The Wicked Go to Hell (9 page)

The days that followed were as strange as those which had preceded Dora’s arrival on the island. The three self-exiled castaways led a life not unlike that of campers. Dora seemed resigned to her fate. She had lost heart but put a brave face on things and submitted to the life imposed on her by the two men. They never let each other stray very far. When Hal went fishing for crabs or shrimps, Frank and the young woman went with him. They prepared their meals together and played pointless games using flat stones as a substitute for quoits. Dora never cried now, never spoke about her boating accident, and gave no indication that she would try to return to the mainland. All three, on the basis of a perfect tacit agreement, negotiated this dead time the way a thrown object works its way across its trajectory.

Then, when three days had passed, the climate of absolute peace changed. More precisely, after the end of the third night. For if intangible bonds of friendship were created during the days, the nights imperceptibly undid them again. It seemed as though the breathing of the three occupants of the hut could not be aligned harmoniously. There was a break in rhythm, a break in the rhythm of their three-person existence. The two men tossed and turned on their seaweed beds, heaving sighs, muttering confused words, while Dora never stirred. A tense atmosphere of repressed sensuality lay heavy on the hut. Frank did not sleep because he wanted to keep an eye on Hal. And Hal struggled to keep awake so that he could check on the behaviour of his partner. Each was
afraid that the other would follow the instinct which lurked inside him. Whenever either of them made a movement, the other was immediately on full alert.

Each despised the other for being kept awake. Gossamer threads of hate spread in their souls, and, at first light, when with faces etched with insomnia they exchanged the first glance of the day, they felt the urge to leap on each other like enraged wild beasts.

Frank’s wound was now markedly improved. His eyesight was quickly returning. There were periods of blurred vision and others, longer for the most part, when he could see almost normally.

Now, on the third night after Dora arrived, Frank, for all his resilience, fell into a deep sleep the moment he lay down. Hal felt his heart race at the thought that a sudden intimacy had sprung up between him and Dora.

He sighed softly. Without warning, the woman got up and tiptoed to the door.

“Where are you going?” whispered Hal.

“Outside…” she said. “It’s too hot in here. I can’t sleep.”

She left without closing the door behind her. Through it, he saw her walk away. He leapt to his feet.

“Hey!” he said as he left the hut in her wake. “Not so fast, lady!”

She went on walking quickly towards the sea. He had to run to catch up with her.

“Thinking of taking a dip?”

“Why not?”

“Not many people go swimming at midnight…” said Hal sarcastically. “But if there’s two of them, it’s more fun!”

Dora did not respond. The tide was high and there was not much of the beach left. She took off her plimsolls and walked into the water.

But the water was cold and she beat a hasty retreat.

“No need to be shy, girl, not at this time of night!”

“Oh, be quiet,” she said with a sigh. “You’re getting on my nerves…”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Do you think this idiotic situation can last much longer?”

“What do you reckon yourself?” asked Hal.

“I think it’s totally and utterly idiotic.”

He slid one arm along her bare shoulder, which was just touching his. The soft, warm feel of that silky skin made him tremble. His calloused hand tightened around the woman’s arm.

He pulled her to him roughly. Indifferent, she did not not react.

“What’s the matter, Dora?” asked Hal.

Then he gave a start on seeing the figure of Frank standing before them. He was leaning motionless against a rock, with his hands on his hips. His weak eyes blinked.

“All lovey-dovey, are we?” he asked.

Dora pulled away from Hal and headed back to the hut.

“I asked you a question,” repeated Frank.

Hal had never seen so much rage in a man’s eyes.

“And I won’t answer it because it’s a stupid question,” he said. “You stand there, blowing a fuse because I try to make it with little Miss Chickadee… It’s only human nature, isn’t it? That first day, you yourself told me—”

“I don’t give a damn about what I told you that first day!” snarled Frank. “There’s no more first day! There’s only nights now! Steamy nights that make me feel like I’m burning up all over.”

“I know…” said Hal with a sigh. “It’s the same with me. What do you expect? Think you’re the only man here?”

