Island

The Hunt (Part Two)

Here we are, at the start of our sixth day as castaways.

It’s dawn.

We agreed for me to take the final watch of the night, so that I would have daylight for working on my journal. A few minutes ago, Kimberly woke me up to relieve her. She has just gone over to her sleeping place. Billie and Connie appear to be sound asleep.

It is very pleasant and peaceful, sitting here alone by the fire at sunrise. I hear the gentle swishing sounds of the waves. The fire crackles and snaps. Off in the jungle, a few birds are squawking.

I’d better get down to business.

Yesterday, and our hunt for Wesley and Thelma.

When I left off, we were just about to reach the lagoon.

We climbed the rest of the way, and found ourselves standing within a few feet of its shore.

The lagoon turned out to be larger than I’d expected—maybe fifty yards across and twice that size in length. I’d also expected its entire shoreline to be in sight, but there were so many curves and points and coves that fairly large portions of the lagoon and its banks couldn’t be seen from where we stood.

It was a lovely sight, though. The surface was so still that it had hardly a ripple except where the waterfall splashed down directly across from us.

The water of the falls looked like a curl of silver where it slid over the rock edge about ten or fifteen feet above the lagoon. It hung down the face of the rock, shiny and transparent. At the bottom of its drop, it splashed softly.

The rest of the lagoon was like a dark mirror. It cast a perfect, upside-down image of the rocky shores, the bushes and towering trees.

We stood for a while on the shore, looking around.

As expected, there was no sign of Wesley or Thelma. It was hard to believe that any human had ever been here before—even though I knew that Kimberly and Keith had visited the lagoon on our first morning at the island, before the boat blew up. The place seemed so remote and primitive that I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a dinosaur wading through its water. Like in The Lost World or King Kog. Or Jurassic Park.

The only wildlife I could see, however, was of the winged variety. Bugs and birds. And not a pterodactyl in sight.

“I’m going in,” Connie said. She set down her spear and tomahawk, and started to take off her shoes.

“We’d better not all go in at the same time,” Kimberly said. “Someone should stay on the bank with…”

Connie dived in.

“…with the weapons.”

“I’ll stay,” I volunteered.

“We’ll take turns,” Billie told me. “I’ll come out in a few minutes and take over for you.”

“Fine,” I said.

“Let’s give ourselves about half an hour,” Kimberly suggested. “Then we’ll scout the shores, see if we can find any traces of my sister and Wesley. Maybe we’ll be able to pick up their trail.”

“If they were even here,” Billie said.

“This is where I’d come, if I were Wesley. I’d have a hiding place somewhere near the lagoon, here. A base camp.” To me, she said, “So keep a sharp eye out.”

“Don’t let anyone sneak up on you,” Billie said.

“And watch us, too,” Kimberly added. “We’ll be sort of vulnerable out there.”

That was like our cue to look for Connie.

She had made it to the other side, and was standing under the waterfall. As we watched, she took off her T-shirt, wadded it into a ball, and started to rub her face with it.

“I sure wish she’d shape up,” Billie muttered.

“She’s having a tough time,” Kimberly said.

“We all are. That’s no excuse.”

“Come on, let’s go in.”

They piled their spears and tomahawks on the shore, along with the rope slings, the Hawaiian shirt, the Swiss Army knife and their shoes. Then they entered the water.

Kimberly dived in. Did a much cleaner job of it than Connie had done—darting into the water with hardly a splash. I watched her slide along under the surface. She was long and sleek, black hair flowing down her back, the white seat of her bikini pants slipping through the gloom like a bright, winged fish. With the reflection on the water above her, she seemed to be gliding beneath a translucent landscape painting.

Billie, less athletic and more cautious than Kimberly, climbed down to the water and waded in. She made her way slowly, as if worried about what she might step on. When the water reached her thighs, she leaned forward, turning her body, and eased into a side-stroke.

Connie, still at the falls, was rubbing the wadded T-shirt up and down an arm.

At the moment, she was the most vulnerable of the three gals. Nobody appeared to be sneaking up on her, though. I looked around to make sure no one was sneaking up on me. Then I added my tomahawk, shirt, shoes and socks to the pile. I also emptied the pockets of my big old khaki shorts, since I planned to wear the shorts when I went in for my swim.

Then I climbed onto a good-sized boulder that stuck out into the lagoon, sat down on it and lay the ax across my lap.

It was sort of like being the lifeguard at a public swimming pool. All I needed was a whistle and some white goop on my nose.

I could’ve focused completely on any one of the gals. They were all worth watching, all exciting for one reason or another.

Connie, in spite of her attitude problems, had a slim, fine body and such a skimpy swimsuit that she almost seemed to be naked.

