~ Island – pacific ~
The jungle pressed around him with sentient purpose as he dashed through the underbrush, the loud piercing scream from Julia still ringing in his ears. Anger and adrenaline fuelled his mad sprint, masking the pain of all the scrapes and cuts the jungles foliage had inflicted on him. The bow strung across his chest, the arrows tucked into his trouser band, the aggressive flash of his spear poised dangerously in his right hand; Martin cut an intimidating sight. One thought ran through his mind, powerful like a river in full flood. Betrayal. His hurt was just as powerful as his anger, and possessed him forcefully, enveloping everything and turning it into something ugly and hostile. He’d no idea where he was going or what he was going to do. But one thing he knew for sure. He’d never go back, even if it meant he was going to die on this God forsaken island. He’d search every inch of it for his parents and if he didn’t find them then he would make himself a raft or swim off the cursed place.
A loud rushing noise penetrated his thoughts like an unwelcome phone call, causing him to slow down and take in his surroundings. It was practically dark, the last scrap of light had been swallowed by night’s oppressive cloak and he couldn’t see all that far in front of him. He continued towards the rushing sound which came from somewhere directly in front of him, though this time his steps where laced with silence and his body was poised to fight at the slightest hint of danger. The flora around him began to thin and he felt uncomfortable leaving the shelter that the bushes had given him. The ground gave way suddenly and he nearly slipped down a small steep incline into a running river that crossed his path. Had he been in a better mood he would’ve laughed at his childish fear of the “rushing” sound. Instead his practical mind began to calculate what this find meant. If it was a river then there really must be hills of some kind on the island for the stream to originate from. The river probably led all the way to their waterfall near the beach.
He retreated back into the familiarity of the jungle, settling himself on the ground and closed his eyes to sleep until day. In his mind’s eye all he could see was his best friend stabbing him in the back along with Julia, over and over again, until the images in his mind had been permanently seeded. Finally he found a restless sleep.
He was greeted by harsh light blasting its way through the canopy foliage the next day. Blinking and completely dazzled he tried to figure out what he was doing outside, in the jungle. With an unexpected rush everything came back, leaving him with a bitter taste in his mouth and a heart burning for revenge. His body was covered in scratches and bruises, a couple of gashes were still bleeding. In his sleep he must have snapped one of his arrows in half for it lay broken in two halves amongst his others. Lucky he didn’t prick himself with the thorn he thought silently. He made his way over to the river and began to wash himself clean of all the dried blood and ease his bruises and cuts. When he was done he angrily tossed his broken arrow into the water thinking about how he only had another five left. He set out following the river towards its source, hoping to find his way towards a high point on the island.
The river curved sharply around a bend and proceeded to snake its way amongst the tall trees. Martin was running to make better time, but now with no sign of any form of hill or mountain he was forced to walk to save energy. It wasn’t until midday that the underbrush began to thin. A little while later, he found himself walking out into the glorious midday sunshine to be greeted by a magnificent view. A small mountain range stretched across his field of vision, in the middle of the range, one particular peak stood out to the rest, it flattened out like a plateau with a dip at its centre. The creator of the island, a huge volcanic crater formed the ultimate peak of the island. From somewhere there, the river began its seaward journey and Martin could see how it cascaded down the slopes of the hills, occasionally tumbling down vertical drops as a waterfall, sometimes running along the ground, until it settled in a large deep pool, surrounded on all sides but one by rock walls with protruding basalt shelves. From there it meandered in lazy curves through an open tussock field sparkling and glittering in the hot light.
On either side of the crater, the hills got smaller and smaller until they were swallowed by the jungle vegetation at sea level again. Martin forgot about everything as he stood there, mesmerised by the beauty of what he was seeing. A fierce grin swept across his face, his teeth flashing and his dark eyes gleaming excitedly. There was only tussock growth, grass and rocky dust on the hills, to Martin’s mind that meant quick and easy travel. The start of the mountain range was only three or four kilometres away and he could probably be half way up the mountain by nightfall. With renewed hope that he would find what he was looking for on the other side he set off at a jog towards the range.
The sun was setting after a glorious day and dyed the sky a myriad of reds, oranges and yellows, combining them in the magnificent splendour of the true sunset hues only found in the tropics of the pacific. The climb had been tiring, he’d been forced to climb in some parts and scramble up steep slopes. Occasionally leaping on all fours and using his spear, so as not to tumble back down amongst the loose stones and gravel that dropped back the way he’d come. Finally with but a few metres to go to the summit, the crater, he paused and looked back the way he had come. The volcano and its neighbouring peaks dropped down onto the plain and the river appeared as silver ribbon that wound its way towards the dense jungle forest like a glittering serpent, where it disappeared as the forest canopy clouded it from view. The rare sharp glimpse of silver between the throng of leaves and flowers was the only sign it still existed. His view extended up until the coast, where he could make out the headland that marked one side of the beach they’d landed on. He could just glimpse a tiny bit of yellowy white that was the sand, bathed in the evening glow it appeared like a thin stretch of gold, contrasted with the sharp blue of the ocean. The light danced on small waves causing them to shimmer and glitter, like the facets of a giant, rare jewel. The sight was filled with an awe inspiring peace. Martin felt the gentle calm of the moment begin to fill him with a quiet joy. The urge to turn back and go to his friends was so strong he almost gave in, but an abrupt image of the dark panther, its jaws wide in violent grimace and Julia’s excited eyes as she watched the fight filled his mind. With a decisive jerk, he turned his back on the serene sunset and clambered up the last bit till he reached the edge of the crater. It was a shallow basin that slanted gently towards a lake at its core, from which fresh water bubbled up. The water escaped the crater through a natural rock tunnel that cut through the craters side as a small stream and then followed a path destined by gravity, swelling in size as it developed into the river that flowed through the jungle.
