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ONLY LAUGH WHEN IT HURTS
By Wayne Webb
CHAPTER 33
The light was
anchoring itself firmly in the day, dusky half light dissipating to
the morning clarity on the island. From his hilltop position Tony had
a clear line of sight to the makeshift camp where the survivors were
clearing their stuff and talking to what looked like a bunch of
teenagers clambering around the shore trying to help but getting in
the way. He could hear their voices, much like he could hear the
survivors on the life rafts at sea, they were audible but not
understandable.
He decided to
clamber down the rocks a way and see if he could hear anything more,
learn a little before making any firm course of action to reveal
himself or stay hidden. He had not noticed so much on the way in the
night before that the coast was much rockier than he realised and
that only a few strips of beach were scattered among a much harsher
line of coast and that the rocky headland he had avoided last night
was in fact the predominant type of ground on the island. There was
bush and trees in land from there but they grew at a higher level,
much more obvious in the day. That explained the hard and functional
wharf set up on the bay below where he stood now, the rocky nature of
the beach, if you could call it that, would have made it impossible
for anything short of a rubber dinghy to pull up there.
In the light of day
he realised that this was not a big an island as he once thought, in
fact it was more like a large rock, a few hundred metres in length,
with brush and scrub growing on it. But that provided him some cover
and he could get closer to the group being rescued.
Their voices were
loud and excited, the students and volunteers from the department of
conservation were enthused about rescuing plane crash survivors on on
their conservation volunteer mission, this concept had not been
covered in the literature and was certainly a first. The other
passengers were elated at not only being safe, but also being
connected. From the snippets of raised voices he could hear, when he
got within about twenty or thirty feet away from the edge of the
group, atop a small outcropping above the cove where the boat was
tied up, they were from the main island to the west of this smaller
landfall.
He did not hear the
name of this specific island, but it sounded like it was one of many
nearby and they were uninhabited for most of the year. There was an
airstrip on Raoul Island where the volunteers were staying,
cataloguing and tagging flora and fauna for research and preservation
projects. They would make a couple of trips, careful not to overload
the small boat, and resettle the passengers on the nearby mainland
and then come back for the rest. The rescue flight from the New
Zealand Air Force was already on the way, and the Australian Navy
were also in the area ready to assist with any medical requirements.
From what he could
see there were no serious injuries, just relief and shock in the
survivors. One of the younger volunteers got round to asking if
anyone was missing and the group went silent. Tony lay still in the
under-brush, if he was to out himself then now would be the time to
do it, but appeal of Robinson Crusoe as a lifestyle choice was
weighing on him. Usually you got stranded or abandoned by fate to
this, or so the books would have it, the romantic legends of
literature. Here he was and he had an opportunity, a remote deserted
(mostly) island, and just a short boat trip away.
As the hush parted
with the voice of the stewardess who had been looking after him Tony
had made up his mind, as she declared him most certainly dead, he
chose to be dead, to stay dead.
The youths and the
older ranger who was managing them knew who he was, they obviously
had been informed by the various co-ordinating rescue efforts, but to
some of the passengers it was news to know that some weird, legendary
celebrity was on the flight with them and they stood in silence for a
few moments before the ranger started dividing the group into two,
the women and more injured in the first group, the men and the
healthy in the second, just in case. There were not any children on
the flight, but it was only a small one and not even full.
Tony lay on the
ground, on his back and stared upwards at the clear blue sky, it was
a beautiful day and he could see that of all the places he wanted to
run away to, this was the best, the most easy to manage and the
safest for everyone concerned. Alive no one would leave him alone,
connected to the world brought disaster and suffering, alone he was
his own company and his own enemy, ultimately his own saviour.
Yes, he could do
this. The boat would be gone for about an hour as it made it's way to
the Raoul Island airstrip and hut where the conservation people
stayed. From his mini cliff top perch he listened to the casual
conversation of the volunteer staff and the passengers. The teens
among the group wanted to know what he was like, how the people who
had noticed who he was, could not notice him. The lightning, the
hiding in Italy, the bus footage and all those videos and the
stabbing, all of it was everywhere, there were TV shows and
documentaries about it, he was famous, and famously so. He was not
just a star he was an oddity and a fascination, even here in the
middle of nowhere it was all they could talk about. He lay there
listening, waiting for a question he knew would be coming once
someone worked up the courage to ask it out loud.
