Chapter 9

Pain. Pounding pain vibrated with his very pulse. And water. And mud. Miles' eyes flickered opened. It was dark, save for the light from the opening above, which now looked much brighter and bigger. His hand reached where the wrenching pain originated and found the stake, made of god knows what, passed right through his flesh. With much difficulty, he lifted his leg and against his better judgment he yanked the sharp object out. He grit his teeth and swallowed the cry of pain. He needed to tie something around his leg to stop the bleeding and fast. Ripping his shirt at the hem he managed a make-shift bandage.

He couldn't sit up, the confined space and awkward body position hindered movement. Cursing beneath his breath, his eyes flew to the opening. Voice hoarse, he shouted, "Hillary!"

Silence. His head was aching badly and he felt blood trickle down his neck. Who the hell would put a hole here? His hands felt around and wrapped over a round object. He felt it, for he was like a blind man in the bottom of this pit. He lay on his back again and cupped the thing in his hands and he ran his fingers all over it, growing more anxious by the second. Eyes widened in disbelief, staining against the dark shadows; it felt like a human skull. He threw it, desperate to have the horrific object away from him, and felt around some more. He had to know what was there, in the mud. Bones. He had fallen on a collection of broken, withered bones!

"Hillary!" he shouted, "Are you up there?"

He stared desperately at the opening, until finally a shadow appeared. His heart eased. Miles could tell it was not Hillary, but that probably meant it was Roman. Maybe Hillary had gone to get help? Yes that was it. Miles sighed in relief; he wouldn't rot in there like... the others.

He shivered. "My leg is busted." he called out, "I need help to get out of here!"

The figure nodded and moved away only to reappear after a couple of seconds. A rope was thrown down. Miles began to feel uneasy again. Why hadn't Roman said anything to him? Why was everything so quiet? He propped himself up with a groan and wobbled to his feet, using the rope as anchor to leverage into an upright position. Grabbing onto the rope he tugged it softly and it began to pull him up. Miles' used his feet, regardless of the searing pain, to expedite the process.

Sunlight hit him, but offered no warmth. Reaching the edge, he pulled himself out, lying on his belly to catch his breath. After a few minutes the blond man rolled onto his back and eyes met those of his savior. Blue orbs, like Roman’s, stared back at him but the twisted smile on the man's face was definitely not comforting.

A deep, gruff voice emerged from the stranger’s lips, "Drink this."

“No, that’s fine,” Miles managed to mumble, uneasy as he propped himself up on his elbows. The unusual emotion of fear settled low in his belly.

The man was not deterred by objections. Instead, he shoved a water skin into his mouth and at the younger man's resistance, the stranger pinched his nose. Miles gulped the burning liquid before jerking away and spitting out the second swallow. He coughed, but slowly felt his body grow numb. He found it difficult to breathe and fell back to the ground.

Somewhere in the haze of consciousness he felt the man tie the rope at his feet, burning into his flesh. Someone hummed an unfamiliar tune. Miles felt his lids become heavier, as the man dragged him by the rope. And then, his eyes closed once more and he fell into tormented unconsciousness.

Hillary stumbled forward, growing more lost as each second passed. The unfamiliar emotion of panic began to set in the cavity of her chest. It wound amongst her ribs, twisting like a vine towards the lump in her throat. She whimpered allowing the latent shock of two near death experiences and Miles’ disappearance to overwhelm her. Yesterday underwater she’d become separated from the group; today she’d nearly run out of air. Did God wish to punish her? Why – what had she done?

Hillary fell to her knees as the first sob emerged. A second followed, its close companion. Her head bent forward, the dark curls obscuring her face in a damp mop. Shivering, she clutched her arms around her middle as the cool of the muddy trail soaked the lower half of her jeans.

It should have been simple to walk back to the boat. They hadn’t turned. The island was small. Hillary could even hear the waves, but no matter how much she walked, she never reached the edge of the perpetual greenery. Hands reached out to steady herself and she came to “all fours” trying to breathe. Looking down, her eyes latched on to the flash of diamond on her wrist, bright and shiny in the newly emerged sunshine.

