17. Marc
Marc
I f it weren’t for the intense humidity and carnivorous flying beasts that dive-bombed him every seven seconds, this might almost have felt like a vacation.
Marc couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to just sit in peace with a book, no ringing phone, no PA asking questions, no expectations, no guilt.
He’d gotten through over a hundred pages of the spy thriller already, and it wouldn’t make a bad movie.
Maybe he should call someone about that?
He slapped at a mosquito. These bugs were the Olympic athletes of the insect world—fast, determined, eyes on the prize.
He was beginning to think Serena had the right idea.
She’d used moth-eaten cushions to build a makeshift couch in the barn-slash-gazebo, out of the heat of the sun and protected by mosquito nets.
Light filtered in through gaps in the roof and woven walls, because like everything else around here, the gazebo had seen better days.
Serena didn’t want to come outside, partly because of the bugs, but also because the Whispers in Willowbrook script called for her to be pale as fuck—there was even a joke about her getting out more in the opening scene—and the director would no doubt be irritated if she showed up pink.
And Marc had to think positive—they would be going back to Malati to finish filming.
After he split with Phae, negative thoughts had plagued him for years, sending him spiralling into a darker and darker place until his agent gave him an ultimatum: get therapy, or she’d quit.
Since Margaret had made his career, he’d picked the therapy.
And he wasn’t going back to the darkness, not literally, and not metaphorically.
Katie—who seemed to be their designated chaperone—had opted to sit in the gloom too.
When Marc called her a ghoul, she’d snapped back, told him that her mom had died from cancer, cancer that had started off as a small, seemingly innocuous mole on her back.
So he’d felt like a shit and been forced to apologise.
Anyhow, the girls were inside, and he was outside with a paperback and plenty of sunscreen.
“Do we have any bug spray?” he called to Katie.
“There’s some in the house.”
“Well, could you get it? I’d go myself, but…” He jingled the chain on his ankle.
“Why don’t you just unchain us?” Serena asked. “We’re not going to run off and die in the jungle.”
“I doubt you’d die—there’s plenty of water around, and you could forage for food.”
“Knowing my luck, I’d eat something poisonous. That’s if I didn’t get chomped by a lion first.”
“There are no lions in Indonesia.”
“Thank goodness for small mercies, eh?” Marc said.
“Only tigers and leopards,” Katie continued. “Although statistically speaking, you’re more likely to get killed by a mosquito. Did you take your malaria pill this morning?”
“Of course I did. Can you fill up the water jug when you go get the bug spray? Hydration is important.”
Katie huffed as she pushed herself up off the cushions, and Marc gave a shrug and returned to his book. If she didn’t want to keep running errands, then perhaps she shouldn’t have joined a kidnapping gang?
She’d barely made it up the steps into the main house—shack, whatever you wanted to call it—when the bush twenty yards from him began moving.
Huh?
What the actual fuck?
Now the bush had…a face? What the hell was in those malaria tablets? Back in Abundance, teenage Marc had tried magic mushrooms, and the walls had begun talking to him, weird faces floating above?—
“All right, mate?”
Marc scrambled off the chair.
“Easy, easy,” the bush said. “Don’t attract attention.”
That voice… Marc recognised it. “Heath?”
“You okay? Physically, I mean. And where’s Serena?”
“She’s inside. They haven’t hurt us. Are you…” Marc glanced around. “…on your own?”
“Nope. I’m just the advance party. How many hostiles are here?”
“Four or five? There were more in the beginning. You’re not going to hurt them, are you? They’re not that hostile.”
Desperate people did desperate things, and as kidnappings went, this one hadn’t been terrible.
Not that Marc had any other abductions to compare it to, but when the only damage was a couple of bruises and a case of mild sunburn, he had to count it as a win.
The food was okay, and Katie seemed reasonably personable.
“They didn’t abduct you at gunpoint?” Heath asked.
