Dark Island Book 1 (Complete)

Chapter 21

Locker inspection...
First year training in the military. It flashed before my eyes in a series of still pictures: Sgt. Mattfield standing in front of my locker, flipping through my untidy collection of books and cloths. A pause came to wave my sweaty dirty training cloths to everybody in the hall. -the guy was a real comedian.
And then...
A small hard shape under my belongings; stubby fingers drawing it out – a can of baked-beans.
“It’s not mine, Sgt. Mattfield!”
Even now, lying unconscious in the jungle of a deserted island thousands of miles away from the modern world, I protested my innocence. “Somebody framed me!”
And just like it had happened in real time, I was not believed.
The rush began, the choice of punishment; one month of cleaning of the barracks or one month kitchen cleaning alone. Only then, I would learn discipline, cooperation, and respect for order, or so Sgt. Mattfield thought.
The images changed. I could see the tremendous waves crashing against our ship, feel the coldness of the ocean as it almost swallowed me into nothing but blackness, see the approaching island...
Something snuffled, and it wasn’t the crashing of the waves. I awoke with a start. It was so dark, for an instant, I thought I was back on the ship. A silver of moon provided the only light.
Then I saw the creature. It was just a few inches away, staring back at me with glowing red eyes. I gasped in shock and revulsion. My instinct told me to back up. But lying flat on the ground, I had nowhere to go. I couldn’t move. The beast retreated a couple of steps, snorting and puffing. It was four feet long, seemingly all head and bull neck, with a body that tapered to short legs and a trail. On either side of the flat snout, curled small gleaming white tusks that gave the animal the appearance of sporting a well-groomed mustache.
A boar! I thought. A wild boar! And I was lying here helpless...
I rolled away and scrambled to my knees, all in one motion. The boar was startled and thundered into the jungle, its massive head pumping up and down like a piston as it ran.
I squirted around the clearing, making out the shape of Ronnie still lying on the ground asleep. At least, I hope he was sleeping. I stood up and felt a paralyzing cramp grip my stomach. I doubled over, trying not to panic. “ If it were poison, you’d be dead already.” I said to myself out loud.
We had eaten some very weird stuff- too much, too fast after going without food for so long. That had to be a shock to the system, and my stomach was letting me know it. An itch on my cheek took my attention away from my digestion. I reached up and scratched. Bumps. I can feel them. At least a dozen. Bug bites all over my face. I could feel welts on my arms too, and the bare parts of my legs below my ragged shorts. On my head, even, beneath my hair! I could feel it. I could hear the buzzing in my ears. I started flaying arms, but the sound didn’t go away.
Ronnie started to stir and immediately curled into a ball. “Oh, my stomach! What was in that fruit? Cyanide?” he asked.
“I think we just overdid it,” I groaned.
“Are you sure? I’m breaking out in a rash. I itch all over!” ask Ronnie, unconvinced.
“Bugs!” I explained, slapping and swatting. All at once, a thought came to me that made me forget about the insects and my stomach cramps. “Harold!” I shouted in horror.
Ronnie sat bolt upright. “He’s awake? Where is he?” asked Ronnie.
“He went back to camp, remember? It was just after we began eating that he left to take some food to the camp.”
“Well,” began Ronnie “Maybe he’s okay-”
“I saw a wild boar tonight,” I said breathlessly.
“It didn’t hurt me, but Harold is alone. What if he is still down and can’t move? How will he defend himself against a wild boar like that we’ve got to get back there!” I said with a quivering voice.
Ronnie and I started running through the dense bush, stumbling with heavy legs over the spaghetti of vines. I tried to will my feet to step higher, but I couldn’t seem to summon the energy.
“Hold it! Hold it!” Shouted Ronnie, grabbing my arm. “Do you remember how to find the beach? I don’t.”
I stopped, looked around, struggling to sharpen my senses that were dulled by the fatigue and discomfort. In the darkness, all directions seemed equally possible. “I can’t see it,” I finally said. “I can barely see anything, Ronnie.
“Be quiet,” ordered Ronnie. “Now what do you hear?”
“I hear mosquitoes, and lots of them!”
“Listen to the silence,” Ronnie insisted.
I fought the impulse to run from the insects that were devouring me. Instead, I forced myself to open my ears and mind. There is buzzing, sure. Against a backdrop of nothing, it seemed to me as loud as a squadron of planes. I slowly became aware of other, quieter sounds- the scurrying of small nocturnal birds and animals; the rustle of the wind in palm fronds; and, over it all, a distance, rhythmic pounding. My brain was working in slow motion, which explained the delayed reaction.
“The surf!” I finally shouted.
“This way!” said Ronnie pointing into a direction. A few minutes later, we broke out of the trees. All this running served to clear my head a little. I offered up a high five that Ronnie took a weak slap at.
“We made it!” I said, giving a relief sigh. But the celebration was short lived.
With the moon providing our only source of light I noticed that some of our belongings scattered around, broken even.
“Jack! You have to come and take a look at this!” Ronnie shouted, his voice was trembling with fear.
An indentation in the soft sand showed that someone had been lying there.
“Is that...is that what I think it is?” I asked with terror in my voice as I noticed the odd puddles of liquid next to the indentation. Ronnie’s face stared blankly at me with wide, horrific eyes. Frightened by his expression, and by what we have seen, it must have also matched mine as I took in a sudden intake of breath. My shoulders shook in fear and it was not until I took another look was when I noticed that the odd liquid was indeed blood.
In addition, Harold...was nowhere to be seen.