part0021

Rachel kicked the sand in frustration. If she had pockets her hands would have been thrust into them, but her underwear did not allow for such cliché body language. She stood at the edge of the beach, gazing into the impenetrable jungle, the air thick with concealed menace.

The boat was far behind her now, the outline only occasionally noticeable against the lunar glow that splashed across the waves.

What a mess. She knew she should apologise to Ana. She had gone too far this time. But would she get an apology back? After all, it was Ana who had been out of line, not her. It was Ana who had hit her.

But didn’t she have every right to, for all the time she had spent with their mother while Rachel lost herself in a cocktail of booze and drugs and sex. Anything to avoid coming home and helping.

‘You really fucked up,’ she sighed, unconsciously swatting a bug on her forearm.

She looked for signs of life on the boat, but the night was drawing in and they had surely gone down below deck, where it was warm, and there was water and a toilet and even a mattress. That sounded pretty good right now. Suddenly she wanted to be back on the boat, among other people, to hear voices, anything other than the drone from within the jungle that rose and fell like a beating heart.

In her peripheral vision, a bright splash of neon, the unmistakable colours of the Full Moon Party. It had to be Josh and Lillian. She never thought she would be happy to see them.

There was no answer. They were lying down. Asleep? Having sex again?

As she listened, the dusky wind shook the trees and something deep in the jungle shrieked but there were no grunts or pants or squeals of delight.

‘Josh?’ She started towards them. ‘You guys awake?’

She stepped cagily, her toes slipping comfortably into the sand, closing the distance on the sleeping hippies.

They didn’t stir. To her left the foliage shook but Rachel didn’t notice.

‘Guys, hey, wake up.’

It had to be them. She could make out some bright pink and green and also red, lots of red. The palm leaves rustled softly, and she detected an unpleasant odour in the air.

She reached the jungle and pushed aside a luxuriant fern.

Her first thought was that she had caught them mid-cunnilingus, Josh’s head buried between Lillian’s legs as she sat on the ground, legs splayed. Her head was tilted towards Rachel, eyes wide and milky and staring.

‘I’m sorry,’ Rachel stuttered, until she noticed the savage puncture marks across Lillian’s face and breasts. And Josh’s head was not between her legs, it was resting in Lillian’s hollowed-out belly, facedown in loose, stringy intestines that spilled out over the edges of the barbaric wound.

The blood rushed from Rachel’s head and the next thing she knew, she was on her knees vomiting.

‘No sign of them?’ asked Ricky. Ana shook her head without looking at him. ‘Come on, let’s go below deck. It’s getting cold.’

‘No, I’m gonna wait. They’ve been gone for hours now.’ She pointed into the distance. ‘Look, the smoke has stopped. The fire’s out. If they had reached it, they wouldn’t have let that happen, would they?’

Ricky stepped closer and wrapped the red blanket around Ana’s shoulders. She accepted it without really noticing. ‘Maybe they found somewhere warm?’ he suggested. ‘They’re probably at a bar right now, sipping on a margarita and talking about those suckers they left on the boat.’

‘But why hasn’t anyone come back?’

‘They probably realised it was gonna get dark before they made it. It makes sense, they know we’re safe here. Food, shelter and all the modern conveniences.’

Ana hugged the blanket tight, grateful for the warmth it provided. ‘I guess so,’ she said unconvincingly. ‘But what about Josh and Lillian?’

Ricky thought hard, trying to come up with a good lie .

‘Still having sex? Enjoying the healing properties of nature?’

Ricky took Ana’s hand in his. ‘Listen, if no one’s back by morning, we’ll look for them. Together. Now come on, you can’t even see anything anymore.’

‘I just wish there was something we could do.’

‘We could fire a flare?’

Ana finally turned away from the island and looked at Ricky.

‘That way, if anyone is lost, they’ll know where we are,’ he continued.

‘But what if somebody else sees it?’

Ricky was puzzled. ‘Like who? We want anyone to see it, to come and rescue us, don’t we?’

Ana shivered. Of course she wanted to be rescued. So why did she not want to fire the flare? Why was she afraid of giving away their position? She took a moment to ponder the thought.

