Free The Wicked Go to Hell by Frédéric Dard Page B

feet tangled in lengths of seaweed, which wound themselves round his ankles like snakes.
    “I got it all wrong,” he thought. “I said we’d be able to get to the island at low tide. But in fact you can only reach it at high tide and by boat.”
    But putting the case like that gave him an idea. If he couldn’t move, why not wait for the sea to do it for him? It wascoming in slowly and surely. All he’d have to do then would be to swim to the accommodating shore of the island, which he could see just there, just a few strokes away.
    He waited on the sand while the day grew lighter all round him. His only worry now was that they might be seen from the clifftop. But so early in the morning, that was not very likely.
    And so the time passed. Hal began to get drowsy. He felt oppressed by Frank’s breathing but even so he fell asleep in that position. He was woken by a tongue of water. It licked him gently in the face.
    He waited, half propped up on his elbows. The water continued to rise. Soon, it overtook him. He sat up. Then the water was up to his chest. Now he could paddle.
    He stretched out on the water. He tried moving his arms and legs. Then he was floating. In a moment of jubilation, he laughed. It was a solitary, grim laugh. He gripped Frank under his lifeless arms and pulled him against his chest. Then on his back, he kicked out for the shore.
    It took him less time than he had estimated to cross the stretch of sea. Eventually he landed on a beach of firm sand and staggered out of the water, dragging his comrade with him.
    He felt that he too was about to pass out.
    “Die, you bastard!” he muttered as he let go of Frank’s clenched hands.
    Then he lay flat on his back and looked unblinkingly up at the new day’s too-red sun.

11
    They regained consciousness almost simultaneously. It was probably the sun beating down on their faces that roused them from the comatose state into which they had sunk.
    They both opened their eyes. Convoys of wispy clouds drifted slowly on a high breeze which could not be felt at sea level.
    Frank stammered:
    “Where are we?”
    “On the island,” murmured Hal.
    “How come?”
    “I dragged you here.”
    “Thanks,” said Frank. “You’re a real brother!”
    “A brother wouldn’t have done that for you!”
    “OK, so you’re a good pal who looks out for me on account of me being delicate!”
    Hal spat out the sand which had accumulated in his mouth.
    “I wish you were dead,” he mused. “I’ve had a bellyful of you and your stupid comments.”
    “In that case you should have left me there in the mud… I was caught like a rat in a trap! The sea would have drowned me…”
    “It’s not fair,” grumbled Hal. “I risk my life to save yours. You’re about as strong as a newborn slug but the first words you come out with are a put-down…”
    There was a silence.
    “Those are rain clouds,” said Hal, who had been watching the masses of grey as they scudded across the sky.
    “Yes, and they’re going to drop their load on people, and why not?… I wish they would and wipe them all out, the whole lot of them.”
    “Me too…”
    Hal got to his knees and looked around him.
    “You sure this is an island?” asked Frank.
    “You bet. If you feel like doing a Robinson Crusoe, now’s your chance… Well I’ll be… Good God!”
    “What?”
    Hal stared at his companion. The bandage had been torn off Frank’s head and his eyes were now fully open.
    “Say, can you see properly?”
    With one movement, Frank sprang to his feet.
    “I can!” he exulted. “I can see! I can see! And there was me thinking I’d gone blind! Isn’t that tremendous?”
    “You bet!… Come on, this way!”
    They walked across the short grass which started where the beach ended.
    There was a low rise in the land on which stood a number of stunted trees. Clear water ran down one side of the hillock. Hal flung himself face down… It was drinkable.
    “Drink!” he cried.
    Frank followed his