Page 48 of The Island

They reached the shearing shed. Jacko unlocked the door and shoved them both inside.

“We haven’t had food or water for hours,” Heather said.

Jacko leaned into her face. “I thought you would have learned your lesson, you mouthy bitch. Now you shut it or I’ll shut it for you.”

“We need water,” Heather said.

Jacko separated Heather from Olivia and sat her down. He put the noose around her neck and tied it tight to the roof beam. He tied a second rope around her neck to the back wall so she couldn’t move. Then he began the same process with Olivia.

“Not tight,” Heather said. “Matt agreed to that.”

“Matt’s soft,” Jacko said, and, looking deliberately at her, he slowly tightened the noose around Olivia’s neck so that she began to choke. Olivia tried to get a finger between the rope and her throat but it was already taut.

“Please!” Heather said. “Don’t!”

“Ma said make sure you’re all secure,” Jacko said.

“She didn’t say kill us!” Heather protested.

“She’s not dead. She’s as snug as a bug in a rug. Aren’t you, darling?”

“It hurts,” Olivia said, gasping.

“Please,” Heather said.

“I like it when you say please like that. Say it again,” Jacko said.

“Please, she’s just a little girl.”

Jacko shook his head. “Nah, she’s a woman now. Will be when Danny’s done with her, anyway,” he muttered.

“I’m a woman,” Heather said. “Please, leave her.”

Jacko nodded. “You are a woman, aren’t you?” he said, loosening the noose around Olivia’s neck. Olivia gasped for air in big gulps. Jacko padded across the shearing shed. He brushed the remaining strands of hair back on his head and grinned a yellow jackal smile.

He crouched down in front of Heather and looked at her. “A young one too—how old are you? Younger than him by a country mile.”

“I’m twenty-four,” Heather said.

“Twenty-four, eh? Well, twenty-four, it’s either you or her. What’s it gonna be?”

“Those aren’t your orders,” Heather said desperately.

“Orders? Nobody gives me orders. I don’t have any orders!” He laughed. “You’re already dead, sweetheart. All of you. Or haven’t you been paying attention?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean orders. Ma just asked you to lock us in here. You heard her. She’s going to sleep on what to do with us.”

“She can sleep for a thousand years for all I care. Now, sweetie, as lovely as this little chat has been, your job now is making a choice. Who’s it going to be? You or your little blond daughter over there?”

Heather’s throat was dry. Her head was swimming. “Please, you don’t have to do this,” Heather said.

“Yeah, I like it when you say please, all American-like, but the time for talk is done. You or her? Ten seconds.”

“Matt said—”

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three—”

“Me,” she said.

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