Dom Wars: Round 6 (12 page)

Only Tara’s grasp on my hand held me back. “We need to be careful. From here on, we’re more likely to run into Duff. Don’t you think? That would be the smart move for him. He could just hang on the beach and wait for the teams to leave the jungle, and stop everyone with very little effort.”

Her words sank in and I forced myself to think beyond the ice sensation trickling down my spine. Despite the constant threat of deadly traps, Jase Duff had remained at a certain physical distance in my mind. Suddenly, he was right there, on the other side of the trees.

Preacher caught my eye and nodded, confirming he agreed with Tara. “Short break. Everybody drink up. And while you’re at it, make sure your weapons are within reach.”

We all complied, checking that our blades could be easily drawn. The walking sticks we all carried had been sharpened to needle-sharp spear points, carefully hardened in our campfires. Following Preacher’s example, we tested the strength of the shafts, and check that the points remained intact.

Rather than moving on immediately, Preacher shrugged out of his pack. The bundle he’d tied to one side came lose into his hands with one tug of the length of paracord he’d used to secure it. Resting on his haunches, he unwrapped the giant leaves he’d fastened around the object, finally revealing the contents.

Four clubs, with sharpened stones embedded in the business end, lay there. With a grim expression, Preacher handed one to each of us. “I don’t think I need to explain what these are intended to do.” He hefted his own club. “If you get within reach of Jase Duff, use it like a baseball bat. The face and the sides of the skull will be the most damaging points of contact.”

Sweat slicked the wood where it rested in my palm. A sick feeling snaked in my stomach at the idea of using it. Because if I did, that meant the person would surely die. I suddenly wasn’t so sure I wanted to kill a man literally. Maim, yes. Torture even. But kill? There was no coming back from that. And ever since Preacher planted all his God crap in my head, that suddenly was a topic of concern.

Satisfied our defenses were the best he could provide, Preacher stood and slung his pack to his shoulder. When he started onward, we resumed our positions and moved with him, grimly aware of what probably waited just ahead.

A few yards further on, the vegetation just stopped, with only a very narrow transition. Suddenly we were standing on a broad strip of rocky beach, with maybe two hundred yards between us and the waves rolling smoothly in. I took Tara’s hand in my free one.

Our elevation, a couple of feet higher than the water’s edge, revealed a series of massive rocks further out, protecting the shore. The heavy waves out there pounded relentlessly against the stone guardians to create the strange noise we’d heard earlier. Without the muffling quality of the foliage, it rose to an annoying volume. It must be deafening out there on the rocks.

“Stay close to the edge of the jungle for now. We’ll be sitting ducks out there.” Squinting against the ocean breeze, Preacher carefully surveyed our surroundings from left to right.

I took out our map and began to match up the visible features with the crudely drawn landmarks. It shouldn’t be difficult to pinpoint our location. Satisfied I knew where we were, I turned toward the right. “The boat should be just around that little arm of land there.”

Preacher nodded. “We have a decision to make then. We can fall back into the jungle a few yards for cover, or we can take the faster route out here in the open.” He turned to check the position of the sun. “As bad as I hate to say it, we don’t have a lot of daylight left. If we want to get to that damn boat first, we’d better haul ass. Bane?”

Fuck. “The second-last thing I want is another night on this rock. The last thing I want is to give that psychotic bastard a chance at hurting Tara. The sensible thing would be to stay out of sight, and Duff knows that, I’m sure. He’ll count on me wanting to keep Tara safe. That tree-line is probably riddled with nasty little surprises.”

“True.” Preacher nodded. “The beach it is, then.” Decision made, he lost no time and started immediately up the beach. “Ladies, stay close behind me. Bane, bring up the rear and watch our flanks carefully. Tara, Becca, I want you both watching to the sides as far ahead and as far back as you can see. Remember, he can attack just as easily from near the water as from the trees.”

All business, Becca fell in directly behind him, only a few paces back, and Tara followed closely. “Becca, I’ll watch the beach side, if it’s okay with you.”

“Of course. We can alternate periodically so we aren’t deceived by the monotony of looking at the same thing for a long period.”

“Good.” Tara glanced back at me with a nervous little smile. She had to be terrified, but she sure as fuck wasn’t going to show it. Anyone watching her would think she was just taking a walk on a beach for the hell of it.

