Page 56 of Hate Wrecked

RILEY

I focus on calming my breathing, but that’s all I hear as I run through the terrain toward our home. Behind me, I hear them—one closer than the other. Then there is silence, followed by the sound of voices.

One of them hung back to wait for the other. This distanced us further, but I don’t let that bring me any peace.

The sky is getting brighter, making it easier for them to find me.

I need to get out of sight. Right fucking now.

I’m crouched behind the Hilton as they emerge from the jungle.

From my position, low to the ground, I see them scanning the tree line and the shore leading out into the cove.

I remain low as I walk around the back of the Hilton.

Debris litters the island. Sparks of life and nature warring.

I pick up a rock and hurl it into the trees.

I clock their voices as I double back to a side entrance to the Hilton.

Inside, remnants of our stay here and our life are evident. I rush to the window to see them racing toward the trees and the runway beyond.

I watch as their silhouettes grow smaller until they stop. They begin to talk, nodding their heads, until one of them races down the runway while the other turns back.

Toward me.

I shrink away from the window and dash to the door. I push it open and then race back into the building, pulling out one of the knives Gerald left behind before making my way to the side door. I slip out quietly, pressing it closed.

“Oh, girl? Glenny Glenne, where are you? Why do you run? We just want to talk. Let’s go back to the boat. I’d like to show you something, princess.”

I shiver at the sound of my name coming out of his mouth as I walk around the back of the building. His voice is getting closer.

The island is full of hiding places, places you can get lost in. And though I thought I would be lost here forever, I won’t let my last moments be on this island, in this paradise. I hear him enter the building. His presence defiles our home. I escape into the trees.

I’m there in the waning dark when the man who raced down the runway returns to join the man in the building. They step outside, surveying the area.

“Screw this. Let’s just burn the damn island down. She’ll come out when the smoke chokes her.”

“Not yet,” the other snaps. “Butch said alive . We can’t collect on a dead body.”

“We’re running out of time. If someone finds her?—”

“Nobody’s going to find Cathy,” the other snarls.

I listen to them argue, pressing myself close to the ground. The sun continues to rise, and soon I’ll be exposed.

I look around, my eyes stinging.

That’s when I see it—something silver in the dark earth. I crawl over roots and moss, over dead coconuts and soil.

There’s an old, rusted machete in the ground. I pull it out and press my thumb against the blade. It’s not very sharp, but anything swung hard enough can cause damage.

I listen again to the squabbling.

“You should head back. Butch might need help with the man. Shouldn’t take two of us for one little girl.”

“What I had in mind might take two.”

“You’re not touching her. You leave marks, remember?”

I shudder, holding my breath as one of the men leaves.

I wait until I don’t hear him anymore, just the sound of the remaining man canvassing our encampment. He starts toward Gerald’s building. Once he enters the darkness, I make my move, heading through the jungle back toward Rowan.

When I hear laughter behind me, I move forward. Toward the pit. When I make it there, I skirt around the hole, with the handkerchief on the tree as my only guidance, while I hear the man breaking through the tree line, heading toward me.

“Hey princess, where are you? The sun’s coming up. Let’s see where the red leads.”

I curse my reddened hair, the sun for turning it, for giving away my location soon.

Once on the other side of the hole, I crouch low, waiting.

When the man comes into view, I grind my teeth.

He looks around, and when his eyes land on me, I stand, making sure he sees the machete in my hand.

“Hey, princess, what do you have there? Rusted as hell, I imagine. There’s lots of that around here. You forget we’ve been here before?” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a knife that gleams in the growing light. “Gerald’s shit ain’t rusted, should have looked there, huh?”

I take a step back, my fear both practiced and real. “What did you do to them?” I ask, stalling, luring him closer.

“Who?”

“Who?” I mock. “The people who were here.”

He cocks his head. “How many did you find? Butch thought you might know something. Guess you do.”

I take another step back. He steps forward.

“We found peace here,” I say. “You’re fucking that up.”

He chuckles. “I’m going to fuck something up. That’s for sure.”

He rushes me, and I step back. In two steps, he is falling through the foliage, down into a dark hole of mud, rainwater, and waste.

I don’t run. I step toward the edge, watching as he rolls over, flinging dirt and grime. “You fucking cunt.”

“Guess you didn’t remember everything about this place?” I say. “Or did you just take your shits in the ocean?”

He crawls to his knees, eyeing me. “I was going to be gentle with you, but not anymore.” He walks toward the dirt wall, reaching up. Two hands on the dirt ledge.

I step forward as he looks down, getting his footing.

And then I bring the blade down on his right hand.