The Stubborn and the Undead

Chapter 6 of Vampire Island

The castaways worked hard to entertain the chief and his men. They were on the verge of rescue, and weren't about to end up as servants when he added this island to his kingdom. Ginger did her veil dance while the professor cranked a tune on the turntable. Mr Howell tried once again to bribe them. Mrs Howell offered the wife some fashion advice, but the woman had no interest in dresses. She used them as various wraps and sashes. Lunch was a festive, if slightly strained affair. Mary Ann's coconut shrimp was a big hit, but it only added to the men's impression that she'd make a fine hut mate.

Toward evening, Gilligan relented to the chief's badgering about the ghost. It was now a matter of honor between him and his men. Directly after dinner, Gilligan led the way to the cave. Emmy had not restored the brush, a good sign she was going to cooperate. He knew Emmy might decide to handle the problem her own way, and that meant a massacre. He found the lid unlatched, with Emmy in peaceful repose.

"There's the ghost, Chief. She'll wake up in less than an hour."

"Ghost? I see girl." He touched one of the cold, pallid hands. "Dead girl."

Emmy's eyes opened.

"Yah!" The chief jumped back, but saw Gilligan wasn't afraid. "Is trick, I tell you." He jumped again when Emmy displayed fangs. "Trick!"

"Let's try this," Gilligan decided. "Emmy, close your eyes. I'm gonna use a mirror." He handed it to the chief, who saw nothing but an empty crate.

"Bah! Is trick mirror. At dawn, we sail for main island. Many warriors come, claim this one. You still will not say how you get note to us?"

"You're looking at her," Gilligan insisted. Apparently Emmy had some limited defense ability during the day, because her burning eyes had the chief cowed.

He looked away. "She tries to enchant me. Is witch! We come back, burn this place!" He stomped out.

Gilligan delayed for a moment. Emmy was still worked up, fangs half exposed. "Don't worry, Emmy. We'll make him do the right thing. Show a little restraint, because we don't want them thinking the place is cursed." He closed the lid, heard the latch turn. Then he caught up with the chief, whose culture obviously had no vampire lore.

"Chief, you saw those choppers. Have any of your men suffered bites on the neck?"

The chief paused after pushing through tall fronds. "Some. Witch doctor say is bad spirit."

"Exactly! It's the girl in the coffin, who is able to fly."

"Then you show me. She will come to us after dark."

Will she ever. "It's a deal, Chief. But I gotta warn ya—it would be a mistake to get her riled."

"Bah."

They soon rejoined the camp, where Gilligan was surrounded by the others, who were anxious for news. "It didn't go well, I'm afraid. The chief thinks it's all fake. I guess Emmy will have to knock some heads together."

"Or worse," the skipper said, fretting with his cap.

The professor agreed. "That's making his men bold. There have already been fights to see who gets Mary Ann and Ginger. They've acted like bullies to impress them."

Gilligan took a closer look. "Professor, you took a black eye!"

"Mr Howell too," the skipper said. "We both took shots to the gut."

Gilligan fumed. "And I told Emmy to show restraint."

"Look there!" Mary Ann cried. A mist was creeping among them, causing quite a stir among the natives. It swirled upright to become Emmy. She had chosen a simple strategy that should have worked. After all, only a ghost could do that.

But the chief had seen one too many performances by his shamans. He directed a warrior to seize her. With a lightning, slash, Emmy ripped out his throat. Another hurled a spear, which she caught with inhuman reflexes and broke over a knee. From her fingers flew a ghostly miasma that dropped the offender. Still, they pressed on, forming ranks for a charge.

Emmy transformed into a monstrous winged creature on goat legs. From her maw issued a torrent of blue flame that enveloped some of them in a spirit firestorm. Their twisted souls spiraled skyward with howls of anguish. The girls screamed and fled to the huts. Gilligan chased the retreating natives to the beach, where they piled into their boats to paddle frantically in wan moonlight.

"Deliver that note!" he yelled. "She'll destroy every last one of you!" This was a nightmare. He trudged back to the compound, where the men were examining five bodies.

The professor rose, scowling. "Would you look at this mess! What do we tell the authorities?" He paused in thought. "Those natives consider it a disgrace to leave fallen comrades to the elements and scavengers. They'll come back for them, and that gets us off the hook." He looked to Emmy, now herself again, wide-eyed and forlorn. "It seems the brides can also transform into gargoyles."

Mr Howell glanced at the buttoned-up huts. "I fear the girls have been traumatized for life."

"Not if I can help it," Gilligan averred. "Skipper, will you get them to peek out here? I wanna show them something." He approached the erstwhile ghost. "Emmy, I'm gonna put temptation in your way, with my neck close. We need to show you're not a monster. Okay?" Carefully he drew her into a hug.

She didn't respond, but at least tolerated the move. He braved a look into those other-worldly eyes. "Consider that an apology from those guys, and all the others who wronged you."

Emmy traced a rectangle, pointed at herself, then at the distant cave.

"Oh, right. Now the chief knows where you rest during the day. Tell you what—I'll stand guard, but I have a feeling this has shown those guys the light. They know how much you want off this island, and you're holding them responsible."

She still wanted the nightly run. The teddy bear still rode at her side as she backed away. She became a line, then a point, then a large bat. It headed for one of the islands, hopefully not the chief's.

Mr Howell coaxed the girls out, though the bodies had them plenty spooked. Mrs Howell wouldn't look at them. "Thurston, this might have started a war! And they know Emmy can't be here during the day."

"Neither can she defend herself," Ginger added.

"I'll be there," Gilligan said. "If I see them coming, I'll have Emmy mist into the canister."

"Yeah," the skipper pointed out, "but there goes the native soil."

The professor wasn't convinced. "If I know these people, they won't take the chance. I think they'll be here tomorrow, but a fight is the last thing on their minds."