Pride for her courage swelled my chest. No matter who won the million dollars, I was the real winner of Dom Wars. I’d won the treasure of a lifetime in Tara. Nothing else mattered except getting us both out of here alive.

Compared to the heavy, wet air in the jungle, the constant breeze on the beach was a glorious break. We rounded the small spit of land that sheltered our exit from the tree-line and my heart skipped a beat at spotting the boat in the distance, not far off the shore. Tara and Becca didn’t hold back their excitement and jumped up and down at seeing it while I quickly scanned the coast for other team members. At finding it soulless—save our worn out asses—the urge to
run
to that fucking boat was staggering. I waited for Preacher’s call, who held back, for no doubt extremely warranted caution, on what we’d do.

The weather on this arm of the beach was oddly serene and in stark contrast to the storm brewing inside me. The nagging that something needed to still go wrong. The feeling only grew stronger the closer we got to the small boat and I blamed Jase’s last cruel
no trap
at the flag. It held its very own cruelty and torment, not setting a trap when you knew they would be waiting for one.

“Remove all your gear, we’ll leave it here. I’ll keep the bag with the flags. “We’re making a run for it, I have a bad feeling.”

I don’t think any of us had ever been more thrilled with a decision as we dropped our gear and took off toward the finish line at an eager run, my eye on the tree line on our right, waiting any second for other teams to burst from it and beat us there.

We finally arrived at a point we could reach the boat anchored a few hundred yards offshore. Sand dunes surrounded the area farther out beyond it, which explained why the brilliant aqua water was so serene.

I looked around for the fiftieth time for any signs of other teams, as Preacher peeled off his shirt and bent to remove his boots and we all followed suit.

We charged into the water, piss warm water. I shot a quick glance behind us and then in Preacher’s direction. In a matter of seconds, we’d pushed hard through the water and reached a level that allowed us to swim full force towards the boat. The water remained tepid as we closed the distance. It was hard staying at the rear when I wanted to plow through the water to the boat but I was going to guard the fucking rear even if the anticipation killed me.

We finally made it and Preacher grabbed the ladder up the boat’s hull. “Let me check first,” he said, going up. I followed him, at a point I couldn’t tread water and do nothing.

The deck was eerily silent, and the boat stood rock still, rather than moving gently with the water as I’d have expected.

“Are we supposed to crew it ourselves?” I asked, climbing over the top of the ladder.

He opened a door that led below deck. “I don’t think so.”

With only one bowie knife, gripped tightly in his right hand, Preacher advanced down. Quiet alarm crept through me, and I followed him to the small wheelhouse. I glanced back when Tara’s head came into view at the top of the ladder and I quickly motioned her to stay put with a firm palm. I took a moment to check the beach for our competition and found it still empty. I wanted to be grateful but couldn’t, not with the doom going on.

“Fuck,” Preacher muttered.

I jerked toward him and hurried to the wheelhouse door, looking carefully inside. The smashed instrument panel caught my attention first, then the snarled tangle of wires hanging from the throttle lever. A pool of inky fluid spread from a compartment below the instruments.

“Shit,” I muttered. “This is more like it. This is what I fucking expected.” I gasped and looked around, that sick dread that had been riding my ass the entire day flooding in.

“Bane? You better come down here.” Preacher’s utter calm added to the shit storm in my gut.

I continued farther in and the smell hit my nose, a sharp metallic odor. Preacher was already on to studying other things in the tiny room below, while I stared in sick shock at the skinny dead man, laying on the cot, huge hole in his emptied stomach. Gutted. Like some animal. The sight and the smell combined jerked my stomach with a violent heave and I shot out and barely made it to the boat edge to vomit. Fear shot through me as I hurried to the ladder to make sure the women were okay. At finding them waiting at the bottom of the ladder, I gasped in relief.

“What’s going on?” Tara demanded, “Can we come up?”

I shook my head and both of their faces fell with dread.

“What is going on Bane?” Becca hissed. “We have a right to know!”

“Jase Duff sabotaged the fucking boat.” He’d trapped all the teams here on the island with him.

Tara’s eyes remained wide with alarm, and shook her head as if she refused to believe my words. “We can’t be stuck. Surely they know, there’s cameras everywhere, I’m sure they’ll be here.” She raised her camera and stared at it. “Hello? We need help here. NOW! We’re stranded, the man on the island that you hired has sabotaged the boat and we can’t leave. We can’t leave!”

