The Last Resort(26)

Amelia wonders what it was that Tiggy and Giles fell out about. She feels protective of Tiggy. Something about her feels vulnerable. Tiggy still seems wary of her, after her outburst at the visitor centre about this marketing person she thinks is meant to be here instead of Amelia. But maybe she’ll confide in Lucy instead. It’s obvious now, after Scott’s accident, that Amelia is meant to be here. To help the others deal with the outdoor environment. She looks over at Lucy, who has an arm around Tiggy.

‘You sure you’re OK, Tiggy? Maybe Lucy and James could—’

‘She’s fine here with me,’ Lucy says. ‘Off you go and find Brenda.’

Amelia wants to say more, but she’s cut off by the sound of a high-pitched scream coming from the hill.

‘Oh, that’s just great,’ Scott says. ‘Something’s happened to Brenda now. Any of you getting the distinct impression that we aren’t going to make it down to that darn tiki hut? I thought the mind games were bad enough, but now—’

‘Scott,’ Lucy says, laying a hand on his good leg. ‘Shush now. You need to rest.’

James grabs Amelia by the elbow. ‘Come on, let’s go. I think we should hurry.’

Amelia nods. ‘Stay here, please,’ she says to the others. ‘We’ll be as quick as we can.’

They march off together up the hill, and from behind she hears Scott muttering, ‘Who died and put her in charge?’

‘Ignore him,’ James says. ‘You’re right to take control. Someone has to. I suppose this is the kind of thing you do in your job?’

‘Not really. It’s more about infrastructure. Transporting supplies to remote areas. Helping to lay pipes. Digging wells. Distributing food parcels . . .’ She trails off as the hill inclines. ‘Sorry,’ she says, gasping for air. ‘Need my breath for this hill. I’d thought I was quite fit—’

‘You are fit,’ he says. ‘You didn’t see me earlier when you sent me on the lookout for sticks. I was panting like a dog chasing a rabbit. You’ve barely broken a sweat—’

‘Come on,’ Amelia says. ‘We need to conserve our energy for this hill.’

There’s another scream. Louder now. Closer. Then a ‘Help!’ coming from somewhere not too far away.

Amelia marches faster. She can’t run at this gradient, and she’s already far too hot from the sun beating down on her. When did she last have a drink?

James catches her up. ‘I think she’s still in the clearing where we left her.’

Amelia swears under her breath. They’re nearly there, but when they reach Brenda they’ll have to get her back down to the others . . . and then further still, down to the bay. Assuming that she’s hurt herself, judging by the screams. Amelia hopes that all this physical exertion has been forced on them to make them appreciate the luxury they all signed up for – because so far, there’s been no sign of anything of the sort. She doesn’t know what James has asked for, or Lucy, or Scott. She doesn’t even know what she wants for herself. But surely they all have to get it soon – or else what is the point of this?

She makes it to the clearing a moment before James. She sees it a split second before he does. Just long enough for an ice-cold shiver to slide down her hot back. ‘Stop,’ she whispers.

James thumps into her. ‘What the . . . ? Oh.’

Brenda is standing still, next to a red-and-white tablecloth with a picnic hamper on top of it. A plate of food lies at her feet, and she has her arms spread out to the sides, like a scarecrow. Her face is colourless, except for two red spots high on her cheeks. Sweat is beaded across her brow, glinting in the sunlight.

Wound around her left leg is a darkly patterned snake with its head turned towards them, watching them. Trying to decide on its next move. Its tongue slithers out of its arrow-shaped head, then it opens its mouth and makes a strange, breathy hiss.

Brenda’s eyes are closed tight.

‘It’s Amelia . . . and James,’ Amelia says to her. ‘Has it bitten you? Open your eyes for yes, keep them closed for no.’

Her eyes remain shut.

‘You’re doing good there, Brenda,’ James says. ‘It’s probably harmless. Just fancied a bite of your sandwich.’

Brenda lets out a small whimper. ‘Please,’ she says. ‘Please get it off me. I . . . I have such a phobia of snakes.’

Amelia takes in the scene in front of her. Has a good look at the snake. She hopes it’s just an adder, but she’s never heard of an adder coiling itself onto a human like this.

‘Do you know what to do?’ James speaks quietly, close to her ear. She doesn’t know much about snakes, and clearly he doesn’t either, but all three of them have the sense to assume that no sudden movements and no loud noises might be the way forward.

Amelia shakes her head. ‘I’ve come across snakes in the jungle, but I had a guide. A local. Someone who knew what to do.’ She’s annoyed with herself again. Why doesn’t she know what to do? This must have been covered in that bushcraft course, but ever since she arrived on this island it’s as if all the things she took for granted inside her head have become dimmed, out of focus. She hadn’t wanted to voice her concerns before, but she’s now sure of it. But she doesn’t even have one of the embedded trackers. If something is trying to make her mind fuzzy, it’s not via that route.