They made their way back to the hut. The island was beginning to feel too small for them.

“We ought to be thinking of getting out of here now that you’re on the mend,” said Hal. “The hunt must have died down a lot in the last week, since we gave them the slip! And between you and me, I’m beginning to have seafood coming out of my ears!”

“We’ll think about it,” promised Frank. “You’re right, amigo. Three of us here is getting too hard to bear!”

Frank was shelling crabs and Dora was busy boiling water. Hal had gone to gather dead wood in the tiny copse. This was becoming no easy task because, in their few days there, they had burnt all the dry brushwood which had been lying around on the island’s short grass. Suddenly Hal burst through the door empty-handed.

“You haven’t…” began Frank.

Hal advanced. He looked thoughtful.

“The revolver’s gone,” he said.

“What?” said Frank.

“I always carried it with me, in my jacket pocket… Then, as I was scouting round for wood, I noticed it wasn’t there any longer!”

“You lost it?”

“That’s what I thought at first,” said Hal with a scowl.

“What do you mean it was what you thought at first?”

“I looked everywhere. On the short grass it’s not hard to spot something black like a revolver. I saw nothing! Zilch!”

“But…” began Frank.

“But nothing,” said Hal. “The plain fact is, I haven’t got it any more… And I think that’s a bit screwy… Don’t you?”

Frank shrugged his shoulders.

“Couldn’t you have dropped it when you were looking for crabs?”

“I wasn’t wearing my jacket…”

“You probably lost it yesterday…”

“Nope. I had it this morning…”

Frank tossed a crab into the bucket of water.

“So what do you reckon?” he said.

“I reckon,” said Hal, “that it isn’t as far away as you might think. Somebody stole it from me.”

Frank automatically looked at Dora.

“Somebody?”

“Somebody who happened to have bullets, for instance? Somebody who might find it useful to have a weapon.”

Frank leapt up and grabbed his friend by the collar.

“So basically you’re accusing me of stealing the gun, right?”

“Basically, yes!”

Frank shook his head.

“Well, you’d better get that stupid idea out of your system pronto, pal. I didn’t take the revolver.”

He tapped his inside pocket.

“Having the bullets is my insurance.”

His face went suddenly tense; his hand stopped moving. Then feverishly he patted his pockets.

“The bullets!” gasped Frank. “The bullets!”

He rapidly searched through his clothes. His fingers shook with impatience. When he finished, he began again, more systematically. Hal frowned as he watched him.

“So you’ve lost them too?”

“Yes… Yes…”

Frank took his hand out of his jacket. He turned towards Hal. His eyes were livid with fury.

“It was you,” he said, the accusation coming from somewhere deep in his throat.

“Obviously,” smiled Hal. “To console myself for the loss of the gun, I stole the bullets from you!”

Frank grabbed him by both arms.

“It’s not true! You didn’t lose the gun! You hid it somewhere after stealing the bullets off me. You’re trying to divert suspicion away from yourself by claiming I stole it! I can see right through you, Hal! I’m not in the dark any more. I can see through your dirty little game!”

“That’s enough!” thundered Hal. “It’s you, you’re trying to pull the wool over my eyes! It was you who took the gun off me and stashed it someplace with your bullets… But you’re not going to get away with this. You’re going to give it back! The whole caboodle—bullets and all!”

He was pale and spat the words into his partner’s contorted face. Frank blinked first and took one step back.

“Who do you think you are?” he spluttered. “I never came across a son of a bitch like you! You’re coming on a bit strong, Hal, you really are!”

“And on top of it all, now he takes me for a fool!” said Hal, almost to himself.

Dora had abandoned the fire to watch the two men engaging in their shouting match. She opened her vaguely disbelieving eyes, not understanding why they were going for each other like two rutting stags.

“Give me the gun back!” cried Hal.

“No, you’re going to give it back to me, you dirty rat!”

Hal started to walk away, with his head down, but then cannoned into Frank. Frank took the hit in the forehead and a spurt of purple obscured his eyesight. He thought he had gone blind again and raised one hand to his wound.