Billie, more appealing than her daughter from the get-go because she’s so nice, also had the most fabulous body: wide shoulders, large breasts, a flat belly and full, firm buttocks.

Kimberly, gorgeous enough to be on the cover of a fashion magazine, was dark and slender and hard, an athlete and a warrior. Her body looked as if it had been carved from wood and polished to a high gloss.

Each was sort of a masterpiece, in her own way.

I could’ve spent all my time watching just one of them. All three were my responsibility, though. I had to force myself to turn my eyes from Kimberly to Billie, then force myself to abandon Billie for Connie. I could’ve lingered on Connie for an hour, but made myself look away to make sure Kimberly was all right. And on it went.

With me as the observer and guardian, each followed her own whims in the lagoon.

Kimberly swam the crawl. Back and forth, back and forth across the middle of the lagoon. Low and quick in the water, she swam for speed, not pleasure.

Billie luxuriated. She moved slowly, doing a languid sidestroke for a while, then rolling face down and breast-stroking, later flipping over and paddling along on her back. She never stayed long in any one position. She seemed to relish rolling over, sloshing. And I relished watching her. Which is putting it mildly.

Connie hardly did any swimming at all. She stayed in the waist-deep water below the falls, rubbing herself with the wadded ball of her T-shirt. Apparently, this was to relieve the itching of her mosquito bites. That’s what I thought at first, anyway. Until, after a while, she took off her bikini. She put her back to me, then took it off and sidestepped away from the falls and tossed it onto a big, flat-topped block of stone. Keeping her back to me the whole time. And never letting the water level drop below her waist.

After ridding herself of the bikini, she returned to her place beneath the falls and resumed rubbing herself with the T-shirt. Always with her back toward me.

What a bitch.

I knew I should be keeping an eye on Billie and Kimberly, but Connie had me hooked. I couldn’t look away from her.

She must’ve thought she would taunt me by keeping her back turned, so she would’ve been disappointed to find out how much the view of her bare back thrilled me: her delicate shoulders, the moving curves of her shoulder blades, the way she tapered to her slender waist, then flared out at the hips. Not to mention that I could see her buttocks, the crease of her ass, and the backs of her legs—all of which were perfectly visible below the surface of the water.

She also had me hooked because she kept rubbing her breasts with the wadded shirt. And rubbing her belly. And rubbing between her legs. It was very obvious where she was rubbing herself—she made sure of that.

What a charmer.

While she was at it, though, my time on guard duty ran out.

I hadn’t been keeping track of time, hadn’t even given much thought to going into the lagoon. But Billie had apparently noticed Connie’s antics.

She rose to her feet in the waist-deep water just in front of me. At the sight of her, I almost immediately forgot about Connie.

Billie’s short hair, clinging wet, looked golden. She was dripping and shiny and breathing hard. Her breasts, as brown as bread loaves, moved up and down, barely contained by her black bikini. From my position above her, I could see a strip of light at the bottom of her cleavage.

She said in a quiet voice, “I’ll take over. Jump on in and pay her a visit.”

“Who?”

“Who do you think? Connie.”

“You’re kidding.”

“She needs a little visit.”

“Not from me.” A drop of water fell off the tip of Billie’s nose. It vanished into the crevice between her breasts.

“Go on,” she said.

“I’ll go in the water,” I said, “but I’m gonna stay away from her.”

Billie shrugged. “Well, it’s up to you.”

“It’s up to me?”

“Sure.”

“In that case,” I said, “why don’t I stay here and keep you company? You’re not as likely to dump on me. And you’re better to look at.”

She smiled. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. And you know it.”

“She’s the naked one.”

“Big deal,” I said.

Which brought a quick, soft laugh from Billie. “A big deal, all right. You’d better get over there, or she’ll really hate you.”

“Oh, she really hates me now.”

“Only it’ll be more so if you stick around with me while she’s doing everything in her power to drive you nuts.”

“Think so?” I set the ax aside, and stood up. “Hey, Connie!” I called.

She looked over her shoulder at me. She did not turn around. She scowled. “What?” she snapped.

“Is that waterfall big enough to share with a friend?” I asked.

“Fuck you!” she yelled.

I smiled down at Billie, who still stood in the waist-deep water in front of my rock. She shook her head. “You like to piss her off,” she said.

At the other side of the lagoon, Connie was now sidestepping toward the place where she’d left her bikini.

She didn’t plan to take any chances.

“I’m coming for you!” I called.

“Just try it, and see what happens!”

Billie grinned. “Clearly an invitation.”

“Should I take off my shorts?” I asked Billie.

“That might be pushing your luck.”