“Where did you get this? It looks just like-”

“Mom’s” Hillary finished the echo of the thought, the conclusion Roman failed to voice on the boat after its discovery.

Somehow speaking aloud, and using the familiar word offered something to cling to, a normal reality that seemed clearer as Hillary lifted the stones to the light. The metal and precious gems shined brilliantly eliminating the possibility that the item had been held by the sea since her mother walked the earth. Yet Roman was right, the bracelet of common memory was unique. She’d never seen another like it and regretted its burial. And this one felt familiar, as though it belonged, not some stranger’s lost bauble.

Once again Hillary swore she smelled a floral perfume. She couldn’t help herself. One repeated syllable emerged from her trembling lips, “Mom?”

No response came through the undergrowth. Hillary shook as she stood, found her balance and banked her emotions. She was stronger than this; Miles needed her. She must find Roman.

“Roman!” Hillary screamed at the top of her lungs.

This time, she heard a voice in response, a low whisper just like the sound that followed her and Miles originally. It was joined with another hushed tone, muttering words she couldn’t quite discern. Hillary took a couple of steps backwards although the sound itself appeared to come from no where in particular. One more step and she found herself backed up to something. It felt alive, warm and human. A hand came to rest on her shoulder. Hillary froze and looked down, seeing the man’s hand, its ring less fingers unfamiliar.

She spun quickly, out of the light grasp of the stranger with a squeak of shock. Muddy and on edge she took a defensive posture, one foot forward, arms up, and fists raised. Her visitor was a few inches taller, but slight of build. He wore a hat and sunglasses.

Hillary asked, “Who are you?”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the man offered, somehow thinking the statement important to say. I was clear he’d frightened the woman before him. She didn’t look like the average tourist out for a stroll, face pale and eyes wide. He raised his hands, showing they were empty of any threatening weapon. “My name is Pierre,” the man shared, “Are you alright?”

Her back a little straighter, Hillary sniffed, “I’m fine. What are you doing here?”

The man had half a mind to ask her the same question, but he kept his thoughts to himself. “I heard you yelling. It sounded like you needed help.”

“My boyfriend fell and is hurt,” Hillary tried to explain.

The figure before her showed no outward surprise at this news, but Hillary was too busy looking over her shoulder, trying to mentally retrace her path, to notice the bland expression of her new companion.

Pierre replied, “How badly?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

Pierre began to grow uncomfortable at the lack of information, “Are you here by yourselves?”

Given that Hillary had been screaming Roman’s name the answer to this question was rather obvious, but she answered truthfully, “No. My brother and our ship’s captain are here….somewhere.” Recalling that the other two had also disappeared, Hillary grew restless again,

The Frenchman’s accent was only slight, “How about we go to my boat and we can call for the coast guard. My boat is-”

The brunette didn’t let him finish. Her mind already concluded that he must be the owner of the six person vessel she’d seen when they docked. “Yes,” she breathed, grasping the lifeline of direction, if she could find Roman he would know what to do, and he likely was back at the pier “Yes, let’s go to your boat.” If this stranger would just lead her to the water, everything would be fine.

“Alright,” he agreed.

And indeed it was simple. They walked a straight path; the two passed through one line of trees and emerged on the sunlit beach. The blanket with its lunch remnants still littered the base of the shade tree. Clear in view was the dock and tied to the wood pier was a motor boat, and a six person cruiser.

Everything was as she left it except for one thing. The Orion, Gina’s boat was gone. Hillary couldn’t believe her eyes. She sprinted forward, not stopping until her feet touched the dock itself. Her eyes stared at the empty space where the catamaran had moored not a half an hour ago. Two hands went to the top of her head, clutching her hair in despair. Grey eyes scanned the water. No boat was in sight, defying logic - vanished without a trace.

“I don’t-” Hillary started to declare her disbelief, only to realize that Pierre was not standing beside her. She was talking to herself. Turning, Hillary looked back at the trees, and found herself alone on the beach. Could it be that he went for Miles? No, that didn’t make sense since she’d not explained fully what had happened or where to start looking.

The foliage moved and rustled. The whispers that haunted her were gone, replaced by more normal voices. She still couldn’t make out what was being said, but Hillary found herself breathing, “Roman,” just as her brother and Gina emerged from the opposite end of the beach.

