Sinner's Wood: Part 9 – Life's a Beach

[Saint]

Can you escape from Sinner's wood?

I suppose when someone comes to your door on a Sunday afternoon in a cheap suit, with a fat man holding a camera, most normal people would have given him the boot.

Stanley Lucy Middriff, like everyone else, needs money.  But when it's offered to him in the shape of a phoney reality T.V. show, he makes the wrong choice.  Quickly, he finds himself in a wood, armed with only a knife, and when he stumbles upon the body of a woman, killed in a way no animal could manage, he realises something bigger is going on.

It's up to you how- or if -he survives.


Not suitable for squeamish, young, or easily offended readers.  I'm experimenting with styles, and this particular one contains lots of blood, gore, sexual references, and dark humour.

[Chinaren]

 

Yay!  It's back, and with a fantastic chapter.  Love this chick, made me lust bad, just reading her.     What a fantastic character.  Hot with more than a hint of unhinged.

Anyway, I say inside is a hand.  However, the hand is wearing a ring.  As I like the key idea of Nice's above, maybe the ring is more than a ring.  maybe it opens a door to a boss cave. 

She saved it because the ring is pretty.  Where she got the hand... well that's another matter.

Now it's about time for her to go and shower under the natural waterfall inside the cave.

~prepares tissues and lotion~ 

[Saint]

Inside the box are three small, clean, perfectly spherical stones; a grimy and long-unused key; and a second vined hunting knife, coated in a dark brown something which I have no doubt is blood.  There's also a small piece of ribbon that looks like it connects to the bottom of the box.  As soon as it's opened, she snatches the box back from me, giggling.

“My things box.”  She points to each item in turn.  “Three pretty rocks.  Dirty useful thing.  Kirby's hunting knife.  Secret drawer ribbon.”  And then she fingers the ribbon thoughtfully.  “Can I trust?”

“What?  Me?  Well you're the first good thing that's happened to me in this shithole, so yeah, you can trust me.”

“That is sweet.  I like you.  Stan-ey is nice.  I trust Stan-ey.”  And when she pulls on the ribbon, I wish I'd never said anything.  I was already getting whispers that she wasn't all there, but if there was anything strong enough to confirm this, then it was the human fucking hand in that secret compartment.

“What the fuck?!” I exclaim, and she twitches her head at my burst as if I'd simply nodded and smiled.

“Look, lovely ring.”

I'm too preoccupied with the fact that it was a human fucking hand to notice some stupid ring, but she thinks nothing of taking it out and holding it out to me.

“Stan-ey, high five!” she giggles.

“No way!  That's some guy's dead hand!  What is wrong with you?!”  She finally seems to see that I'm not impressed, and reacts as only a child could: she puffs up her eyes and begins to bawl.

“No, no,” I say for reasons I don't think I'll ever comprehend, “Don't cry, I didn't mean it...”

But she's still bawling.  She looks into my eyes with an injured puppy expression, and from the angle she's leaning, I can see down her top.  Oh, so that explains why I'm comforting the girl who just tried to make a joke out of a severed hand...  She sniffs and wipes off her tears, and I can hardly resist the pull.  Against every screaming instinct, I sit beside her.

“Now, there there.  It's just a little freaky for most people to see a severed hand like that.”

“I scared Stan-ey?”

“You frightened the fucking life out of me, girl.”  And then some...

“I am sorry.  Ring is important.”

“It's alright, I forgive you.”  But you're still a freaky little fucker, and this is only because I think I might be able to get something out of you.  Or put something in you...  “But put that thing away.”

“Can you help?” she says, making no move to relinquish the hand.  If she doesn't put it away soon, then I seriously think I'm going to leave, no matter how much food, bed, and sex appeal she has.

“It depends on what you want me to do.”  It's going to involve the hand, isn't it?

“Want the ring.”  And she points the hand at me.  “Can not remove.  Stan-ey do it.”

Oh no, no way!  No bloody way.  No amount of eye candy is worth that.  But then again... I cant even remember the last time I got laid.  I don't believe I'm doing it, but I hold my hand out and she passes it over.  The hand is cold and soft, most definitely female.  Or rather, used to be most definitely female.  I suck in my gut and place my fingers around the ring.  It's a lot easier than trying to get a ring off a living hand, because this one doesn't yell in pain, but nevertheless, it doesn't budge.

“Do you have any water?”

She nods.

“Waterfall back there.”  And she points further into the cave.  I didn't even notice that the path kept going, but she picks up a log from the fire and uses it as a torch to guide me further back.  The more we move, sure enough, the more distinct the sound of running water gets, until finally we emerge into a chamber that leads into a shallow underwater lake.  More of an underwater big puddle, really.  Just as the lake begins, the water hits the rock from a drop about fifteen feet up.  Wanting to get this over and done with, I hold the hand under the fall for a few seconds, then try wedging the ring off once again.  It takes a while of twisting and pulling and re-submerging, but I finally manage to wrestle the ring out of the hand and hold it out to Erzulie.  She takes it merrily, then takes the hand (finally!) and puts it in her back pocket as if it were spare change.  The ring, she slips onto her finger, smiling like a kid at Christmas.

“So, er, how long have you been here?” I ask, hoping to detract attention from the hand.

“Lots of time.”

“I've been here four days.”

“I know that.  I track people.”

“People?  There are others here?  Others who don't want to kill us, that is...”