‘I know, Ricky. It’s just—’

There was a rocketing sound like a firework going off, and the luminescent red beam pitched into the sky, briefly illuminating the boat and its occupants a bright hue of crimson. To Ricky, Ana looked like she was covered in blood. To Ana, Ricky looked like a devil; all that was missing was a pitchfork. As quickly as it appeared, the glow vanished and they were plunged into shadow again. It seemed even darker now. Ricky tossed the flare gun onto the deck.

Ana left her position and grabbed a cartridge from the small wooden crate containing their provisions, opening the flare gun and clicking it into place. It felt satisfying. She could tell Ricky was watching her and felt the need to explain. She had never understood her need to justify things to people, but here she went again.

‘It’s good to be prepared. If we see a ship or something, we don’t want to be fumbling around in the dark looking for a flare,’ she said quietly.

Ricky didn’t answer, instead thinking about the phrase fumbling around in the dark .

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘We’re all set. We’ve fired it, it’s too dark to see, and we can go looking in the morning. You can’t sit here all night. Come on, let’s go downstairs and try to catch some sleep.’

‘I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep, Ricky.’

‘Then we can talk. Come on, we need to hide from these insects. They’re eating you alive right now.’

Ricky was right. She was exhausted. The comedown from the drugs had taken its toll on her, physically and mentally. A good nights sleep would help to shake off the cobwebs, she hoped. There was nothing she could do sitting here staring into the night. Ricky held out his hand and she took it, following him through the little wooden hatch and down the stairs. Ana took one last look out across the bay, the sea lapping against the beach.

A woman, pale and gaunt, watched from the trees.

‘She isn’t real,’ Ana said beneath her breath. She rubbed her eyes. She was losing it again. A symptom of stress and anxiety her doctor had once told her, before suggesting she see a therapist.

They were there on the street, always far off through crowds of people, their faces gauzy and unclear. Sometimes they simply stood watch, like sentinels. Other times they beckoned to her, a siren call from the depths of insanity.

Stress. It had been stress before, and it was stress now .

Of course it was. What else could it be? The only alternative was that she really was nuts.

Often they came to her in dreams, nightmare visions that dissipated upon waking, leaving only the lingering sense of dread hanging over her like a black cloud. They spoke to her faintly in a language she didn’t understand, the words giving her migraines that felt like dead fingers rooting around in her brain.

She hadn’t told her mother about them, and she sure as hell hadn’t told Rachel. Ana didn’t want Rachel worrying about her; she worried enough for both of them.

She looked out over the sea to the island, a strange familiarity washing over her.

The spectral figure turned and disappeared into the jungle.

‘Ana, you coming?’ said Ricky from downstairs.

She turned her back on the island.

‘I’m coming, Ricky.’

She made her way down the steps, but the words kept running through her head.

The smell alone was enough to make her gag, catching in her throat like a fishhook. She had never seen a dead body before, and here were two of them. But not just dead. Disfigured. Mutilated .

She got to her feet. Head swimming, she staggered away from the stench and took several deep breaths to clear her lungs. She wanted a drink. Needed one. She had to get away from this place.

She had to get back to Ana. To protect her, or to be protected?

What did it even matter?

The bushes shook. She stepped backwards, tripping as her feet caught in the sand and falling onto her ass as the leaves parted and the ghastly thing shambled out of the jungle, staggering towards her, a man, but horribly deformed, his skin as white as snow, features soft and jelly-like, its mouth opening in a snarl, saliva drooling from the lipless muzzle. It was naked, the genitals withered away to a nub, its limbs crooked and angular. It regarded her with black eyes.

It towered over the defenceless Rachel, studying her.

In its hand it clutched a claw hammer.

Ricky cracked his knuckles, the sound impossibly loud in the cramped confines of the room. ‘She’ll be fine. She looks like she can handle herself.’

‘Yeah. She can. That’s always been her problem.’ Ana lay down on the mattress, trying to get comfortable on the worn, shapeless fabric. She wondered how many different people had slept here over the years, if it had ever been washed. She pictured the captain of the ship bringing hookers here, one in every port.

Each stain tells a story , she thought.

‘I shouldn’t have gone off on her like that,’ she said, trying not to think about the sexual history of the mattress any more and failing. Poor Miss May 1995, trapped forever in the calendar, facing out on the sordid erotic adventures of the mattress. What tales would she tell, if only she could talk?

‘Hey, you’re sisters. Sisters fight. She’ll get over it.’

