Dead Island

Chapter 18. NIGHT THOUGHTS

‘HEY, YOU OK?’

Even though Sam’s voice was soft, Jin still jumped, her head twisting round sharply. In the moonlight he could see the silvery gleam of tears on her cheeks, but he had already been aware of how upset she was; it was her crying that had woken him.

He was surprised the sound had penetrated his unconscious mind. He had been so tired when he had finally crashed out on a reed sleeping mat that he had thought it would take an earthquake at the very least to drag him out of his slumber. He guessed he had been more subconsciously alert than he had realized — must be a survival thing, he thought, something he had developed without knowing it over the past couple of days. He raised his hands slowly to show his intentions were harmless. When Jin didn’t reply, he murmured, ‘It’s just … I heard you crying. Thought I’d come see if I could do anything.’

Jin sniffed, hitched in a breath. In a small cracked voice, she said, ‘Sorry I woke you.’

‘Hey, no problem,’ said Sam. ‘My back was kind of aching anyway. That mat’s not exactly big on the spinal support.’

This wasn’t true, but Sam didn’t want to make her feel any worse than she already did. When she remained silent, he glanced beyond her at the night sky. Unlike in the cities he was used to, the stars out here were incredibly bright, and the sky too was a deep, rich velvety blue, undiluted by the sodium glare from street lamps and neon signs.

‘Beautiful night,’ he said.

Jin made no comment.

‘Hey, you want a soda or somethin’? I’m kinda thirsty. And Mowen said we could help ourselves.’

For a moment he was sure Jin would refuse, and then she gave a small tight nod. Sam re-entered the house and made his way through to the kitchen, the polished wooden floor pleasantly cool on the soles of his bare feet. Mowen’s house was spacious and surprisingly homely. There were brightly coloured rugs on the floor and tribal art framed on the walls. The trader — Sam was convinced that some of that trade involved drugs and guns, as well as various other ill-gotten gains — obviously made a good living out of what he did. His house was one of the biggest in the village, and one of a minority that even had electricity.

Although Sam wouldn’t exactly have trusted Mowen, the guy had proved a congenial enough host. No doubt motivated by the hefty financial recompense Ryder White had promised him, he had given all five of them a place to sleep, and had even cooked them a meal — a rice and sausage concoction that reminded Sam of the jambalaya his mom made for him whenever he went home.

Entering the kitchen, he didn’t bother turning on the light. Although everyone else was upstairs, he didn’t want to risk waking them. He grabbed a couple of Cokes from the fridge and padded back through the house to the room where he had been sleeping. He crossed the room and slipped through the screen door on to the front porch. Jin was still sitting out on the wooden steps, a frail hunched shape in the darkness.

‘Here you go,’ Sam said, holding the can out to her.

She took it. ‘Thanks.’

Sam indicated a space next to her on the steps. ‘Mind if I sit down?’

She shrugged and he sat, popping open his can with a hiss. He gulped at the fizzy soda for a moment, relishing the sweetness, the way it made him feel instantly more alive.

‘That’s good,’ he said, glancing at Jin, who was drinking from her own can in tiny sips.

Behind them moths the size of humming birds batted their plump dusty bodies against the softly buzzing porch light.

After a few moments of silence, Sam said, ‘Weird to think how much things have changed in the past couple of days, huh? Pretty tough thing to come to terms with.’

Again, Jin gave a tiny jerk of a nod.

‘It’s bad enough for me, but I guess it’s a hundred times worse for you, this being your home and all.’

Jin said nothing, but when Sam glanced at her he saw fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

‘Sorry,’ he muttered. ‘Didn’t mean to upset you.’

‘You didn’t,’ she snivelled.

‘It’s just —’ he shrugged. ‘I dunno … I just wanted to let you know that you’re not alone. That I’m here for you — we all are. And that if you ever want to talk, you just have to say the word. OK?’

She sniffed and nodded.

‘OK,’ said Sam, and put a hand on the step beside him to push himself to his feet. ‘Well, I guess I’ll head back to bed and give you some space.’

He rose to his feet. She glanced up at him.

‘I’d like to,’ she said in a small voice.

‘Huh?’

‘I’d like to talk.’

‘You sure?’

She hesitated, then nodded.

‘Well, OK,’ he said, lowering himself back down beside her. ‘So what do you want to talk about?’

Jin took a long shuddering breath, and said, ‘I’ve been thinking about Papa, and what he must be going through, and how … how unfair it all is.’

Sam nodded but stayed silent, not wanting to interrupt her.

‘He’s a good man,’ Jin said. ‘He’s always been a good man. He looked after me when Mama died, and he always protected me, and yet because of this … this sickness, he’s going to become like the rest of them out there. A monster, feasting on the flesh of the living …’

She tailed off, slumping forward, her head drooping into her hand, as if vocalizing the thought had proved too much for her. After a moment, however, she continued, ‘I know good people get sick and die, or have accidents, but this is just … just wrong. It makes people into something disgusting, something to be feared. It uses people, and it … it …’ She tailed off, unable to find the words to fully express the horror and revulsion she felt.

Sam had never had kids, had never even thought about having kids, but right now he wanted to put a fatherly arm round Jin, to give her the comfort and reassurance she so obviously needed. He thought about doing it and then decided that maybe it wouldn’t be such a good idea. After what had happened to her with those three guys, she had (not surprisingly) become both jumpy and withdrawn, and was now no doubt wary and suspicious of people’s motives towards her, especially motives that involved any kind of physical proximity. He didn’t want to make things worse by doing something she might take the wrong way. So he just sat, a foot or so between them, and tried, stumblingly, to put his reassurance into words.

