Red Sand (22 page)

Amy put a death grip on Mason’s arm. “Oh. My. God. Look at all those bats.” He followed her eyes upward. Hundreds of tiny bats slumbered upside down on the ceiling.

“Don’t make any loud noises, and they won’t wake up.”

“Shit,” said Eddie. They looked back to see him inspecting a substance clumped to his boot.

“It’s called
guano
,” said Paul. “And it makes for great fertilizer. I’d ask you to keep that if we were sticking around.”

“Why, are we going somewhere?” Eddie laughed.

“Yes.” Paul let the matter lie and moved further into the cave. “We’ve spent many a storm up here, let me tell you. Those damn Creepers are persistently reproductive. This isn’t the first time they’ve overrun the Flow. We keep a supply of food and water and other essentials up here for rainy days. Here, catch this.” He tossed Eddie a plastic bag. He picked up several bottles of water and opened one for Amy. “As for me, I’ve kept something special up here for a few years, waiting for my chance to use it. That time has come.” He struggled with a large bundle of fabric overstuffed into a bag.

“It’s a parachute?”

“It was. Now it is something much more practical. Instead of going down, we’ll go up.”

“A balloon,” Amy remarked. “Where did you get the fabric?”

“Same place the others did. They never knew I had it.”

“Yeah, great idea.” Eddie threw up his hands. “We all saw how well that worked out.”

“We’re not going to crash.”

“Right. On a calm sunny day, your
compadres
flew their balloon straight into the ground. We’ll top that by lifting off into a hurricane and come out rosy? Is that what you have in mind? Is that why you brought us all the way up here?”

“No.” Paul seethed. It was clear no one ever took him seriously. “No, I brought you up here because you’d be dead at the base of the mountain now. If you prefer, you’re welcome to go back.”

Eddie said nothing.

“Look, that’s the good news. The bad news is that before this storm is done, this whole mountain will be a man-eating jungle. In fact, I’d say within the next hour. Do I think this balloon idea will work? Well, I’ve been building it for almost a year, so, yeah, I think it will work.”

“But, the hurricane…”

“The NOAA launches weather balloons in every hurricane to gather data. If they can fly, so can we!”

“Weather balloons don’t have people on them!” Eddie argued. “We’ll be tossed like a salad!”

“They wait for the eye. When the eye comes, they launch the balloon right through it like threading a needle. We can do that. We wait for the eye and we get up over the storm.”

“What if the eye doesn’t pass over us?”

Amy shouted at Eddie. “Why do you have to be so negative!”

Mason interrupted, “Look, it doesn’t matter. We don’t have any choice. It’s either the hurricane or those things back there!” He threw a glance over his shoulder. Any crevice that held water gave the Creepers a new root, and there was no shortage of water. “I’m willing to give the balloon a shot.”

Paul calmed and patted him on the shoulder. “We have an hour, at least. Sit down and let me tell you a story.” They made themselves as comfortable as possible.

“I used to be a pilot. I owned a one-man, one-plane company ferrying tourists and businesspeople from Casablanca to Dakar once a week. Let’s just say I’d come down in the world and had farther to go. One night, we had instrument problems that led us out to sea. I know solar storms can affect GPS systems, so maybe that’s what happened. I still don’t know. Our fuel ran out. I thought we’d have to ditch in the water. I was so glad to see this island.” Laughing. “If only I’d known then…

“Anyway, we forced the plane down on the sand at the end of the island. Copilot died on impact. Our three tourists were pretty beat up. I had hardly a scratch on me, which was a miracle considering the condition of the plane. The sand ripped it to shreds. Within an hour, Tuk’s crew found us. I couldn’t believe anyone lived on this splinter of land in the middle of nowhere, much less that they would find us so fast.

“I don’t have to tell you how Tuk’s hospitality had a few holes in it. It wasn’t long before my three passengers disappeared. I thought I was next.