I didn’t want her on the boat. I didn’t want to tell her what else was there, how serious this actually was, far more than sabotaging.

I hurried down the ladder and drew her into my arms, not surprised to find her trembling. I stroked down her spine, trying to ease her fears. “I got you, babe. It’ll be okay. They’ll send help.” While she gradually calmed, Preacher came over the edge of the boat and descended the ladder. Something told me he’d spare no details and I braced for the impact it’d have on Tara.

“We need to get off this boat and back on shore. The host on the island has officially lost his mind.”

“What is going on?” Becca demanded. “I want to know all of this.”

Preacher made his way down the ladder and got in the water and gave her the news like a weather forecast. “The man has finished losing his mind. There’s a dead man in the boat with his guts missing.”

Becca stared at him then me while I shhh’d Tara’s mumblings of building hysteria.

“Listen to me!” Preacher’s voice boomed. “We’re going to have to back on the island. And find this fucker’s base. Pray there’s a communication device. And radio for help. Are. We clear?”

The total warfare in Preacher’s tone seemed to lasso Tara’s runaway control and she nodded rapidly. “Okay, okay. I’m fine.” She looked at me and nodded. “I’m fine.”

“Good.” Preacher passed a bloodthirsty gaze over each of us. “The fucker was thorough in destroying anything and everything we might want to use on this boat. So we go back to shore, get our gear, and we hunt him down. Look at me.” He waited for all of our gazes to lock on him. “We are getting off this fucking island… one way or another.”

Chapter Fourteen

Even with Lucian right at my rear, every step up the beach increased the dread filling my gut. We should have been on that boat, getting away from this place, not trudging back toward the jungle. Preacher had us pause long enough to get dressed again and armed with our clubs.

A glance over my shoulder froze me in my tracks. Thick black smoke rolled over the water, obscuring the boat. “The boat’s on fire!”

Preacher turned and stared, shaking his head. “Thank God we weren’t on it.”

We stared for a few minutes, and I wondered if I was the only one that felt like we watched the last chance to survive go up in smoke.

Lucian took my free hand in his and turned to Preacher. “Where do you think the other teams are? Maybe when they find out what’s going on, they would want to join with us.”

“Don’t count on it.” Preacher scanned the wall of jungle before us. “They may think we’re part of the sabotaging.”

We headed into the trees, Preacher in the lead, then Becca and me, and Lucian bringing up the rear. The feminist in me rebelled at Becca and me being put in the protected position in the middle. The scared human in me was incredibly grateful, and that part currently outweighed everything else.

A few yards into the jungle, and twilight shaded everything, requiring a few minutes for my eyes to adapt. A spot of bright color partway up a tree seemed oddly out of place, but I couldn’t make out exactly what it was.

I kept watching it, trying to figure out what made it seem familiar, yet strange at the same time. Nothing I’d seen in the jungle thus far had that specific mixture of yellowish white and brilliant red, with splashes of various shades of red in what seemed like a random pattern.

Preacher gave the signal to stop and pointed quietly at what I was studying. Becca moved up beside Preacher and they stared at it. Preacher barely turned his head toward us. “Everyone stay here, armed and on guard. Bane, watch closely.”

We moved into the defensive positions we’d rehearsed since early on in our attempt to be proactive as a team. It wasn’t easy to resist the urge to watch every move Preacher made, but we did. We had to be alert for any threat that might come. Putting up something to get our attention would be the ideal way to get close and attack us. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Preacher’s expression as he stared up at whatever hung in that tree, then he headed back to us. “That’s a body in the tree. The German woman. Gutted. Bane? We need to fucking keep moving, my brother. We need to all be ready to kill. Do you understand me?” Preacher’s hard tone was hushed and filled with something lethal. He eyed me and Becca especially, and we both nodded vigorously. Lucian didn’t ask questions or say a word and Becca and I followed any and all directions to perfection as we went away from that tree. The rough ground made us pick our way slowly as I tried to remember the German woman’s name. The streaks of yellowish white and red was her hair with blood smeared through it. She’d been hung in the tree several feet from the ground. Beyond that, I avoided looking. I didn’t want to know what created all those other colors. It was enough to know she’d been slaughtered and left there for us to find.