“Only two others.  Erzulie's friends died.  Stan-ey is here.  Stan-ey friend now.”

“You know there's an 'l' in my name, right?”

“Stan-ey is better,” she says irritably, as if I'd just insulted her religion.  She leans forward and pouts cutely, giving me another sneaky peek down her top.  “Stan-ey is perverted,” she accuses.  It seems she finally caught me looking, then.  “Be friend first.  Maybe sexy later.”  She says this with so much innocence and nonchalance.  My ears almost drop off my head.  What?  Stan-ey, my friend, you've hit the jackpot here!  “Stan-ey want sleep?”

“I wouldn't mind it,” I say, heart and cock still throbbing, trying desperately to gather my thoughts together.  I haven't managed to get any shuteye for a while.

“Follow me then.”

I wake with a twig sticking into my back, but the bed is much more comfortable than the forest floor, so I don't complain.  I don't know how long I've been out for, but as I turn to look at Erzulie's bed, I see she's not there.  I can just about see the mouth of the cave from here, daylight shining through; I've either not slept much or slept right through the night.  From the fact that I don't feel anywhere near as tired as before, I guess on the second one.

A stretch and a yawn later, and I'm sitting up, looking around the cave.  All of Erzulie's clothes are on her bed, with the exception of her tank, and her box is opened beside them.  I instinctively reach for the knife in my pocket, panicking when I can't find it, but then notice that it's beside the sheet I'm lying on, a vine threaded through the handle just like hers and the spare in her box.  I smile briefly and slip it around my neck, contemplating my next move.  I want to find out more about what the hell's going on here, and since the only answer Erzulie can give is 'Bad people's sport', then I'm obviously going to have to find details elsewhere.  The problem was how I went about getting them when, for all I knew, all but three people on the island want to kill me.

So how does he decide to try and get answers?

[Chinaren]

Fantastic chapter Saint.  Most fantastic.  All my heartpenisstrings were pulled.  Yanked actually.  Repeatedly.   

Anyway, lots of great lines here, I think this one just about pips the others, but it was close:

“Stan-ey, high five!” she giggles.

Anyway, we have to gain her trust to get in her pants find out more information.   Let's just follow her through her routine shall we, and see if we can find out why she thinks the ring is important, and who it belonged to.  Maybe she can show us the rest of the body parts.

Keep it coming. 

[ViP Perry Tratchett]

Wow, this one has been dug up from a grave hasn't it?  2009?

I wasn't going to read it, and then I saw Chinaren's response, so I thought I'd give it a go, and glad I did.  Very enjoyable indeed, especially the latter chapters.

For our next move I think I'm with Chinaren, albeit in more civilised tones.    Let's hang around her a bit more, see what she knows.  Obviously she knows the ring is something important, and so that has to be our first clue.

Then again, some weapons wouldn't be a bad idea.

[Saint]

Wow, this one has been dug up from a grave hasn't it?  2009?

In my defence, it was late 2009.

It's one I started as a coursework piece for college and decided to turn into an interactive and never got very far with. But on China's request, I resurrected it.  It seems to be going a little better now that I've had some more practice with interactives; there are quite a few other dead attempts at interactive tales of mine lying around from before Hard.  Feel free to browse and request biblionecromancy. 

I'll get to this one after Shadows, and intend to get them both written today, so any extra suggestions should be dropped in sometime in the next few hours, otherwise we're just stalking the mad girl.

[Saint]

I'll get to this one after Shadows, and intend to get them both written today, so any extra suggestions should be dropped in sometime in the next few hours, otherwise we're just stalking the mad girl.

Ten groats* to the Tomeian who can find me an instance where a chapter I promised has been delivered on time.  So many distractions today.   Sorry guys.  I shalln't promise anything for fear of laying the Curse of Delayed Chapters** on it, but I'll try and get these both done tomorrow.

*When Ovey gets the system back up, of course.
**Note to self, find Writing Ailments thread in morning...***
***Ah, footnotes.  Its been a while since Tome saw these.  Pretty obsolete as soon as Ovey found that swanky [desc] tag, though.

[Saint]

As I plan my next move, something pulls at my mind.  What had Erzulie meant when she said she 'tracks' people?  She also mentioned that there were only two others on the island who didn't want to kill us; were they also victims of the hoax reality show?  And what was the deal with all of this?  Was it really as simple as hunting, or was there something more sinister afoot?  I'm still in my clothes from the night before, and just as I'm preparing to stand, I hear wet footsteps coming from the path to the waterfall.  With a hope of seeing her only wearing that tank, I turn my attention to the light coming towards me, and as it approaches and I make out her figure, I can see she's holding a torch in one hand and what looks like a towel in her other.  I may borrow the towel and go shower myself when she's done getting dressed, if only to dry my body with something that's dried hers.

Her steps get closer and as they do, my heart races.  It's not a towel; it's the tank top.  My mind is doing backflips as my eyes focus on taking in as much of this sight as is humanely possible; I'm staring at the completely unclothed body of the most jaw-dropping girl I've ever met.  She looks exactly how I imagined (Yes, I've known her for about an hour not including sleep, and I've already imagined it); young breasts and an unshaven crotch, with skin smooth but scarred, probably from her time on this damn island.  I expect her to jump and try to cover herself, but she does no such thing.

