Savages

  It was undeniably beautiful, but Patty and Jonathan were too weary to notice. Without speaking, they shook the women awake. Slowly the sleepers sat up, their eyes dazed, their faces filthy and pale from lack of sleep, their hair tangled. Beneath her grubby yellow life jacket, Suzy’s legs, in pink shorts, had been unprotected; now they were encrusted with bloody scratches, as though wild animals had clawed them.

  Patty said, “We’ve found the cave!”

  The chorus of approval was unanimous, except for Suzy, who had been dreading this moment. How can I swim, she wondered, what will I do if they leave me? Fighting down her panic, Suzy mumbled, “I’m thirsty.” The water bottles were empty.

  “Can we drink from that river?” Carey asked, pointing to the rushing water below.

  “No, it might be polluted,” said Jonathan. “But there are water vines all around us.”

  The water vines hung from trees. Jonathan showed the women how to cut the top of the vines, which were as thick as a garden hose; if you cut the bottom, the water ran out before you could drink it. This charming trick seemed magic to the thirsty women.

  “Got another treat for you,” Jonathan said. “Breakfast.” From his pocket he pulled a small round tin of lemon drops. Gratefully, each woman took a piece of candy.

  As Patty told the others about the cave, Jonathan looked around at the forest. They’d have to hide this heap of equipment, but not here, this was virgin jungle and there was no cover. Better bury the stuff on the beach; they could carry it down the cliff in two loads.

  Annie said apologetically, “I’m afraid I can’t stand up. My legs just won’t support me.”

  Jonathan said fiercely, “After we’ve come all this way!” He meant, After I’ve blown up my boat. “You can either sit around passive-like and wait to get killed—or you can get off your fannies and use what guts you’ve got to get out of here alive.” One by one, he put his hands under each woman’s armpits and grimly tugged her to her feet. They stood there in their torn clothes and grubby yellow life jackets, limp and hopeless, arms dangling at their sides like rag dolls’, too tired to cry.

  “Only one more effort,” Jonathan encouraged.

  Carey started to sniffle. Jonathan looked at her reproachfully. Suzy started to cry hard.

  Silvana muttered to herself, “Thought be the harder.”

  “What did you say?” Jonathan asked.

  Slightly louder, Silvana whispered, “Thought be the harder, the heart the keener, courage be the greater as our strength grows less.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Jonathan said. “Whoever said that had the right idea.”

  “He was an eleventh-century Anglo-Saxon warrior.”

  “Well, you think of him, love, and let’s get down to that beach. We’ll soon be where no one can find you.”

  Through her tears Suzy said bitterly, “We’re dying on our feet and Silvana spouts medieval poetry at us.”

  Jonathan and Carey reassembled the equipment. He said, “Patty, carry my gun and the flares. Carey, take the ladder, if you can manage it with those hands. I’ll carry the tarpaulin.”

  In turn, he lifted each of the three mosquito-net bundles and dumped them in the arms of Annie, Suzy and Silvana. “You three get down the cliff with this lot. Dig a hole on the beach, while Patty, Carey and I come back for the garbage bin and the picnic baskets.”

  There was no means of getting the bundles across the waterfall to the path on the other side, so the women slithered and slid down the north side of the waterfall, where it was steep and there was no path. Annie tripped over a rock and fell, skinning her elbows and knees; wearily she picked herself up, retrieved her bundle and staggered down after the others.

  From the bottom of the waterfall, a shallow channel of water ran through the white, gritty coral sand to the sea. A strange miasma hung over this part of the beach. It stank like Jonathan’s bait box after a day in the sun; it smelled of seaweed, green slime and primeval mud. Shining black rocks dotted the sand; the small ones looked like frogs, and the big ones looked like basking seals. Tiny crabs scuttled to the sea, and a few small brown birds, which looked like sandpipers, hopped on frail legs at the edge of the water, while white seagulls screamed above them.

  Jonathan chose a spot at the back of the beach, which was littered with rotting palm leaves and old coconuts. He said, “We’ll dig a hole, bury our stuff, then pull some débris over it.”

