I grab Gwen’s hand and stop her. “It’s no use. We can’t get away.”
Frantic, she pulls on my arm. “Yes we can! C’mon!”
“No, Gwen,” I refuse to budge. “It’s got to end now—tonight.”
Her shoulders sag and her lips trembles. I lead her up the stairs to the restaurant, pause at the top of the steps, look into her eyes and say, “Whatever happens, know that I love you… that I have always loved you, even when I thought I didn’t.”
She bites her lower lip and seems on the verge of tears.
“Over here!” I shout, summoning everyone to us.
One by one, the remaining inhabitants of the resort file into the restaurant and stare at me in wonder.
“Action and his gang are all dead. I killed them,” I announce. “You don’t have to live under Conner’s rule anymore.”
“It’s true,” Gwen vigorously nods. “The fire we saw tonight—Action and his gang were on that boat. It went down and took his whole gang with it. Phillip’s the only one who made it back to shore.”
The people around us murmur amongst themselves. Seizing the momentum, I press on. “The time has come to work with the islanders—to grow crops and catch fish. If we all work together there should be enough food for everyone.”
My words sink in, and several people seem inclined to hear me out. More encouraging, no one makes a move to apprehend me. Conner bounds up the stairs with murder in his eyes and his axe clenched in both fists.
To my surprise, Jonas Dunlap protectively steps in front of me and faces Conner.
“It is over, Conner. We are taking back control of our resort,” Jonas holds out his hand. “Give me the keys.”
Conner snorts incredulously. “Have you all lost your minds? Look at him,” he jabs a finger in my direction. “This runt tells you he killed all the thugs and you fall all over yourselves, believing every word of it.”
Jonas exhales slowly. “We all saw the boat burn tonight, and wondered what happened. Now we know,” he points out the chain around Conner’s neck and beckons with his open palm. “The keys,” he repeats.
Conner yanks the chain from his neck, reaches to hand them to Jonas, but then drops them on the wooden floor. “You want them… come take them,” his mouth freezes into the semblance of a smile.
Jonas moves to retrieve the keys. “Not you,” Conner levels the axe at Jonas, and then points to me, “Him. Let him come and get them.”
I step forth from the crowd. Gwen clings to my arm. I raise her hand to my lips, kiss it softly, and then say to Conner, “Drop the axe.”
Conner smirks and tosses the axe to the floor. He steps back from the keys and waves for me to come forward. I scoop to pick them up, but we both know the keys are just a pretext for the final battle. Conner springs at me before I reach the keys. I am ready. Skirting to the side, I catch him solidly in the chest with my knee. I try to leap on him from behind, but Conner lands a solid right hook to my eye. I stagger backwards and crash against one of the square, wooden poles that support the roof. As I fall back, Conner grabs his axe, and raises it overhead, swinging with all his strength for my skull.
At the last second, I drop to the floor and his axe lodges in the wooden pole with such force that the timbers vibrate. I charge Conner from below, slamming into his waist, intending to push him back. It is impossible. He outweighs me by too much. I would have better luck pushing a tree. He grabs a fistful of my hair, jerks my head up, and slams his fist into my nose. I have the sensation of stumbling back, and in the next instant, my back hits the thick rope that cordons the deck from the beach below. I somersault over the rope and crash flat on my belly on the sand. Blood pours out of my nose. It must be broken. My face feels as though an elephant stepped on it.
Everything tilts. From my disoriented perspective, I see Conner tromp triumphantly down the steps towards me. I struggle to push up, but my elbows wobble and I sink to the sand. He raises the axe for the final blow.
“No!” Gwen leaps on his back, scratching and clawing. He yanks her off and slaps her hard enough to send her spinning. The sight of Conner striking Gwen sends scalding venom coursing through my veins. My vision clears. I rise to a crouch.
Conner turns to me and gets a handful of sand in his eyes. He cries in frustration, blinking furiously. I regain my feet. Blinded by the sand, Conner swings his axe wildly, missing me by several feet. I look for an opening, but from the corner of my eye, I detect sudden movement. It is Bob, clutching his crowbar, intending to tackle me. I drop to all fours and Bob crashes into me, his momentum sending him hurtling directly into the path of Conner’s axe. The axe hacks deep into the side of Bob’s neck, nearly severing his head. Several women scream at the sight. Not wasting a second, I grab Bob’s crowbar and smash Conner’s right knee, shattering the bone. He howls in pain and swings for my head. I grip the crowbar from both ends and block the axe. The impact on the crowbar sends a numbing jolt down my arms. I stumble back and we square off against each other.
Conner limps towards me and wipes sand from his eyes. His face is a pinched mask of pain, but he manages a wolfish grin. “You should’ve stayed dead.”
Blood trickles into my mouth from my busted nose. My breath is ragged and I circle him warily. As the rising sun illuminates the beach, Conner limps towards me, each step causing him to grit his teeth from the excruciating pain. I back closer to the crashing surf. The foaming seawater hits my feet. I cannot retreat any farther.
We attack simultaneously, neither weapon making contact, but that is not Conner’s plan. He wrestles me to the ground, and uses his size advantage to pin me on my back. I beat at his face, but the blows fail to connect with any impact. An ocean wave surges over my head, and he holds me down. I buck and writhe, desperate to breathe, hearing only the roar of the wave and feeling his thick wrists with his hands pressing down on my head.
The wave pulls back, giving me a precious moment to gasp for breath. His face is near to mine, lips pulled back in a canine snarl and he rasps, “…kill you… fucker.” Another wave rushes over me, cutting off my air. I thrash desperately, but Conner is too big to throw off. The knee! Hit the knee! I kick with more precision, and slam my knee into his broken one. Conner releases my head and I immediately roll away.
I crawl on my belly back towards the wooden deck. Conner seizes my legs, pulling me back to the water. My hands claw at the sand, and touch something hard. The axe. Summoning every ounce of my strength, I swing it and cleave Conner’s head from his ear to his jaw. In death, Conner spasms as if electrocuted. He flops over on his back. A large wave rolls in, scoops up his body like a parent to a dozing child, and carries him away.
Epilogue
A year has gone by—maybe more. It is hard to tell. I sit on the sand near the spot where I fought Conner to the death. We continually tried to reach someone on the ham radio we salvaged from the sinking sailboat, but we never did. Eventually, the battery died, and thus passed into history the last working piece of electronic equipment known to man. As for those who sailed to Barbados—that was the last we ever saw of them. The poisonous, radioactive storms that we feared did not come to Isla Fin de la Tierra. They are out there still, I am sure, just beyond the protective stream of clean air that funnels past our isle.
Our supplies are gone, save for the hard liquor, which we only drink on special occasions. Working with the islanders, we have food for us all. We grow tropical fruit, and hunt the wild goats that roam the hills. Each day, men from the resort and men from the island paddle together out to sea on handmade rafts. They catch fish or dive for conch and spiny lobsters. On the few times that it rains, we catch and conserve as much water as we can. It is a harsh existence, but manageable so long as we work together.