“Stan-ey is up,” she says happily as she drops the tank on the floor by her bed.  It seems I was half right; it's wet as though she's used it as a towel.  I pray to every deity that she'll come over here, but apparently I'm not remotely holy, because she instead leans under the sheet of her bed and pulls out a backpack, which she opens to reveal more clothes.  After a short period of digging and consideration, during which I can see enough of her intimacy to make my hand want to slide inside my trousers, she pulls out two pairs of panties, one pink and lacy, and one baby blue and cotton.  She holds them both up to me.

“Pink or blue?”*

“Um, pink,” I answer, starstruck.  The casual nonchalance she takes when she smiles and starts putting the rest of the clothes she extracted back in the bag reminds of a child who's not yet aware of how uncomfortable it is to be naked in the presence of others.  Has something happened to her on this island that's reverted her back to the mental state of a little girl?  No, that can't be it; she mentioned sex before I went to sleep, and that's something usually taught in the teens.  Of course, she might have just come from a really 'close' family.**

I drop the train of thought as she begins to get dressed, pulling on the knickers, then the stockings, followed by her shirt – which she does the buttons up on, since she soaked the tank – and skirt, then finally, she slips on her shoes.

“Hey, Erzulie, can you take me to the others?”

“No more others,” she said calmly as she walks over.  “Slept two days.  They all lost.”

“Lost?”

“Lost the game.***  Manny beat them.”

“What, you mean they've been killed?  Hunted?”

“I tracked them.  I track people.”

“Yes, we've established that,” I rush, patience weaning, “Are they dead?”

“One of them.”

“Then take me to the other,” I demand, “We should keep together if were being hunted.”  Not to mention that I want answers from someone who can string a sentence together without ensuring it's three words long first.

“No need to,” she said merrily.  “He is here.”  And on this she begins walking to the mouth of the cave.  Shower idea abandoned, I follow faithfully, inspecting how thoroughly she'd washed her legs.  By the time I'd deciphered, by the flickering torch light, that there was no dirt on them, we'd reached the entrance to the cave.  She stopped just before stepping into the daylight, and took my arm, looking deeply and concernedly into my eyes in a way that pulled at my heartstrings.  Repeatedly.

“Stan-ey not scared.”

“What?  Why would I be scared?”

“Scared of hands?”

“No, just severed ones.”

“Not scared hands?”

“No.  Why would that be important?”  I'm going to regret asking that, aren't I?

“Andy is okay!” she squealed happily.  “Can come in!”  Just as my curiosity hits that level where I figure it might be better to just not know, she steps out and moves slightly along the wall.  I pad along after her and see a man lying against the wall.

“Andy can enter.  Stan-ey not scared,” she tells him as if this was good news, or even if this was something he could hear.  His eyes are closed, and one hand is on his cheek, with the other behind his back.  I think his ribcage is moving.  Whether it is or not, he's not paying the least bit of attention to what Erzulie tells him.

“Help lift him,” she demands.  I've yet to refuse an order from her, and considering I've just seen her in the buff, I don't think I can possibly start now, so I lean down and lift him around the torso, remembering the only piece of survival advice I know – if you could class as 'survival advice' – lift with the knees.  Once he was over my shoulder, though, I almost dropped him again as I let out a small yell.  His arm, from the forearm down, was missing, and dripping blood down my jumper.

“Jesus fucking Christ Erzulie!”

“Stan-ey is scared?  You said not...” she looked like I'd just slapped her.

“I'm not scared of hands, I just don't like coming across amputated limbs and the humans they used to be attached to!”  I humphed as I lugged Andy into the cave.  Erzulie couldn't seem to figure out if I was being serious or not, so she just skipped alongside me.

When we reached the fire, she replaced the log and pointed to my bed.

“Put him down.”

I was a little anxious to put a dying man on my bed, then realised that it was Erzulie who owned the bed, and this Andy had as much right to it as I did.  As I dropped him on, he began to stir, very slowly moving his halfarm.  His eyes remained closed, though.

“What happened to him,” I ask, hoping to keep my composure more than I did with the hand in the box situation.

“I tracked him.  Him and partner.  They killed her.  Took his hand.  Left to die.”

“Who are 'they'?”

“The cloaked men.”

“Sounds like the bastard who attacked me,” I think aloud, remembering the black hooded cloak that obscured my gunman's face.  My next thought is cut short by a stifled groan from behind; Andy is sitting up, eyes still closed.

“Where am I?” he says calmly.

“Safe in cave.”

He mutters something under his breath that sounds like a curse.  The left fist clenches tight, and then his actions suddenly become quick and panicked.  The hand reaches for where his other would be, and passes straight through.  It zips up to grope the forearm, but still no luck, and when he touches the bloody wound, he screams.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” he shouts.

“That's what I said,” I mumble to myself.  But he hears it.  His eyes bolt open, and I step back.  They're a pure blazing red from lid to lid, with no iris or pupil or anything.  He stood up, looking like fury embodied, and strode over to me, fists raised.

And then, when I step back into the best defensive stance I can come up with on the spot, he steps back.  His eyebrows rise.  He holds out his halfarm.

“You...”  He's... scared?

“Yeah, that's right, not so big now, are you?  I'm a black – no, midnight belt in Kung Jitsu, you know, so back off.”

“You!” he repeated with more fervour, stepping back again.  I stepped forward, fists still raised, and Mr Andy Embodiment-of-Fury ran for the other end of the tunnel.