  “What do we dig with?” asked Annie, always practical.

  “Two metal bait cans and two buckets; you can scoop the sand out with those. I want a six-foot trench, like a grave. And for God’s sake hurry, because there ain’t no cover on this beach. If a boat comes by, we’ll be spotted immediately.”

  By the time the second load had been brought down the cliff to the beach, a shallow indentation had been scooped out of the sand. Jonathan spread the canvas over it, followed by the ladder, then the rest of the equipment, except for the coil of rope, the goggles, the flippers and the rifle. He wrapped the rifle in the plastic garbage bag that he’d intended for the outboard and tucked it under the canvas. They all knelt and, with weary hands, scooped the sand back, then camouflaged the spot with dead branches.

  They waded through the channel of water to the other side of the waterfall, so that they could use the cliff path to climb up to the pool. Jonathan brought up the rear, erasing their tracks from the area around the excavated sand where they had buried their equipment. He retreated backward, sweeping with a palm frond as he went.

  “Okay,” said Jonathan when they reached the pool. “Now for the cave.” He looked at the exhausted faces of the women and felt at a loss. He no longer knew how to urge them on. He had coaxed and pushed, bullied and threatened them. What now?

  He said, “In a few minutes you’ll all be safe. Patty’ll take you down. We’ve both been in there, so we know you can make it. Patty’ll have the light. Whoever’s swimming behind her must hold on to her waistband. When you get inside, take off your goggles and flippers as fast as possible. Patty’ll loop them over her arm and swim back for the next woman.”

  He looked around at the dazed, grubby faces. “Carey, you go in first. You’ll be alone in the dark until Annie gets there. Just hang on. And don’t move. I don’t want anyone with a busted ankle. Okay now?”

  Carey thought, I’ll never be able to do it. He doesn’t know what happens to me. I tried to get over it—only last week—by confrontation, in those Australian caves, and it didn’t work. “I get claustrophobia,” she said.

  “Right now, you can’t afford to get claustrophobia,” Jonathan retorted.

  In spite of the heat, Carey started to shiver. She said miserably, “I know.”

  “Hop in then.”

  Reluctantly Carey put on the flippers and goggles. She and Patty each took an end of the rope, then they swam to the north side of the pool and dived. With a splash of flippers, both women disappeared.

  Carey clung to Patty’s belt, and they descended deep into the black waters. Thank God this was only going to last about a minute, her hands were agonizingly painful. The fact that she had to swim distracted her, and at first she wasn’t overwhelmed by the enveloping black water as she followed the dim, green beam of Patty’s flashlight.

  But when their heads broke the surface of the water and Patty flashed the light around the black cave, terror rose, like vomit, in Carey’s throat.

  “Don’t leave me!” Carey clung to Patty’s wet body.

  “Cut it out, Carey! I’ve got to get back and help the others in here.” Patty wriggled away from Carey and swiftly slipped back into the water.

  Left alone, Carey started to shake. She started to scream. She shut her eyes. It didn’t help. She screamed and screamed.

  Patty resurfaced. “Annie next,” she gasped, “then Silvana.”

  Patty and Annie surfaced in the cave to the terrifying, echoing sound of Carey’s screams. They scrambled out of the water and stumbled to where Carey was huddled on the slimy fl
oor of the cave, her head thrown back, her mouth gaping.

  “What happened?” Annie gasped.

  “Like she said, she’s claustrophobic,” Patty explained. “You look after her. I’ve got to go back for the others.”

  Annie crouched beside Carey, put her arms around the other woman’s shoulders and soothed her as she would a frightened child, stroking her tangled hair and rocking her to and fro.

  When it was Suzy’s turn to dive, she quietly said, “I can’t. I can’t.” She was overwhelmed by terror. “I can’t go down there. I can’t swim.”

  Jonathan said, “Suzy, if they get you, they’ll kill you.”

  Patty thought, Jesus, not another one! She pushed up her mask. “You don’t have to swim, Suzy. You just have to hang on to my waistband and take a deep breath. I’ll pull you through. You won’t have to do a thing.”

