the ship keeled over. She may have gone into the water, I do not know.”
“Crane and Ralston?”
Sven shrugged, “I made it my priority to get Mary-Joy and Lainey out onto the hull so we had a chance of getting back to shore. Ralston said he would help Crane but they got washed away down a corridor. I didn’t see them again.”
“Good,” Lainey said with conviction.
Rawlings was holding his face where it had been ripped open, it was still bleeding but not as much. “Thank you,” he said to Passion.
“I’m not a monster,” she replied. “Even if people like you are.”
Rawlings eyes dropped, the shame in them clear to see.
“But you can pay me back in another way.”
Rawlings looked up, “How? My ship is wrecked, I can’t use it to take you back to the mainland, however much you want me to.”
“I know. But there’s something else you can do?”
“What?”
And Passion told him.
The steep climb down to the ravine on the other side of the Enchanted Forest was difficult, but once they were out of the wind, and sheltered somewhat from the rain, it was not impossible. Mary-Joy had been right; the limestone ravine definitely provided cover from the storm. And down below that they could see the cave entrances that Macy—poor dead Macy—had told her about. If Passion was right, Macy’s death—squalid and horrible though it had been—was not in vain. It might actually lead to the end of all operations on the island, and in some ways that might make her death worthwhile.
Sven and Passion had left Lainey and Mary-Joy in Rosa’s lair under the central oak in the Enchanted Forest. Although the rain was still sheeting in through the doorway, it was still basically dry. They used the oil heater in the hearth to warm the girls off, and then went with Rawlings back to the compound to get the things they need, before heading towards the ravine, back through the forest again.
The hurricane, such as it was, had not dragged its eye across the island. Although it had comprehensively battered La Isla Encantada and destroyed the steamer—which Rawlings told them was called “The Enchantress”—the compound was battered, but mostly intact. The chalets were all so much driftwood, the low cinderblock dormitories were roofless, but the walls were sound. And once Sven had disarmed the incendiary bombs ready to go off in its doorway, so was the armory.
When Passion had thought about what the contingencies were if the island was hit by a hurricane or other natural disaster, she’d come up with a solution, but it was Rawlings and the information provided by Mary-Joy that confirmed it. What did the rich and famous and powerful do when things on the surface of the planet got too dangerous?
What they always did.
They built shelters underground.
Rawlings confirmed that there was a small network of tunnels under the island, which in days of yore have been for pirate gangs as hideouts, or smugglers dens to store their booty, or any other ne’er-do-well of the sea.
Rawlings seemed happy to spill the beans on his former employers now that his ship was destroyed. He thumped the nearest tree, anger boiling to the surface, and running over like the sea swell that had taken it down. “That bitch Rosa made me keep the Enchantress here! Wouldn’t let me take her out. Didn’t want the ship going down and raising the alarm with the authorities. Might bring them snooping around the island. Said they’d just appropriate another one! My ship. My blasted ship!”
Rawlings told them that they’d had news of the storm coming in the days before Passion and Sven had been brought to the island. There wasn’t any firm confirmation that the storm, now a Category Two hurricane, would hit the island full on. But everyone—staff and residents—were put on high alert. “A captain doesn’t let his ship die on a whim,” Rawlings said. “Fuck that bitch. Fuck her and the horse she rode in on.”
Rawlings’ crew was already underground in the shelter when he decided to disobey a direct order from Rosa and take the Enchantress out to sea to ride out the storm.
Then when the storm changed course and rolled towards La Isla Encantada, Rawlings knew if the ship was still tied to the jetty, it would likely be dashed against the rocks. “And I was proved right, huh?” he said miserably. “And now I’m out of a job and I’m going to jail. Hey, will you put in a good word for me? When we get back to the mainland? I am cooperating after all.”
It was as much as Passion could do to stop Sven twisting off Rawlings’ head, yanking his black heart out of his chest in his fist and spitting down his neck.
Passion didn’t feel any less forgiving, but she didn’t save the guy just to have him offed by the huge Swede.
They’d left Rawlings handcuffed to a radiator in the stateroom in the main building—thankful that the storm was beginning to wind down and headed back through the forest to the ravine cut by a river coming down off the island’s central mountain.
The wind was less harsh, and the rain less intense and with the ravine providing shelter, they reached the bottom in good time.
The cave entrance was dark, but the insides looked dry and safe. Rosa’s people hadn’t posted guards outside, and that was a blessing. Passion didn’t want a firefight if she could avoid one. This was strictly a no-fire if necessary operation. Bullets in a confined space was more than likely to hit the captive girls, who had been taken down there too.
Ten yards inside the cave was a metal door set into the rock with an entry coder next to it.
“Ready?” Passion asked putting on her gasmask.
Sven nodded and put on his.
The armory back at the compound had provided everything they needed. Gas masks, stab jackets, tactical belts, handcuffs, and heavy duty zip-ties. It seemed the faux SWAT team who had lifted them from Sven’s place had been well-stocked from this armory or one like it.