“Okay, they did do that, but nothing else they tried worked.”
“Huh? How else did they try kidnapping you?”
“No, I mean nothing else worked to save the tarsiers.”
Chain jingled, followed by a gasp. “Freaking heck, Heath ?”
“If you two don’t act more subtle, I might as well strap a neon sign to my forehead.”
“Just sit,” Marc suggested, shuffling to the side so Serena could perch on the edge of the chair. “Keep your voice down.”
“Shit! Sorry. But what happens now? How do we get home?” She gulped back a sob as she tried not to look at her brother. “I can’t believe you’re here in the freaking jungle.”
Yeah, that part was insane. Heath disguising himself as a bush was top-level James Bond shizzle.
“Who has the key for your chain?”
“Probably Havana. He had it earlier.”
“Havana?”
“The older guy who seems to be in charge,” Marc supplied. “He was wearing a blue shirt when I last saw him.”
“Does he have a weapon?”
“I doubt it. They only had those in the?—”
“Shhh.”
Heath made like undergrowth again, and just in time. Katie ran down the steps, stumbling at the bottom and nearly face-planting before she sprinted across the clearing.
“We did it! Ohmigosh, we did it!”
“Did what?”
She looked happy rather than furious, so presumably she didn’t mean “attracted the landscaping team from Blackwood Security.” Heath was nothing but a shadow on the breeze again, but undoubtedly listening to every word.
“Malati is saved! The development is cancelled.”
“The government stepped in?”
She shook her head. “I mean, I don’t think so. The asshole put out a video saying the resort wouldn’t go ahead.”
“By ‘the asshole,’ you mean Lonnie McDonald?”
“Yes, him.”
“But I thought you said there was no way he’d do that?”
“Because I never thought he would.” Her face contorted into a scowl. “And he sounded so nice and so reasonable, as if he just didn’t realise the island was full of wildlife. Honestly, he makes me sick.”
“Playing devil’s advocate, are you sure he was telling the truth? Maybe someone persuaded him to make a statement to save our asses.”
“You know, that sounds more like something he’d do.”
“Exactly. Pull the old bait-and-switch. Wasn’t the Minister of Environment supposed to make a statement? You should try to get a legally binding contract.”
Serena elbowed Marc in the ribs. Yes, he understood this was an awkward situation, but somebody had to look out for the tarsiers.
“Like a contract?” Katie asked.
“Does Wild Roots have a legal team?”
“Uh, kind of? One of our volunteers is an attorney.”
“Maybe you could try calling them? Not that we don’t want to go home, but you went to all the trouble of kidnapping us, and nobody wants to see that effort wasted.” He nudged Serena. “Do we?”
She sighed. “I suppose not. But perhaps you could take the chains off for a while? The padlock is chafing my ankle.”
Did Marc just hear Heath mutter “Fuck my life”? Or was it merely the whisper of wind in the trees?
“Uh, I’m not sure about that. Frank said we should keep you secured.”
“Frank?” Marc asked. Was that Havana’s real name? He called most of the shots around here, apart from when it came to meal times. Give the man a grill, and he burned everything he touched.
Katie clapped a hand over her mouth. “Crap, forget I said that.”
“Go and tell Frank not to make any hasty decisions. I hope your friend is a good lawyer.”
“He graduated top of his class.” Katie grimaced faintly. “Last June.”
Marc couldn’t hold back his groan. “Let me get this straight—he’s been practising law for half a year, and you want to put him up against a wealthy real estate mogul and his no-doubt crack legal team?”
“It does sound bad when you put it that way.”
Serena’s turn to groan. “We’re going to be kidnapped forever, aren’t we?”
“No, no, I swear. Absolutely not. But I just need to talk with Frank, okay?” Katie fished around in her pocket. “Here, I brought the bug spray.”
Marc accepted it and pointed toward the building. “But you forgot the water. Now, hurry up and scoot along. We all want to go home.”