“I tried so hard to get off this damn island. I built a raft out of refuse and meant to use these parachutes as a sail. Tuk found out. He was adamant that no one leave the island. I don’t know why. He exiled me outside the Wall to run Departure Camp.

“It was a death sentence. Technically, he needed someone to watch over the survivors and herd them in and out of the Gate each day. Previously he just turned them out each night while we slept inside the wall. That looked a little suspicious to the first few groups, so he wanted to install someone to keep an eye on them, keep them complacent. I wasn’t qualified for the task, but Tuk expected a Creeper to take me out sooner or later. For him, it was a win-win.

“As bad as that seemed at the time, it had its advantages. Tuk only cares about what happens
inside
the Wall. In exile, I was free. I had
carte blanche
for my activities. As long as I shuttled survivors to their work details in the morning and met them for campfire at night, I could do whatever I wanted.

“I spent a lot of time out at the wreck trying to salvage anything that might prove useful. The radio gear, which was fine when we were pulled out of the wreck, had been destroyed. That was my first big clue that rescue wasn’t on its way, but it took me a long time to come up with a plan.

“Unfortunately, I made two big mistakes.

“The first mistake was letting Sammy know about the balloon idea. At the time, it was just an idea. Before I was exiled, I was so disappointed that Tuk took my raft, I was ranting about how I’d do something else, maybe build a balloon. Sammy listened. He seemed like the kind of guy who could make it happen, so I tried to bring him in. He and I worked on the plans for a night or two. Then Departure Camp became my isolation chamber. I rarely saw Sammy again.

“It would be years before I tried to build the damn thing. I spent a year up here putting mine together. I still can’t believe Sammy slapped his up in two weeks. That guy could do anything if he put his mind to it. And no, Eddie, it wasn’t haste that kept his balloon from flying.

“It was me. It was my second mistake.

“I got careless the last few nights. With the storm coming and Sammy building his own, I figured it was time to get out of Dodge. I snuck up here every night to finish my balloon, even as I watched Sammy’s progress on his.

“I still don’t know how Angel spotted me, but as I made my way up the mountain a few nights ago, there he was behind me. He followed me, but I was pretty certain he didn’t know
who
he was following. It was just too dark. I used that to my advantage. I knew he’d poke around until he found my project, so I led him straight to Sammy’s balloon. Better him than me. I found a hiding place and watched.

“Angel is as thorough as he is cunning. He didn’t just poke holes or tear up the fabric. After about five minutes’ thought, that crafty bastard spent a full hour, in the middle of the night, pulling out individual silk threads. He accomplished two things. First, no one would be able to find his handiwork. Second, the balloon would still inflate. He created a weakness in the fabric that would blow when put under too much pressure. I’m pretty sure that patch blew shortly after takeoff, bringing it down on the Flow. Even as they fell to their deaths, those poor fools never knew what went wrong.

“I don't feel bad. They were using my chutes and my gear, and they didn't even invite me to participate. They got what they deserved.”

“How do you know he hasn’t done the same for you?” Eddie asked.

Paul patted the bag at his hip. “He hasn’t been up here. I left salt on the floor of the cave. Ours are the first footprints. I only kept the fabric here. The rest of it is at the top of Mount Elvis. I need your help to get everything up there.” 

It was a long time before anyone spoke. They listened to the wind and the rain outside. No one looked forward to going out again.

An hour later, the wind started to die down. Paul thrust his head out of the cave. “This is it! It’s the eye! I knew it! We have to hurry!” Paul threw the backpack over his shoulder and waved them on. “Let’s make it quick!”

Mason looked over the side again on his way out of the cave. He wished he hadn’t. The Creepers were now within ten meters. He couldn’t believe how far up the mountain they’d come!

Loaded down with supplies, battered by the wind, and soaked with rain, Mason felt he could hardly move. The spines of some type of fish poked through a plastic bag and stabbed him with every step. He leaned into the storm to make any headway at all. If it hadn’t been for the relative shelter of the large rocks around them, they couldn’t move.

