part0047

The report of the gun was loud enough to rouse the slumbering birds from their nests in the trees, taking flight immediately and heading for the other side of the island in a squawk of beating wings and fluttering feathers.

Ana flinched, expecting the gunshot to blast her to shreds. Instead it fired harmlessly into the water. She looked up and saw the man was gone. There were shouts, curses and the thump of fists on flesh. Without thinking, she put two hands on the ladder and started climbing. The shotgun went off again and this time the air above her head rippled.

Chakrit and his uncle rolled on the deck in a flurry of limbs. Chakrit clearly had the advantage of youth and strength, but he was badly injured, his uncle landing a few strong blows to his nephew’s head. This was no ordinary fight. This was a life or death struggle. The old man brought a sharp fist down into Chakrit’s eye socket with a sickening thud. In the corner a pug barked excitedly, drowning out Ol’ Blue Eyes on the radio and completing the surreal scene. His tail was uncurled, ears drawn back .

Chakrit smashed his uncle in the teeth with an elbow, knocking him to one side. The man responded by punching Chakrit in his chest wound. He roared in pain and fell back, allowing his uncle time to get on top of him. He closed one hand around Chakrit’s neck and used the other to pummel his chest, his hand coming away bloodier with each strike as the scar reopened.

Ana scrambled up the ladder and rolled onto the deck, ignoring the pain that flared through her body, reaching for the discarded shotgun, her agonised brain screaming at her to stop. She grabbed the weapon and aimed at the man’s head. He ignored her.

‘It’s empty!’ said Chakrit, his voice a strangulated cry. The man dazed Chakrit with a punch and released him, turning his attention to Ana.

A day or so ago, Ana would have shrieked in terror at a crazed man coming for her, fearful of being beaten or killed.

But this was not the same woman who had tried to kill herself last year. Something had fundamentally changed, a switch had been activated in her brain, a switch she had never dared acknowledge, let alone touch. She had faced death many times and overcome it, and this asshole was not going to be the one to break the chain. A few hours ago she had disembowelled a giant fucking spider.

This was just a man.

With no regard for her own personal safety, Ana rushed towards the man, surprising him. She could tell he was on the backfoot, that he had expected her to shrink back in fear. The eyes gave it away. They always do.

Gripping the empty gun with both hands, she thrust it in front of her, smashing the steel barrel into the man’s face. It struck his nose and she heard the delicate organ shatter, saw the blood gush from his nostrils like two broken taps, pouring down his chest and splattering the deck. He reached his hands up to stem the flow and Ana, wasting no time, adjusted the shotgun in her hands, swinging it like a golf club, striking Chakrit’s uncle between the legs. He dropped to his knees, his mouth open in a silent scream, and she brought the wooden butt down on his head with a crack.

As his eyes rolled back into his head, he dropped unconscious to the deck, the blood from his nose creating an ever-widening pool around his face. Ana spotted movement in her periphery.

The pug. It was coming straight for her, his claws clacking off the deck (click-click-click ) and his jaws wide open.

‘Please no,’ said Ana, holding the gun like a baseball bat. Then the tiny dog slowed to a trot, jumping up at her legs, grinning, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.