“Aah!” he growled. “What did you do that for, Hal?”

Hal’s rage subsided a little.

“Because, Frank, there isn’t a bigger liar than you anywhere on the planet… Come on, hand the gun over and we’ll say no more about it!”

Frank straightened up but kept his head bowed. Golden lights flashed and whirled in his eyes, but his sight was clearing and already he felt reassured. But he’d had a scare and his fear kept his anger high.

“You’re pathetic, Hal,” he said. “You know very well I didn’t take the shooter and also that you’ve got the shells. And now you go and head-butt me right on my wound! I never had you down as a coward… All right, you can keep your gun… And if it makes you happy, you can put a bullet in my head—I’m so sick of you it would be a blessing…”

He walked out. Hal watched him go and shrugged his shoulders.

Then he turned to Dora:

“Sorry about the floor show. It’s a while since the pair of us argued—we’ve missed it!”

She leant over her fire which was going out for lack of fuel.

“It’s curious,” she said after a moment, after she’d blown on the embers. “Anyone would think the two of you were afraid of each other.”

Hal clenched his fists.

“Not true… You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Fine, so it’s not true,” she said.

Outside, the weather was very bad. The wind was gusting and from time to time large clouds emptied themselves like split wineskins.

Hal watched Frank, who was dawdling along the beach. He was torn between wanting to run after him and say sorry for
butting him and the urge to make the most of his absence to cosy up to Dora. In the end, the flesh proved stronger than finer feelings.

“With you around,” he said, going up to her, “how do you expect men to get on with each other?”

She looked him up and down with some apprehension. He opened his arms but she stood motionless by her saucepan, from which little gasps of steam were now escaping…

“You’ve got the knack of getting under a man’s skin…” said Hal. “When I look at you, it’s like I’m standing in the middle of a blazing house—do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Go and fetch some wood, or we’ll not be able to cook the meal!”

He tried to kiss her but she wriggled in his arms like an eel.

“Aw, come on!” said Hal. “What’s wrong?”

“Just go and get the wood instead of playing the fool…”

Hal lowered his arms and went outside.

From where he was by the water’s edge, Frank saw his partner making for the small copse. He told himself that here was the ideal opportunity for another attempt at a quiet chat with Dora. Until now, he hadn’t been able to summon up enough courage to speak to her, but after what had happened he felt no loyalty to his companion. Hal was a dirty rat.

He almost ran towards the hut. Dora saw him heading towards her looking very determined.

“Did he hurt you?” she asked.

“He sure did! A head-butt that would have felled an ox… Caught me on my wound… It must look a pretty nasty mess now, right?”

She peered at it, then pulled a face.

“It’s opened up again.”

“The swine!” growled Frank.

He reached out and caught Dora by the waistband of her shorts. He drew her to him, released her shorts and encircled her with a backward sweep of his arm. He was strong. The young woman’s body arched and he pressed her eagerly to him.

“My, such ardour in one of our walking wounded!” she murmured.

“Shut up,” whispered Frank.

He sought Dora’s lips. She turned her head away at the last moment to deprive him of them. He became more insistent. The touch of her bare legs, of her body—it felt so alive, so supple, so warm—inflamed him.

Losing interest in finding her mouth, he bit her on the neck with such fire that she gave a brief cry of pain and sensuality.

With his free hand, he caressed whatever it encountered in his wild excitement, fondling a breast, a thigh… He could hardly breathe, so great was his desire.

“I want you! I want you!”

He was almost weeping now. All pain had vanished from his face.

The door slammed. Hal slung an armful of wood across the hut. He put his hands on his hips and, with an ugly look in his eyes, stared at the entwined couple.

Frank swung round partly so that he could see his partner. Without taking his eyes off him he kissed Dora, almost forcing himself on her. Hal did not flinch. Frank released the woman and sat down. Hal shook the rain off his drenched clothes.

“It’s coming down so hard that you wouldn’t even send a cop out in it,” he said.

Towards evening, the storm blew itself out and pink clouds began floating across the now-quiet sky. The three occupants of the island did not exchange a single word until darkness fell. They all went about their several tasks and thought separate thoughts.