‘I guess what you gotta remember is that those things … the infected, I mean … are not the people they once were. Those people are gone, dead … and whatever makes us us —’ he tapped his chest to emphasize his point — ‘by which I mean our soul, or our essence, or whatever … has shipped out, passed on, gone to wherever we go to when we die. And the things that are left … the bodies … they’re just puppets for the virus. They ain’t people. They’re just things. They don’t feel love or pain. They don’t find things funny or beautiful or ugly. They’re just … hunger. That’s all they are. Just hunger and primitive instinct. And if your papa becomes one of them … well, that ain’t your papa any more. That’s just something that’s using your papa’s skin like … like a set of clothes. Your papa’s somewhere else. Somewhere good.’

Sam got the feeling that he hadn’t expressed himself too well. He wanted to ask Jin if she understood what he was trying to say. But before he could, she said, ‘I used to believe in goodness. I used to believe that although there was bad in the world, there was a God up in heaven who would eventually make things right, would eventually reward us. But now I feel stupid for being so … so naïve. I mean, what kind of God would allow such suffering? I know I’m being selfish. I know it’s easy to keep believing in God when the bad stuff is happening to someone else. But … but it’s still how I feel, and I can’t help that. I used to have faith, and now it’s gone …’

She began to sob again, long and hard this time. Helplessly Sam watched her, wanting to tell her not to cry, that everything would be all right, but knowing how false that would sound. Eventually he mumbled, ‘Hey, you want a hug?’ And then he added hastily, ‘No pressure. It’s just … well, it’s hard to stand by and watch someone cry and not do anything about it, y’know.’

For a moment she didn’t respond, then she nodded and leaned towards him. Sam put his arm round her shoulders, aware of how sparrow-like and delicate she was. He felt furious and sickened at the thought of the three guys in the police station taking advantage of her physical frailty, and at the thought of how terrified and helpless she must have been.

For a while they just sat there, Jin weeping, Sam wishing he could protect her from stuff that had already happened.

Eventually her sobs subsided and she became quieter, calmer. Sam was beginning to wonder whether she’d cried herself to sleep when she said, ‘I don’t think I’ll ever get over what those men did to me.’

Not wishing to offer hollow platitudes, Sam said, ‘Maybe you won’t ever forget it, but one day you’ll learn to live with it. These things just take time.’

‘You don’t know what it was like,’ Jin said, a hint of sharpness creeping into her voice.

Sam shook his head. ‘That’s true. But I’ve read about women who’ve been through the same thing. And they all say there comes a time when you decide that you’re not gonna let the bad guys ruin your life any more, that you’re not gonna let them win. ’Cos they’re not worth it, and you are.’

‘They laughed when they were doing … what they did to me,’ whispered Jin. ‘They made me feel like nothing.’

‘Try not to think about how they made you feel,’ Sam said. ‘Try not to believe it. It’s those guys who’re nothin’, not you. What they think don’t count.’

Jin lapsed into silence again. Then she whispered almost guiltily, ‘I’m glad they’re dead.’

‘I’m glad too,’ said Sam. ‘People like that don’t deserve to live.’

‘Problem is,’ said Jin. ‘They’re not really dead, are they?’

‘They looked pretty dead to me,’ Sam said softly. ‘But if you mean you’re worried they’ll come back—’

‘No, that’s not it.’ She sighed and said, ‘I mean there’s plenty more like them out there. Bad people. People who don’t care how much they hurt other people. Who even enjoy hurting other people.’

‘Yeah, they’re out there,’ Sam said. ‘I’m not gonna insult you by saying they ain’t. But what you gotta remember is that there’s plenty good people too. A whole lot more good people than bad, in fact. Whatever we’ve seen these past couple days, there’s still plenty of love out there in the world.’

‘Not here, though,’ she whispered.

‘Hey, thanks,’ said Sam with a smile.

‘No, I don’t mean that. I mean … love seems to be abandoning Banoi, and fear and hate is taking over.’

‘Yeah,’ said Sam softly. ‘That’s how it looks, all right.’

They sat in companionable silence for another thirty seconds or so, listening to the carefree chirrup of unseen night-bugs.

Then Sam asked, ‘So, you coming with us tomorrow?’

There had been a kind of unspoken understanding that, after calling at the lab, all five of them would be heading over to the prison island with Mowen the following morning. But Sam had wondered earlier whether Jin was happy just to go along with the plan. Banoi was her home, after all. She had more of a stake in this place than the rest of them did.

She shrugged. ‘I guess.’

‘You thought about what you might do … after?’

She gave a small grunt. It might have been a humourless laugh, but it could just as easily have been prompted by a stab of pain in her belly. ‘How can I? Everything I have — had — is here. Out there —’ she waved a hand to indicate the wider world — ‘I might as well just not exist.’

‘Well, like I say,’ mumbled Sam, ‘you ain’t alone. We’ll look out for you — me, Xian Mei, Purna, even Logan. You need a place to stay, money, we’ll fix you up, you don’t have to worry about that.’

‘Thanks,’ said Jin. ‘I appreciate it.’ She yawned. ‘I suppose I ought to try and get some sleep.’

‘You and me both,’ said Sam. ‘Another long day tomorrow.’

They stood up. Before heading inside, Jin put a hand on Sam’s arm. ‘Thanks for not lying to me,’ she said.

‘Lying to you?’

‘By telling me that everything will be all right. Because things are a long way from all right, aren’t they? If this infection spreads, things may never be all right again.’

Sam looked at her for a long moment, his face grim.

‘Ain’t that the truth,’ he muttered finally.