Dead Island (24 page)

By the time they finally arrived at the burial site, Sam was beginning to regret telling Logan that he’d rather be doing something than nothing. It was still only 10 a.m., but the reflection of the sun on the pale ground was enough to make him wish he’d thought to ask Mowen if he could borrow his shades, and every outcrop of rock he touched with his hands or brushed against with his leg was red hot. He was relieved when Koritoia-Ope stopped and pointed at a carved stone arch jutting from the mouth of the cave, which was stoppered by a boulder just as tall and at least three times as wide as Sam himself.

The witch doctor unleashed a stream of words, nodding and pointing to emphasize what he was saying.

Purna nodded back at him. ‘I think this is it,’ she muttered to Sam.

Sam shrugged off his backpack and delved inside, grateful that he’d heeded Mowen’s advice to bring plenty of water. Finding a full litre bottle he unscrewed the cap, gulped several mouthfuls and poured some over his head. He was almost surprised when the water didn’t sizzle and evaporate on contact with his skin.

‘Don’t waste it,’ said Purna. ‘We’ve got the return journey to make yet, remember.’

‘Yeah, I was thinking about that, and I figure I might catch the bus back,’ said Sam.

Koritoia-Ope waited patiently while Sam and Purna rehydrated. Purna offered him the water bottle, but he simply looked at it with a mixture of suspicion, perplexity and contempt before shaking his head. Certainly he didn’t seem to be affected by the heat; his skin appeared as dry and leathery now as when they had started out. Walking up to the boulder plugging the cave entrance, he made a pushing gesture with his hands.

‘Great,’ said Sam. ‘Manual labour. Just what we need.’

‘If you don’t stop moaning I may be forced to break your nose,’ Purna said mildly.

Sam laughed. ‘Man, I bet you are one high-maintenance chick.’

‘You better believe it.’

Shrugging off their backpacks and laying their guns carefully on top of them, Sam and Purna walked forward and placed their hands on the boulder. Once again the witch doctor made a pushing gesture.

‘I think we get the general idea,’ muttered Purna.

Gritting their teeth, Sam and Purna pushed as hard as they could. At first the rock seemed immovable, but eventually it shifted a little before settling again.

‘I think we need to rock it,’ Purna said.

‘I been rocking it all my life,’ replied Sam.

They tried again, coordinating their movements, giving the boulder a series of shoves rather than trying to shift it with one sustained effort. Sure enough, after ten seconds or so, the boulder began to rock backwards and forwards, just a little at first, and then more and more as it gained momentum. Finally, face sheened with sweat, Purna said, ‘One more big one … Now!’

The two of them grunted and heaved, and the rock rolled aside before toppling over with a crash.

Released from the cave, a wave of air rolled out and over them, and although they welcomed its chilliness, Purna and Sam wrinkled their noses at its fetid odour. They turned to the witch doctor, who was chattering excitedly. Purna pointed at the dark cave opening. ‘We can go in?’ she asked.

Even though they were unsure whether Koritoia-Ope had understood the question, they took his answering nod as confirmation. Retrieving their guns and backpacks, they ventured inside, Sam first, Purna just behind him and the witch doctor bringing up the rear.

The interior of the cave was dank and cold and dark, the ground uneven. Indeed, immediately upon entering, there was a series of natural steps, which all but cut off the spill of daylight from outside and resulted in the floor level quickly dropping by several metres. Purna took a flashlight from her backpack and shone it around. The passage ahead was narrow and winding, the walls rising up from it in a curve. It made Sam think of that old story about Jonah in the belly of the whale.

‘How far?’ he asked the witch doctor, but the old man simply waved him on, the jangle of the bone bracelets on his wrist echoing eerily. They ventured forward, wary of stumbling and turning an ankle or worse on the slippery floor.

In fact, it wasn’t long before the passage widened out into a huge cavern, the ceiling high above their heads and the walls lined with row upon row of alcoves hacked from the rock. In each of the alcoves had been laid a body, virtually all of which were now nothing more than exposed grey bones and mummified flesh, the bindings they had been lovingly wrapped in having perished to grey scraps as insubstantial as cobwebs.

Looking around, Sam said glumly, ‘A couple of years, West said. But these guys look as if they’ve been dead for centuries.’

Koritoia-Ope, however, was already pushing past them, taking the lead, gesturing towards a black opening on the far side of the cavern. He spoke urgently, nodding all the while.