  After five minutes of encouragement, coaxing and threats, Suzy still refused to get into the water.

  Exasperated, Patty said, “It’s an irrational fear, Suzy. You know in your mind that there’s nothing to be afraid of, you know you can hang on to my belt and hold your breath for fifty seconds.”

  Suzy glared at her. “Stop being so goddamned condescending. You don’t understand. I can’t move.”

  Patty looked at Jonathan, who shook his head. It was no use suddenly pushing Suzy in, she’d scream and gulp water, then they’d have to pull her out. Or she’d panic, clutch Patty around the neck and pull her under; then they’d both be in trouble. He called to Patty, “You a life saver?”

  “Yes.”

  He thought, So she knows how to knock out someone in the water. But after that, you were supposed to keep their head above water, you didn’t shove it under for fifty seconds. He fished in a pocket of his shorts and pulled out the tin of lemon drops. “This is all I can give you, Suzy. If you won’t come with us, you’d better move on. If they find you here, they’ll discover the rest of us. You’ll put us all in danger if you stay here. So move on to the next bay, will you? I’m almost sure there’s a village.”

  “Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me!” Suzy begged.

  “I’ve got the rest of them to think about. Goodbye, Suzy.” He jumped off the rock, swam toward Patty and took the goggles and flippers from her.

  “Don’t leave me!”

  Patty and Jonathan never looked back as they swam toward the north side of the little pool.

  “Come back!”

  They swam on.

  “I’ll come!”

  Jonathan turned around in the pool. He called, “You get one chance, Suzy. If you change your mind, we’ll have to leave you. It’s getting late.”

  Both swimmers returned to the shivering Suzy, crouched on the flat rock.

  Jonathan said, “Do everything slowly. Patty and I’ll each take one of your wrists. Let yourself into the water; we won’t pull you. Take a deep breath and shut your eyes when I tell you.” He looked at her terrified face. “And relax. It’ll all be over faster than a visit to the dentist.”

  Suzy held her wrists toward the swimmers.

  Jonathan said, “Okay, let yourself fall in.”

  Fists clenched and rigid with fright, Suzy fell into the water. The other two each supported her with one arm and steered her toward the spot where they were going to dive.

  Jonathan spat out water. “Okay, Suzy, when I say three, take a deep breath and hold it. Slowly count to a hundred and twenty. Here we go. One … two … three …”

  They dragged her under as fast as they could.

  Suzy’s lungs were burning, her eyes were aching and she had never been conscious of such bodily pain. Because all the muscles of her body were taut—even her teeth were clenched—her lungs were constricted; as they began to pump, Suzy felt a singing in her ears. She fought panic in the swirling dark water but was hauled onward by Patty’s strong hand, which gripped her wrist like a manacle. As dizziness overtook her, Suzy opened her mouth to scream, gulping water into her lungs.

  “Help her out!” Patty gasped as she surfaced in the cave. She’d had to swim with her feet alone, holding the flashlight in her right hand and the struggling Suzy with her left hand. She didn’t have the energy to give Suzy that final push.

  Patty shone the flashlight on the shadowy figures of the other three women as swiftly they moved forward to haul Suzy, coughing and incoherent, from the water.

  It was Patty’s sixth trip through the underwater tunnel and she was weary, too weary to think straight. She was fighting nausea.

  Behind her, Jonathan staggered from the water. “Well, we made it. They ain’t going to find us here. Just mind that none of you ladies step on the machete.”

  The rocky floor of the cave was covered not only with bat shit but with small bits of razor-sharp limestone that had fallen from the stalactites above. The air was foul-smelling and humid, but nothing could have stopped any of them from immediately falling asleep.

  * * *

  In her sleep Patty attempted to turn over and instantly woke, her body was so stiff and painful. As she breathed the slight ammoniac odor of the cave, she suddenly remembered where she was. Cautiously, she put out one aching arm and touched a warm lump; it was breathing regularly.

