Xion Island Zero: Chapter 42

If he could keep him talking, maybe he could buy some time. Even now, Travis’ ego was overwhelming, and he needed him to see that Nash hadn’t given up on him.

Nash keyed the radio. ‘Stand down. Repeat. Stand down. Do not enter.’

‘Good man. Now we’re getting somewhere. You see, I still call the shots, even though I’m a little bit indisposed. Excuse me for a moment.’

Travis heaved and lurched over to the bucket that his father had already used. He bent double and vomited into it in waves of unrelenting purging. Nash eyed the knife, still clutched in Travis’ hand, as the spasms wracked his body. He contemplated rushing him in an attempt to disarm him while he couldn’t retaliate. He remembered his training. Assess, evaluate, and only act if safe to do so. It was too risky.   

 He turned away, taking his eyes off the knife for a second to quell his rising stomach, and to afford this insane criminal some dignity as he purged.

Careful Nash. Watch him. He heard Max’s voice in his head. And knew he should never turn his back on a man with a weapon, but the noises coming from Travis gave him the heads up that he wasn’t finished and wasn’t a threat.

Nash waited for him to stop before he turned around and faced him. He saw Travis fall against the wall and went over to help lower him to the floor. Travis rested, panting, with his back against the wooden slats.

He wheezed and struggled to speak. ‘You didn’t have to be here. You chose to make yourself part of this.’

‘You drew me here.’

‘True. I suppose it had to be. You’re my witness. You hunted me. Now you get to see how the story ends for both of us.’

‘You said you wouldn’t kill me. Are you going back on your word?’

‘Maybe,’ Travis said. ‘But you have to wonder— if I release this tick, you’re as good as dead.’

‘You’re bluffing. You said it only affects your bloodline.’

‘Indeed, that’s what I said. But should we test the theory?’

A silence dropped over them as they eyed each other. Blood emerged from Travis’s left nostril, and within seconds it was pouring down his chin. A minute later, it had putrid black lumps in it. Nash moved forward to go to him, but Travis put his hand out to stop him.  

Nash lowered his voice although nobody could hear them. ‘Let me get you out of here. At least you can die with dignity. Do you want to be remembered by the world covered in puke and shit? Think of the media coverage when we carry you out.’

‘Nice try. But ego is no good to me now. I don’t care about how I’m perceived.’

‘But you do. This is what it’s all about. You want the world to see how you’ve been treated. You can come out of this a hero of the people.’  

Travis chuckled. ‘Low blow. Credit me with some intelligence, Nash. They see me as a monster. I’m no hero and we both know it.’

He turned around, and Nash noticed he seemed stronger now that his breathing had recovered. He was pale and bleeding from his nose as he coughed blood into his hand, and seemed to pull energy from his condition. Travis had regained some lifeforce through his fever, and Nash wondered if it was a final spurt of defiance before death claimed him. Was he that far gone already? He wanted to let Travis die. But justice wasn’t vengeance, and Nash stood on the side of the law that knew the difference.

Without warning, Travis thumped the wall. There was a crack of bone and a splinter of ancient wood as he punched a hole through the wood.

The colonel shouted, not bothering to hide their intentions. ‘Move in.’

Nash keyed his mic. ‘Stay back. It’s okay. We’re both fine. Maintain your position.’

Brown’s voice hit Nash’s earpiece. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Bloody hell,’ Nash said. ‘What’s she doing on the front line?’ He’d told his team to stay back. Why had the colonel allowed her to come forward?

‘Ah, you care about this officer?’ Travis had honed in on Nash’s concern for Molly. His intelligence was sharp even while he was suffering. ‘Perhaps I’ve got the wrong  bargaining tool in here with me.’

‘You leave her out of this.’ Nash said.  

Travis laughed. His threat to bring Molly in was worthless, and Nash knew it. All that was left to thrash out was what happened next in the here and now.

Travis made a decision and shouted to the police. ‘The detective’s alive. But it’s up to you if he stays that way.’

Mike’s voice came through Nash’s headset. ‘Nash, what’s the situation in there?’

Travis saw Nash’s hand go to his ear. He motioned to the bucket filled with urine and vomit. ‘Lose the wire.’

Nash heard Molly talking to him. ‘Boss. Are you okay?’

Travis’ hands were bloody. His knife was raised. And Molly’s was the last voice Nash heard as he dropped his earpiece into the bucket.

He stared at Travis. ‘Even in death you’re insane.’

‘I’m free,’ Travis wheezed. ‘The fever’s feasting inside me. I can feel it. It won’t be long.’

‘Let me go. You need me to tell everybody what you want them to know.’