They had everything they needed.
Sven punched in the password, given to them by Rawlings, and opened the door. Passion had already taken the pins from two stun grenades and two CS gas canisters. She threw them though the gap, and Sven closed the door.
The crump of the explosions were clearly heard behind the metal, and wisps of gas started to leak out around the doorframe.
Rawlings had told them that behind the door was a wide open area with a high ceiling that had been decked out with chairs, tables, coffee machines, and food dispensers. It wasn’t the kind of luxury the clients of the islands were used to, but it was the main area when they could sit to ride out the storm, or any other emergency. Behind that were a couple of tunnels that led back into the mountain where cots and bunks would allow people to sleep or rest if the emergency went on longer than expected. The shelter wasn’t a massive “survive the apocalypse” deal, but it was somewhere safe, warm, and reliable.
Until now.
Passion nodded her head behind the door as they heard dull thumps and a multitude of coughing and shouting.
“Annnnnnd now.”
Sven, who had been keeping his shoulder against the door to stop anyone pushing out, stepped back and the door crashed open on a cloud of gas and choking bodies.
Twelve or so girls, men and uniformed guards fell out at once, tripping over themselves. Sven bent over, zip-tying the men, while Passion picked out the girls and began washing out their eyes from a canteen of water.
When Sven had cleared the residents and the guards he looked into the space behind them. He walke
d into the living area of the makeshift shelter, and Passion followed. Inside they found another fifty people in respiratory distress from the CS Gas. They went through them with no resistance. Zip-tying the men, and washing the eyes of the girls, and sending them out through the door.
They found Carla trying to crawl into a cupboard. Passion kicked her over and took great delight in zip-tying her arms around her back, far tighter than she needed too.
Within twenty minutes the shelter was secure, and everyone was accounted for.
Except for Crane, Ralston, and Rosa.
Among the coughing, zip-tied men, and the girls who were so incredibly grateful to have been rescued, one girl came forward and introduced herself politely to Passion as “Bimala.”
Her eyes were red raw and her burned throat made her voice croaky. “Forgive my interruption, but you were talking about Rosa…the Owner?”
Passion looked at the girl, a young woman who had been through so much as a captive in this terrible place, but still willing to offer whatever information she could.
“Yes, sweetheart, what can you tell us?”
“She was here. I was standing by her while she was talking to Carla, telling her how she’d escaped from the steamer.”
“But when the bombs and the gas came in, I lost sight of her. She didn’t come out this way?”
Passion shook her head. “No, and we’ve been through the whole shelter. She’s not there. Are you sure she came back?”
“Yes. Very sure. She was telling Carla that they needed to activate a distress signal to…I think she said…the People behind the People? I’m sorry, I do not know what that means. But she couldn’t do it from the shelter.”
Passion felt her heart quickening. “Did she say how she’d do it?”
Bimala thought, “not really, but I heard her saying she also needed to go back to her house in the Enchanted Forest.”
27
Sven hauled Carla back into the shelter and threw her against a wall. Her head bounced on the limestone and her eyes almost crossed as the concussion began to bite.
Sven picked her up and threw her again. Carla’s teeth bit into her bottom lip and blood ran down her chin. She smiled up with pinked teeth. “The answer is still no.”
Sven backhanded her across the cheek. Her head snapped sideways and a spray of blood went up the wall. Sven made a fist and drew back his hand.
Passion caught his wrist.
“Wait. She’s not going to tell us anything.”
“Perhaps not, but hitting her is making me feel better.”
“Would you like me to book you a chalet?” Carla’s shitty grin illuminated her bloody face. Her eyes wide with pure malevolence.
“We don’t have time for this,” Passion bit on her knuckle. “Rosa got out of here somehow, and she’s heading back to her burrow. We need to get back there now.”
Passion’s concerns were Mary-Joy and Lainey, left in Rosa’s home beneath the central oak in the Enchanted Forest to ride out the storm, not knowing that Rosa was on her way back to them. There was no way of contacting them, and Carla was refusing to help. They’d been through the guards and residents too. No one knew where Rosa had gone, and Carla wouldn’t say.
Passion’s first thought had been to begin climbing out of the ravine to run back through the forest, but that would take over an hour. If Rosa had made it out through a secret escape tunnel she could already be back in her burrow. Lainey and Mary-Joy might be only minutes from death.
Something was sticking at the back of Passion’s mind, however. Something was pushing up through her thoughts. She bit hard into her knuckle again. Think. Think.
The Enchanted Forest.
Rosa’s Tolkien clothes and hobbit hole in the ground.
The Pinocchio Swiss Clock Chalets.
The Childcatching.
The Hansel and Gretel notions underpinning the whole idea of the island.
Fantasy and Fairy stories—the greatest ever told, twisted and corrupted into this…but…
Then it hit her.
They’d found Carla trying to crawl into a cupboard.