‘This is obviously the oldest cavern,’ Purna said. ‘I guess once this one was full, the Kuruni had to go deeper. That’s where the fresher meat will be.’

‘Nice,’ said Sam.

They moved on, passing through the valve-like opening on the far side of the cavern into another narrow tunnel. Purna’s flashlight beam slithered around the walls, highlighting the gleam of dampness and the black ridged shadows in a startling and somehow primal chiaroscuro.

After another fifty metres or so the tunnel widened into a second vast cavern, the walls of this one too resembling a vast hive for the dead. As Purna had guessed, the bodies were fresher here, as evidenced not only by the sight of them, but also the smell.

Sam felt his gorge rise and swallowed it down with an effort. Taking shallow breaths, he muttered, ‘Let’s get this done quick. It ain’t nice in here.’

‘Shh,’ Purna said.

‘What’s up?’

She raised a hand. ‘Just be quiet a minute.’

Sam stood still and listened, holding his breath. He could hear the steady drip of water, and something else too. A scratching sound.

‘What’s that? Rats?’

Purna’s flashlight beam danced across to her left. ‘It’s coming from over there.’

As soon as she began to head in the direction she had indicated, Koritoia-Ope ran across and stepped angrily in front of her, blocking out her flashlight beam, shaking his head and waving his hands.

‘What’s with him?’ said Sam.

Purna halted, looking at the agitated witch doctor thoughtfully, but she didn’t retreat. ‘There’s obviously something he doesn’t want us to see.’

‘Something alive, from the sound of it,’ said Sam.

‘Or some
one
,’ she replied.

Koritoia-Ope stepped even closer to her, put his hands on her arms to steer her away. Purna shrugged him off.

‘Get off me. What are you hiding?’

The witch doctor jabbered at her, his eyes flashing, his lips curling back to reveal teeth sharpened to points.

Stepping back from him, Purna raised her flashlight and shone it around his body on to the opposite wall. Between two rows of alcoves was an arched opening sealed not only by a stone slab but a boulder almost as big as the one at the mouth of the cave, which had been wedged up against the slab to keep it firmly in place.

‘Hey!’ Purna shouted, her voice echoing around the walls. ‘Anyone in there?’

There was a renewed flurry of scratching.

‘There
is
someone!’ Purna said.

‘Unless it’s some kind of animal,’ replied Sam.

‘Knock if you can hear me,’ Purna shouted.

There was a pause, and then a bout of weak but unmistakeable pounding from the other side of the slab.

Without hesitation, Purna swung her rifle from her shoulder and pointed it at Koritoia-Ope. ‘Step back,’ she said.

The witch doctor looked almost incredulously at the gun and started speaking again. Although they didn’t know what he was saying, they could tell from his tone that he was pleading with them, trying to make them understand the folly of what they were doing.

‘Back off,’ Purna said more firmly, jerking the gun to indicate that he should move aside.

Koritoia-Ope looked furious. Clearly he thought she was doing something very foolish indeed. He began to rant at her again, waving his arms.

‘I
said … Back. Off
.’ She jabbed him with the barrel of the gun, forcing him to retreat a few steps.

Koritoia-Ope shook his head and controlled himself with an effort. When he next began to speak he did so quietly and earnestly, clearly trying to appeal to her reason.

‘Sam, do you think you can roll that boulder away from the door?’ she said.

‘I can try,’ said Sam. Hesitating, he added, ‘You do think we’re doing the right thing here, don’t you?’

Purna flashed him a disbelieving look. ‘Releasing someone who’s been sealed behind a wall and left to die? You can’t be serious?’

‘Yeah, but what if it’s like … a criminal or something? What if it’s someone who’s done something really bad?’

‘That still doesn’t mean they deserve this.’

‘Or, OK, what if it’s a custom or some kind of ritual we’re messing with? You know, like the Aztecs? They had that whole Perfect Victim thing going on. Guys who
wanted
to be sacrificed to the gods, ’cos it was like this great honour.’

The pounding, though weakening now, was still continuing.

‘I get the feeling that whoever’s in there doesn’t really want to be,’ Purna said.

‘OK,’ Sam said, holding up his hands to concede the point. Watched by a horrified Koritoia-Ope, he walked forward and put his shoulder to the rock. Using all his strength, he heaved, and little by little was able to push the boulder away from the door. Without the boulder jamming it in place, the slab was easier to shift. It scraped, centimetre by centimetre, across the rocky ground until there was a gap big enough for someone to slip through.