“Okay,” I said confusedly, turning to Erzulie, “Who the hell was that, why doesn't his arm hurt, what the fuck is up with his eyes, and why is he absolutely terrified of me?”

“Okay,” I said confusedly, turning to Erzulie, “Who the hell was that, why doesn't his arm hurt, what the fuck is up with his eyes, and why is he absolutely terrified of me?”

*I seriously wanted to make this an SP...
**Too far?  Lemme know if the humour in the story gets too dark.
***Please visit this link for more information.

[Chinaren]

Ten groats* to the Tomeian who can find me an instance where a chapter I promised has been delivered on time.

In this case I'll forgive you, as your're churning out stuff at a great rate just atm, which is Good.   

Don't have time to read this just now, so later, possibly when I'm slightly drunk, as this is Friday.

 

[Chinaren]

Yay! Another triumph!   

All round goodness there Saint.  Enjoyed.

As for Mr. Red Eyes, I say he was a 'contestant' who survived for a long time, so they tried experimenting on him to make him an aggressive beast who would help hunt the contestants down. 

However, something went wrong, and he became self hating and tore his bionic animal arm off and escaped.  Or he fought his captors and lost his arm in the fight and escaped.  I'm good with either.

[Saint]

Yay! Another triumph!   

All round goodness there Saint.  Enjoyed.

As for Mr. Red Eyes, I say he was a 'contestant' who survived for a long time, so they tried experimenting on him to make him an aggressive beast who would help hunt the contestants down. 

However, something went wrong, and he became self hating and tore his bionic animal arm off and escaped.  Or he fought his captors and lost his arm in the fight and escaped.  I'm good with either.

This hits quite close to a few of the ideas I have for this already.

Anymore for any more?

[ViP Perry Tratchett]

I turn my back for three seconds and you pump out another fourty seven chapters! 

However, they are good chapters, so I forgive you.

For the suggestions.  I like Chinaren's, but to give you a choice:

He's a rogue 'director' of the TV show, who went mad in some fashion.   The other directors tried to stop him, resulting in his injury, but he got away. 

How this gave him red eyes I'm not sure.  Maybe they're implants that allows him to see all the cameras on the island?

[Saint]

Very well then, two seperate ends of the food chain.  Hunter gone mad/rogue, or hunted but survived somehow.  I'll leave this up for a bit to allow other suggestions, and then this may go to poll.

[Saint]

Happy-go-lucky Erzulie has no answers to my questions, but she does have a good suggestion for how to get them.

“Let's chase him!” she tweets somewhat vindictively and dances off, still holding her torch.  At the rate he'd fled, there was no way we were going to catch him, so presumably, Erzulie was just tracking him to the waterfall where we could pin him.  But by the time we reach that underground lake, he's nowhere to be seen.  Erzulie takes a brief look around, and then skips into the water.  I want to follow her, but these are my only clothes and I don't want to wet them.

“Stan-ey, hurry up,” she urges me, but keeps skipping.  The water is only up to her knees, and since she has the torch and the air around me is growing darker as she gets further away, I have no choice but to begin wading.  This gets me wondering how it is that Andy managed to make his way through these tunnels.  Must be something to do with those eyes, I decide, and try to catch up with Erzulie.  She finally turns around and irritatedly stops for me to catch up, then slaps me playfully as I do.  Playful or not, it hurt, and as I moan, she slaps me again happily and I realise that this is turning me on.  Wow, I suppose you learn something new every day.  Just as I think she's going to do it again, however, she turns on heel and keeps moving.

The water begins to shallow and we both move as quickly as required, and then, eventually, we're standing on dry land again, and I can just about make out wet footprints on the floor.  Somewhere under the water, the surface had changed, because the dirt and broken stones at the other side had morphed into hard rock on this side.  As far as I can see, there is only one tunnel leading through, which is a good thing because as we move, the footprints fade out.  Erzulie's skirt is flipping up as she flitts along, but the way she's holding the torch means it's in shadow and of no benefit to my eyes.

“Hey Erzulie,” I pant as we run, “What is this place?”

“Sinner's Wood Cave.  I found it.  I live here.  Cave is big.  Under entire island.”

“Sinner's Wood?  Is that what this place is called?”

“I think so.  Erzulie find sign.  Said 'Sinner's Wood'.  Had caption too.  Too many words.”

I'd like to know what those words were, but with madam three-word being the only one I can talk to, I'm guessing the only way I'll find out what it says is to see it myself.  For now, I focus on the problem facing me: catching Andy.  Maybe if I can get him to talk, I can find out what's happening here, because it isn't a TV show, and it may be a hunt, but Erzulie's severed hand and Andy's decapitated arm gave me the impression that they may be linked, and therefore something else is afoot.  Were they a bunch of hand harvesters?  Were they after my hands?  No, that just sounds weird.  If anyone knew what these bad boys had been through, no-one would want to come near them.  And besides, even if it was true, why had they dropped me on an island instead of cutting them off in the chopper?

“Does this cave end?” I ask.

“Goes right through.  Ends after forest.”