With a swiftness that defied the exhaustion which was beginning to gnaw at his weary bones, not to mention the hunger that famished his insides, Martin made his way around the crater’s rim. There was a small steep rise which ran around half the crater’s edge. In eons past it had acted as giant barrier directing all the lava flow from the volcanic eruption down the side Martin had just climbed up, protecting the other side of the island from its destructive path. It was because of this that the river flowed down that direction, it followed a natural lava channel out of the crater. Martin’s excitement was building; he’d just be able to make it onto the other side before night settled in. He scaled the rise and stood on the island’s highest point gazing down. His breath caught in his throat.
Right at the other end, on the coast line, in between trees he could see a long concrete strip that could only be a runway, for at that precise moment he saw five small two-seater Cessna planes approach the island, and one after the other glide down towards the concrete strip. They disappeared from his sight as the trees swallowed them. To the left of the runway was a scattering of buildings amongst jungle trees and bushes and he could see a jetty jutting stiffly out into a small bay, guarded by a large island, smothered in jungle flora. From the cluster of buildings a gravel road
snaked its way towards the volcano’s range of hills. It was hard to make it out from the high vantage point as the trees blocked most of it from sight, but it was there. Here the jungles reach carried all the way up to the beginning of the volcano’s ascent.
A loud cruel laugh escaped Martins lips, his square jaw ajar. Here at last was a way to escape, his good fortune was incredible. He wouldn’t go back and tell the other two, they could rot on their side of the island for all he cared, and if they tried to follow him he’d kill them. They were monsters, didn’t belong to this world. If they got to civilisation they’d endanger everyone, so leaving them trapped on the island was the safest solution. The seed that was the images of the fateful night had begun to grow. His bitter hurt was slowly converting into a fiery hate for Tom and his kind. He hefted his spear, to better determine the balance and began his decent into the forest.
This side of the volcano it was a lot steeper, he ended up slipping and sliding most of the way on his bum, his pants beginning to rip with the constant friction. It was almost a relief to reach the jungle fringe and slip into its vast, dense refuge. It was now completely black, and Martin was lucky he had aimed his descent for the road. His feet stumbled clumsily on the gravel, unaccustomed to such a smooth and shaped land surface. Once his balance had been restored he began to sprint along the road, which twisted and turned constantly. It was a long way to the buildings and the distance increased twice fold because of the curves.
He must have been relatively close when he was startled by a noise, at first he couldn’t place it, but then a grin spread across his face; it was a car engine, a sound he’d missed terribly without even realising it. Around the next bend roared a jeep, headlights illuminating everything and freezing Martin in place blinding him temporarily. Breaks screamed and the vehicle fishtailed wildly, spraying dirt and gravel into the air. As the dust settled Martin could make out the details of the car. Sitting in the front were two men, one was driving the other was getting out of the car and cradling and M16 automatic rifle. Mounted on the back of the jeep was a swivel chair with an M17 rifle, loaded and ready to fire. Behind were two more, seated opposite each other on benches, both also armed. All of them were dressed in jungle camo giving them an intimidating appearance.
‘What the hell is that?’ Spat the man behind the swivel gun.
‘No idea, you reckon he escaped the prison?’
‘Naw not possible we would’ve noticed.’
While this discussion was taking place Martin’s mind was reeling. Prisoners? Is this island some form of secret military training facility?
‘Shoot him,’ it was the man standing behind the giant swivel gun again. His tone careless.
‘No, no not so hasty Jimmy, don’t shoot him yet, if I’m not mistaken he’s another shipwreck survivor. He must’ve landed on the other side of the island. We should bring him back and alert the General. He might want to have a chat with this fella.’
That was enough for Martin, something was definitely not right here, with a deft movement he slipped the bow off his torso, strung it and fired an arrow at the soldier who had gotten out of the jeep. The arrow flew straight, but lacked any power as the bow was only homemade, that didn’t matter, as long as the thorn made contact he thought. The tip sank into the soft flesh of the thigh and the soldier howled in pain. It wouldn’t be long before he was out. Martin was about to dash into the undergrowth when a loud voice yelled ‘Freeze.’
How cliché he thought. Almost comical except for the four guns pointed threateningly at his head.
‘Drop your weapons or your dead, son.’
Martin had no choice but to comply, as soon as his weapons were gone, the soldier who’d been hit by the arrow had handcuffed his hands behind his back
‘Shot gun front seat,’ Martin grinned.
The smart arse comment was rewarded with a punch to his face from the soldier.
‘That’ll teach you to shut up,’ his voice was slurred and his stance unsteady.
Shaking himself from the blow Martin laughed hoarsely.
‘You not feeling to good old man?’
The taunt worked, the soldier made a swing at him again but missed horribly, and, spinning through the air, he collapsed on the floor, unconscious.
At least the thorns work, thought Martin with a grin.
‘Your arrow was poisoned,’ spoke the driver.
‘Congratulations Sherlock.’
‘You’ll regret your tone yet lad, what was in that arrow?’
‘Poison?’ A smile flickered across his face quickly as he saw how he was infuriating the soldiers.
‘Take him, gag him and knock him out, as for Jimmy, put him in the back with you, we’ll take him to the infirmary.’
The last Martin could remember was one of the soldiers looming over him with a syringe and then blackness.
***
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