Oh Matilda: Who Bloody Killed Her? Chapter 21

The scramble is on – to get off this terrifying island. But can two young creatives get away before the killer gets them?

 

This is ‘summer reading’ like nothing you’ve read before: a diverse field of writers collaborating on a novel that will captivate you through summer.

Each author had just three days to write their chapter, with complete freedom over story and style; it’s fast, fun and very funny.

Start from the very beginning with Chapter 1 or go to ohmatilda.com.au

Today crime writer and journalist Tim Ayliffe takes up the story with Chapter 21.

By Tim Ayliffe

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Zoe opened her eyes, sitting up, startled by the noise. She glimpsed the clock beside her bed. 2.13am.

Tap. Tap.

There were so many bloody sounds on this island. So many things that had been creeping into her ears while she slept, invading her dreams. The wind whistling past her cabin, rattling windows and doors. Squawking boobies. Buzzing flies. Waves crashing on the reef that stalked the island like the murderer on the shore.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

But the tapping was something else.

Somebody was at her door.

She climbed out of bed, tiptoeing towards the door. She pressed her ear up against the wood, leaning her lips close to the crack: “Who is it? Who’s there?”

“It’s Greer.” He was speaking in a loud whisper. “Let me in!”

Zoe didn’t think much of Greer. He was arrogant and flirty and a little too desperate to make his mark. But the writer didn’t frighten her. Somebody may have been killing people but it wasn’t him. His vomiting reaction to the news of Matilda’s death had all but confirmed it.

She opened the door and Greer was standing there with a bag slung over his shoulder and a key with a miniature lifebuoy in his hand.

“What’s going on?”

“We’re getting the hell out of here.”

“What –”

He pushed past her into her room. “There’s no time. Pack a bag.”

“What? Why? You’re sounding crazy.”

“Crazy?” He was trying not to raise his voice. “I am crazy. Crazy scared. Am I the only one who’s worried? People are dying. Murdered. We need to get off this island.”

The assistant director was suddenly aware that she was dressed in nothing but an old T-shirt and a pair of knickers. She folded her arms, stepping back. “Slow down a minute.”

“Look, Zoe. I need you. I can’t do this alone. It’s not safe here anymore.”

Greer was right about that.

Matilda. Dario. Engelbrecht. The plane that had exploded in the sky with paparazzi crew Becky Cummerbund and Henry aboard.

The island was dangerous and people were going insane.

That knob Champion turning a television production into a true-crime series. His twisted mother always whispering in his ear, giving dirty looks to anyone who dared to question her delicate genius son. And McCredden. Pervy. Handsy. McCredden. He may not be a murderer but he was most certainly unhinged. The night before Zoe had caught him jumping around with a bottle of whisky in his room, singing along to Black Sabbath.

Finished with my woman ‘cause she couldn’t help me with my mind

People think I’m insane because I am frowning all the time

Maybe Greer was right. Maybe it was time to go. But first she needed to find out exactly what he had planned and why he was suddenly so interested in being Zoe’s friend.

“How do I know you’re not the killer?”

“C’mon, Zoe. You saw me and Matilda together. That’s ridiculous.’ He paused, looking nervously over his shoulder at the half-open door. “If I was the killer, would I be standing here asking you to get on a boat with me?”

“A boat?”

He dangled the keys, smiling. “Becky’s. They arrived on a boat, remember?”

Zoe frowned, unnerved by the reminder of those poor people incinerated in the sky.

“Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“I’ll come.”

“Great. Now pack your bloody bag.”

Zoe got dressed and hurriedly dumped her belongings into her backpack, not bothering with the dirty clothes, magazines and other less valuable items scattered around the room. A few minutes later she was tying up her hiking boots and ready to go.

“Stay close. We need to get to the other side of the island. The boat’s in the lagoon.”

Zoe followed Greer in silence, trying not to slip on the muddy path that had been beaten and soaked by the storm, looking up only occasionally to check that Greer hadn’t forgotten to point out a low hanging branch that might otherwise have taken her down. They’d been walking for almost half an hour when they arrived in a clearing on the edge of the lagoon.

