Sligger Island Page 6

  One of them lashed out, a tentacle whipping toward Eaver. The white-clawed tip narrowly missed her face. She shrieked and shrank back against the fire pit.

  “Watch out!” said Mason. “Those barbs are poisonous!”

  The creature again aimed for her, but this time the appendage passed too close to the flame and instantly recoiled.

  “Everybody grab some fire!” Mason directed. His panicked message sounded nonsensical, but the others knew what he was saying. They snatched the biggest pieces of burning wood they could pull from the raging fire and wielded them defensively.

  The beasts hissed louder, angrier. They reared up and stretched their deadly tentacles into the air. Then they attacked the group, trying to snag them with their clawed appendages. Mason and the others tried desperately to evade the swipes, leaning and jumping, but made sure to stay as close to the flames as they could. One of the swipes struck Mason’s burning branch and knocked it from his hand. He quickly reached for another from the fire.

  Eaver’s torch was pulled from her grip and flipped far into the night. While she looked for a replacement, Mitch had his burning stick wrested from his grasp.

  “This isn’t gonna work!” Mitch declared. “They’re gonna get us!”

  Mason realized the frightening truth. There was no way these creatures would give up without taking their victims. They needed more cover. Somewhere safer than the open beach.

  “Get in the woods!” said Mason. “That’s our best chance!”

  Mason pulled two blazing sticks from the fire and threw them at the attackers to buy them a few seconds. When the creatures jumped back to avoid the fiery projectiles, Mason took Eaver by the wrist and bolted for the wooded area. The rest of the group followed, sprinting through the loose sand toward the dark jungle.

  The beasts quivered, tensed up, and then took off after them.

  The group ran hard. It was difficult to see where they were going. The humble light from the waning moon was just enough to keep them moving through the maze of trees, but not without occasionally stumbling on a root or snagging a branch. Despite taking some bumps and scratches, they knew they could not slow down; they had to keep ahead of their pursuers. Their lives depended on it.

  They went a quarter of a mile before they thought to stop and catch their breath. Panting, they bent forward and planted their hands on their knees. Every member of the group had their eyes locked on the woods behind them.

  “Do you think we lost them?” Eaver whispered, as quietly as humanly possible.

  Before anyone could answer, a ruckus became audible in the nearby vegetation.

  “Nope!” said Mason, and they resumed their frantic flight. The creatures were relentless, gaining ground on the crew. It amazed Mason that beasts with their bizarre build could move so damn fast.

  They were in the swampy terrain. Unsure of how deep the water was that they splashed through, they feared each step would take their footing and cause them to fall into the marsh. But they had to keep running. The beasts were right on their heels now, splashing violently just behind the wild-eyed group.

  “Jump for a tree!” Mason yelled, knowing they were done for if they stayed on the ground. The crew scanned the cypress trees around them while they ran, spotting some with branches they could reach.

  Jesse and Mitch leaped for a hearty branch and pulled themselves up. While scampering up the bark, Jesse felt something forcefully scratch his shoulder blade. The deep, diagonal cut made him cry out, but he retained his grip.

  Danny went for the limb of another tree. He grabbed onto it and scurried up the cypress like a frenzied squirrel. Mason and Eaver were immediately behind him. Mason found footing on a higher branch and reached down to help Eaver up. Her wet sneakers slipped on the bark while she tried furiously to climb. Then something thick and heavy struck her shoe, just below the ankle. She screamed and lost her grip on the branch.

  “Eaver!” Mason shrieked. He had taken hold of her wrist at just the right second, and kept his grasp of her. “Come on, get up here!”

  He helped her get onto the branch where she could stand next to him. She was trembling from the ordeal. With a worried face, he asked, “Did you get scratched?”

  She shook her head. “No, but they almost knocked me off the tree.”

  “We need to get higher,” said Danny, looking down. Two creatures were lashing out at the tree with their barbed tentacles. “They could still reach us if they stretched. And they might even be able to climb this thing.”