“I wouldn’t, anyway.”

“I know. Now quit wasting rime and jump in.”

Across the lagoon, Connie was bending over. On the nearby rock, her bikini had been replaced by the sodden wad of her T-shirt.

She straightened, pulling up her bikini pants. (To tell the truth, the addition of the thong didn’t make much of a change to her rearview appearance.)

“What are you waiting for?” Billie asked.

“Nothing,” I said.

A few moments later, Connie finished putting on her top. Only then did she turn around. She gave me a smug little smile, and a wave.

Not wanting to look like a jerk in front of Billie, I refrained from giving Connie the finger. I just shook my head. Then I waited for Kimberly to swim by. When she was out of the way, I dived in.

The water felt great—cool enough to be refreshing, but not chilly. It slid against my skin like satin. No wonder Billie had rolled and wallowed in the luxury of it.

When I came up for air, I couldn’t find the bottom with my feet. So I trod water, blinked my eyes clear and spotted Connie straight ahead. She was on her way back to the falls.

“Do you mind if I come over?” I asked.

“It’s a free country,” she said, sounding like a six-year-old.

“You sure of that?” I asked. I started to paddle toward her with a modified breast-stroke that kept my face above the water. “I mean, what country is this?”

“Don’t be such a wise-ass.” She turned her back to me and stepped into the gleaming curtain of water. Her body seemed to cut its own likeness into the fells. She spread out her arms and tipped back her head.

“I bet that feels good,” I said.

She didn’t answer.

About six feet away from her, I was able to stand up. The water reached the middle of my chest.

“That was a nice show you put on,” I said.

She lowered her head and arms, then turned around. The turning around, I’m sure, was to give me a good look at her snotty smirk. “Glad you liked it,” she said.

“Your mother was very impressed.” I hoped that Billie couldn’t hear us. We were probably safe—at least if we kept our voices down.

“Good for Mom.”

“She’s the one who sent me over here.”

“No kidding. Why did she do that?”

“She thinks you want me.”

Connie blew out a big puff of air. “That’s how much Mom knows. I want you like I want a hole in the head.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

“Yeah, right,” she said. “Like you weren’t aching for me to turn around.”

“Yeah, right,” I said. Two can play that game.

“Fuck off,” she said, and shut her eyes.

Instead, I stood there. If she’d really wanted me to fuck off, she wouldn’t have shut her eyes.

Anyway, I couldn’t just leave. Not with Billie watching. Besides, the view was too good.

The waterfall was splashing Connie behind her shoulders, but missing her head completely. After a few seconds, she leaned backward. Her head made a hole in the liquid sheet. Water spilled down over her ears and face, splattered the tops of her shoulders, ran down her chest.

Maybe she really did want me to leave, and now she was trying to shut me out. Or maybe this was part of the game: her way of letting me look her over, unobserved—possibly to gain a full appreciation of what I would never be allowed to see naked, or touch.

Unless, as Billie might see it, this was Connie’s bizarre method of trying to seduce me. Fat chance of that, in my opinion.

Since Connie had her eyes shut, I moved closer to her.

I watched how the water slid down her chest and the tops of her breasts. Her breasts were about half the size of Billie’s. Each was partly covered by a clinging orange triangle, pulled taut by thin strips of elastic.

Her nipples were sticking out big and hard against the flimsy triangles.

Maybe Billie was right about her motives.

After all, Connie knew I hadn’t gone away, knew I was standing close enough to touch her, knew I must be giving her a close-up inspection, knew what I was seeing and the effect it would have on me.

I suddenly wondered if she wanted me to touch her.

Maybe pull her against me and kiss her.

Prove to her that she’s the one I care about—not Billie or Kimberly.

We used to kiss, back before we embarked on this excursion that somehow turned her into a monster. Kissing was all we used to do in the sex department. Hug and kiss, but no feelies below the waist, front or back, and her chest area was totally off limits. It got to be enormously frustrating and annoying.

I’d been all set to dump her, but then she’d invited me on the trip.

Now, she seemed to be waiting for me to do something.

Frankly, I didn’t much want to kiss her.

You have to like somebody for that to be any good.

What I wanted to do was hook my fingertips under each of her breasts and give the elastic strip a big tug toward the sky so they’d leap out like they did by the campfire the night of the ambush.

With or without Billie watching, I couldn’t pull a stunt like that.

Connie opened one eye slightly, to see what I was doing.

I said, “See ya,” and started to back away.

Both eyes open, she took a small step forward and muttered, “Yeah, go on and run away like a…”

“I’m just fucking off. Isn’t that…?”

“LOOK OUT!” Billie shouted.

