Mark Morris - Dead Island

Kevin regarded her shrewdly. ‘Why should White help you ?’

‘His wife’s sick,’ replied Sam. ‘We got something for him.’

‘Oh? And what’s that?’

‘A vaccine. We hope,’ said Purna.

‘You hope?’

‘It hasn’t been properly tested,’ she admitted.

‘We had a whole bunch of stuff going on at the time,’ added Logan. ‘We just never got round to it.’

Kevin glanced at the other prisoners, who were sitting stoically, allowing him to do the talking. ‘Maybe we can help each other,’ he said.

‘No offence, but how can you help us ?’ said Sam.

‘I’m pretty sure Ryder White will be holed up in Sector Seven,’ Kevin said.

Xian Mei nodded. ‘Sector Seven, yes. That’s where he said we had to make for.’

‘In that case, I can show you the way there,’ said Kevin, ‘though in return I’d need a guarantee from you that as part of the deal for the vaccine you get White to agree to safe passage for myself and my friends off the island. As things stand, we’re trapped in here and rapidly running out of food and water, and no one seems to know or care. From the little I’ve been able to glean, I gather the situation on Banoi isn’t much better — in which case I doubt we’ll be high on anyone’s list of priorities.’

‘We don’t need you to show us the way,’ said Sam. ‘We got Ryder White to do that.’

Kevin sighed. ‘In that case, let me put it another way. If you don’t help us I’ll order Rafa there to cut your friend’s throat.’

‘He does that, we’ll shoot the lot of you,’ retorted Logan.

Kevin raised his eyebrows. ‘Will you really? You’d be prepared to gun down nine men in cold blood? If so, then frankly you’d be doing us a favour. Better to die quickly in a hail of bullets than slowly from starvation.’

Purna sighed. ‘No one needs to die. You described me as ruthless earlier, but I wouldn’t leave you to starve to death. You have my word on that.’

‘Your word,’ said Kevin. ‘Well, that’s wonderful. I’m sure that has set all our minds at rest.’

A couple of the prisoners sniggered.

‘Why not ring White now?’ Xian Mei suggested.

‘Yeah, do the deal so everyone can hear,’ added Logan.

Purna shrugged, took out her phone and punched in White’s number. All that came through, however, was static. She tried again with the same result.

‘Shit, I can’t get through,’ she said.

‘How convenient ,’ mocked Kevin.

‘So how’s he gonna help you get through to Sector Seven now?’ one of the other prisoners said snidely.

Purna glanced at him. ‘He’s monitoring our progress on CCTV, unlocking doors for us as we reach them.’

Kevin looked thoughtful. Finally he said, ‘All righty, here’s what’s going to happen. We’ll keep your friend there as insurance just in case you decide to run out on us. Don’t worry, she won’t come to any harm. You have my personal guarantee on that.’

Hearing his words, Jin whimpered. Sam said, ‘No way. She’s coming with us.’

Kevin raised his hands and said mildly, ‘Now come on, be reasonable. Do you honestly think—’

‘Fuck reasonable!’ barked Sam.

Raising a hand to take the heat out of the exchange, Purna explained, ‘We tried that once before. It didn’t work out for any of the parties concerned.’

Kevin sighed. ‘If this particular girl is the issue, then we’ll happily take that one.’ He nodded at Yerema.

‘No way.’ Sam shook his head. ‘We all stay together. No one gets left behind.’

Kevin pursed his lips, his brow furrowing slightly as if he were puzzling out a tricky conundrum. ‘In that case, that leaves only one alternative.’

‘Oh yeah? And what’s that?’ said Logan.

‘I’ll tag along personally. Make sure you do the deed.’

There was a rumble of discontent among the prisoners sitting around the table. One, a heavy-set black man with elaborate swirls shaved into the stubble at the side of his head, said, ‘What good that do? Soon as you leave this room, they shoot you dead.’

Kevin shook his head, his eyes never leaving Purna’s. ‘No,’ he said quietly, ‘I really don’t think they will. This one is the most dangerous, but she’s not dishonest. In fact, she’s a woman of honour .’

‘How you know that?’ said the black man.

Kevin flashed a smile that was almost charming. ‘I’m an excellent judge of character.’

‘What about the crazies?’ said another of the prisoners, a raddled, balding man in his fifties with a prominent Adam’s apple.

‘What do you think these are?’ Logan said, brandishing his gun. ‘Designer accessories?’

‘There’re too many of those things out there,’ said a rat-like man with spiky yellow hair. ‘They bite you, they even drool on you, you’re fucked, dude.’

‘Not us,’ said Sam. ‘We’re immune.’ He rolled up the leg of his jeans, peeled back the bandage on his calf and showed them his bite. ‘Check it out.’

There were murmurs both of wonder and disquietude. ‘You all immune?’ said the big black guy.

‘All except for Jin,’ said Purna. ‘Speaking of which …’

‘Oh, of course. Sorry,’ said Kevin. He raised a hand and flicked a finger. ‘Unhand the young lady please, Rafa.’

Rafa did so, albeit reluctantly, and Jin gasped and dashed forward, all but collapsing into Xian Mei’s arms.

‘I don’t think this is a good idea,’ Rafa muttered.

‘Yes, well, thinking’s never been your strong suit, has it, Rafa?’ Kevin said, eliciting a few titters from the other men.

He stood up slowly, then clapped his hands together and smiled, like a vicar contemplating a church outing.

‘Right then,’ he said. ‘Shall we go?’

‘SO WHAT’S DIRECTLY behind this door?’

‘Let me draw you a diagram,’ Kevin said in answer to Purna’s question. ‘Rafa, if I could borrow your knife for a moment?’

Eyeing Purna, Sam and the rest of the group with the sullen resentment of a small boy who fears he is about to have his favourite toy taken away from him, Rafa pulled the knife from his belt and passed it across the table to Kevin.

‘Thank you,’ Kevin said, and turned briefly to beam at Purna. Waving the knife casually he said, ‘I promise I won’t try anything silly with this. Just in case you were wondering.’

‘I wasn’t,’ Purna replied.

Smirking as if at some private joke, Kevin turned back to the table and began to scratch a pattern into its surface with the knife’s tip. Working patiently and laboriously he said, ‘It’s ironic, isn’t it, that because pens and pencils are regarded as dangerous weapons in our sweaty little hands, I have to resort to using a knife as a writing implement. What a crazy world we live in.’

When he was finished he passed the knife back to Rafa and stood back, revealing his handiwork with a flourish. Purna glanced suspiciously at the seated men before stepping forward. What Kevin had drawn was a series of five circles — two at the top and two at the bottom, with a smaller one in the middle — linked by a series of spokes she assumed were corridors. A longer spoke leading away from the central circle led to a sixth circle on the right.

‘If I may explain?’ said Kevin, holding up his hands to show he had nothing in them.

‘Go ahead,’ said Purna.

‘Although it doesn’t look it from the outside,’ Kevin said, ‘the interior of the prison is built “in the round”, by which I mean the cell areas and the dayroom areas are circular. Apparently this design functions more efficiently as an incarcerating facility. There are no shadowy corners, which means that sight lines are clear and there’s a better view of all that goes on. Now, we’re currently in this area,’ he pointed at the top left-hand circle, ‘though as you can see this particular room isn’t round, because it’s simply one element of the space — a square within a circle, so to speak.’ He looked up and smiled. ‘Still with me so far?’