  Patty looked at the luminous dial of her black, plastic Swatchwatch. Three o’clock. Was it morning or evening? Had she slept six hours or eighteen or thirty? She peered closer. No, it was still Wednesday, November 14; thank heaven for a watch that told you the day as well as the time. Her body ached so much, she’d never get to sleep again. She sat up.

  Suzy whispered, “Who’s awake?”

  “Patty.”

  “God, isn’t this awful?” It was Carey’s voice. She had clung to Annie until they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

  Reluctantly roused, Jonathan called, “Stop whingeing. We’re alive, we’re well and we’re safe. Nobody’s injured. We just ain’t very comfortable.”

  In the darkness, Suzy gave a short laugh. “We couldn’t be much less comfortable, could we?”

  “Oh, yes, you could indeed.” He thought not only of the killers on the beach but of the native cruelty, and the cruelty of nature; of the strange island diseases, such as the laughing death, for which there is no cure, or the trembling sickness, from which you shake to death. He thought of the sharks beyond the reef, of the twenty-foot-long salt water estuarine crocodiles and the sea snakes that were as deadly as the sharks. He said, “Things could be a lot worse.”

  “We’ll never get out of here alive,” said Carey hopelessly.

  Annie tried to sound comforting. “The company will come and get us, when they find out what’s happened. It’s only a matter of time.”

  For some reason they all whispered; the whispers sounded muffled in the cave.

  “How will Nexus know?” asked Patty. “How will anyone know what’s happened to us?”

  Suzy said, “Brett wasn’t on the beach.” During that terrible hike through the night, Suzy realized how much she had taken for granted, as she remembered the comfort, security and love that Brett had given her. She said, “Brett wasn’t killed, was he?”

  Suzy’s words immediately conjured up the dreadful scene that all the women were trying not to think about. Once again, in her mind, Silvana stared at the little blood-smeared group on the beach, huddled in front of the patio bar. Once again she saw Arthur, with his hands tied behind him, clumsily kneel to beg for his life and his look of astonishment as his pale gray tropical suit suddenly turned dark with blood, his horn-rimmed glasses slid off his nose and he pitched forward onto the sand.

  Once again, Patty heard Charley trying to negotiate with those bastards and then a shot ringing out, and her life fell apart into terror.

  Once again, Carey inhaled the vanilla smell of the oleander bush and recoiled from the terrible sight of Ed, face covered in blood and yelling, “What have you done with our wives?” Even when he was in such danger, Ed had thought of her. He’d prayed aloud—Ed, who’d use any excuse to skip
going to church—and then there had been a burst of machine gun fire and Ed had sort of jumped, fell heavily and never moved again.

  Emblazoned in Annie’s memory forever would be the sight of Duke standing with his hands bound behind his back and dazedly watching as Arthur was shot, then turning his head to Ed, then to Charley, as they yelled at the officer who was giving the orders. Duke hadn’t said a word, he hadn’t behaved like John Wayne, he’d just stood there and been shot—one moment alive and the next moment crumpled like a heap of dirty clothes.

  Suzy repeated, “Brett wasn’t killed, was he?”

  No one spoke. Suzy heard snuffles and sobs from the darkness all around her. She said, “Well, I’m sorry, but it’s important. Did anyone see Brett? Because if not, he may have escaped. And if so, he’ll see that we’re rescued somehow. Because he knows we were coming here for a picnic.”

  After tearful discussion, the women all agreed that they hadn’t seen Brett on the beach.

  Then Patty pointed out, “But we’ve killed ourselves! We were blown up in a fishing boat and eaten by sharks, remember? That’s what Brett will hear.”

  Jonathan said, “We don’t know what’s going on out there, and we can’t risk finding out. So we’ve got to hide here and get off the island later.” His voice grew more thoughtful. “But before we discuss that, I’d really like to know why anyone should want to kill your husbands.” There was no answer. “Any smart terrorist would try to avoid killing American civilians because of possible repercussions. But if you have a reason to kill someone who happens to be American … well, then, a revolution might seem a fine time to pay off old scores. In this part of the world, revenge is considered a very good reason for killing people. Payback is a big motivator on this island.”