Echoes of The Past
~ Island – pacific ~
Stan had almost been right in his judgment. He ended up smashing onto the side of the boat, nearly upending the entire thing. His arms half hanging in, were hauled up by someone in the lifeboat. His world was turning black, and he didn’t know what was going on or where he was, finally he managed to give in to the bliss of unconsciousness, sheltered from the flaming pain his whole body was experiencing.
Stan was brought back to reality faster than he would’ve liked. The force of a large wave as it leapt smartly into the dinghy sprayed water in his face, waking him from his blissful peace. He groaned, everything hurt and he was acutely aware of every ache in his beaten body. As he sat up he heard whispering. He’d no idea how long he’d been out for and as he sat up he noticed it was daylight and they were in much calmer seas. The light burned right into his head as he tried to open his eyes properly. It took a few tries but finally he succeeded and found himself staring into a ring of concerned faces. Once they saw him open his eyes they broke into exhausted smiles and raised a small cheer. Amongst them he was glad to lock eyes with Adrianna and he offered her a warm smile. They’d survived the worst part. The swell was not completely calm, the waves were still a good size, but a fraction compared to the night before.
‘Thank you for what you did back on the ship,’ a balding man said from the ring of faces. Upon seeing Stan’s look of puzzlement he explained. ‘We all owe you our lives for releasing the ropes on the dinghy.’ There was the sound of murmured consent. Then it all came back to him in a flash, how he’d just managed to get pulled onto the boat.
Brushing the gratitude aside, embarrassed, Stan asked them where they were. From his position he could make out other dinghy’s not far off their own, all paddling towards land. The wreck was nowhere in sight. There weren’t many survivors he noted with a pang of sadness. It was lucky there’d been any at all he reflected.
‘To be honest we’ve no idea.’ The subdued voice had come from a man Stan recognised vaguely, then he realised with a jolt of surprise who it was; Jeremy Walker. He noticed Lisa his wife next to him wrapped up in his arms, quietly sobbing. It was then he noticed the absence of the two boys who’d been with the family. It suddenly struck him that they hadn’t made it. The couple must be devastated. He was about to say how sorry he was when the tropical sounds of the sea were sliced apart by the drone of two loud and powerful engines. Every head on all of the four dinghies snapped in the direction of the sounds to see two sinister looking military style attack ships speeding towards them. Lining the railings were serious looking soldiers all armed with black AK47’s that were trained on their pitiful dinghies. A loud voice rich in authority spoke out, amplified through a speakerphone:
‘You’re trespassing on top secret military territory. Do not attempt to flee, or you will be shot. We are going to tow you back to the complex. Any form of resistance will result in instant death.’
Stan’s dinghy was furthest away from the approaching attack ships, and he saw a slim chance of survival. He turned to face the rest of the people on the vessel who sat frozen in shock, hearing this news after all they’d been through.
‘This is no military training facility,’ he spoke quietly and urgently. ‘I am with ATIS – special branch of the CIA’s and I have reason to believe that this is a terrorist camp. We have to get away from these men; the Island is big enough to hide out. If we make it to the shallows quickly enough the attack ships can’t follow us.’
There was dead silence on the dinghy. Everyone stared. He looked to Adrianna helplessly, only to see her staring, white in shock at the approaching vessel from which the cold voice had come from.
Losing his patience he snapped. ‘They’re going to kill or capture us regardless, don’t you see that? This is our only chance.’ The men holding the paddles looked at each other and nodded, staring back at Stan.
‘OK, let’s do this. Start to paddle as fast as you can on my command. Three, two…’
‘Stanley Muddingfield,’ a voice boomed out loud. A voice which Stan recognised instantly, it made him freeze in disbelief.
‘Don’t even think about doing anything as foolish as what you are about to do, it would end painfully… for you,’ the voice continued, smugly, a cruel mockery edging every word spoken. ‘I have a sniper trained on her.’ Around the headland opposite sped a smaller boat, with a low keel. It seemed to bounce mockingly along the waves as it cut across making a beeline towards their dinghy. Like a shark it circled them under the blistering sun, cutting through the turquoise water of the tropics. Then with predatory ease it glided closer until it was parallel to the dinghy. Two men flanked a third, their weapons trained on the individuals who cowered in the small rescue boat. The sun was behind him, silhouetting his shape. Slowly he stepped to the side allowing his face to be cast in light. Stan couldn’t believe his eyes.
***
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