Could the answer be that simple?
Had the Carla the blond-maned lion been trying to follow the witch into a wardrobe?
Passion ran across the room, pulled the cupboard door open. The back surface was smooth wood. No shelves, no hangers, just an empty space. She ran her hands over the surface, feeling for a catch, a hidden control, anything…
Fairy tales. Fairy stories…
Passion took a step back. She thumped the side of her head with the heels of her hand. What would this sick fuck have done? What would have made her smile and laugh and think she was oh so clever? What would be right? What would be the perfect key to open a secret door?
Passion had only one option that presented itself, and so she tried it.
“Open Sesame.”
And it did.
The tunnel was lit with sparkling LED lights which made the space look like it was full of stars.
Passion and Sven moved as fast as they could in the restricted space. It was a tunnel that hadn’t been dug for people of Passion’s size, let alone Sven’s. She could imagine Rosa scuttling through it like a spider through a drainpipe as they lagged behind bashing shoulders, arms and knees on the rough walls and floors.
The tunnel ran upwards through the cliffs at a thirty degree angle. It was enclosed, dry and hot. As they powered on, their breathing became labored and Passion’s chest began to hurt with the effort of trying to use maximum physical effort to catch up with Rosa.
Sven had already taken off his stab jacket and was carrying his rucksack against his belly. Keeping it on his back snagged on the ceiling every step, making swift progress impossible.
In some sections of the tunnel where the roof came down even lower, Passion found she could make better progress on all fours, moving forward like a dog following a scent. Sven copied her lead and they began moving faster. The rough floor cut into their hands, causing them to become slippery with blood, but Passion was determined to get to Rosa’s dark fairy tale home as fast as she could.
Lainey and Mary-Joy were relying on her.
After twenty minutes of steady up-incline travel. the tunnel narrowed again and flattened out, ending in a dead end. The LED lights had gone and if it hadn’t been for Passion’s flashlight, they would have been in complete darkness.
Passion swung the beam up the blank rock wall, and saw there was a shaft above them. There was an iron ladder bolted to the side of the shaft, but it was the size of it that rushed a true sense of defeat through Passion.
The shaft was much thinner than the tunnel and it was going to be a struggle for Passion to move up with any speed, and for Sven it was not just possible.
“I will not fit up there.”
Passion nodded, wiping the sweat from her forehead and trying to fill her burning lungs with as much oxygen as she could before attempting the climb. “Go back to the ravine, you’ll have to go cross-country, back to the forest.”
Sven lengthened the shoulder straps on his rucksack and passed it to Passion. “Hook this to your belt, and carry it behind you. There’s magazines, a gas mask, teargas, and stun grenades.”
Passion nodded, slinging the G36 across her back. Sven handed her his Bowie in its sheath. “Shoot first, but just in case…”
Okay.
Focus.
Focus.
“Let’s do this.”
Passion pulled herself up onto the ladder, as Sven turned around and went on all fours back down the tunnel.
There was a hatch with a wheel at the top of the fifty foot ladder. It looked like an airlock in a spaceship, or something from a freaking submarine.
Passion hooked her arm through a rung and hauled the rucksack around to her chest. She pulled a CS Gas canister and a stun grenade. She didn’t know what was going to be beyond that hatch—another shaft, a tunnel or whether it would open directly under Rosa’s feet, and the wiz
ened crone would just fall through and bounce screaming down the shaft to her death. But it was a good idea to be prepared.
Passion started to undo the wheel on the hatch.
After three revolutions, she felt the weight of the hatch on her hands, and she lowered the circular steel door down to rest gently against the rock wall of the shaft.
Above, the light was dim and orange. She could see up to the rough ceiling of the burrow beneath the great oak. There were no sounds coming from the room above. No voices, not shuffling feet, no swish of cloth. Nothing.
Maybe they’d been wrong. Perhaps Rosa had another bolt hole in the shelter, one that took her back to the compound maybe… Maybe she’d announced to Bimala that she was coming back here as a diversion to send anyone who followed on a wild goose chase.
Passion was caught in at the cleft between two paths. Did she risk calling out to the girls, or did she throw the stun grenade into the hole and mop up afterwards?
Still no noise. No movement. Where were the girls?
No choice then.
She took the pin from the grenade and threw it up into the hole. The three second fuse ticked down, Passion covered her ears as best she could and closed her eyes.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Passion opened her eyes.
No flash. No bang. Just the fat black and yellow end of a Taser pointing down at her. Then the click and rattle as the trigger was pulled, the wires shot out, the barbs bit into her flesh and the 50,000 volts they carried made every muscle in her body go rigid, made her feet slip from the ladder, and her body to drop.
Passion lay panting on the floor of Rosa’s hole in the ground.
The vibration in her muscles from the Taser jolt still coursing through her frame. As the barbs had attached to her skin, the energy from the Taser’s power packs had lanced through her. Her body arched with electrical inflexibility.