I was hoping for a dead-end to this cave so that we could pin him and interrogate, but that just threw a spanner into my work.  Now we'll have to find him.  I suppose that makes us the hunters, if you wanted to get ironic about things.  Everyone loves a bit of irony.  I begin to see a light ahead, signifying the end of the cave, and Erzulie picks up her pace.  As the natural light bleeds into the darkness, she stops, looking around for something on the wall.  She feels about for a few seconds before finding it; a small grove in the rock which she can prop the torch on.  It's far enough from the cave mouth not to be seen from outside, and yet close enough that you could see your way through to cave until you reached it.  Maybe once upon a time, Erzulie was a survival genius, and now she'd lost her mind she was just living on her former self's routine.  She sure seems to know her stuff, but doesn't have the mentality to back it up.

When we emerge into the open air, I have to jump back a few feet as a wave almost drenches me.  It seems that the cave ran under the forest completely, as what we're now standing on is the rocky bottom of a cliff shelf.  The ocean lies out before us, about eight feet below the shelf, and we have walking space that could safely satisfy a small party.  A quick scan tells us that Andy is slowly manoeuvring the cliff edge to the right of us, apparently still terrified of me for some unknown reason.

He was moving so carefully along the edge that it takes us only moments to catch up with him, and as soon as we have, he stops moving and falls to his knees.

“I'm sorry, sire!  I'm sorry I swear!”  Sire.  Now this I could get used to.

“Shutup and tell me who you are!” I snap, hoping to garner something from his fear.

“I am Andrew Detoré,” he whimpers.

“I don't need your name, I want to know who you are.  What do you do, why are you here?”

“I own this island.”

“So you lead the hunt?  You brought me here?”

“No, no, I swear, I have nothing to do with it.”  And then he blinks, his eyes turn a sky blue, and he stops whimpering.  “Please ignore my cowardly counterpart,” he now says, the same voice but a different tone.  More superior and commanding.  Definitely no longer scared of me.  “Dear me, why are we on a cliff?”

“You were scared of me,” I answer.

“Oh, no, my counterpart is.”

“But you're not?”

“No, not terribly,” he sighs.  “I don't suppose I'd touch you though, you don't appear to have bathed in a week.  Will that do?”

“For now,” I shrug.  “Can you answer my questions?”

“I'm the owner of this island, as my other half said.  I brought many people here to die.  My staff eventually called me 'The Director', because of the hoax tv show idea.  I didn't bring you here, though, I'm afraid.  That was my successor, Manuel Nasood.”

“Why am I here?”

“I don't know.  Manuel does things differently.  I see he still keeps my tradition of arming the contestants, though,” he says, pointing to the knife around my neck.

“Contestants?”

“Yes, that's what the hunt-ees have come to be known as.”

“So this is just a hunting game!” I cry in the style of a hollywood actor interrogating the big bad villains about his plot to take over the world.

“As I told you, Manuel does things very differently to me.  This could still be a hunting game, but when he took over, there was definitely something different behind his motive.  Something occult, if I had to describe it.  Nothing like the simple hunt I made it.”  He spoke so casually about murder that it sent a chill through my being.  It's as if he's invited me over for dinner and he's telling me about his son's latest sports win.

“If you made it a hunting game, and he made it something else, is that why you're here?”

“Sort of, yes.  Manuel overthrew me as the new director, and I was put into the island as a contestant.  The problem for Manuel, though, was that I'd been hunting for so long that none of his hunters could catch me to kill me.  Eventually he managed to trap me, and injected me with something, and ever since then, I've had insane mood swings.  From what I can tell, I have three 'modes'.  Anger and calm.  This appears to be my calm mode, the one where I'm most rationally like my former self.

“After that, I was released again, and my anger mode was dominant.  Every time I came across another contestant, I'd slaughter them.  The two modes are mostly separate, so I don't know how many died this way, but Manuel still wasn't happy.  There seems to be something important about the hands and the way I was killing was more of a mauling.  I left the bodies cut open in such a state that the hands often weren't spared injury, so he sent his men after me again.”  This reminded me of the girl I'd found completely torn open.  That must have been his doing, as he'd still had both hands.  “I was both a hunter and hunted, but I finally came across another girl, another one of Manuel's contestants, and this time I was calm.  We managed to stay safe for many many weeks, watching the helicopters drop off new contestants and hearing when they were killed.  I'd never had such a long period of calm as when I was with her.  And then they found us.”  If this wasn't a man who could only feel calm, I'm sure this is where the tears would fall.

“They killed her and they took her hand, but I was left alive.  They took my entire forearm as a message that next time, I was to leave the hands available.  That's most of what I can remember, as I'm pretty sure my alter ego kicked in around then.  Everything he does is about as memorable as a dream; the most recent things are easy to recall, but everything else is a blur of mixed thoughts.”

“You couldn't tell me why he's terrified of me?”

“Unfortunately not, no.”

“Last question, then,” I asked, wary of the answer.  “If you're a hunter, do you want to kill me?”

“No,” he breathed serenely.  “You're Manuel's hunt.  Believe me, after being subject to my own ruthless games, I've seen the error of my ways.  I can assure you the only person I want to kill now is Manuel.  I can't speak for my other half though, I'm afraid.  Haven't the foggiest idea what motivates him.”

“Well what do we do now?”

“I don't know about you, but I'm going to stay calm for as long as possible, and kill the bastard who took my island.”

“Mind if I come along?”  I ask.

“Erzulie help too!” she squeals excitedly like we were suggesting a new game.  We don't get an answer, though, because on that moment, the rocky walls are showered with sparks as a flock of bullets heads our way.

