Too Small
Communication outside of the island still doesn’t work. The helicopter has yet to arrive. Hemslock has the crew continuously checking the connections, searching for equipment damage.
The storm should have passed by now. I sit and stare blankly at the sky. I can feel the heat of the sun shining down on me. I can feel the cool breeze brought in by the waters. Everything feels solid, real. It is easy to discard Hemslock’s claims that this is all an illusion.
Several feet away, a new fight was threatening to break out between Gries and Hemslock once it became clear that the latter’s attempts had done little to get us out of our predicament. Gries is still of the belief that rescue is coming. “You tried to kill it,” he snaps at the actor. “It didn’t work. Let’s not push it. You already lost one man down there.”
Hemslock shakes his head. He is preternaturally calm. “She was right,” he muses. “It was just the sacrifice she got wrong. Once we go back—”
“Are you out of your mind?” Gries shouts. “Go back?”
“Yes,” Hemslock says, eyes gleaming. “I know how to take its power for our own. And I guarantee it’ll leave us alone once I’m done.”
It is unnerving to see more of the crew side with Hemslock than with Gries.
“You know you’re wrong,” Hemslock points out. He’s still wearing his guns, his bulletproof vest—he hasn’t let go of any of his firearms since they emerged from the cave. “You know the Diwata’s not going let us leave until it gets its pound of flesh.”
“You’re going to kill a lot of people by angering it.”
“It’s already angry. It’ll kill us anyway. That’s why we’re going to need him.” Hemslock points at me. “No offense, kid,” he says. “But we’re going to use you as bait.”
“What?” Chase cries.
I jump to my feet but stop in my tracks when Hemslock points a gun directly at my head. I look around at the rest of the crew for support, but their guilty faces look everywhere but at me. Only Melissa makes eye contact with me. She’s paralyzed with terror, terrified for my sake but unable to help.
“We’ve already discussed it,” Hemslock says calmly. “You’re our ticket to getting out of here alive. Seems like the god is sweet on you, so I’d wager the Diwata would be a lot friendlier if it knew you’d die if any of us did, right? Nothing personal. Shut your mouth and do as you’re told, and we’ll all make it out of here.”
“Hey man,” Hawaiian Shirt says nervously. “We didn’t discuss anything. You said that the kid’s going to be important, but none of us signed on for you to—”
“You’re an ass, Gerry. You saw what they did to Karl. You wanna wind up in one of those little tombs, too? You wanna play nice and let it stick you in a balete tree, too? Turn you into a corpse like the first one we found? We’re trapped here. We’re all targets. As long as it knows the kid is safe—”
“Not all of you are targets,” I interrupt.
“What the fuck did you say?”
“Not all of you are targets. But you are.”
Hemslock sets the barrel of the gun against my forehead, and the click of the safety catch being released is loud in my ears. “You’re really trying my patience.”
“Shit, man,” Straw Hat says, appalled. “You can’t do this—”
“Shut up!” Hemslock shouts. “I’ll do whatever the hell I want. I’m saving your sorry asses!”
“You are a target,” I say again, quietly. The cold metal of the gun makes me sweat, but I do not move, do not let him know I am as scared as the rest of his team. “And if you kill me, the situation will get worse. The guilty see their significant others, families, lost loves—the ones they’ve hurt the most. You see yours, too.”
“And what if I do?” Hemslock spits out. He looks down at me, gun still against my head. Then he begins to laugh, the loud boisterous laughter of someone with too much confidence in himself, the faint hysteria I can hear in his voice at odds with his bluster. “You really think I’m delusional, dreaming up images of that bitch who ruined my life wherever I go? Or are you in on the joke with the rest of the cast, too?”
Hawaiian Shirt says, “Reuben, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t know, Gerry. This is exactly something you’d cook up for the ratings.” Hemslock trains the gun on him this time. “Where have you been hiding her?”
“Her?”
“Gail. Is she in one of the cabins? Or did you convince her to stay in the cave so you wouldn’t have to sneak her in when I wasn’t looking? Gotta hand it to you, Gerry. When she was with me, she would have turned her nose up at anything that wasn’t five star. Hope you didn’t break the bank paying her for your stunt.”
“Reuben, again—what the shit are you talking about?”
