Day Twenty: Evening

I’ll tell you one thing I’ve grown proficient at on this island and that’s digging. I decided that an old fashioned tiger trap would be just the thing to catch one of these buggies. I assumed that more than one went out but it couldn’t be much more than that or I would have seen one. I also assumed that they would “patrol” similar routes given their limited, but probably still quite good maneuverability.

What I didn’t have a clue about was the frequency of those patrols or their purpose. I dug a sizable pit trap near the tree where I saw the first one since I felt pretty safe in assuming that it would pass that way again. There was definitely risk involved since I didn’t know if they monitored the area and there was a good chance they did.

The steep sided hole would serve to disable the four-wheeler and I would drop on the soldier from above, before he knew what hit him. Or that was the plan anyway.

Naturally it went the way that most plans do. Digging the hole went smooth enough and covering it with branches was easier than I thought. By nightfall I had a five foot long trench, three feet deep and two wide. The sides weren’t as smooth as I’d hoped, given the sand I was digging in, and getting the displaced sand spread around enough to be unobtrusive was also something I hadn’t thought nearly enough about.

My theory was that darkness would cover a multitude of my sins. It didn’t. The driver showed up that very night. I know, I know, that should have been a tip off. It wasn’t. I plead stupidity. He stopped two feet short of my trap. I tensed on the branch above, grasping my knife and hoping that he’d come closer. He didn’t. I’m sensing a theme, are you?

He looked up and his voice hissed through the dim light. “You didn’t really think this would work, did you?” He moved for his gun and I decided to jump.

What the fuck, I was probably dead anyway, right?

I hit him hard. His gun and my knife flew into the underbrush. We were both practically knocked out. That shit is harder in real life than it looks in the movies. I guess I recovered faster and got on top of him. My hands hunted for his throat and found it. Strangling a person, particularly one who’s fit is not easy.

He kicked me off and made his way to his feet. His breathing was ragged. Mine probably was too. We circled. I realized that I had lost track of where the pit was and he had the advantage of those goggles. They of all things had stayed intact.

I guess he decided that fighting me, even with his advantages, wasn’t the way he wanted to go. I’d love to think it was because of my prowess or menacing size. It was probably because he was closer to his scooter.

Have you ever gotten in your car, put the keys in the ignition, and thrown the transmission into drive instead of reverse? Well you, this guy, and I all have something in common then. He accidentally drove into the pit. Hit it just right too. Snapped his neck in the process.

I lugged his corpse and equipment to my hole on the beach. It was a bitch. I’m sitting here writing this with his corpse at my feet. Now life is going to get real fun.