Off-Topic:

Perry and China, your suggestions were so good that I fused them.  Hope this was an adequate merging.

More gunfire, but this time we're on a cliff edge.  We have no idea where the bullets are coming from, no idea if the two sides of the cliff go anywhere but ocean, and going back will very likely give them the location of Erzulie's cave.  Two SPs.  One:  Where are the gunners coming from?  Two: What do our guys do?  (Take into account that last time you told Stanley to run, but this time we have a girl whose slightly insane, and a guy who used to be the primo hunter)

[ViP Perry Tratchett]

Excellent chapter!  You're going from strength to strength on this one Saint.

As for what to do next, tough.  My first reaction is to get back under cover, survival now is more urgent than hiding the cave.

However, maybe he can duck down with the chicky-poo and get Eyes to hunt down their attackers.

There was one typo somewhere.  Grove instead of groove.  I assume that's what you meant anyway.

[Chinaren]

I'm really loving this story Saint.   

So, another great chapter and a tough SP.  I think I agree with Petch here, getting back undercover could be priority one.  Still, if you really want to try something different then jump into the ocean and try and swim to cover?

I got nothing. 

[Saint]

First instinct:  SHIT!  Second instinct:  DUCK!  Andy's instinct:  Grab my retarded ass before I can start to crouch, and drag myself and Erzulie back towards the cave.  For a guy who resonates calm, he can get quite aggressive.

“Idiot,” he calls as we run, “It's much harder to hit a standing, moving target than it is to hit some twat lying on the ground!”  As if the island is on his side, another pile of bullets soars our way, missing by a fraction.  “Up there!” he calls, pointing up the cliff face but never stopping.  I see a flash, then another set of fire pelts just in front of us.  Just distinguishable between the green is a dark robe, eerily familiar.

“Do they all wear that robe?”  I try to ask, but a flash comes from ahead, and Andy, who still has our arms, stops and jumps backwards.  Sparks erupt as where we would have been standing is covered on gun fire, and Andy drags us back forwards again.  It's one small sprint to the cave mouth, and as we stride in, Andy pulls us down to the floor, and after another thunder of metal on rock behind us, stands us up.

“Right, Erzulie, I'm sorry, but your cave is lost.  It won't take them long to figure out that the cave runs through to another point and track the entrance.  If we wait her-”

“I get things!” she says urgently and starts off.  He reaches out and grabs her arm, but it's not for long, as Erzulie drives a kick into his... ahem... and darts back down into the tunnel.  I think that this, if anything, will push him into hulk mode, but he maintains his current state, even if his eyes are watering like a drunk pissing.

“We have to wait here,” he urges me, “Until they think we're going out of the other side, and then make our way along the cliff shelf.  It leads to the beach, and it's our only option.”  Erzulie takes the torch from the hole in the wall, and just as I'm choosing between possibly keeping my life and following Erzulie, she starts running, and her skirt flips up to show the underwear.  Underwear, I remember with some misplaced pride, that I chose.  Hot girl wins every time.

I start running with Erzulie, cutting back through the cave at twice the pace we'd moved when chasing Andy, since our lives hang on this one, and I don't bother looking back, but I think I can hear Mr Serene following.

“Must get things,” Erzulie puffs as she runs.  “Must get things.  Things are special.  Must get things.”  Well there was no doubting her motivation, but what the hell was mine?  I don't even know what's going on here.  If what Andy said was true, then our only way off of this goddamn rock was to find this Manuel Nasood and kill him.  But the problem, of course, is that Andy had been trying that for ages, by the sound of it, and he has far more survival skills than me and madam woo-woo combined.  For now, I'll just focus on the short term aims:  1) Get Erzulie's stuff back.  2) Refrain from dying for as long as possible.  3) Convince Erzulie that I'm a fit partner for 'sexy'.

If I'm pulled into Andy's quest to eliminate Manuel, then so be it.  For now, well... at least one of my goals is achievable.  Unfortunately, it's not the one that involves me getting laid.

We cross over the lake as quickly as the water would allow, and as we hit the final stretch to the sleeping area, the sound of a collection of small engines pushed past their limits comes from ahead of us.

“Fuck, bikes.  Make it quick,” Andy barks from behind us as Erzulie reaches her bed.  She pulls the bag from underneath, unzips it, drops in the box and crams not one but both blankets on top.  I'm amazed that the bag actually holds all of this in addition to her clothes, but I don't have time to marvel, because Andy is scooping up piles of the dried leaves from underneath the blanket and shifting them between us and the loudening sound of the engines.  I grab an armful and drop them next to him as he starts to spread them as effectively as possible along the length of the cave, and as I go back for another load, he picks up some of the logs from the fire and drops them along the barricade.  I spread the second armful along, and Erzulie, behind us, looks as if someone's punched her in the face.  It seems she's sane enough to realise why we have to do this.  Unfortunately, she's also sane enough to have grown attached to this little place.  Without staying to see if the fire catches, I take hold of the unburned end of a log and catch Erzulie's arm as I pass her, shooting back toward the water with Andy following us tightly.

We pass over it as the bike engines roar behind us, and our soaked shoes leave prints we don't have time to cover – but with one way out, there's not much point anyway.  The engines stop, and there's some shouts I can't make out behind us.  Then, a few seconds later, the engines start up again.  At a guess, I'd say the barricade didn't catch fire all the way along, and they managed to clear a path for the bikes.  The water might stop them if they think it's deeper, but as it is, the bikes will pass through easily.  Daylight shines ahead, promising us an exit just as splashes confirm that the bikers aren't phased by the shallow pool.  Erzulie makes to stop and deposit her torch, but I keep pulling on her arm, breaking her routine, and then we're out on the cliff shelf.