Travis’s eyes glittered. ‘They already know. This is the end for both of us.’

Nash stepped closer. ‘You don’t get to die like this,’ he said. ‘You’re weak, Bernstein. I’m taking you in.’

Travis laughed. Gathering the last of his energy, he lunged. Nash was taken by surprise, but dodged as Travis fell forward. The knife slashed past his shoulder, and they crashed into the floor.

‘Travis Bernstein. I’m arresting you on suspicion of murder,’ Nash said, rolling Travis’ filthy body over.

‘You should be scared of me, Nash. I’m your worst nightmare come true.’ They grappled with the knife. It was slick with blood and vomit, making it slippery.

 Travis forced the blade down.

They rolled, crashing into the cage where Alan had been kept. The lantern fell, sending sparks dancing up the wall, but they were too wet with snow to ignite. Nash wrestled the knife from Travis’ hand, throwing it across the room. He saw Travis slump and threw his body over him. He shouted to the team outside. ‘It’s over. Suspect immobilised. Come in, but move with caution.’

The door burst open. ‘No clear shot. Hold your fire,’ Braithwaite ordered his team, taking in the scene.

‘You’re not well,’ Nash said to Travis. ‘Let me help you.’

Travis coughed. A line of blood dribbled from his lips, but he was still laughing under Nash’s weight.

‘Help me? I’m enjoying wrestling with you, too much for that,’ he grunted. His words were laboured as he struggled to speak.

 ‘You’re the worst first date I’ve ever had, Bernstein. And you didn’t even bring chocolates.’

He wished Molly could have heard that. She’d have got a buzz out of hearing him make a queer joke. He’d changed, and he was too new in his new skin to die yet.

They rolled again, and Nash was caught off guard as Travis reached into his boot and pulled out a second blade. He hadn’t seen that coming. He heard Max again, though he knew his friend was long gone. Grief and adrenaline were conjuring ghosts. Anticipate everything and take nothing for granted, he heard him say. His voice was annoying. It took up too much room in his head and stopped Nash thinking straight. He should have expected the second knife.  

He tried to stop him, but the thin stiletto was already unsheathed and moving.

‘Don’t.’

Travis hesitated for a breath.

Death’s here. It’s coming, Nash. You can’t stop it, Max whispered. His voice was fading from Nash’s mind.

Travis slashed. The knife flashed and metal kissed light before plunging into flesh.

Nash felt the knife pierce his side, and a sharp pain lit a fire in his body.

Blood spurted between them as he dropped his hand and reached for the wound. Then the pain left him as shock set in. He was warm and calm, and he didn’t expect death to feel like this.

Travis struck again.

The blade cut through the air, but Nash was wounded and didn’t have the strength to take it from him.

It sliced easily through the soft flesh around his thorax.

There was so much blood, and Nash watched it flow with a cool detachment as it spread like a crimson carpet from underneath him. He winced as he moved, and the pain returned, shooting through his side, to illuminate his nerve endings in a blaze of agony.

Travis stared at him, with victory written like a story on his face. ‘You always were predictable, Nash. That’s what set us apart.’ His body shifted and blood flowed.

‘Officer down,’ Nash shouted. He was surprised at the wheeze in his voice and diagnosed a punctured lung.

Torches flared and voices yelled.

But Nash didn’t move again.

He stared at the stain spreading across the floor. It was slick, dark and alive. It covered his hands and soaked his jeans.

His head felt light. His heart pounded.

He thought of Max’s warning about death coming.

And then, as if he had an hour to play with, he thought about Kelvin. Time slowed as he waited to die on the filthy wooden floor of an old forester’s hut. It wasn’t meant to end like this. They weren’t meant to end.

Molly was at his side. Stupid, wonderful, loyal, Molly. He wanted to tell her to get out. To stay safe, but he just lay with his head on her knee. His blood covered her.

‘It’s okay, boss. We’ve got you.’

He was aware of somebody else working on Bernstein. The man didn’t deserve a first-name status.

Nash’s mind drifted away from the present. He smirked about the thoughts that came to him when he was dying on a muddy floor, at least he thought he smirked. He wanted to walk into the kitchen and see their matching mugs by the sink. Kelvin was always last out, and he wouldn’t have put them away. It drove Nash mad as a rule. He thought about Christmas Eve and saw himself standing at the altar with Kelvin by his side. So handsome. He looked at his engagement ring. ‘Tell Kel I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘No chance. You can tell him yourself, and he can kick your arse for this,’ Molly said.

Why was she crying? It was all right, he thought. Everything was all right.

Nash squeezed her hand and closed his eyes.
 

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