Richard DuBois - Last Resort

It seems we cannot get the words out fast enough, and as we speak our hands caress one another, lovingly lingering over every piece of exposed skin. Our words falter, trail off, because nothing is as important as the way we feel right now. She touches my thigh and my body responds. Our lips collide, hungrily devouring each other, hands clawing off what little clothing we have. Deep inside me, a tiny voice cries that we should not be doing this, we are in too great a danger, and we must flee. The roar of my passion obliterates any restraint. No thoughts of danger or death. Not now.

She draws me on top of her, needing me as much as I need her. In one push, I am deep inside her, and she grips my back, pulling me close, arching her back with animal lust.

Pulsing within her, I cradle her face in my hands. I need her to look at me. I need her to look into my eyes when I speak.

“I love you,” my words are thick with emotion. “I love you, I love… oh, Gwen, I love you.”

Light blossoms in the depth of her beautiful eyes as if a firecracker bursts into sparks, and I know, in that instant, she reaches ecstasy. I am not far behind her. She touches the stubble on my jaw and coos, “My Phillip. My love,” and with that I explode inside her.

We lay side by side, gasping for breath, hands entwined. Gwen bolts upright and grabs her dress. “Phillip, we’ve got to go. If they catch us…”

I hurriedly put my shorts back on and peek through the glass entrance door. “It’s daybreak. I don’t see anyone, but they’ll all be awake soon. We cannot climb the cliff wall, so we’ll have to make a dash for the lagoon.”

“But they’ll hear us,” she shimmies into her dress.

“By the time they realize what we’re doing we’ll be long gone.”

“Conner will follow me.”

I furrow my brows. She is right. Conner will never let Gwen get away.

“Then let him follow,” I grimly reply, and extend my hand to her. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

We start to run for the burnt out lagoon bridge, but Gwen stops me. “We can’t leave without Pamela.”

Her face is anguished. As sorely as I want to get away from the resort, I know that Pamela would be in a terrible position if we leave her behind. Bereft of Gwen, her only ally and friend, Pamela would be at Conner’s mercy.

“Okay,” I agree. “We’ll make it quick.”

We take twenty steps in Pamela’s direction, round the corner of a bungalow and run right into Robby. He is outside his bungalow, smoking a cigarette, and is as shocked to see me as I am to see him. The cigarette falls from his mouth. Before he can yell for help, I pounce on him, knocking him backwards. I try to cover his mouth, but he uses the advantage of his bulk to flip me over, pressing his forearm down on my throat. My face turns red and my eyes bulge.

Rob heaves his weight onto his forearm, bringing his ruddy, leering face close to mine. Whap! Something wet sprays on my brow. Robby’s mouth hangs open, as though he was about to say something important but then completely forgot what it was. He rolls off me with my hatchet sticking out of the back of his skull.

“I… I had to. He was killing you,” Gwen stands back in shock over what she just did.

I wipe the blood from my brow and rest my hands on her shoulders. “It’s okay, baby. You had no choice.”

Someone makes a little gasp. We turn to see Robby’s girlfriend. She wears a rumpled nightie and her hair is flat on one side. She sees Robby lying face down on the ground and screams.

We run. No time for Pamela. Robby’s girlfriend continues to scream. People shout from their bungalows. Doors swing open as people stomp outside. Torches flare to life. If we can make it to the lagoon bridge, we can run to the point where it ends and swim the short distance that remains to the other side. Bob and Dean get there ahead of us. We skid to a halt. Dean looks at me as though seeing a ghost. Bob wields a crow bar and viciously swings it at me, driving me back from the bridge. We dash the other way, but by now numerous people stream in our direction, their torches bobbing in the darkness.

I grab Gwen’s hand and stop her. “It’s no use. We can’t get away.”

Frantic, she pulls on my arm. “Yes we can! C’mon!”

“No, Gwen,” I refuse to budge. “It’s got to end now—tonight.”

Her shoulders sag and her lips trembles. I lead her up the stairs to the restaurant, pause at the top of the steps, look into her eyes and say, “Whatever happens, know that I love you… that I have always loved you, even when I thought I didn’t.”

She bites her lower lip and seems on the verge of tears.

“Over here!” I shout, summoning everyone to us.

One by one, the remaining inhabitants of the resort file into the restaurant and stare at me in wonder.

“Action and his gang are all dead. I killed them,” I announce. “You don’t have to live under Conner’s rule anymore.”

“It’s true,” Gwen vigorously nods. “The fire we saw tonight—Action and his gang were on that boat. It went down and took his whole gang with it. Phillip’s the only one who made it back to shore.”

The people around us murmur amongst themselves. Seizing the momentum, I press on. “The time has come to work with the islanders—to grow crops and catch fish. If we all work together there should be enough food for everyone.”

My words sink in, and several people seem inclined to hear me out. More encouraging, no one makes a move to apprehend me. Conner bounds up the stairs with murder in his eyes and his axe clenched in both fists.

To my surprise, Jonas Dunlap protectively steps in front of me and faces Conner.

“It is over, Conner. We are taking back control of our resort,” Jonas holds out his hand. “Give me the keys.”

Conner snorts incredulously. “Have you all lost your minds? Look at him,” he jabs a finger in my direction. “This runt tells you he killed all the thugs and you fall all over yourselves, believing every word of it.”

Jonas exhales slowly. “We all saw the boat burn tonight, and wondered what happened. Now we know,” he points out the chain around Conner’s neck and beckons with his open palm. “The keys,” he repeats.

Conner yanks the chain from his neck, reaches to hand them to Jonas, but then drops them on the wooden floor. “You want them… come take them,” his mouth freezes into the semblance of a smile.

Jonas moves to retrieve the keys. “Not you,” Conner levels the axe at Jonas, and then points to me, “Him. Let him come and get them.”

I step forth from the crowd. Gwen clings to my arm. I raise her hand to my lips, kiss it softly, and then say to Conner, “Drop the axe.”

Conner smirks and tosses the axe to the floor. He steps back from the keys and waves for me to come forward. I scoop to pick them up, but we both know the keys are just a pretext for the final battle. Conner springs at me before I reach the keys. I am ready. Skirting to the side, I catch him solidly in the chest with my knee. I try to leap on him from behind, but Conner lands a solid right hook to my eye. I stagger backwards and crash against one of the square, wooden poles that support the roof. As I fall back, Conner grabs his axe, and raises it overhead, swinging with all his strength for my skull.

At the last second, I drop to the floor and his axe lodges in the wooden pole with such force that the timbers vibrate. I charge Conner from below, slamming into his waist, intending to push him back. It is impossible. He outweighs me by too much. I would have better luck pushing a tree. He grabs a fistful of my hair, jerks my head up, and slams his fist into my nose. I have the sensation of stumbling back, and in the next instant, my back hits the thick rope that cordons the deck from the beach below. I somersault over the rope and crash flat on my belly on the sand. Blood pours out of my nose. It must be broken. My face feels as though an elephant stepped on it.