Dark Island Book 1 (Complete)

Chapter 24

It felt like minutes had passed as I stood motionless on my knees, hiding, uncertain of what, if anything, I should do. I slowly raised my head from the carpet of green ferns, noticing one of the men had a machete in his right hand. He raised his hand and struck the body; be-heading the corpse. Instantly, I looked away, I could feel the fear starting to build up at what I just witnessed. Frightened, I crawled back to Ronnie, he’s body shivered, his face pale.
“Do you think they saw us?” Whispered Ronnie with a quivering voice.
“I don’t think so, we...just need to stay put. Don’t move a muscle.”
Ronnie nodded in agreement. He slowly leaned forward, toward the bush, trying to peak at the sighting of the two men. Then...
“Twik”
My gaze quickly shifted to Ronnie. “What was that noise?” I whispered silently.
“Oh gosh! I think...I stepped on a piece of branch or something,” said Ronnie nervously. From the expression on his face, I could tell that he was going to freak out any moment.
“Calm down,” I said “Just stay quiet and don’t move.”
The one man stood up from the ground, lowering his machete from his chest to his hip, he let his shoulders slump a little. The only thing that we could hear, besides our own breathing, was footsteps.
I guess their surveying the area now. I thought to myself as sweat started running across my face. From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the men standing just on the other side of the bush where we were hiding behind.
I slowly turned my head to face Ronnie. The shock I saw on his face, the utter drop-jaw shock, told me everything that I knew were going to happen.
He was going to run...
Ronnie suddenly jumped up and started running into the dense jungle.
“Ronnie? What are you-” I wanted to continue, but the sounds of heavy breathing came through the branches from behind me, like an entity taunting a living being.
I froze for a moment, and then pulled out my .38 from my right front pocket. On the walk from the beach, I imagined it being stuck in there- imagined it with nightmarish clarity- but it came out smoothly.
My heart raced as I hear the branches cracking and breaking. From between them, the face of one of the men appeared. I stumbled onto my back. My body started to shiver, a cold chill piercing through my spine as I gazed into the emotionless, expressionless face. My heart pounding as I swayed the .38 into his direction with my quivering hands. Sweat ran across my face. I closed my eyes, and then came a low, emphatic pluh sound, like someone clearing his throat. Warm blood splattered over my face and body as the giant fell down next to me, crushing the bush.
Frightened, I staggered to get up on my feet. My heart thumping even more. Seconds later, I regained my balance, and started peering in every direction for the second man.
There were two, I remembered.
From the corner of my eye, I spotted the second man, standing upright a few feet away. I noticed the machete; tightly gripped, in his hands.
“Move back, or I’ll shoot you too.” I shouted, but then realized he probably doesn’t understand me.
The man didn’t move back, but didn’t move closer either. I raised my gun.
If you even start to tell, or call out to your buddies, I’ll shoot. You better believe me, asshole, because I’m not even close to kidding, I said to myself.
Then a thought struck me. Wait a minute, are you crazy? If you keep on firing, more of them will probably hear and show up.
The man started to walk slowly toward me. I backed up, with the gun held stiffly out in front of me. After a few seconds, he stopped moving. He was just standing there, as if he were toying me, wanted me to make the first move.
Suddenly, a blinding white light shot through the air, almost like a lightning strike. I staggered backwards, trying to shield my eyes. Upon opening my eyes again, I saw the man sprinting toward me. I stepped backward, tripped over a tree branch, and went sprawling. The gun flew from my hand. I went for it but the giant dropped in front of me slamming me backwards against the ground like a football tackle intent on sacking the quarterback.
Heart racing, I tried to reach for the gun, but it was too far to reach. Then I reached inside my left pocket and closed my hand around the handle of my dagger, aware that I was going to be too late.
The man is too big...too strong.
He lifted his one hand, ready to motion a strike toward me. I swayed my body to the side, missing the strike by inches. I drew the knife from my pocket, stumbled forward, and jammed it up to the hilt in his belly. He made a glassy-sound that tried to be a scream but failed. Finally, he staggered back, leaning against a tree, looking down at the handle of the dagger. Blood began to patter from beneath his lion’s clothing, onto his feet. He put his hands on the haft of the dagger, trying to tug it free, and made the glassy-sound again.
I could see the disbelief and shock on his face as he stared at me.
Then I remembered something that had happened on my fifteenth birthday. My father had given me a slingshot. Afterwards, I went out looking for things to shoot it with. At some point, five or six blocks away from our house, I saw a raggedy-eared stray dog rooting in a garage can. I found a small rock, placed it into my slingshot, and fired it at the dog, only meaning to scare the dog away, but hitting it in the rump instead. The dog made a miserable 'ike' sound and ran away. But before it did, it gave me a look of reproach I had never forgotten. I understand that killing was part of life- I felt no compunction about swatting mosquitoes, hunting fish and eating them- but then I had believed that I would never again be able to hurt something that way without feeling remorse or regret. I felt neither here, fighting these two men. I only felt fear.
The man was standing in a puddle of his own blood, and his outerwear, at last blooming with blood. His face was pale. His dark eyes, huge and glittery with shock. His tongue came out and swiped slowly across his lower lip. He then began to slide. His feet made blood-imprints on the ground as he tried to walk. He groped for a branch, trying to stay on his feet, but it broke and he fell back to his knees. I still felt no regret or remorse, only shock this time, but I had no urge to watch or prolong this man’s suffering, even if he wanted to kill me. I bent down to pick up my .38, then walked up to him, placing my gun to his temple, and pulled the trigger.