They each nursed a dark resentment and resolutely hated each other without making any attempt to disguise the fact.

They went to bed early without saying goodnight to each other. They lay down on their seaweed beds at three different points of the shack and sought sleep. This they did with a savage determination to find it at any price and forget their predicament.

They were all conscious that they bore some responsibility for creating the tension, which made them feel more isolated than the fact of being together on an island.

For a considerable time, their jangled nerves made the musty seaweed rustle. There was much sighing… much clearing of throats… then their regular breathing was synchronized, while in the now-clear sky the moon travelled along its pale parabola above the waves.

Frank gave a sudden start. A golden ray of light was slanting through a crack in the hut. It fell directly onto his left eye. It was a rare and gratifying experience to be woken by the sun. For a brief moment, he savoured its dazzling caress. Then he turned his head and saw Hal asleep at the other end of the
hut. He looked like a gun dog in repose and was breathing noisily.

Frank watched him without saying a word. He felt something akin to tenderness for his comrade. A tenderness curiously tinged with hatred. Or rather no: he just hated him affectionately, that was it!

He gave an imperceptible shrug. A need to make love gouged his flesh like a knife digging into an unripe fruit. He turned automatically to where Dora slept. She wasn’t there. Frank stood up and crossed to the door. The island was bathed by the sun in a watery luminosity, like light in an aquarium. He looked right and left but could not see Dora anywhere. Her absence was like a physical pain.

“Hal,” he shouted. “Wake up!”

Hal blinked.

He propped himself up on one elbow and yawned like a lion while looking uncertainly at his companion.

“You were right to wake me,” he said. “I was dreaming I was in jail, a jail that was worse even than solitary in the slammer…”

Frank cut him short: “Dora’s gone!”

Hal sat up.

“What?”

“Look! She’s not here!”

“She’ll have gone down to the sea.”

“Yeah, but if she has I can’t see her.”

Hal ran outside. Then he sped off towards the copse, because it was the highest point on the island. From that knoll he would have an all-round view… Frank caught up with him.

“See? She really has gone,” he said. “She’ll have made up her mind because of the stupid way we carried on yesterday.
She took advantage of the high tide… You can see it’s right up… It’s a mess!… Either she’s drowned or else she’s raised the alarm. I tell you, we’ll have the cops around our necks!… We’ll get nicked! Let’s hope she got drowned…”

“Oh, give it a rest, will you?” said Hal. “What’s the use of getting all worked up about it?”

He scanned the sea separating them from the mainland. It was rucked with waves and white horses. There was no way a solitary swimmer could be seen in that grey expanse in perpetual motion without the use of a pair of powerful high-magnification binoculars.

Hal was thinking. Two deep lines appeared on his forehead.

“It’s strange…” he said. “Why would she want to leave?”

“Why would she want to stay? Do you think being stuck here is much of a life? What are we going to do, Hal? Oh God! Let’s hope the bitch got drowned!”

Hal walked back down to the hut. He didn’t seem convinced that Dora had skipped out on them. Frank called out to him:

“Hey! What are we going to do?”

“Nothing for the moment,” Hal shouted back. “We’ll have to see.”

“See what?”

“We’ll just have to see… Just shut up for a minute, will you?”

“If that’s the way you want it… Let’s just sit and wait for the cops to show up since that’s what you want… But I’m warning you, if I see them turning up I’ll take my chances in the drink.”

“OK.”

Frank stopped running after his partner and went down to the beach. When he got there he burst out laughing. Dora was there, not swimming but floating, with her hands behind her head. A rock had had hidden her from Hal’s anxious scrutiny.

He was so happy that his legs almost gave way under him. He approached her and understood why she had chosen her spot in the lee of the rock: she was naked.

When she caught sight of Frank, she gave a little scream.

“Go away,” she said.

“Nothing doing! This is too good to miss…”

“Please! Don’t be such a boor! You can see very well that I have no clothes on… I wanted to take a bath and…”

There was a strange look in Frank’s eye. He waded into the water up to his knees without removing his shoes or trousers.