Ricky seemed determined to have a serious talk, so Ana finally acquiesced.

‘It’s just a stressful situation, you know? We haven’t seen each other for years, did you know that?’ Ricky stayed quiet, letting her tell her story. He watched her, his eyes taking the scenic route up her bare thighs. Ana didn’t notice, she was focused on Miss May 1995. There was a melancholy in the girl’s eyes that she hadn’t noticed before, or maybe she was just projecting. ‘It was when I needed her most. Some sisters hate each other, but we had always been friends. Best friends. I looked up to her. Even though I was the eldest, she was the most popular, and everyone fancied her. I wanted even just a wee bit of her confidence. Her strength.’

‘You’re strong.’

Ana smiled sadly. ‘No Ricky, I’m not. I get anxiety walking into a roomful of people. I won’t answer the phone if I don’t know the number. If someone pays me a compliment, I don’t believe them. I look in the mirror and all I see is this…this fat loser.’

‘No don’t Ricky. Don’t tell me I’m wrong. All I ever wanted to be was like Rachel. Then when our mum got sick, she just fucked right off. Left us.’

‘Aye. The usual.’

‘You didn’t know where she was?’

‘Ah you know, she’d call sometimes. Wish us the best. Say she hoped to make it along soon, but work was so busy. Too busy to visit her dying mum.’ Ana started to cry, and she let Ricky wipe away a tear. He put an arm around her and she leaned into his shoulder. ‘At the end, she was just lying there, this skeleton with skin stretched over it, and she asked for Rachel to be there. We knew it was the end. I tried to phone and—’

Ana broke off, putting her head in her hands.

Ricky waited in silence as the last remnants of sunlight were extinguished. The room was as black as a tomb.

‘Is that why you…y’know,’ he said.

Ana lifted her head. She traced her thumb down one of the puckered scars.

‘No,’ she intoned. ‘It was something else.’

Her heart beat so fast she thought it might burst out of her chest. Was she going to do it? Could she tell Ricky the truth? Would he even believe her? She trusted him, that much she knew.

What. The. Fuck was happening? Ricky’s arm dangled loosely over her shoulder, his hand above her breast, fingers brushing against the lacy material of her bra. She froze as his hand probed, his skinny digits slipping beneath the material, finding the soft plumpness of her breast.

‘Ricky,’ said Ana, tears trickling down her face. ‘What are you doing? ’

‘Relax. I’ll make it all better,’ he cooed, forcing his hand down further, cupping the breast, catching her nipple between two fingers and squeezing. She grabbed his arm and pulled herself free. In the darkness below deck, she slid away from him.

‘Ricky, no,’ she sniffed.

‘Don’t fight it, Ana.’

‘I’ll fucking fight you in a minute, you creep. Get off me!’

He pulled her towards him and planted a kiss on her salty, tear-stained lips. She shoved him away. ‘Fuck off Ricky! Were you not listening to me? I’m baring my fucking soul for you and…and…’

‘You fucking bitch!’ he shouted, an angry voice screaming into the void. ‘You and your sister. Jesus fucking Christ, a real pair of cock teases.’ Ana was shell-shocked and unprepared for the violence of Ricky’s words. ‘And to think I wasted my pills on you sluts yesterday, when I could have been fucking anyone I wanted!’

Ana’s temper flared. She grappled with her self-control. ‘First of all Ricky, I don’t know how we can be sluts and cock teases, so make up your mind you ignorant fucking prick. Second of all, it was you? You drugged me? You drugged us ?’

‘Well, I drugged Rachel so I could fuck her, but when I saw what a pain in the ass you were gonna be, I gave you one too.’ Was he laughing as he said it? Ana couldn’t tell; she was so angry she couldn’t think straight.

She swallowed hard. She wanted to beat the living shit out of Ricky. But first she had to check something.

‘So last night, when we woke up together…’

‘Don’t flatter yourself. I wouldn’t want to fuck you anyway.’

‘Whatever bitch, go run and cry to mommy. Oh yeah… ’

It was dark, and Ana couldn’t be entirely sure where Ricky’s face was, but she made a guess, clenched her fist and swung.

She had always been a good guesser.

Her fist connected with his ear and he yelped in pain.

A bunch of fives, to use an old colloquialism her mother had been fond of.