“Do you think I’m a fucking moron? Did you really think I wouldn’t know that this was all a setup?” Hemslock gestures wildly with his weapon before redirecting at Hawaiian Shirt. “You know how long I’ve been pushing you and Steve for the chance to do a documentary here? And how long Steve has been putting me off, telling me that a haunted island is so passé, it’s not going to work with viewers? Then he calls me up out of the blue, telling me I’ve got the green light for a special? After my name had already been dragged through the mud? I read the gossip rags before I landed in this hellhole. The rumors from the tabloids that Gail had been spotted here. Coincidence? I think not. How much did you pay her to create this sham of a production? To make me believe that I’m seeing some ghost of her? Whose twisted entrapment scheme is this to get me to confess?”
“Reuben,” Gries says, pale. “You’re certifiably insane if you think that’s what’s happening.”
“Everyone else’s been seeing ghosts on this island,” Straw Hat adds. “What makes you think seeing Gail here wasn’t a figment of your imagination, too?”
“Because I haven’t done anything wrong!” Hemslock shouts. “Karl ran over some girl! Leo caused someone to shoot himself! And let’s not even start with all the things Steve’s done! I’m a fucking saint compared to the rest of you, my name ruined by some bitches who only want money! The god of this island has no problems with me. Not when He knows I can make Him a star! When I can make Him feared and renowned the world over! The only thing that makes sense at this point is if you’d been conspiring with Gail to make me look worse!”
Mad, I thought, staring at Hemslock’s eyes. He’s gone mad, and he’s the one with all the guns.
“Tell me: why the sudden interest in getting me a documentary so soon after Gail destroyed my reputation? You were so fucking critical when she first spoke out, Leo.”
“My decision to be here has nothing to do with you.”
“Ah, yes. Your beloved wife. You may not like me all that much, Gries, but unlike these other shitheads, I know you’re not the type to stoop so low as to participate. Which must mean you were kept in the dark. Can’t say much for Steve, Heussman, and the others. Hell I bet even Karl knows.” He grins. “Backfired on you though, didn’t it? You all came here thinking to put one over me. Well, I put ten shots into Gail in that tunnel. I’ll tell the courts it was in reasonable fear of my own life. She’ll never be telling lies again. None of you thought that the ghosts here were real, did you? And now you’re struggling to make sense of what’s a hallucination and what isn’t. Now what are you going to do about it? Arrest me?”
“Gail was never here! The god’s haunting you like everyone else!”
Hemslock shoots without warning. The bullet misses Gries, burying itself into the wall of one of the cabins. The sound makes everyone jump, makes some cry out.
“I’m your only ticket out of here,” Hemslock says calmly. “I know how to appease the god and get us out of this mess. It isn’t a coincidence that it’s been sprouting balete trees all over the place. You all saw that abomination underground. There’s gonna be two more sacrifices. And we’re gonna appease the god by making both happen.”
“You’re going to make things worse,” I say quietly.
Hemslock grins at me. “Kid,” he says. “You ain’t seen how much worse I can be.”
“Mr. Gries!”
One of the medics staggers toward us. His whole shirt is wet from blood. Hemslock shifts targets, the gun now trained on the newcomer.
“What happened?” Leo gasps.
“It’s not mine,” the man wheezes, as other crew members help him sit. “Not most of it. It’s Steve Galant. He chewed his way out of the restraints and attacked us. Amy and I were guarding his tent—he knocked her out and took a chomp out of me before running off.”
“That shithead is going to ruin everything,” Hemslock says tersely. “Where’d he go?”
“The mess hall, I think.”
Hemslock gestures at his men, and they head for the cabin.
“Is he just going to leave us?” Hawaiian Shirt asks nervously.
“What are we going to do?” Gries says angrily. “I don’t think we can stop him. We just stay out of his way. Until the helicopter comes.”
“But what if no one comes to rescue us?” Chase asks. “Then what?”
“We’ll find a way. We’ll use Alon’s boat and make for the mainland if we have to.” Leo turns to me. “What does he mean by a peace offering?”
“He’s going to finish out the prophecy,” I say grimly. “He’s going to recreate the ritual.”
“I had no idea Hemslock was an unhinged loon,” Hawaiian Shirt says shakily. “What the hell was he going on about? What entrapment scheme with Gail?”
“He’s on a psychotic break.” Gries glances back at the mess hall. “He’s so convinced he’s done nothing wrong, nothing to anger the god that accusing us of a hoax is the only way he can explain his ex’s presence on the island.”
“What do we do, sir?” Straw Hat asks worriedly.
A shot rings across the clearing.
“Shit,” Leo says, already running. Chase and I sprint to keep pace beside him. The others do not follow.
We reach the mess hall at the same time. Inside, Hemslock and his bodyguards are cornering Armani in the kitchen.
