Page 40 of The Island

With difficulty, Ma got out of her rocking chair. “Does anybody listen to me around here anymore?”

“Yes, Ma,” half a dozen men said.

“Get these bodies up to the house!”

Two men picked up Tom, one taking his ankles and the other his shoulders, and carried him away. Heather was sobbing now. Tom was dead. Tom, who was so calm and centered. Tom, who knew everything. What the hell was she going to do?

Another two men took Ellen up to the house. Killer and victim united. What were their ghosts talking about?

Tom, oh my God, Tom.

Heather squeezed her eyes tight.

Tried to erase the last few hours.

That lifeless face. That lifeless crow’s-wing fringe.

This can’t be happening.

I’m in Melbourne. Tom’s gonna wake me up and we’re going to go see penguins and koalas.

She attempted to open her eyes but had to wipe blood from her eyelids first.

Mosquitoes.

Upside-down moon.

Crowd of people with guns.

Black blood in the dead-Tom dirt under the dead-Tom stars.

A little kid pointing a toy gun at her.

Real men with real guns.

She sat up.

People talking in low voices.

Heather knew she wasn’t going to get many more chances to make them see reason.

“You have to let us go now. This has gone too far,” she said.

“Shut this bitch up, Matthew. If she talks again without my permission, break her jaw,” Ma said.

“You hear that?” Matt said to Heather.

She nodded.

“So what are we going to do?” Ivan asked.

“Get rid of them, sharpish!” someone said.

“Hold on,” Danny said, wiping the dust off his clothes. “You have to ask me what to do. They belong to me. All of them.”

“You stupid bastard,” Kate said. “You cost us five hundred grand. You always were a dumb arsehole. Thick as shit, you. Thick as shit.”

“Cut him some slack, Katie. Ellen’s dead,” Matt said.