She swung again and missed, then tried lower and hit him in the chest. One more punch found his stomach. Winded, he crumpled in a heap, drawing his legs up to his chest, protecting himself from any further blows. Ana got up, imagining the cringing mass at her feet. She clenched her fists, anger and excitement surging through her veins.

‘People like you, Ricky, are why I hate people.’

She left him prone on the mattress, gasping for breath and ears ringing, and stormed up the stairs. She threw open through the hatch, the evening wind doing nothing to calm her buzzing nerves. Thoughts raced through her mind and she stomped across the deck in an effort to work off the adrenaline.

What the hell was she going to do now, trapped here on this boat in the dark with a sexual predator for company? She ran her hands through her hair, taking deep breaths, trying to calm down. Her instincts told her to leave, but where could she go? She had, what, three flares left? Not enough to get through the jungle, anyway. She picked up the gun, considering her options. Part of her wanted to fire one into the little room where Ricky was nursing his wounds, shake him up a little.

The boat rocked gently and Ana stared into the sky. The stars were so bright out here, not like back home in Edinburgh, where the pollution masked them. In the distance, far away, came an ominous rumble.

‘A fucking thunderstorm? Aye, that’s all I need. Could this fucking trip get any worse?’

It could, and it was about to.

Apparently, when you’re about to die, your life flashes before your eyes in a blur of nostalgic memories.

Only one thought ran through Rachel’s head as the creature hulked over her. It was a simple one, singularly lacking in the profundity expected of death-bed speeches.

It was, Holy fucking shit, what the fuck is that?

It stalked menacingly towards her, limbs jerking like a glitchy video, every movement an act of extreme pain.

The creature crouched down on all fours, tightened its grip on the hammer and leapt forward with surprising agility. Rachel threw herself to one side as it brought the blunt end down into the sand, the cold steel grazing her shoulder. She rolled, trying to get upright and away from this maddening scene.

The creature remained on all fours, pivoting to face her, inching forwards in an arachnid crawl. The desolate moons of its eyes betrayed not a hint of emotion as it scuttled over the sand towards her, its jaw slack and hungry. It wielded the hammer fiercely, lashing out towards Rachel’s face. Just in time she threw an arm up to block it, the bell of the hammer striking her in the forearm with a sickening crack. She fell back and the creature lunged forwards, realising Rachel was on the defensive .

She kicked her leg up violently, catching the monster under the chin, her foot penetrating the soft, gooey flesh, her toes sinking deep into its throat. When she realised she could see her foot inside its neck she finally screamed, a mixture of fear and utter disgust. The creature did not seem to notice. It raised its hand high and brought the hammer down on her leg. Rachel shifted her position at the last moment and caught only a glancing blow to her calf. She withdrew her foot and watched as bilious white liquid oozed from the monster’s throat.

She shuffled backwards as the thing put a stumpy hand to its throat to check for damage. Rachel took the opportunity to yell for help. She knew the boat was nearby. If she could just make it! The creature reared back on its haunches ready to strike and came for her again. Rachel kicked up towards it, sending sand up into the thing’s face. It howled as it came down on top of her, dropping the hammer and wrapping both soggy hands around her throat, squeezing tighter and tighter, its legs wrapping around her body and holding her tight, its revolting penis pressed against her bare stomach, a thin trail of liquid dribbling out. She looked up through sagging eyelids and saw the moon through the creatures head, blood pulsing through rippling veins. Something moved inside; something inhuman, almost insect-like. The pressure on her throat increased, sapping her energy. She threw both hands up at the thing, punching and clawing at it. She remembered the self defence class her mother had made her attend when she was a teenager.

‘Eyes! Throat! Groin! Knees!’ they had chanted, throwing punches and kicks in the general direction of the appropriate body parts. They had laughed about it at the time, her and Ana. She wasn’t laughing anymore.

She closed her hands over the thing’s face and pressed her thumbs into its eyeballs. They sank in deep, the orbs bursting, slime trickling down her forearms. It recoiled in agony, giving Rachel the time she needed to reach for the hammer and swing it towards the creature’s head. It burst like a ripe tomato, disgorging its acrid contents onto Rachel’s face. She clamped her mouth shut but not before some of the revolting goo had entered, the rancid taste on her tongue making her gag.