“Of course you did, a bath…” he stammered as if hypnotized. He leant over Dora. She tried to push him away but lost her balance, capsized and went under.

She cried out through the water, making a ridiculous gargling sound. Her head emerged. She gasped for air. Frank pulled her roughly by one arm. She rose from the waves like some Danish goddess, proud and beautiful, panting for breath.

Frank grabbed her round the waist and dragged her back to the sand. She fought; she screamed; she lashed out at him, but he ignored her fists. On the contrary, the way she kicked and screeched like any woman being assaulted stoked his desire to a high pitch. She twisted her head and bit him deeply on the forearm: all he felt was a mild discomfort. He dumped her unceremoniously on the ground and threw himself on her, maddened by the need to possess her body, which
streamed with water and bucked and heaved in an effort to escape from him.

He did not speak. Teeth gritted and glassy-eyed, he breathed through his nose and his furious actions followed a certain method.

He had forgotten that Hal was not far away. And now Hal came running like a madman, with his fists clenched.

When he was standing over the couple, he bellowed:

“Let her go, you animal! Now!”

He dug his boot several times into Frank’s back. The kicking shook Frank out of his private world. He tore himself away from his prey and whipped round. He was raving. A fine thread of spittle oozed from the corners of his lips.

“You disgust me!…” cried Hal. “You’re a real scumbag! You’re like a dog! An old, impotent dog!”

Frank raised his fist and brought it down on Hal’s cheek. Hal staggered, regained his balance and threw a fierce right cross, which Frank narrowly dodged. Now the fight was really on. It wasn’t a brawl, but a duel to the death. Dora slipped into her shorts and sailor’s jersey before standing up to watch the two opponents. They were now grappling wildly with each other, grunting as they rolled over and over on the beach. Then they let go of each other and scrambled immediately to their feet like perfectly coordinated duettists.

Then the punches started flying thick and fast. They were evenly matched. Hal was visibly stronger than Frank, but in Frank’s favour was his intense fury.

There came a moment when he sidestepped a lunge by his opponent and landed a fearsome hook to his liver. Hal went down like a log on the sand and stayed there without moving, 
face down, one foot in the water and one hand clutching a pebble.

Frank wiped away the blood that was pouring down his face. He suddenly felt desperately tired and utterly weary. Everything around him was becoming blurred again.

“My eyes must have taken a direct hit,” he thought.

He turned to Dora but inferred her presence rather than saw her. She was no more than a shimmering reflection in his eyes, a shape with wavy outlines… He put his hand over his eyes so that he would not see the unsteady universe which was shaking like jelly.

“God, it hurts!” murmured Frank. “This time I really am going blind, I’m sure of it.”

Swaying like a drunk, he staggered back to the hut and collapsed onto the wooden bench. He laid his head on one folded arm and sank into a comatose darkness. Gradually his body woke to a world of suffering. With every passing minute new pains caused by the punches he had taken declared themselves… He was done in.

Dora stared at Hal, who lay without moving on the sand. His face was also all bloodied. His split lips were bleeding profusely and a red stain spread out over the thirsty sand.

She knelt by him and gently stroked the bushy hair of the fallen man.

She took hold of one shoulder and pushed in an effort to turn him onto his back. Hal gave a sigh and blinked his eyes… His lips had tripled in size.

“The swine…” he spluttered painfully.

Dora leant over him and kissed that monstrous mouth. The kiss tasted of blood. When she straightened up her own lips were red with Hal’s blood.

“We’ve got to leave,” she said in a determined voice. “The best thing would be to put an end to this.”

Hal got onto his knees. They both remained for a few moments in that position, like a pair of bookends, face to face, looking intently at each other.

“Yeah, let’s get out of here,” said Hal.

“The mainland is a fair way off, so we’ll get a wooden bench and use that as a float. We’ll hang on behind it and paddle with our feet. That’ll be the easiest way.”

“If you say so…” He added: “You think of everything!”

“I leave no stone unturned!” said Dora.

