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18
~ Island – pacific ~
Adrenaline pounded through Martin’s veins, fierce and overpowering. The screams could only belong to Julia, something was really wrong to make her lose her composure like that. She could be a pain, but he didn’t want any harm to befall her.
The petrified sounds had torn Martin from a deep sleep. Tom appeared not to have heard a thing though, which was unusual. In all the years he’d known him, he’d been a light sleeper. After three or four violent shakes Tom’s eyelids fluttered open, sleepy confusion clouding his murky green eyes.
‘Whatsa matter?’
‘Julia’s in danger Tom,’ Impatience gnawed at Martin. ‘I’m going now, come as quickly as you can.’ Tom would realise what was happening, but time was short so he had to go now. His breath came out in even intervals, measured, his cross country training paying off. Who’d have thought it would’ve been like this? His powerful strides quickly took him down to the beach, his leg no more an issue. His wooden spear held at the ready; he was met with an unusual sight. Julia was hunched forlornly over something in the water, her distress clearly visible. If this was some attention seeking ploy on her behalf he’d be so angry; somehow he wouldn’t put it past her.
Because he’d been further away he couldn’t make out what it was that had
Julia so upset, but the closer he got, the clearer it became; dismay began to cloud his mind. Wallowing in the shallows was a man’s body reduced to a pitiful, undignified heap. His skin was a pale waxy colour, stretched tautly over frail bones, grazes and wounds pockmarked his body where fish and other marine life had fed on his flesh. The worst was his face, almost skull like, with hollow eyes that held eternity’s lifeless stare. Thin strands of hair matted his scalp and his lips were pale slits. A knife hilt protruded from the place where his heart was, explaining his untimely death.
Julia’s tear streaked face looked up from where she sat. Martin was speechless at the anguish he saw in her face.
‘He, he, he was my... my uncle...He...’ she failed to finish the sentences as grieving sobs wracked her body.
This was awkward. ‘I’m so sorry Julia,’ Martin didn’t know what to do so he placed an arm around her shoulders and tried to hug her reassuringly.
They were sat there for what seemed like eternity to Martin.
‘What’s wrong? What happened? Are you alright Julia?’
Guilt swamped his mind at the relief Martin felt knowing Tom was here and he could let go of Julia. Martin turned helplessly to his friend.
Julia shrugged his arm off and stood up. She walked away from them towards the rocky cliff base on the other side of their bay. Martin looked down at the body. He was surprised at how he handled it, he was naturally repulsed, yet he didn’t feel the need to look away or throw up. Knowing he had no choice he grabbed the body under its arms and began to drag it onto the beach. Glancing up he saw Tom, standing indecisively glancing between him and Julia. He took a hesitant step in Julia’s direction and Martin shook his head.
Tom had made his way over to the beach as fast as he could, which was surprisingly quick. As he arrived he saw Martin with his arms protectively around Julia’s shoulders comforting her for she was in obvious grief. A pang pierced his heart. He realised with surprise that it was jealousy. Martin shouldn’t be that close to Julia. The emotion threatened to fog his senses and make him lose all control. It ate at his heart with a driving force. With difficulty he managed to force it beneath the surface away from anyplace where it could be recognised for what it was; jealous rage. He watched Julia get up and walk across to the rocky cliff base on the other side of their bay and was about to follow her when he caught sight of Martin’s quick head shake. Since when did Martin know what was best for Julia, he thought with irritation. Reluctantly he made his way over to Martin and together they dragged the body onto the beach, away from the water line.
They sat in silence, a distance away from the corpse and watched Julia shifting rocks in an attempt to make a grave. Helping would only anger her, this was something she had to do alone, and out of respect they looked the other way.
The silence had stretched on for what seemed like ages.
In a subdued tone Tom broke the quiet. ‘I never realised her uncle was on the cruise with us?’
‘The real question that begs to be answered is who murdered him. Even more pressingly; why?’ Martins mind had already been trying to churn through various scenarios, all of which held little credibility.
‘Do you think someone stabbed him in the chaos as the ship went down, knowing they could get away with it? That’s the only realistic way I see his body washing up on our beach.’
Tom’s mind was miles away, he knew what it was like to have death in the family, and he’d lost both his parents when he was very young. Poor Julia, she’d obviously been close to her uncle.
‘Tom, are you even listening to me?’ The question dragged him back from his thoughts and he focused on Martin but before he could say anything, Julia spoke up from behind them, unseen. She’d finished her grave.
‘You’re wrong.’ The detached coldness with which she spoke held an icy quality that scared them both
Hesitantly, Martin voiced the unasked question. ‘What do you mean we’re wrong?’
‘Your theory has one major flaw in it,’ her voice brisk and business like. This was new, gone was the arrogance, replaced with an emotionless disinterest that bordered on unnatural. ‘My uncle was not on the cruise with us.’
The statement was met with open mouths, horrified glances. The consequence of what Julia had just told them was enormous. There were other people on the island; they’d killed Julia’s uncle. No one had to say anything, they were all thinking it. Martin glanced uneasily about him.
Suddenly the warm breeze seemed to drop a few degrees and the palm trees glared sinisterly.
‘I think we should head back soon. And seriously think about what we got thrown into.’
‘And then I’m going to kill whoever did this.’ A fact. Brutal. Sincere. Not for a second did Martin or Tom doubt her word, for they knew she’d see it through without a second’s indecision. Her eyes glowed fiercely, her mouth set in a straight line, not a glimmer of emotion flickering across her face. Only her clenched jaw, gave any indication that she was truly furious. She’d tied her hair into a ponytail, something Tom had come to learn meant her mind was set and she would not let it lie. Ever.
‘We can talk about this later. For now, let’s help you bury you uncle.’ Martin said in his leader like manner.
‘His name was Roger Spencer.’
An awkward silence settled over them. Before it got too uncomfortable Tom bent down and grabbed Roger’s body under the armpits. Immediately Martin picked him up by his feet and together they carried him towards his grave by the rocks.
With a gentle tenderness that surprised Tom, Julia placed the last stone onto Roger’s grave. She stood up straight and stared out towards the ocean. Gulls circled the sky lazily, riding on hidden thermals, as the midday sun glinted down onto their island in the middle of nowhere. A single tear carved a path down Julia’s grimy face, quickly followed by more. Tom tentatively extended his arm around her shoulders. She didn’t shrug it off, but seemed to welcome the embrace. Overcome with sudden grief, she turned into his shoulder and sobbed. Martin averted his gaze and stared at his feet, leaving Tom to hold Julia patting her on the shoulder in a lame attempt to make her feel better. Silently cursing his incompetence. Roger Spencer. Where had he heard the name before? Then it hit him. The secret diary had belonged to R.S. and that meant that her uncle had been hiding in the secret compartment of the ship and was planning on jumping the ship and going to the island. The question of why burned inside him for it meant that there was something else on this island. Maybe they’d be able to get off after all. And he would finally find out why his face was sketched into someone else
’s diary.
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