At last, the others disappeared over a ridge. Mason heaved up and into the volcano’s vast crater.  Even dripping wet, cold, sore, and exhausted, he felt elated at reaching the peak. Climbing any mountain is an accomplishment, and he doubted anyone who ever scaled Mt. Everest did so under these odds. Amy even gave him a little hug.

The cone of the volcano collapsed on itself long ago, leaving a large, flat section of rock sheltered by ragged teeth of projecting stone. A crescent shaped section fell away into a chasm. A precarious looking rope bridge swung across the precipice. On the other side, a crude platform, charred and crumbling, stood against the gray sky.

Paul found new energy. “Before we built the raft, we built an observation tower up here to signal passing ships. We only used it once. Dragos thought he saw a ship on the horizon, so, in desperation, we lit it on fire as a beacon. No one came. By the time anyone thought of rebuilding it, we’d gotten involved in the raft project. There you go…”

Amy accepted his arm as he pulled her over a boulder. “Thank you.”

Mason smiled. Even under these circumstances, Paul was courteous as a camp director.

His mood changed when he saw the bridge. It looked like it hadn’t been used in years. Like everything else, the ropes were plastic bags twisted and woven together. The wind pulled it sideways, like an invisible hand drawing a slingshot.

Paul bounced across the bridge like a walk in the park, but the other three watched with suspicion. He waved them on. “It’ll hold.”

Mason comforted Amy. “It’s ok. You go first, and I’ll be right behind you. Just hold on tight, and I’ll talk you through it.” She took a few tentative steps out, and he followed her.

The dying rain coated the plastic in a slick sheen. His shoes squeaked as he stepped onto the rope. He couldn’t see the bottom of the pit. The bridge glistened like a spider’s web and felt just as insubstantial. The wind pushed it down and out, leaning his body over the cut.

The rolled up plastic pinched the palms of his hands whenever he shifted his weight. Every step shivered through the structure. He offered Amy encouragement, but his voice telegraphed his own doubt.

Paul reached the other side, still talking. “It took months to smuggle everything up here. I kept the balloon portion back in the cave to prevent any suspicion, while I assembled the basket and propulsion up here. It was even harder than I thought it would be. I had all the time in the world, though, right? It was a lot of work for just one man...” he drifted off. The sudden absence of his voice was jarring.

“So?” Eddie stopped in the middle of the bridge. “What? What aren’t you telling us?”

Paul looked at the ground sheepishly. “You know I never fit in with Tuk’s crowd. They were so damn sycophantic, and they all knew each other. I couldn’t play politics. That’s how I ended up at Departure Camp in the first place. The truth is, they never wanted me to survive. But I did. Six goddamn years stuck on this island, a castaway among castaways.

“When I built the balloon, I didn’t think there’d be anyone coming with me. So…” again he drifted off, unable to say it.

Eddie tensed visibly. “Oh, crap. I don’t believe it.”

“What?” Amy asked, concerned. “What’s he saying?” She hadn’t been listening, focusing instead on where each step would lead her.

Mason heard. He understood.

At that instant, he heard a click behind him. He to look at Eddie.

Eddie’s left arm wrapped around the bridge to free up his right hand. That hand held a revolver aimed at Mason. “You know what he’s saying, Mason.”

Amy couldn’t turn her head, so she cried, “What? What’s going on?”

Mason frowned. “This isn’t the time…”

Eddie interrupted. “He’s saying, Amy, there isn’t room in the basket for all of us.”

To Mason, he growled, “We have unfinished business, you and I.” Eddie smiled. “It seems to me, this is the best time to settle it. One less man in the boat.”

Paul stood staring at the ground in shame, so he didn’t see the gun. Now he looked up. “Jesus, Eddie, where did you get that thing?”

“What thing?” Amy asked.

Eddie ignored the others. “Lucky for me, we won’t be deciding democratically.”

Mason raced through his memory. Back on the ship, when Eddie shot Bailey, how many shots was it? The ship blew up immediately afterward. The ensuing chaos made it hard to focus on details.