She walked to the strip of short grass at the edge of the beach and raised a flat rock. She slid her hand into the deepish cavity under it and pulled out a piece of cloth, which she proceeded to unfold.

Hal watched her, intrigued.

“What’s that?” he asked.

She pulled the revolver from the cloth.

“It’s this.”

Bemused, he shook his head.

“So it was you who?…”

“Here’s the proof…”

“What about the bullets?”

“In the chamber…”

“So you—”

“I removed from each of you the two separate components which, together, result in a loaded revolver…”

“You take the biscuit! You really do!”

It was all he could find to say. As he dabbed at his lips, he shook his head and rolled his eyes in amazement.

“Aren’t you just the…”

He broke off when he saw her turn and head away in the direction of the hut. She walked slowly, the gun swinging at the end of her arm.

“Where are you going?” he suddenly called out.

She continued walking without turning round. Again Hal asked:

“Where are you going, Dora?”

But the only reply he got was the woman’s back and her hand wrapped round the butt of the revolver. Then he understood.

“No, no!” he cried, at first to himself.

Then he got to his feet.

“No, Dora!… Listen…”

He continued to call in a clipped voice which passed between his enormous gashed lips with some difficulty.

“Listen, Dora… You mustn’t… You mustn’t… I don’t want you to…”

He began to run, got ahead of her and started walking backwards in front of her while pleading with her in a hushed, urgent voice.

“Frank and me have been through too much…”

“You men,” she spat contemptuously, “all that matters to you is friendship!”

He went on, almost sobbing now:

“We’ve bled together… killed together! Doesn’t that count for anything?”

She saw tears in his eyes. Large, man-sized tears which were too embarrassed to fall.

She continued to stride towards the hut.

His stopped, his arms stretched wide.

“I’m telling you I don’t want this! I won’t have it!”

Dora raised the gun. Hal stared at the barrel, which was being aimed at him. He stepped back half a pace.

“Not afraid, are you?” she asked.

“When people have got a gun pointing at them, they get a bit nervous. It’s only human nature.”

“True,” agreed Dora. “And when people have got their finger on a trigger, they become very powerful, which is also only human nature. It’s as if you’re holding a magic wand… You make a wish and it’s answered straight away.”

“Give it to me! A gun isn’t a suitable thing for a woman…”

“It’s suitable for anyone who needs one.”

Hal sobbed: “Don’t kill him! Please!… I’m begging you!”

She waved him to one side and continued walking towards the hut.

“So you feel that strongly about him?”

“Yes! We’ve both knocked each other about too much… That leaves a mark on two men! Too ready with our fists… Hammered each other too much… Hated each other too much!… Hatred like ours, Dora, is stronger than just affection, it goes much deeper!”

They said nothing more until they got to the hut. He followed at a distance, completely spent. Dora stood in the doorway. Three metres from her was Frank’s back. It was broad and made a tempting target. Dora raised the gun and held it at arm’s length. She closed one eye and looked
through the foresight, drawing a bead on the centre of the enormous target.

“No!” screamed Hal.

He threw himself on her extended arm. The gun went off. The bullet ended up in the door frame. Frank jumped up and spun round. He had remained in darkness for too long and could see absolutely nothing!

“What’s going on?” he said breathlessly.

Hal twisted Dora’s arm. When the revolver fell to the floor he bent down lithely, gathered it up and with one incredibly rapid movement of his hand put a bullet into her temple.

Dora closed her eyes as if the shot had just grazed her. Then she toppled forward. Hal slowed her fall. Then he was holding the smoking gun and had no idea what to do next.

Frank blinked… Daylight was seeping imperceptibly into his eyes. He became gradually aware of the outlines of things. He made out Dora’s lifeless body through a violet haze.

“Dora!” he called. “Dora!”

“Shut your mouth!” whispered Hal. “She’s dead!”

“What did you say?”

“Dead! Got that? Done for, departed, permanent nothing!”

“You killed her…” stammered Frank. “You lousy swine! You killed her!… What the hell did you go and do that for, eh?”