  “Go go go,” Mason seconded. They pulled themselves higher up the tree, and got twenty feet from the ground before the branches became too crowded to weave through. Praying that they were far enough to be safely out of reach, they turned their eyes back to the creatures below them.

  The beasts were attempting to climb the tree, but were having no luck. Their limbs were made for snagging and collecting prey, not pulling their body weight. Frustrated, they continued to hiss angrily and strike the base of the cypress.

  “We’re okay,” Eaver stated. “They can’t get up here.” She looked around and spotted Mitch and Jesse in the other cypress, the third creature actively guarding the foot of the tree. “Get up higher!” she yelled to them. “As high as you can, they can’t climb!”

  Keeping a firm hold of the tree, Jesse cautiously made his way up its branches. Mitch brought up the rear, and they clung to the cypress once they were at a safer height.

  An hour later, the creatures were still as energetic and diligent as before. They struck, rammed, and circled the trees. The human prey kept their eyes on the restless mass of dark, slick flesh, shiny tentacles, and teeth.

  Another hour passed. The beasts were not showing any signs of disinterest, endlessly circling the trees.

  “What if they never leave?” asked Danny. “Like, would they just wait for us to die up here and fall to them?”

  “Just hang on,” said Mason. “We have no choice.” He turned to his companions in the other tree. “You hear? Just hang on. We gotta wait ‘em out.”

  Jesse winced, visibly in pain. “I don’t feel so good,” he reported. “I feel like I have a fever, and now my chest is starting to hurt!”

  Mason was perplexed. Had the stress of the situation caused the young man to go into cardiac arrest? “Just breathe,” he instructed, not knowing what else to say. “And hang on. We’ll be okay.”

  “One of those things scratched me,” said Jesse, “got my shoulder.”

  “Oh shit,” Mason mumbled. “The poison.”

  Eaver looked to Mason with worry in her eyes, wondering if Jesse was going to recover. Mason silently shook his head.

  He knew Jesse was already dying from the venom.

  CHAPTER 13

  The light of the early morning sun breaking the horizon woke Eaver. Suddenly remembering her situation, she jolted. Mason’s arms tightened around her, preventing her from falling out of the tree. She saw the ground below and gripped Mason’s arm.

  “Easy, sweetie,” said Mason, “you’re okay.”

  Eaver looked into the tired eyes of her boyfriend. He had obviously been able to stay awake and alert throughout the night. Then she turned her head to find the others. Danny was just above her, entwined in higher branches. Judging by how he was blinking his eyes, Eaver guessed Mason’s voice had just woken him.

  On the branches of the other cypress, Eaver saw Mitch holding onto his childhood friend. The tears lingering on Mitch’s cheeks told her Jesse had in fact died during the night.

  “Oh, Mitch,” she croaked. “Is he – gone?”

  Mitch nodded, his eyes producing a fresh batch of tears.

  “I’m so sorry, baby.”

  “I – I had to keep him up here, even after,” said Mitch. “I just couldn’t drop him down there and let those things eat him.”

  “They’re gone,” Danny noted. He scanned the flora around them again just to be sure.

  Mason concurred. “I think the coast is clear.” He peele
d his arms from Eaver and slowly began climbing down the tree.

  “Be careful!” begged Eaver. “If those things are still around, just waiting…”

  “I will,” Mason said. He lowered himself branch by branch, his joints stiff from being perched awkwardly in the tree all night. He took a final look at his surroundings, searching for any menacing beasts that might be waiting for him in the hazy morning mist of the marsh. Seeing nothing, he dropped with a splash into the shallow water covering the ground.

  No creatures seemed to be in the area with them. After a watchful minute to be sure, he called for the others. “It’s okay,” he claimed. “Danny’s right, they’re gone. They never did like the sunlight very much.”

  Eaver worked her way down next, and Mason stood by to keep her on her feet when she landed next to him at the bottom. Then Danny slid down the tree to join the others. The three stepped through the chilly swamp water to the tree housing Mitch and Jesse.