Still keeping Koritoia-Ope covered with the rifle, Purna handed Sam the flashlight. He shone it into the gap between the slab and the doorframe, and his eyes widened.

‘Holy shit!’ he said.

Purna glanced at him. ‘What do you see?’

‘A girl,’ said Sam. He held up his free hand in a calming gesture, clearly intended for the girl to see, and said, ‘It’s OK.’

‘A Kuruni girl?’ Purna asked.

‘Maybe, but she’s wearing normal clothes. Western clothes, I mean. She’s been tied up and gagged.’ Even as he was saying this, Sam was laying the flashlight aside, crouching down and reaching forward through the gap.

‘It’s OK,’ Purna heard him say again, his voice slightly muffled. ‘We’re here to help. We ain’t gonna hurt you.’

Next moment he was backing out of the gap with a young girl in his arms. She looked half-dead, her clothes torn and dirty, her face filthy and tear-streaked, her head lolling.

Gently Sam lay her down on the rock-strewn floor of the cavern and tried to untie the vines securing her wrists.

‘Shit,’ he said after a moment. ‘This is impossible. You got a knife or somethin’?’

‘In my backpack,’ said Purna, one eye on the girl, one on the witch doctor.

Sam found the knife and returned to the girl. He cut away the gag around her mouth and then the vines securing her wrists and ankles. He winced at the ugly red weals caused by her constraints and hoped that the loss of circulation in her hands and feet hadn’t caused her any permanent damage.

‘You’re OK,’ he kept saying, ‘you’re safe now.’

Although she seemed dazed, the girl nodded.

‘You understand what I’m saying?’ said Sam, surprised.

‘Yes,’ whispered the girl.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Yerema.’

‘Hi, Yerema. I’m Sam and this here’s—’

Before he could say Purna’s name, there was a sudden shriek and Koritoia-Ope leaped forward. Taking advantage of Purna’s momentary distraction caused by Yerema’s confirmation that she could speak English, he shoved the Australian girl aside and snatched up a jagged fist-sized rock from the floor. Still shrieking, he kicked Sam hard in the side of the head with the flat of his foot, stunning him, and raised the rock, clearly intending to smash it down on the girl’s head.

He was just about to deliver the first blow when two shots rang out. Koritoia-Ope was hurled forward across the girl’s body, ragged bullet holes opening in his back and gushing blood. The rock dropped from his hand and rolled harmlessly away into the darkness. For a few seconds there was silence.

Then Sam groaned and sat up, rubbing his head. A little dazed, he looked at the dead witch doctor sprawled across the terrified girl’s body.

‘Oh, good work,’ he muttered.

‘I had no choice,’ said Purna tightly.

‘You OK?’ he asked Yerema.

The girl gave a single jerky nod.

Sam grabbed Koritoia-Ope’s arm and hauled him off Yerema’s body, then helped her to sit up. Turning his head to look at Purna he said, ‘Let’s just get that sample and get the hell out of here.’

‘
HEY
, YOU’RE BACK! So how’d it go?’

Logan jumped up from his bunk as Sam walked in to the tiny room they were sharing at the research centre. Sam groaned, shrugged off his backpack and dumped it in the corner along with his gun.

‘Don’t ask,’ he said, staggering over to his own bunk and collapsing on to it.

‘Already did,’ said Logan. ‘So come on. Spill the beans.’

Sam’s legs were humming with tiredness. He thought that if he closed his eyes he might sleep for a week. ‘Well, we got the sample,’ he muttered. ‘Purna’s giving it to West now. That’s the good news.’

‘Which means there’s bad,’ said Logan.

‘Uh,’ Sam grunted.

‘“Uh”? What does “uh” mean? I know you’ve walked a million miles today, but if you don’t tell me I’ll just keep on asking till it drives you insane.’

Sam groaned again and shuffled halfway upright, folding his pillow to prop up his head. ‘That witch doctor guy’s dead,’ he said.

‘Shit! No way, man! What happened?’

‘Purna shot him.’

Logan blinked. ‘Oh-K. Any particular reason? He look at her funny or somethin’?’

Briefly Sam told Logan what had happened up at the burial site. When he had finished Logan asked, ‘So who
is
this Yerema chick?’