“Keep running,” Andy says – you guessed it! – calmly.

I drop the torch, and Erzulie unwillingly drops hers too, and we run as carefully as possible along the shelf.  It may be my imagination, but I think it's thinning.  And then we're so far along that it's definitely not my imagination, because I'm having to stand in front of Erzulie where we won't fit.

The bikes come out of the cave – unfortunately not fast enough to propel them over the edge when they brake.  Three of them, each with a single rider, are dismounted as their owners pull their guns out and aim our way.

“Jump!” says Andy as he dives forward, off the cliff.

“Are you crazy?!” I shout after him.  “I'd rather die quickly from a bullet to the brain than slowly from those wav-” But it turns out I don't have a choice, because Erzulie would prefer to jump, and I'm still clinging to her arm.

The water hits me like the ground would, except for the fact that the last time I jumped and hit the ground, I could roll.  This is like I'm hitting a hard stone wall head on, and then falling over while still in roaring agony, and then, suddenly, the wall falls on me and completely surrounds me.  For a few long seconds, I think I'm going to die.  I can't open my eyes, and I can't move my arms or legs, but then I feel a cushion pressing into my back, two arms slink around my chest, and I'm pulled up, onto the surface of the water.

As I turn around, I find with delight that the pillow is in fact Erzulie's bosom, and she drags me onto a sandy surface, from which, looking up, I can't see the cliff shelf we've just dived from.  Andy is dusting himself off at the side of me.

“I thought you said the shelf led to a beach, you bastard!” I raged.

“It does.  Did I forget to mention the dive?”

I want to punch that smug look off of his face, but, like it or not, even though my entire boy feels like it's been slapped over and over, I'm safer than I was a few moments ago.  It's gonna be a while until I can stand or otherwise support myself in any way, so I take a look at my surroundings.  A way off behind us, there's one the forest, and on my left is the huge wall where the cliff meets the beach.  In front of me is the water, with not even a spot on the horizon, and to my right is what seems to be an endless expanse of sandy beach.

Erzulie is dancing around me, chanting: “I saved Stan-ey!” over and over.  I don't complain; the way she's moving is making her little boobs jiggle just right.

“Okay then, time to get back under cover.  I don't know any spots around here, but I'm sure we can find one in the woods and decide what we do next,” Andy muses.

“Erzulie likes beach!” says my enigmatic saviour with a pout.

“Yes,” Andy adds, “The beach is nice, but there are far more potential hiding places in the wood.”

“Erzulie wants beach!” she presses.

“We should go into the wood,” Andy says, in a close to an ugent tone as his calm temper can manage.

“Beach beach beach!”

“Alright, alright,” I groan, “Looks like I get the deciding vote."

Obvious SP alert!  Beach or Wood?

[Chinaren]

You are being super prolific this month Saint!   

Good ep as always, though a tiny crit: Even as hot as he is for this chick, I think he'd probably be more concerned with the bullets than getting it on at that exact moment.

Anyway, for the espee:  Unless Erzu has a good reason for the beach (or a good reason for not the forest), I'd have to say the trees would offer the most cover.

Not that I have much experience being hunted mind.  Hunting maybe... 

[NicTei]

I'mma have to go with the beach.  Maybe our guy will get lucky and they'll have a sexy beach party?

[Burningplain]

Wood land. Ezrulie will get over it and he'll get to live longer.

[Elsza]

Right well I'm going to be awkward, I've got a soft spot for Ezrulie, I think she's sweet and for that reason, I would stay on the beach, Stanley likes Ezrulie far more than I do, and for different ... ehem... reasons    so he is likely to give into her.
Also, with Ezrulie's previous history of getting things right, survival wise, even if she doesn't know why, I'm betting theirs something useful hidden/some kind of shelter, on the beach!

[Saint]

A wild poll appears!  Choose the wild animal you wish to send into the deathfight of voting!

[Chinaren]

Despite my suggestion I voted for option two, 'cos I want to see what Saint can come up with that's special about the beach.

And tied.

[Saint]

“Beach beach beach!” Erzulie chanted excitedly.

“The wood is the safest place,” Andy repeated.

As well as Andy had survived so far, Erzulie was kept alive on what appeared to be pure instinct, and all the nature documentaries I've watched (I may not seem the type, but believe me, when I'm sitting on that couch and don't want to get up, I'll watch anything...) say instinct is the key to survival.

“Erzulie, do you want the beach because it's pretty and nice?”

“No, beach tunnels!”

“Beach tunnels?” Andy asks.  “Madam, I built all of the structures of Sinner's Wood, above ground or subterranean.  The only tunnels on this island are right at the centre, near where my old hunter's headquarters is based.”

“Erzulie found cave,” she says, very matter-of-factly.

“She's got you there, Andy; you never knew about her cave, either,” I note.  “Alright then, Erzulie, beach it is.”  With this, Erzulie lets out a squeal and begins skipping off along the beach.  If I was Andy, I'd be pretty damn pissed off right now, but of course, he's The Incredible Calm-man, and just follows as I step after her, not even so much as grumbling.

