CHAPTER 4
Sam leapt to his feet, followed closely by Remi, and they raced to the grove of trees by the water, where the screams were now shrieks of pain. Sam stopped her with an outstretched arm as they neared the thicket and pointed to a long green reptilian tail thrashing out of the brush.
A gurgle and several wet thwacks sounded from the grove. The tail stiffened and lay still. Leonid’s boots thumped on the sand behind them as he arrived with other islanders, two of whom were carrying machetes and one a fire axe.
Another agonized scream split the air. Sam stepped through the vegetation and moved next to the massive body of a male saltwater crocodile, now dead from three grisly axe wounds to the head. On the ground in front of it was one of the locals, clutching the mangled remains of his right leg. Five feet away, another islander stood with an ancient axe in his trembling hand, his eyes wide with shock and fear.
A bright stream of arterial blood sprayed from the victim’s shredded thigh. Sam pulled his belt free as he knelt next to the victim. Remi closed the distance as he wound the makeshift tourniquet around the man’s upper leg and pulled it tight.
The injured man moaned and lost consciousness.
“He’s not going to make it unless he reaches a hospital fast,” Sam said, his voice tight.
Remi looked up at Leonid. “Let’s get him onto one of the trucks. Seconds count,” she said.
Leonid was staring at the dead crocodile with saucered eyes, frozen in place, all the color drained from his face.
“Leonid. Come on,” Remi snapped, her tone hard.
The Russian spun around to the islanders, who were standing in a group several feet behind him, and ordered them t
o carry their unfortunate companion to the Land Rover. Nobody moved. Sam shook his head and slipped his arm under the bleeding man. “Get out of my way,” he said, and lifted the victim upright. Remi rushed to help him, and together they carried him to a vehicle parked near the trail that led from the main road.
They loaded him into the backseat in seconds, and Sam turned to Leonid, who was arguing with one of the locals near the water’s edge. “Who’s the best driver?” he demanded, but the men shook their heads.
Remi and Sam exchanged a glance, and Sam held out his hand. “Fine. Give me the keys. I don’t know what’s wrong with you people, but your friend here is dying and needs help. Who can show me where the nearest hospital is?”
Leonid fumbled in his pockets as the islanders muttered among themselves, and then a youth in his late teens stepped forward. “I’ll go. That’s my uncle Benji,” he said, his English thick with a pidgin accent.
“What’s your name?” Remi asked as she climbed into the passenger seat.
“Ricky.”
Sam slid behind the wheel. Leonid moved to the door and handed him the keys. “I’ll be right behind you in the orange truck.”
“Fine.” Sam looked at Ricky. “Get in the back with your uncle and make sure the belt stays tight. How far are we from the hospital?”
“Maybe forty-five minutes . . .” Ricky said doubtfully.
Sam frowned. “Buckle up. We’ll see if we can make it in fifteen.”
Remi and Ricky strapped in as Sam cranked the engine. He dropped the transmission into gear and they roared off, bouncing down the track that was little more than a thinning passageway through the encroaching jungle. The big motor labored on the mushy terrain, and it took what seemed like forever to reach the ragged pavement strip of the coastal road that ringed the island. Once on the asphalt, Sam floored the gas, his gaze intent, his concentration absolute, and the SUV surged forward, tires screeching as he took the curves at double any sane speed.
Remi’s knuckles whitened as she gripped the armrest. “It won’t help him very much if they have to send an ambulance to scrape us off a rock.”
“Don’t worry. I used to own a Ferrari.”
They drifted around a bend, all four tires protesting as they lost traction. Sam gunned the engine and downshifted to regain control. After a glance at Remi, he shrugged and slowed a few miles per hour, still pushing the limit of what the heavy vehicle could manage.
Remi twisted to look at the injured man, who was soaked in blood and laboring for breath. Ricky had his hand clenched on the belt, a frightened expression on his young face. His eyes met Remi’s and he swallowed hard.
“You think he’ll make it?” he asked.
“We’ll do everything we can to see that he does. What’s the hospital like? How advanced is it?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I guess it’s okay. I’ve never been anywhere else, so I don’t know what others are like.”
“Do they deal with a lot of injuries?”