There Is No Place to Hide

“She is over here, unconscious,” informed the driver. The two paramedics looked at Susannah’s bedraggled body. She looked like a survivor of a nuclear explosion, but had defied death. She lay supported across the bonnet, held unceremoniously by each arm. Images of those who had suffered and survived the Hiroshima atom bomb of World War Two echoed Susannah’s condition. “What the hell happened?” asked the one paramedic as he checked for a pulse. The driver quickly relayed a garbled summary. “We were driving by when she stepped out in front of us. She said she had been mugged and set on fire,” informed the driver. “She is still alive, but barely breathing,” said the paramedic. He then spoke to his colleague. “Get me the respirator and the morphine.” His colleague rushed to the ambulance. “Please can you continue to hold her for a moment.” “Of course,” replied the driver, his partner and the children’s father. After several minutes of emergency medication, they gently lifted Susannah on to a stretcher and put her in the ambulance. A breathing tube had been inserted. The accompanying facemask had to be held in position as one of Susannah’s ears was missing. Police sirens penetrated the deathly silence. Moments later two police cars arrived. In haste the ambulance left, even the paramedics did not warrant Susannah’s chance of survival. <> The acres of rich tropical canopy that were densely populated with wildlife, embraced the Caribbean island. Nature’s royal salute diminished as it reached the shore. The soft white sand replaced the tropical fern carpet. The sound of waves crashing on the rocks replaced the sound of crushed foliage underfoot. Gavin and Greg ambled out of the forest onto the serene beach. A cool day meant fewer tourists. Only a dozen dotted the tranquil shore. After trekking across the beach and climbing over a rocky outlet, Sebastian and Dominic’s beach condo came in to view. Their abode was one of several homes dotted along the coastal region. The Winchester chimes sounded as Gavin pressed the doorbell, how camp. Sebastian opened the door, surprised at Gavin’s unexpected arrival. Greg stood aside out of Sebastian’s view. <> Octopus showed no mercy as it cut through the waves. Its wake drenched upwards like a wall of snow. Gavin yelled out with exhilaration. The speed was uplifting. What a fantastic way to greet the day. Greg appeared and ambled into the cockpit. He stood by Gavin’s side and yawned. The sound of the engine had awakened him. The momentous thrust almost threw him out of his bunk. “Did I wake you!” shouted Gavin, raising his voice above the engine noise. “I have always wanted to do this. A clear sky with a perfect sunrise, I just could not resist.” “So I gather,” replied Greg. “Are we heading for Africa?” he added, realising they were heading east. “No,” answered Gavin. “A few more minutes then we can stop, have breakfast and head back to Barbados.” <> “Bonjour, I am mademoiselle Colette Dupont, Chantelle’s friend and neighbour. I understand you have questions. Have you caught the perpetrator of this heinous crime?” she asked. “No Mademoiselle,” replied the gendarme. “How long have you known Chantelle Duveton?” “It must be over five years now. We are very close,” she replied sincerely. “We spend many days together.” “I see. Do you know Susannah Crawford?” he questioned. “Oh no monsieur. I do not know her, why?” responded Colette. “Some believe Chantelle Duveton is Susannah Crawford, wanted for murder in the Caribbean,” informed the gendarme. “Oh you are mistaken monsieur. Who is thinking this? It is absurd,” remarked Colette earnestly. “Please look at this photograph.” The gendarme produced a glossy portrait of Susannah. It depicted her auburn hair. Colette looked at the photograph. She admitted there was a similarity but denied it was Chantelle Duveton. <> A vibrant and colourful spectacle encroached the streets of Barbados. Bands and musicians provided the traditional carnival sounds. The bongo drumbeat reverberated through the township. Residents and tourists, mostly dressed in lavish and garish costumes paraded the streets. There were decorative floats, flamboyant artists, stilt walkers, jugglers and flamethrowers. The crowd was a mixture of vibrant colours and various talents. This spring carnival symbolised the end of winter and a taste of the approaching summer. A Caribbean summer enriched with many more carnivals. Gavin and Greg were submerged within the carnival parade. The happy atmosphere was infectious. Shops and stalls welcomed the added attention. Party time was certainly profitable. On a negative note police patrolled the event. Having a guilty conscience triggered paranoia for both brothers. They quickly purchased a facemask from a nearby vendor. Greg chose a lion facemask complete with main, Gavin a Gorilla headdress. Their disguise suited the carnival gaiety. Many people wore flamboyant masks with highly elaborate headdresses. It was a marvel to see them slowly pass by. The standing crowd cheered as a posse of flame jugglers walked by. Many people danced to the calypso sound as the parade ambled along. <> “Remove your mask,” ordered the officer. This was no time to be obedient. Gavin pushed the police officer into the crowd and ran after Greg. The officer lost his balance and fell over. A couple of tourists tripped over him. The officer soon recovered and gave chase. The streets were filled with people. It was awkward running around them. Yet at the same time easier to remain hidden. Gavin could see Greg ahead. The carnival location changed as they ran from one street to another. Various musicians dotted the vicinity. They delivered a mixture of sounds, some reggae, roots, calypso and jazz. Loud speakers positioned outside retail outlets added soca, hip hop and RNB to the beautiful noise. <> “You will improve,” said the nurse. Colette entered the room. She was waiting outside and had heard Chantelle cry out. Colette stared at the forlorn effigy looking back at her. Chantelle’s bulging eyes against a grotesque face was a sight more akin with Halloween. Her rugged skin was a mixture of pink and burgundy. Scars crisscrossed her face as if depicting countries on a map. Her mouth was misshapen and she had no lips. Her one ear was disfigured, the other completely missing. Both eyebrows were gone and her forehead was a mass of wrinkled skin. Chantelle’s baldhead seemed like a giant grub. Colette could not conceal her dismayed reaction. She gasped as she clenched her face with both hands. Her beautiful Chantelle was a pitiful state. <> A saddened Colette walked away from the hospital. She was hurt after Chantelle’s harsh words. All her life she had hated being ugly. All the girls at school used to taunt her. Pig Face they named her. Everyday as a child she hoped and prayed that she would be a beautiful lady when grown up. Like the Hans Christian Anderson story about the ugly duckling, which grew into the most prettiest and elegant swan. That had been Colette’s favourite story. She had clung to the belief it would happen for her. Yet sadly it did not. She did not become that beautiful lady she had yearned for. To make matters worse she was overweight and not very tall. In truth she was short, fat and ugly. The girls at school had been right. Colette could now hear their voices tormenting her. “Pig Face! Pig Face! You’re an ugly Pig Face!” Colette would never forget that horrible chant. <> “They are still gaining!” shouted Greg. The police patrol vessel was clearly bigger and stronger. “It is no use! We must surrender!” Gavin pressed harder still on the accelerator. He could not surrender. To do so would mean Susannah has won, and that he could not allow. They had to persevere. Yet fate delivered another blow. Octopus headed straight for a large wave. Gavin did not react quickly enough. The wave engulfed the speedboat, causing it to career on its side before flipping