None of them see us, and instinct tells me not to announce our entrance. I conceal myself behind the door, tugging Chase to my side. Gries quietly follows my lead.
Armani looks possessed—naked again, and even more emaciated, though scarcely a few hours has passed. He’s holding a knife that is covered in as much blood as the rest of him.
One of his eyelids hangs strangely.
Armani does not act like he’s in pain. In fact, he’s smiling from ear to ear.
The soldiers surrounding Armani look disgusted. Their firearms are trained on him, though there is already a bullet hole in the wall behind the man.
“Steve,” Hemslock says. “What the fuck?”
“I can hear you, Reuben,” Armani says in a calm voice that is stark contrast to his appearance. “I can finally hear you. I can still hear them. They live inside me now. They are one with me, and I am one with them. Soon, you all will be one with them, too.”
“I’m almost tempted to shoot you here and now,” Hemslock snaps. “I’m choosing not to in honor of our old partnership. Come quietly with us. You’ll get the treatment you need.”
“I’m already cured,” comes the chilling whisper. “We are alike, Reuben, you and I—always thinking we know better than everyone else. We are all asleep. We are all dreaming. But He will wake. There is no meaning in this life but Him. There is no meaning until He has awoken. Then we will be saved. See. Look.” He lifts his fist, and slowly opens his hand for us to see what lies in his palm.
With horror, I see a bloody eyeball. His bloody eyeball. He’s removed it from his own head.
“I no longer require my eyes to see,” he whispers. “We will need nothing else. You are close, Reuben. Already I can see the signs around you. You will understand soon: His love for you. His love for all of us. I do not need eyes to see. You do not need eyes to see. Let me show you. Let me show—”
He steps toward Hemslock, his knife raised.
Hemslock puts at least five bullets into his former friend. I lose count with the hail of bullets that follow from the other soldiers.
Armani jerks and the knife drops from his hand. He’s dead before his body hits the ground. Hemslock keeps his gun trained on the fallen man, inching closer.
“Fuck,” he says without any emotion.
Askal growls quietly. I place a hand on his head to stop him from making more noise.
“What do we do now, sir?” one of the men asks.
“One of you go to Galant’s cabin and grab the biggest blankets you can find. We’re bringing him to the cave.”
“What? Why—”
“I don’t pay you to ask questions, Dalton. Get to it.”
When he returns, at Hemslock’s instructions, the men bundle up the body and head out.
“Return to the others,” I tell Chase and Gries.
“Alon,” Chase begins.
“Trust me.”
After a moment’s hesitation, he nods reluctantly.
I follow the soldiers. Askal tags behind me.
They bring the body to the cave. I discreetly follow them inside and crouch behind a rock. I watch as they unwrap Armani and hoist him onto the altar, splaying his arms and legs over the small holes carved into the stone.
Hemslock bends over the corpse. He takes out his knife.
“What are you doing?” one of the soldiers asks. “What…”
He falls silent, seemingly stunned, as Hemslock begins his bloody work. The rest of his men fall back, several looking sickened, as Hemslock cuts into the corpse’s chest.
Finally Hemslock lifts his hands, holding a bloody heart.
“He who offers the sacrifice,” Hemslock quotes, “controls the Godseye.”
Askal bares his teeth but makes no sound. I brace myself.
Armani’s body jerks without warning, his back arching. Some of the men swear; all train their guns back on the altar.
Armani’s mouth falls open, jaw loose. His fingers curl, stiffen.
And then his body is sucked into the stone, through the opening at the center of the altar. With horrible, cracking noises of bones breaking, flesh is forced through the too-small crevice, the corpse’s back and waist bending unnaturally to fit. The guards fall back, watching in horror as the body slowly disappears. Armani’s head is the last to be yanked through, grinding loudly against the rock as it grates into the tight space.
For an instant, I could have sworn that Armani’s remaining eye opened one final time to stare at Hemslock. Something reaches up from inside the hole and wraps around his head. I remember the strange plants we’ve encountered, the ones whose flesh peels back and writhes like makahiya, with an eye at their centers.
And then Armani is gone, leaving only bloodstains in his wake.
Hemslock drops the heart down into the hole after Armani. It disappears into the nothingness.
“I told you this shit is real,” he says. A wide smile stretches across his face. “Do you believe me now?”
He raises his arm, folding his fingers onto his palm. As if in answer, the makahiya growing quietly along the sides of the altar mimic his movements, closing and opening.
“The god has accepted my offering,” Hemslock says. “Two more sacrifices to go.”