Dead Island

‘Nothing. Just hmm.’

Logan was silent for a moment, then he asked, ‘What was wrong with that guy?’

Purna finished cleaning away the blood and dropped the wet towel on to the floor. Picking up a fresh dry towel, she folded it in half once, then twice more. Pressing it to his shoulder, so that the towel covered his still- seeping wounds, she said, ‘Can you hold this for me? Press as hard as you can.’

‘Sure,’ he said, and did as she asked. ‘You didn’t answer my question,’ he grimaced, as she took another towel and tore it into strips.

Purna looked him in the eye. ‘I don’t know. I have no idea what was wrong with that guy. Maybe he was sick. Maybe he was high on something.’

‘You know what I think?’ said Logan.

‘What?’

‘I think it’s finally here. I think this is the fucking zombie apocalypse.’

There was a beat of silence — and then Purna barked a laugh. ‘Yeah, right.’

‘I’m serious. Did you see that guy’s eyes? And he tried to eat me, man.’

‘He tried to bite you,’ Purna corrected him. ‘There’s a difference.’

Logan shook his head, then gasped when pain shot through the side of his neck.

‘Keep your head still,’ Purna ordered.

‘Sorry, nurse,’ Logan said. He clenched his teeth as he adjusted position slightly. ‘But like I was saying, that guy wasn’t on drugs.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because he wasn’t the first person I’ve seen like that tonight. There was a woman at Sam’s gig. Same weird eyes, and just as crazy.’

‘But I was at the gig, remember?’ said Purna. ‘I didn’t see anything.’ Then her eyes widened. ‘Hang on — this wasn’t near the lavvies, was it?’

‘If you mean the restrooms, then yeah, it was. Why? What did you see?’

‘Nothing much. They were closed off, that’s all. Rumour was a couple of security guys got attacked. Someone said something about a nutjob with a knife.’

‘It wasn’t a knife,’ said Logan. ‘They were attacked by a zombie. Like that one out there.’

Purna made a dismissive t’cho sound through her teeth. ‘There’s no such thing as zombies,’ she said irritably.

‘I know a zombie when I see one,’ said Logan stubbornly. ‘I’ve seen the movies.’

‘Exactly!’ replied Purna. ‘Movies. As in fiction. Now hold still while I do this.’

Using a number of the torn strips she secured his makeshift dressing in place, then with another towel made Logan a sling, which she tied at the back, next to his armpit, to stop the knot digging into his wounded shoulder.

‘My arm isn’t broken,’ he told her.

‘No, but it’s heavy,’ she said. ‘The sling will take the weight and keep the wounds from reopening, give them chance to heal.’

He sighed, and said glumly, ‘They aren’t going to heal.’

‘What? Course they are,’ she replied.

Instinctively he shook his head, and immediately winced again. ‘No they’re not. I’m infected now. Soon as it reaches my brain I’ll become one of them.’

‘Don’t talk shit,’ she said. ‘You’ll be fine.’

‘You don’t sound too sure.’

She scowled. ‘I am sure. Even if that guy has got … well, something infectious, he’s not going to pass it on to you. We’ll get you to a doctor, get you the right treatment, the right medication …’

‘There is no treatment,’ Logan muttered.

‘Bullshit!’ Purna snapped, angry now. ‘Stop talking like you want to get sick!’

‘Sorry,’ Logan said. ‘Of course I don’t want to get sick. It’s just … oh, this is seriously fucked up.’

Purna leaned over him, and to his surprise took his face in her hands. For a moment he thought she was going to kiss him, but she simply fixed her dark eyes on his, staring at him until she had his full attention. Then, quietly but with such conviction that he couldn’t help but believe her, she said, ‘You’re going to be fine, Logan. I promise. I’ll make sure you’re fine. OK?’

When he didn’t respond immediately, she said it again, more forcefully. ‘OK?’

‘OK,’ he agreed.

‘Good.’ She released his face and stood up, stretching herself to her full height. She turned her head towards the door, graceful as a gazelle. ‘Wonder if our friend’s still out there.’

‘You’re not going to look, are you?’

She shrugged. ‘How else are we going to find out?’

‘But—’ Logan began, and at that moment his cell phone rang.

It wasn’t only his phone that rang, though, but Purna’s too. They came alive at precisely the same instant, Logan’s blasting out the old Survivor hit, ‘Eye Of The Tiger’, Purna’s simply giving a no- nonsense double-buzz every couple of seconds. Purna raised her eyebrows curiously at Logan and slid her sleek black phone from her jeans pocket. ‘Unknown number,’ she muttered, and raised the phone to her ear just as Logan was doing the same. ‘Hello?’

The line crackled, full of static, then a clipped, precise voice said briskly, ‘Don’t talk, just listen. I have a certain amount of information to relay, and at this juncture I simply don’t have time to answer questions. This call is going out to four separate numbers, and I see from the information I have here that all four of you have answered. This is good, very good. However, due to circumstances beyond my control, our lines of communication are limited. In fact, this signal could die at any moment — so please, all of you, listen very carefully …’

As if to illustrate the caller’s point, his voice was suddenly overwhelmed by a burst of white noise. Purna and Logan both flinched and held their phones away from their ears. After a few seconds the white noise settled back into a more bearable fuzz of static, out of which rose the caller’s voice, like the auditory equivalent of a ship looming from thick fog.

‘First of all, Mr Carter, could you tell me how you are?’

Logan looked shocked. Purna stared at him in wide-eyed puzzlement.

‘Er … fine,’ Logan muttered, ‘but how did you—’

‘Please be more precise, Mr Carter,’ the voice cut in. ‘What are your symptoms?’

Logan scowled. ‘I was attacked, OK? I have bites. They hurt.’

‘But you have had no seizures? No wild impulses? You are not suffering from lockjaw?’

‘Would I be able to talk if I was?’ Logan snapped. Then he sighed. ‘No … none of those things.’

‘Excellent!’ said the voice. ‘And you, Miss Mei? How are your symptoms?’

A voice came over the line — young, female, hesitant. ‘I’m fine too. My hand aches and I felt a little dizzy earlier, but I’m better now.’

‘Splendid!’ said the voice. ‘Oh, that is truly splendid!’

‘Can’t say how glad I am that you’re stoked—’ Logan began drily, but the voice cut him off.

‘Please, no talking unless I ask you a direct question. Now listen very carefully. There isn’t much time.’

There was a pause, as if the caller was taking a deep breath, and then he said, ‘There has been … an outbreak on the island—’

Instantly, despite his instructions, a voice cut in that both Logan and Purna recognized. ‘What kind of outbreak?’ asked Sam B.

‘Please,’ said the voice, sounding pained. ‘I understand your desire to ask questions but try to resist, all of you. I’ll endeavour to explain the situation as best I can, but before I do, I must warn you that what I’m about to say will almost certainly sound unbelievable. But you must believe me when I tell you your lives will depend on how you respond to my instructions. You must trust me completely and do everything I tell you. I really cannot stress that point strongly enough.’

Once again the voice paused briefly, as if allowing his words to sink in. Then he continued, ‘Now, as I was