As much as I want to trust Erzulie, though, I can't see anything slightly tunnel-entrance-shaped for as long as the beach stretches out before me.  Maybe she did want the pretty beach, and made up the tunnels story to get me on her side.  For now, I content myself with watching her legs dance as she skips a few paces ahead of us.

“So is there any particular reason you named this place Sinner's Wood?” I ask to make idle chat.

“Oh, yes, you see, the only people I'd ever bring here were extreme perpetrators of one the seven deadly sins.  I took to the island with a beard and a white toga, and tried to convince each of the sinners to repent to their God before I killed them mercilessly in an ironic torturous method relating somehow to their sin.”

“Christ, really?”  Then I realise that I've just blasphemed in front of a man who'd told me a was a religious loon.  “I mean, er, God, really?  No, no, I mean... Oh no, really?”

“Holy fuck, no, that's stupid.  Do you know how much planning that would take?  Sinner's Wood is the name the place already had when I bought it.  Apparently the realtors found that islands with creepy names were selling well; it was either this, Doom Canyon, or the Isle of Death.  I went for the least cliched.”

“Good choice,” I lie.  I'd have run much faster along a place I knew was called the Isle of Death.

Erzulie is still dancing merrily before us, and I'm still staring determinedly at the skirt in case it flips up again.  My sin would definitely be lust.  I'd kill for a decent meal though, so maybe there was a bit of greed in there too.  I'd pit myself against the other five if I knew what they were.  As she stops skipping, she waves to us, and Andy, who's obviously eager to leave the open beach, picks up pace.  I keep the same speed, until I figure that laziness may be a sin.  When we reach her, she's standing on a patch of sand very alike every other patch.

“I though you said there was a secret tunnel?” Andy says with underlying tones of 'Ha, I was right.'

“No, beach tunnels.”

“That's what I said.”

Choosing not to respond, Erzulie instead kneels down and pats the sand.  I expect he to fall through or something, but nothing happens.  Clearly, this isn't what she expected.  With strong tones of irritance, she pats the sand again, this time with enough force to send some of it flying.

“Wakey wakey tunnels!”  She's trying to... wake the tunnels?  Okay, I'm regretting not going with Andy now; she's definitely gone off her rocker.

“Tunnels, wake up!” she shrieks, now leaving no questions in my mind that she's mad.  She stands up, face screwed up with enough anger to put Andy's other half through his paces, and stamps on the ground like a child throwing a tantrum.

“Wake up, lazy!”

“Come on, let's get to the wood before someone sees us,” Andy humphs and turns in the direction of the trees.  I take a quick look at Erzulie, still trying the wake the tunnels, and begin to follow him, hoping that Erzulie will be along quickly.  As I walk, I keep looking behind me, but she doesn't even seem to have noticed us moving away.  I call, but even this gets no response from her, so I move after Andy with more fervour.  Even if she's the only girl on the island, if she's finally snapped completely, then there's no chance I can get in her pants, and I may as well follow the man who can potentially get me off of this rock.

When he reaches the line of trees, I look back once and then step in after him.  I'm grateful for the dirt; it's easier to walk on than sand, but I only make a few steps before I'm stopped by a chilling roar.  Andy rotates quickly, and the look on his serene face tells me that I don't want to do the same.  But I have to, and when I do, I regret it.  On the beach, where Erzulie had been standing, is what I can only describe as a huge brown worm with arms and pincers.  I can't see Erzulie anywhere at first, and then I realise that she's hanging from aforementioned pincers.  Now I definitely won't get laid.  I start running into the wood, but Andy grabs my arm as I pass, yanking me back.

“Move slowly,” he mutters.  “It hasn't noticed us yet and we don't want to change that.”  To illustrate this, he takes a slow step back, eyes not leaving the worm, hand still tight around my arm.

I step in time with him uneasily, back to the worm.  Andy's eyes squint, and I hear a scream from behind.  Erzulie is alive?  I turn quickly, and I can just about make out her legs frantically kicking, confirming it.  And then Andy's grip tightens.

“Hey, loosen up,” I whisper, “You're gonna cut off circulation or something.”  No response.  “Andy?”  Nothing.  I turn to him.  “Hey, Superserene!  Leggo!”  His grip only tightens as his mouth pulls into a smirk.  When he speaks, his voice is raspy and cold.

“Finally free, and a victim to boot,” he snarled.  This wasn't Superserene, and it certainly wasn't Mr. Fury.  Erzulie squeals from behind me, and I swear I can hear my name, and as I'm distracted, the new Andy reaches for my neck and rips off the dagger.  Oh shit.

Yes, 'Oh shit' indeed.  What does Stanley do now?  How does he get away from/fight Andy, and what will he do about Erzulie and the superworm?

[Chinaren]

Ha!  Finally another chapter!   

Top line of the episode:

I'd have run much faster along a place I knew was called the Isle of Death.

 

As for the espee:  I say he runs towards the worm.  This way he can tell babe that he was trying to rescue her, whilst leading Mr. Nasty towards the worm in the  hope he and it can get into one.  Oh yeah.

[ViP Perry Tratchett]

Worms!  It's Dune!

I like Chinaren's suggestion, but to be different, let's have the girl be able to direct the worm, and come to his rescue.  Just for the extra bit of humiliation.

[Elsza]

Oh so the beach wasn't such a good idea after all  I like both Perry and China's idea's