The Island(32)

Danny started howling and protesting behind them as Jacko led them back to prison. With her hands still tied, Heather put her arms around Olivia, but Olivia ducked under them. Heather knew the girl was still trying to take everything in.

Tom would have to talk to her about—

Wait. What was happening? Tom. How could Tom be…

She swallowed.

Tom, oh no. Oh God. Not Tom. It hadn’t been love at first sight, but it was pretty damn close. He was so funny and charming and smart. All the books he’d read. All the stuff he knew. And that old-world East Coast courtesy. It sure didn’t hurt that he was so easy on the eyes. So 1950s handsome. So 1950s calm and with his shit together. He couldn’t fix a gearbox like the Goose Island men, but he could make you a cup of hot chocolate and read you poetry on a rainy afternoon or put the kids to bed early on a Saturday night and lock the bedroom door and bang your brains out.

And now he was dead. And she was in a nightmare. In the middle of nowhere surrounded by crazy people. She was so thirsty. Her head was light.

How easy it would be to fall, to let that warm red dirt consume her too…

She was reeling. But she couldn’t reel. She had to keep her shit together, for herself and now for Owen and Olivia.

They reached the shearing shed. Jacko unlocked the door and shoved them both inside.

“We haven’t had food or water for hours,” Heather said.

Jacko leaned into her face. “I thought you would have learned your lesson, you mouthy bitch. Now you shut it or I’ll shut it for you.”

“We need water,” Heather said.

Jacko separated Heather from Olivia and sat her down. He put the noose around her neck and tied it tight to the roof beam. He tied a second rope around her neck to the back wall so she couldn’t move. Then he began the same process with Olivia.

“Not tight,” Heather said. “Matt agreed to that.”

“Matt’s soft,” Jacko said, and, looking deliberately at her, he slowly tightened the noose around Olivia’s neck so that she began to choke. Olivia tried to get a finger between the rope and her throat but it was already taut.

“Please!” Heather said. “Don’t!”

“Ma said make sure you’re all secure,” Jacko said.

“She didn’t say kill us!” Heather protested.

“She’s not dead. She’s as snug as a bug in a rug. Aren’t you, darling?”

“It hurts,” Olivia said, gasping.

“Please,” Heather said.

“I like it when you say please like that. Say it again,” Jacko said.

“Please, she’s just a little girl.”

Jacko shook his head. “Nah, she’s a woman now. Will be when Danny’s done with her, anyway,” he muttered.

“I’m a woman,” Heather said. “Please, leave her.”

Jacko nodded. “You are a woman, aren’t you?” he said, loosening the noose around Olivia’s neck. Olivia gasped for air in big gulps. Jacko padded across the shearing shed. He brushed the remaining strands of hair back on his head and grinned a yellow jackal smile.

He crouched down in front of Heather and looked at her. “A young one too—how old are you? Younger than him by a country mile.”

“I’m twenty-four,” Heather said.

“Twenty-four, eh? Well, twenty-four, it’s either you or her. What’s it gonna be?”

“Those aren’t your orders,” Heather said desperately.

“Orders? Nobody gives me orders. I don’t have any orders!” He laughed. “You’re already dead, sweetheart. All of you. Or haven’t you been paying attention?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean orders. Ma just asked you to lock us in here. You heard her. She’s going to sleep on what to do with us.”

“She can sleep for a thousand years for all I care. Now, sweetie, as lovely as this little chat has been, your job now is making a choice. Who’s it going to be? You or your little blond daughter over there?”

Heather’s throat was dry. Her head was swimming. “Please, you don’t have to do this,” Heather said.

“Yeah, I like it when you say please, all American-like, but the time for talk is done. You or her? Ten seconds.”

“Matt said—”

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three—”

“Me,” she said.

“That’s what I thought,” Jacko said. “Now, be a good girl and take it out.”

Owen was staring at her. Both kids looked horrified, terrified. Owen didn’t even know about his dad yet.

“Owen, Olivia, I want you both to close your eyes. Owen, pull that hood back over your head too. Eyes shut tight both of you.”

Owen pulled the hood over his head. Olivia shut her eyes tight. Neither of them, she hoped, knew what was about to happen next. Jacko’s jeans were originally blue but they were so encrusted with filth they had turned a reddish black. He was grinning. The rifle was strapped over his back.

She looked at him.

He mind-read her. “Now, don’t you do nothing silly, Heather,” he said. “’Cause you know what’ll happen to you and you know what will happen to her.”

She was tempted to smash him in the balls with her tied hands. She could probably give him a pretty painful whack, but then what? He would break her face and then he would rape Olivia.