“Roman!” Hillary repeated, running towards him. She didn’t stop until she hurled herself into his arms nearly knocking him over. “Oh, thank God,” she said, burying her face in his shirt.

On reflex, Roman’s arms closed around her. “What happened?”

Gina broke in with a shocked, “Where’s my boat?!” Walking forward she pointed at the empty space.

“Miles is hurt.” Hillary explained.

Everyone began talking at once. Information about the stranger Pierre, and what became of Miles tumbled out in the span of thirty seconds as Hillary tried to give the other two enough information to convince them to venture with her back beyond the tree line.

Gina held no sympathy, “Didn’t I tell you to stay put.”

Roman glared at Gina and tipped his head, urging caution. “Gina, please.” Protectively he held one arm around Hillary. “If Miles is hurt, we need to find him.”

“I wanna know who took my boat,” Gina cried.

“Obviously,” Roman placated. “First things first, OK?”

Hillary chimed in, “I think we should stick together.”

With a sigh, Gina agreed, “You’re probably right. OK. Hillary, you lead.”

With a brave swallow, Hillary masked the fact that she didn’t entirely recall the exact location of the pit Miles fell into. Instead, she grabbed Roman’s hand and started pulling him up the beach towards the trees. She expected to hear voices, and find a complicated overgrown path. Surprisingly, everything was sunlit and normal. A bird flying overhead let out a cry causing her to jump but that was the only mysterious element as she retraced her steps easily finding the evidence of the exposed, crude hole where Miles met his fate.

Still cautious she stepped forward, calling his name, “Miles?” No response. Hillary, with Roman in tow, moved closer to the edge, now able to peer down into the dark. “Miles?” she repeated.

Gina caught their attention with a “Look at this,” pointing to two narrow tracks, fine lines made by something no wider than a stick of bamboo approximately one inch in diameter.

“Wheels?” Roman asked.

Following for a few feet, Gina didn’t find a ready answer. “Hum. Cart maybe. Looks more like wood or a pole of some kind though. Maybe Miles climbed out.”

Hillary huffed, “And what – dragged himself on two sticks? I’m telling you he was hurt.”

Glaring at her charge, Gina silently questioned her sanity in accepting this charter in the first place. “So if he didn’t climb out on his own, and walk away, then where is he?”

“Dragged?” Roman said, drawing an odd conclusion. “Not walked, dragged, like on a litter or stretcher.”

Hands on hips, Gina glared at Roman. “So your theory is someone was standing around ready to transport the man somewhere? Just waiting, all supplies ready?”

Roman glared back mimicking her body language, “Well, someone put the hole here. Maybe they stashed carrying supplies too.”

“Maybe Pierre did it?” Hillary suggested.

“I doubt it,” Gina countered, “Pierre is another dumb tourist, just like you two. I’m not even sure what he’s doing here.”

“You know him?” Roman asked.

“Not well. I brought him to this island a few days ago. Almost the same drill as you. Odd sense of urgency - desperation in his voice. Trouble is he never met the boat for the return trip.”

Hillary gasped, “You left him stranded here?” That the blond in front of her would abandon a ‘stupid tourist’ seemed well within the realm of possibility. One hand touched her chest in mock drama at the very idea.

“Hardly,” Gina confessed. “But after a couple hours I got tired of waiting. It seemed obvious he’d gotten off island some other way and left me holding the bag.”

The brunette jumped on the scandal. “Well obviously not. He’s probably been stuck here this whole time. We need to find him too.” As an after thought she added, “And Miles.”

Roman stepped between the two women, ending the conversation. “Come on, let’s follow the tracks. Miles obviously didn’t walk back to the water. The tracks are our best lead.”

Gina walked with the other two, admitting, “The owner of the island has a tree house on the other side, maybe a mile.”

In the distance thunder rumbled, reminding them all that the weather could turn in any moment.

“Let’s hurry.” Roman said. His desire to meet this man was more prominent than ever. More questions than answers filled his brain and he tried to put some semblance to the priorities as the threesome walked on in silence.