“Hear that?”

Zoe grabbed Greer by the arm.

“What?

“I could have sworn I heard voices.” She pointed towards the rocky mountain. “Over there.”

“I heard there’s caves in there. Champion told me … he was going to use them for filming. He’s probably there right now getting a bedtime story from his mummy.”

“Greer.” Zoe had been distracted by something else. A camera mounted on the trunk of a tree at the edge of the path. “Greer!”

He followed her eyeline to the tree, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Who put that there?”

“No idea. But it looks like one of ours.”

“What the hell is Champion up to?”

“We really need to go,” Zoe said.

They jogged the rest of the way to the jetty where Becky’s speedboat was parked alongside a small yacht that looked like it hadn’t been loved in a while. Greer leapt off the wooden planks and into the speedboat, throwing his bag onto the sofa at the stern.

“Here.”

He held out his hand to take Zoe’s bag, helping her aboard.

“This thing must’ve cost a bomb,” Zoe said, looking around at the leather chairs, flat screen television and kitchen and rooms below.

“It’s ours now,” Greer said.

“You can drive a boat, right?”

“Yeah. Although the boats I drive at the Gong are a little smaller than this. Can you?”

“No.” Zoe laughed, uncomfortably. “I can’t even swim.”

Greer’s chin disappeared into his neck. He’d never met an Aussie who couldn’t swim. Especially a girl who looked like Zoe. Dawn Fraser would have been appalled.

“Right. Guess I’m doing all the driving then.”

“This will get us all the way to the mainland?”

“Yep,” Greer said, proudly. “I’ve checked below and they loaded this thing with so much fuel we’d probably make it to New Zealand if we tried.”

“Tempting. At least our rugby team would win.”

“You’re into rugby?”

“Not now, Greer.” Zoe frowned, pointing back towards the track. “If that camera’s on then someone could have seen us. We should go.”

Greer untied the ropes on the jetty and started the engine, going easy on the throttle because boats like these made a lot of noise. He steered them across the lagoon and along the edge of the reef where they could inspect the white caps of the stormy sea.

“I don’t think we can get out tonight,” Greer said. “Too dangerous.”

“What’ll we do? We can’t go back.”

“We’ll drop the anchor. Wait ‘til sunrise. Anyone comes for us, we’ll see them.”

“Okay.”

“We’ll sleep in shifts. One of us needs to keep watch.”

“You’re the driver. You go first.”

Greer didn’t argue. He hadn’t had a wink of sleep.

“What do I do if I see someone? What happens if it’s the killer?”

Greer opened a hatch, unclipping a flare gun from the wall. “Shoot them with this.”

“Yeah, right.”

Zoe stopped laughing when Greer jammed the gun into her hand. “I’m serious.”

So that was the plan.

Greer went to bed and Zoe perched herself on the sofa, flare gun in hand, nervously waiting for the sunrise. She was determined to stand guard for at least a few hours but the gentle rocking of the boat proved too much and her long blinks eventually turned into sleep.

A loud wave crashing on the reef eventually woke her and she opened her eyes to a shadow standing in front of her. A man. Leaning towards her with an outstretched hand.

In a panic she lifted the gun, pulling the trigger.

“Zoe, no!”

It was too late.

Greer’s chest erupted in a blinding, sizzling light. Arms flailing in pain, he fell backwards and over the side of the boat, into the water.

“Greer!”

Zoe grabbed the lifebuoy from under the sofa, diving into the water with it tucked under her arm. She grabbed Greer, trying to pull him onto his back.

He was too heavy.

Losing her grip on the buoy, her head went under. Salt water stinging her nostrils, her throat.

She opened her eyes looking for Greer.

He was gone.

All she could see was an orange glow drifting into the darkness and the silhouette of her boots kicking at nothing as she went down with it.

Read on: Chapter 22

Australia’s favourite writers are collaborating on our summer novel, with upcoming chapters from Nikki Gemmell, Siobhan McKenna, Thomas Keneally and more. To join the fun, read from the very beginning with Caroline Overington’s Chapter 1 or go to ohmatilda.com.au