Ultimatum
I stagger backward. Askal is frantic, torn between keeping close to me and snarling at Hemslock. The man points the gun at him. “Shut him up, or I’ll shoot him, too.”
Someone grabs at my injured arm. It’s Gries.
“Stop this, Reuben!” He’s scared. They all are. Even Hemslock’s bodyguards are taken aback, though none of them break ranks.
Chase is taking most of my weight, all but carrying me. He shakes with anger at how close I’d come to being killed.
One of the medics approaches us, ties a strip of gauze firmly around the lower, fleshier part of my arm to serve as a tourniquet. “It looks a mess,” he whispers, “but it’s not as bad as it looks. The bullet only grazed you.” Askal whines, turning away from Hemslock and putting a paw on my leg.
“Are you listening to me, you immortal piece of shit?” Hemslock screams at the sky. “I can finish the ritual. I can give you what you want. Let me fucking help you.”
“Hemslock, this has gone far enough,” Leo says. “You’re going to kill us all if—”
“And what if I am?” Hemslock says. “You were happy to kill my career for ratings. You thought making me confess on camera was going to be the gotcha of the year. By this island’s own rules, you’re all guilty of punishment. Maybe if I lob enough bodies at its door, the Diwata’ll allow my men and me to get away. Galant’s sixth to lure. Karl’s seventh to consume. Who’ll be the last to wake?”
He trains the gun on me again. Chase steps in front of me again. Askal follows suit, teeth bared and growling low at the actor.
“Chase,” Leo chokes.
“I always knew you had a soft spot for our guide,” Hemslock says.
“Gail Merkan said no,” I say quietly. “They all did.”
Hemslock eyes me again. The sneer has leached out of his face, leaving something far less human in its wake. “That ain’t my problem anymore,” he says, raises his gun at me, heedless that Chase’s standing between us, and fires again.
Something unspools itself from the ground and rises up. It’s a fast-growing balete tree with the same thickly intertwined roots, forming a shield between Chase, Askal, and me, as well as the bullet, which hits the center of the newly spawned clump of branches. It engulfs the ammunition until it becomes lost within the dense roots.
“What the f—” Hemslock begins.
More trees sprout up around us, leafless branches and dead twigs, furious and angry against the wind. Spindles lash out, the closest one striking Hemslock across the cheek, drawing blood. With loud curses, he turns on the offending branch, firing at where it’s thickest, puncturing it until its weight can no longer hold. With a loud crack, it topples to the ground.
Askal is howling. The rest of Hemslock’s men waste their bullets on the other moving trees, gunning them down before they can reshape themselves into the frightening creatures with the snapping mouths. Leo Gries throws his arms around both me and Chase, pushing us out of the line of fire and back toward the mess hall, with Askal close behind. I see the rest of the crew follow.
It feels like hours, though it only takes minutes. The gunshots finally stop.
Straw Hat is the first to look out through the window, nervously. “They killed those monsters,” he whispers. “Nothing is moving. There’s only branches and bark on the ground.”
I shift to look myself, ignoring Chase’s warning grip on my hand.
Hemslock is laughing. The sprawl of wreckage on the ground from this vantage point looks almost human, though black bile seeps out into the ground instead of red blood. His men are sifting through the tree corpses, keeping their guns ready should anything else move.
“Now that’s how you do it,” Hemslock chortles. “Hey, kid! Your supernatural friend’s not as strong as it likes to have us believe, eh? What a waste of power, keeping to this fucking island when you could conquer the world. Who knows? Maybe I’ll take its place. Imagine what I could do. What I could take. The cultists got it wrong, letting all this get away because they let the curse fuck with their heads. I—”
He stops, staring. “Sam, what the hell’s up with you?”
One of the soldiers has doubled over, coughing. “Got something in my lungs,” he wheezes. “Went down the wrong way. I can’t—I—”
He stiffens without warning, staring at something over Hemslock’s shoulder. The actor spins around, but there’s no one there.
Sam opens his mouth again—and a black sap-like liquid pours out. He gags and stumbles back, clutching at his throat, as the veins in his arms and face begin to protrude, his eyes bulge in fright.
And then, with a terrible, flesh-ripping sound, a thick root as long as an anaconda and half as thick, emerges from his back.
Hemslock shows him no mercy and he picks up his flamethrower. The blast knocks Sam’s body backward. A ball of fire surrounds the soldier, and he disappears within the red heat.
The body drops to the ground, still burning, still twitching, but appearing more tree than human.
“Shit,” one of the soldiers growls. “Mask up. They can get into you.”
Hemslock stands over the remains of a fallen tree. “Rise,” he says.
The branches by his feet stir.
“Rise,” Hemslock says again, and he almost has it. The roots shudder. The branches rise, reassembling before him. They’re similar in shape to the woman-like tree creatures that have attacked us, but also completely different. Their forms are much more slender—thin broomstick-like shapes—and unnaturally tall, like they’ve been stretched beyond proportion. Wordlessly, they take their place beside Hemslock.
“How the fuck are you doing this, Hemslock?” Hawaiian Shirt gasps, stepping out of the mess hall.
“I’m doing exactly what Key says it would do—and we called him a fool for it. It’s been right in front of us this whole time. You thought he was a madman, but I knew better.” Hemslock is sweating. Whatever strength he used to summon these monsters is taking its toll on him.
“You’re not going to control the Diwata,” I say, following Hawaiian Shirt. “You’re going to destroy this island and everyone else on it. The Diwata won’t let you leave.”
