Scott wheezes, puts his hands on his hips. ‘Screw you, buddy.’
‘Maybe you should stay here,’ Amelia says, reasonably. ‘Maybe you could tell the tracker . . .’
‘The tracker . . . is . . . nonsense,’ he says, shaking his head. He takes his backpack off and yanks the zip open, grabs the water and gulps it down greedily. ‘I told you already about the trackers.’
‘Well, they’re clearly working for some people,’ Lucy says. ‘The other three back there have got what they want. Maybe you need to ask more nicely.’
‘Brenda told me she’d asked for “me time”,’ Amelia says. ‘I guess that’s what she’s getting right now.’
‘And what did you ask for?’ Lucy says.
Amelia shrugs. ‘Nothing. Not yet. I’m still trying to figure this thing out.’
Scott shoves his arms through the straps of his backpack and barges past, marching off ahead. ‘Come on then, Miss Leader Lucy. Let’s go.’
James rolls his eyes. ‘He’ll be huffing again in a minute.’
They follow Scott up the hill, and thankfully it’s not too much further to the top. Lucy has hiked many hills like this, and she’d half expected it to be a false summit. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d eagerly marched to the top, only to find that there was a much bigger peak hidden behind. They’re here now, though. They made it to the top.
The landscape has changed from sandy scrub to lush green leaves. The path is soil and stone. And there are trees that weren’t visible at all from further down the hill, their trunks slim and bent over like willows by the wind. The island is proving to be quite the roving landscape, and all the while the sun beats down, and they still haven’t found any refreshments, except for the one bottle per bag – which, as Lucy discovers when she takes hers out for a sip, is not just water. There is a slight metallic taste to the clear liquid, and judging by the new spring in Scott’s step, it contains something to keep them going until they figure out what they’re actually doing here. She’s not madly into drugs. The occasional recreational smoke or pill now and again. But she decides to go with this. Just like the sedative they were given earlier, it can only help them – right? Thirst taking precedence over the potential risk, she downs half the bottle.
James and Amelia watch her, and then follow her lead.
Soon they’re all smiling, enjoying the sun and the mild buzz from whatever is in that water. Then an alarm sounds – a single high-pitched screech – and as they turn to face the direction of the sound, the familiar green holographic writing starts to scroll out in front of them.
WELCOME.
YOU MADE IT TO THE STARTING POINT.
THE OTHERS WILL JOIN YOU SOON.
FOR NOW, PLEASE THINK OF YOUR FAVOURITE DRINK . . .
IT WILL BE SERVED TO YOU SOON.
AND THE ARROWS WILL GUIDE YOU DOWN TO THE BAY.
WHERE THE FUN WILL REALLY BEGIN.
. . .
. . .
AND EVERYONE WILL FIND OUT WHO YOU ALL REALLY ARE.
Summer 2000
There’s a low roar from below them. Something between a scream and a howl. But George doesn’t look, just keeps staring at Anne, with a grin so rigid it hurts. It’s OK, the grin says. We just need to stay calm. We can get past this.
Anne’s eyes are wild. ‘George . . .’ she tries but can’t get any more words out. She yanks herself away and flees down the hill, dark braids whipping behind her like reins.
‘Wait!’ George cries after her, but Anne doesn’t wait. It only takes a moment before she’s gone from sight.
George turns slowly back towards the cliff edge. The wind is howling now, waves crashing against the rocks. George takes a careful step forward, peers over.
The boat is in pieces, but there’s something much worse than that down there now.
A wave of nausea. Knees hitting the ground, then retching and retching until there’s nothing left but bile. Stomach constricting in waves of pain.
Purge the sin! Let it all out! Repent!
It’s hard to tell that it’s a man at all. His jacket has puffed up with air, but it hadn’t made much of a parachute. He’s face down, half on the rocks, half in the sea, his hair swirling back and forth as the waves hit his broken body, each retreat pulling him further and further away.
His hand slides off a rock. Dear God – is he still alive? Still trying to claw himself up to safety?
But no one could survive that fall.
The wind whips and whirls.
What have we done?
A moment of madness. Bravado. Something they’ll replay over and over in their minds for the rest of their lives. Memories tarnished forever.
And what about Anne? Will she already have made it to the bottom? Will she have gone straight to the police?
Perhaps they’re already on their way . . . with Father. No!
Repent! For all your sins will consume you!
George takes a deep breath and another step closer to the edge.
‘Please.’ The voice comes from behind. ‘Don’t jump.’
It’s not Anne. She’s not coming back.
George turns round. ‘You . . . Go away! I’ve told you before. You need to stay away from here. Go back home. Now!’
Amelia
They fall silent for a moment as the writing scrolls away. Then Scott begins to laugh. It starts off as a giggle, but before long he is hysterical.
‘Oh, this is the best,’ he says, leaning forward, hands on his thighs as he tries to catch a breath. ‘They really are trying to mess with us now.’ He stands up straight again, and his face is streaked with tears. ‘Well done, Big Brother,’ he shouts up to the sky. ‘You got me.’ He starts a slow handclap, but no one joins in. Everyone is staring at him with various expressions of amusement and alarm.
‘Scott, mate’ – James steps forward and lays a hand on his shoulder – ‘are you . . . ?’
Scott shrugs him off. ‘Pina colada for me, please.’ He glances around. ‘Are you listening? Did you get that?’ He makes off down the hill at a pace.
‘Jeez, Scott. Wait up,’ Lucy says, marching off behind him. She looks back at them, eyes wide and questioning.
Amelia stares at James, not quite sure what to say. He holds her gaze, and she feels a connection forming deep inside. So far, he seems the most normal of the group and she wants to build on that. Things are already starting to get weird, and she needs an ally. Maybe this is intentional. Whether Tiggy was right or not about it feeling like a reality TV set-up, there are group dynamics at work. Is she just playing into their hands?
‘I guess we’d better follow them,’ Amelia says.
She and James head off down the hill after them as the track winds and twists towards the bay.
‘Those two need to go slower,’ James says. ‘This path is too unstable to be running so fast.’
‘Especially someone like Scott. It’s not long ago that he was huffing his way up the hill.’
James kicks a stone and it hurtles off the path, disappearing over the edge, somewhere into the rocks below. ‘I’d like to know what’s in this water,’ he says. He holds his bottle up.
‘You haven’t touched it?’
‘Not yet . . . I’m waiting to see if Scott keels over first.’