“Do you think
he's really dead? I mean, maybe he... you know... made it happen?”
There was no answer
and Tony grinned in the undergrowth, laughing silent as only he could
do. Once again reality and expectation were miles apart. He had made
the right decision to keep his survival a secret, he just needed to
manage to get to the mainland somehow without them seeing him,
perhaps a swim was in order. Perhaps he could sneak onto the boat and
hide, though it did not look like it was big enough.
“He managed to do
that lightning trick after all right?”
People still
believed that was a trick, years would pass and the legend would grow
in the telling, he could not escape it. Absolutely the right
decision.
“A plane crash is
much easier to manage, yeah? If you're going to fake your own death,
this would be hard to disprove. I mean have you seen the body? Has
anyone?”
The conspiracy grew
in the teens mind, and the passengers remaining for the second run
and the cabin crew of the flight, looked uncomfortably between
themselves.
“You know, I
don't know if he did make the crash happen, but I'd like to think
that he wouldn't risk the lives of all of us to pull of a trick.”
Tony turned over to see who was talking, and it was the stewardess
who had been getting his notes and had been caring for him on the
flight, the one who had ignored him at first, now perhaps defending
him out of guilt. She looked more angry and annoyed than guilty from
what he could see. Tony wondered if he had misjudged her, but it did
not matter, he was dead to her as much as anyone.
Aida, he would be
dead to her too now. He looked back to the sky, tears welling in his
eyes for what he'd have to give up. It would be hard to let that go,
but better for them all if her did. His will was clear and concrete,
he had been as direct and specific as possible, generous and
protective with his requirements. Greed was a powerful motivator, but
his assets and empire was well distributed and the money well spread
long before this, so going for control of it all would serve no one.
So Aida would be cared for, as would her children. Oriana would
hopefully outgrow the guilt for the Tuscany thing, his continued
presence would only slow that down, he was sure. Sure as he could be.
It was for the
best. Definitely going to be hard on him, but he would have plenty of
time when this lot left the island and he was alone with his
thoughts, his own companionship and his own risks.
He listened a
little longer to the conversation, which died a little after the
stewardess put the idea of any deliberate interference in the crash
to rest, at least here and now. They spoke about the crash, what it
felt like, the feelings being the water, the amazement at the speed
at which they were rescued. Tony learned a little more about the
group, they were due to leave soon to head back to Auckland and
complete the research and conservation work at the University that
had organised them to travel with the department of conservation here
in the Kermadec chain of islands.
There was a horn
sound as the boat was returning, coming close to a cliff edge and a
cove near the edge of the bay they were on, the water deep there and
it looked like a place where the boat took it slow, navigating in the
calmer waters through a series of rocks, occasionally peaking in
white caps. There must be a passage there to get to this bay.
He crawled back up
the hill a little and circled around to the cliff edge and looked
down to the water and then back to the beach. They were all in the
process of boarding and no one was looking this way. He dropped the
fifteen or so feet to the water, the shock of it hitting him hard,
but quickly putting him in a sharp frame of mind. From here he could
now see Raoul Island, it looked massive by comparison to this small
land fall they had made. The boat would be coming back this way soon
and he could hide in the cliff's edge and grasp it as it went by with
a few small strokes and ride on it's coat tails to the main island if
he timed it right.
A few strokes more
than he anticipated and the hard push of the waves and the wake of
the boat maybe him tired just moving a few feet at a time, but he
latched on to the rear and held of fast as the boat manoeuvred
through the passage, picked up some speed and drove on to the island.
Almost everyone was
at the front of the boat looking forward at the destination or a few
at the rear working on the function of the boat itself, no one was
looking down the side of the craft, as the cabin had gone right to
the edge. There was no rail or walk way where Tony was being dragged
in the wake and white capped foam caused by their motion. They were a
long way towards the island when Bridget, the stewardess from the
plane came to the rear of the boat to stare back in contemplation at
the little island they had spent the night on, she leaned over the
edge, tightly grasping the rails and threw up into the water, from
fear or sickness Tony did not know, but when she pulled herself back
up she looked directly into his eyes, saw him hanging on to a guide
rope on the hull and froze.
Tony held one hand
exaggeratedly to his lips and pleaded with her silently.
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