Page 109 of The Island

What was all that noise?

Why couldn’t he see her?

She could see him.

He was holding the rifle vertically in his right hand, the walkie-talkie in his left. There was no sign of either Owen or Olivia.

Suddenly Jacko froze. “What’s that?” he said.

He spun around. His eyes were wild. He was spooked.

He fired the rifle into the bushes.

His back was to her. He was only ten feet away.

The air was full of sand and blowing leaves. Grit in her eyes and mouth.

There were two of him, phasing in and out.

She waited for the two to merge and when they did, she ran at him and swung the machete at his right shoulder. The blade went in two inches and hit bone. Jacko screamed, dropped the rifle. She tugged out the machete for another go.

“Bitch!” Jacko yelled and turned fast and kicked her in the gut.

The air was knocked out of her.

Legs liquefying.

But it wasn’t as good a kick as he thought.

She steadied herself.

Jacko bent to pick up the Lee-Enfield and didn’t see her next blow coming. The machete tore open his cheek and pulled right through to his lips.

He screamed again, fell to one knee, and scrabbled around in the dirt until he found the rifle.

He aimed it at her and pulled the trigger.

At point-blank range.

He couldn’t miss.

But he hadn’t ejected the spent cartridge or chambered a new round. He looked at the Lee-Enfield in bafflement.

Heather swung the machete a third time. He was a stationary target.

She couldn’t miss.

With a clang and a sickening thud, the machete hit him between the shoulder and the neck. He was knocked back onto his haunches.

The blood was pouring from his mouth now. She tugged the rifle from his hands. She pulled back the bolt and chambered another .303 cartridge. Jacko made a last desperate lunge at her.

She shot him in the gut.

Their eyes met.

He was confused.

“Do you smell that?” he muttered.