  Mason looked up. “Alright, Mitch, do you think you can bring him down?”

  “He’s pretty heavy,” said Mitch. Jesse only weighed one hundred and eighty pounds, about the same as Mitch, but that was too much weight for Mitch to hold onto while successfully bringing himself down. “I don’t think I can get down there with him.”

  Mason grimaced, knowing what needed to be done. “Um, I sorry, buddy… but you’re gonna have to drop him down here.”

  “Dude,” said Mitch, his voice quaking.

  “I know, I know, I don’t like it either. But it’s either that or you leave him up there. And then he might fall out anyway.”

  “Wh – what are we gonna do with him?”

  Mason stood straight. “I say we bury him. Somewhere easy to dig, like the beach. That way nothing will get a hold of his – of him.”

  “And just leave him buried on the beach?”

  “For now,” said Danny, agreeing with Mason’s plan. “But if we get rescued, we’ll get his body and bring it back with us for a proper service and burial.”

  Mitch could not argue with the logic. It sickened him to think of tossing his friend’s lifeless body down to the ground, but he could not leave Jesse’s corpse in the tree to rot. Or to fall and get eaten. “Fine,” he said, sniffling.

  The others moved back to provide a space for the landing zone. Then, with shaking hands, Mitch let go of his best friend. The body dropped, spun like a rag doll when it clipped a branch, and landed hard in the ankle-deep water. The group could clearly hear the crack of a few bones breaking. The sight and sound of the brutal contact made Eaver want to throw up. She turned her head and covered her mouth with her hand, but she suppressed the urge and was okay a moment later.

  “C’mon, Danny,” Mason said softly. “Let’s pick him up.” He and Danny reached down, grabbed Jesse’s shirt, and pulled the body up from the water. They tried not to look into Jesse’s face, but that was a sight they were unable to avoid. The young man’s face was pale and empty, like a vacant shell, with swamp water dripping from it. It was haunting.

  Mitch worked his way down the tree and joined the others. Seeing his friend’s body caused him to produce new tears. “Dammit, Jesse,” he groaned. Then he addressed Mason. “Alright, let’s get him out of here.”

  They decided the easiest way to move him was for each of them to take a limb. Mason and Danny took Jesse by the legs, which were heavier, and Mitch and Eaver followed holding the arms. They carried the body slowly, awkwardly, and at times they had to set it down to rest their muscles. It seemed like an hour passed before they were out of the thicket and had the beach in sight.

  The fire was almost out. No smoke was rising from the pit, but Mason was sure the embers were still hot. They brought Jesse’s body to the sand and laid him down.

  “We need to get the fire going right away,” Mason stated. “We’ve got to have signal smoke going up.” He inspected the pit, seeing white coals with swirling particles of ash dancing just above. And he could still feel plenty of heat coming from within.

  Mason found one of the displaced sticks from last night and used it to stir the embers. Then he plucked a few handfuls of dry grass and dropped them onto the coals. With a little more stirring, the hot embers ignited the grass. Mason quickly added the smallest sticks they had for kindling. Once they started burning, he set the larger pieces of wood on top. Soon the signal fire was smoking again.

  Now it was time for the unpleasant task of burying Jesse. Nobody wanted to put him in the ground, but they knew they had to. The scent of his corpse would only get stronger, and would likely attract more of the creatures that had killed him.

  They had no shovels, naturally, but that was why Mason had suggested the beach. The group could excavate the sand easily, by hand or with sturdy pieces of bark. They agreed on a good spot, far enough from the water where the high tide could not uncover Jesse and pull him out. Then they commenced digging.

  It did not take long to create a shallow hole. At a depth of two feet, the grave would safely contain the body. The group dragged the body gently into the hole. Mitch said a few words to give a brief eulogy and to say goodbye, and the others said amen. Finally, they covered Jesse with the sand they had removed, and packed it tight to seal him beneath.

  That heartbreaking job finished, the group returned to the fire pit and added more wood. The white smoke billowing into the air, they could do nothing else but wait and see if any seafarers were out there to spot it.