Hemslock lowers the flamethrower to his side and takes out his gun again. I stand my ground.
He pulls the trigger. There is a faint click.
“You’re lucky I’m out.” He nods at one of the men. Before Gries can move, he’s sucker punched. He slumps, then is hauled up onto one soldier’s shoulder.
“What are you doing?” Chase shouts, but this time it is I who hold him back.
“We’re going to do a little experiment,” Hemslock says. “We both know that Leo is a prime candidate for one of the sacrifices, Alon, and your god thinks the same thing. We’re heading back into the caves and getting what I’m owed, and this time, ol’ Leo here is gonna be our surety. Surety that you’ll be on your best behavior while we’re inside, because we’ll shoot him if you attempt anything. I’d be more inclined to take you too, but I suspect your god’s going to attack us if it thinks I’m going to kill you. I’ll mend fences with your Diwata by presenting it with the final sacrifice we need. So you all be good and quiet, and stay here.”
“You’re seriously going to sacrifice him?” Melissa cries out.
Hemslock smiles. “I’d sacrifice the world if it would get me exactly what I want.”
We can only watch as they drag Leo into the cave, the tree creatures Hemslock controls barricading the entrance with thick roots to keep us from rescuing him.
“What are we going to do?” Chase asks, frantic, once they disappear from view. “We can’t let him kill Dad!”
Straw Hat and Hawaiian Shirt look at each other helplessly. “Hemslock and Gries worked together for years,” Hawaiian Shirt says, in a bid to be comforting. “I’m sure Hemslock’s bluffing.”
He doesn’t succeed.
“He killed Steve Galant,” Chase says. “He killed Karl Rosmussen.”
Hawaiian Shirt flounders. “Er. It’s—”
“I don’t know what we can do, Chase,” Melissa says. “They’ve got all the guns. Maybe they’ll have it out with the god and wind up killing each other. And—and it kinda sounds like Mr. Gries was even worse than Mr. Hemslock in a lot of ways, you know? I don’t know if the god’s gonna let him go.”
Chase looks down, unable to contest that.
Melissa turns to me. “Would the god protect Mr. Gries? He regrets what he’s done, right?”
My throat is tight when I respond, “That might not be enough.”
“Seems to me there’s a lot of shit going on here that you knew about but didn’t share,” Hawaiian Shirt says angrily. “What the hell is Hemslock going on about? How did he control those things? And he’s related to fucking Lindsay Watson?”
“He’s just as unhinged as his cultist aunt,” Straw Hat says. “I ain’t getting paid enough for this shit.”
“I bet he has all of Lindsay Watson’s research and that’s what makes him so sure he can…” Melissa mutters. “If he can sacrifice all three—then he could potentially—”
She stops abruptly because we all hear it: familiar roaring sounds from above, growing louder with each passing moment.
“Holy shit!” Hawaiian Shirt is off toward the beach, waving his hands above his head, yelling frantically at the helicopter that has appeared from behind the clouds. It’s heading directly toward us. In a flash, Straw Hat, Melissa, and Chase are by his side, whooping and yelling. The others run to join our efforts.
We draw back as the helicopter finds solid ground, the rotors slowing to a stop.
“The Hollywood crew on the mainland sent for us,” says the pilot. There are only two people inside—him and a medic in uniform. “There was a bad storm, and we couldn’t fly out earlier.”
“You have no idea how glad we are to see you,” Straw Hat says fervently.
“It’ll take two or three trips to get everyone out of here safely. Is this all of you?”
The others exchange glances, as if not sure how much to tell him. Hawaiian Shirt is the highest ranked of the crew, and he takes charge. “We’ll tell you everything you want to know after we’re all back in Leyte,” he says brusquely. “And man, do we have a story for you. Come on, y’all. Get on board. Injured first.”
He extends his hand to me, but I shake my head. “I can’t leave. Not yet.”
“You out of your mind, kid? Hemslock’s lost. He’s only going to shoot you again—”
The medic is already out of the helicopter and assessing my wounds. “You’ll need to have this treated,” she says, “and I doubt the facilities here are enough. What happened here?”
I ignore the question. “I’m not going to leave this island until Mr. Gries does.”
Melissa looks worried. “Are you saying—do you mean—?”
I lower my voice. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to them if the Diwata senses me leaving.”
Chase swallows hard. “I’m not leaving until we rescue my father.”
“What’s this?” the medic asks again, accompanied by the pilot’s irritated, “Didn’t you guys say you wanted to leave this place?”
“Believe me, we very much do,” Hawaiian Shirt says quickly. “Two or three trips, you said? Get anyone else who’s been injured out first, and maybe you should send a boat for supplies while you’re at it.”
“You don’t have to do this,” I say quietly to Chase, as the argument begins over who gets to board that first flight. “I swear to you that I’m going to find your father and make sure he’s here for the next trip. You should get out while you can.”
“You’re the one with the injuries,” he shoots back. “I’m not going to leave you here, and you know it.”
I wait until the medic is done, until she leaves to check on the others. “I don’t want you going inside the cave with me. There’s no telling what might happen.”
“Like I told you before, you’re going to have a hard time shaking me off. Your god can try to scare me off as many times as he’d like, but he doesn’t know how stubborn I am. You’re stuck with me, Alon, whether you like it or not. And besides—this is my father.” He takes my hand. “Would you abandon your father?”
I look at him. My fingers tighten around his. “No,” I say. “I suppose not.”