  The sun was getting higher in the late-morning sky. The group could feel its searing radiance bearing down on them, and they realized just how thirsty there were.

  “We gotta find some water to drink,” Mitch declared. “Maybe back in the swamp?”

  Mason nodded. “That’s the only fresh water I’ve seen on this island. If it is fresh water.”

  “It is,” said Danny. “None of that vegetation in the marsh would be growing in salt water.”

  Eaver set her hands on her hips. “Well, what are we waiting for? C’mon, y’all.”

  They trudged through the wooded area to return to the wetlands. The swamp water washed the sand off their shoes, but replaced it with deposited silt. They stepped on whatever grassy patches they could while moving. When the group found a spot that looked deep enough, they knelt down on the edge of the grass and looked at the water.

  The surface was blanketed with water lilies and endless pebbles of green duckweed. Mason and Mitch bent down and used their hands to swirl away the floating duckweed. Once Mason had a clear area to scoop from, he cupped his hands and brought the water to his parched mouth. It tasted earthy, gritty. It was drinkable, though, and that was all that mattered.

  “Tastes like crap,” said Mason, after a forced swallow, “but it’s water.”

  “Might make us sick,” Danny warned.

  Mitch looked up. “What, like give us the shits?”

  “Yeah. Lots of parasites and bacteria in there.”

  Mitch shrugged. “I’ll take that over dying of thirst.”

  “Agreed,” said Eaver, moving the duckweed aside to get a clear handful of water. “We’re in survival mode now.”

  “No argument here,” Danny said, joining them to drink. The group drank as much water as their bodies told them to, and then they were adequately rehydrated.

  A bullfrog croaked, and the group raised their heads attentively.

  “Speaking of survival mode,” Mason whispered, “that sounds like food.”

  Living in the South, everyone in the group had eaten frog legs before. They tasted very much like duck or chicken. Catching frogs right now was quite appealing to the hungry crew.

  They got up quietly and crept to the spot the sound had come from. After a minute, their eyes found the frog. The dark-green critter was perched in a tuft of swamp grass, sitting perfectly still. It was a nice size. Danny moved slowly, inch by inch, getting nearer. Before he could get close enough to lunge, the shrewd frog quickly dove into the safety of the water.

  “How do we cat
ch it?” asked Mitch, knowing they would not be able to snag the elusive amphibian with their bare hands. “We have nothing to use.”

  Mason took inventory of their surroundings. “We have sticks,” he offered, seeing nothing else that could be helpful. “Maybe we just have to try to spear one.”

  “Worth a try,” Danny said enthusiastically. “Let’s go find us some spears.”

  They rummaged the area for some good branches. The ones that had fallen to the ground were soggy and worthless. Finding a few on the trees that were straight enough to use as effective projectiles, they snapped them loose. The broken ends were jagged, which made them that much better.

  Then they quietly returned to the edge of the marsh. After a minute or two, a small, dark head breached the layer of duckweed. “There,” Danny whispered. He took aim with his spear and launched it toward the frog. The stick waggled through the air and struck the water with a boisterous splash, but missed the target.

  “Close,” said Mason. His eyes darted across the water, eager to spot another head popping up. One finally did, and Mason tensed to throw. When he felt he had a good angle, he let loose. The branch skipped off the surface and ended up harmlessly floating away.

  “This may take a while,” Mason muttered.

  “If it does, it does,” said Eaver. “But we need to keep at it until we get ‘em. We have to eat.”

  Mason circled the water and stepped in at the other end to retrieve his spear. Then he poised the weapon and waited for the frog to reappear. When the head surfaced again, both he and Danny threw their spears. One of them hit the mark, and the injured frog splashed spastically.

  “Get it, get it!” said Eaver.

  Mason hurried to the wounded amphibian and grabbed it before it could muster the strength to escape. He held it up for the others to see. “Got one!” he grinned, grateful for the prize. Then he took it to the shore and ended the animal’s suffering with a blow to its head.