The Hunt (Part Three)

As Billie shouted her warning, a rock the size of a coconut came straight down as if carried over the falls by the stream’s current. I saw it an instant before it hit Connie. It struck the side of her head, then crashed onto her left shoulder.

The way her head jerked when the rock hit it, you’d think she’d been swatted by a baseball bat. Her hair flew. Her face shook. When the rock pounded her shoulder, she was knocked to the left. Half a second later, she dropped under water.

Billie and Kimberly were both yelling, but I’m not sure what they said.

I ducked and grabbed Connie under the armpits and hauled her up. She felt limp. Her head lolled sideways and water slopped out of her mouth. Her eyes were open, but rolled upward so that only the whites showed, mostly. Blood mixed in with the water running down the left side of her head.

I dragged her through the water, over to the place where she’d put her T-shirt. Then I thrust her up and backward, trying to sit her on the slab of rock. I couldn’t get her high enough for that. But she started to slump backward, so I let go of her sides and hugged her around the thighs and hoisted her again. This time, I got her rump up there.

Kimberly arrived. “Stay with her,” she gasped, then hurled herself out of the water and went scurrying up the rocks. She rushed for the top of the falls.

She didn’t have a weapon.

I stood in the water, holding Connie by the legs so she wouldn’t slide back into the lagoon. Before I had a chance to think about what to do next, Billie showed up. She brushed past me and climbed onto the slab. Kneeling by Connie’s side, she leaned over and pinned her down by the shoulders. “Got her,” she gasped.

Kimberly, near the top of the falls, raced out of sight.

I boosted myself onto the rock.

Kneeling on both sides of Connie, her mother and I lifted and dragged her until she was flat on her back. “That’s fine, that’s fine,” Billie said. She sounded almost calm. “You’re gonna be fine, honey. Everything’s fine.”

I wasn’t so sure about that.

Connie was out cold, and bleeding from the side of her head. She was alive, though. Breathing. With so much bare skin showing, you couldn’t miss all the parts of her that rose and fell. Here and there—at the side of her neck, just under her sternum—I could even see her skin throb with her heartbeat.

“What’ll we do about her head?” I asked.

“There’s her shirt.”

I was almost kneeling on it. I snatched up the sopping T-shirt, folded it into a big, thick pad, and pressed it against the bloody side of Connie’s head.

She moaned and started to turn her head away.

Billie put a hand against the other side to hold it steady. “That’s all right, honey,” she said. She began crying softly. With relief, I guess, because Connie had moaned—a good sign. “You’ll be fine, honey.” She sniffed a couple of times. “You had an accident, but you’ll be fine.” With the hand that wasn’t holding Connie’s head, she wiped her eyes. She said to me, “Do you think her shoulder’s broken?”

The top of Connie’s shoulder had a nasty abrasion. She looked as if she’d skidded across a sidewalk on it, rubbing it raw. The shoulder didn’t appear to be swollen much, though, or knocked out of shape.

“I don’t think it’s broken,” I said. “Not that I’ve had that much experience with broken bones.”

Connie squeezed her eyes tight and bared her teeth and moaned again.

Billie clutched the girl’s good shoulder. “You’re gonna be fine, honey.” To me, she said, “Thank God you were with her. She might’ve drowned.”

I shook my head. “That rock was just there, all of a sudden,” I said. “I didn’t have time to do anything about it. If I could’ve pushed her out of the way, or something… I just stood there like a jerk.”

“You were great,” Billie said. “It happened too fast, that’s all.”

“Did it just fall, or what?” I asked her. “Did you see?”

“It rolled off the edge of the falls.”

“By itself?” I asked.

“Not hardly. I don’t think so, anyway. I think somebody threw it—or rolled it. Somebody up at the top of the falls, but far enough back to stay out of sight.”

“Wesley or Thelma.”

“I should think so.”

“How is she?” At the sound of Kimberly’s voice, I raised my head and saw her trotting down the slope.

“She’s banged up pretty good,” I said. “She’s coming around, though.”

“She’ll be fine,” Billie said.

“What’d you find up there?” I asked.

“Nothing.” Kimberly squatted down for a better look at Connie, and her bare arm rubbed against mine. “How are you doing, Con?”

The answer she got was a groan of pain.

“She’s so thick-headed,” Kimberly said, “the rock probably didn’t even dent her.”

Connie murmured, “Fuck you.”

With that, I’m sure we all figured Connie was well on her way to recovery.

“You didn’t find anything up there?” Billie asked.

Kimberly shook her head. “I didn’t do much searching, though. Just took a quick look around, then tried to see if I could find any footprints. Nothing. I wanted to get back and see how Connie was doing. And I didn’t want to get myself jumped. There must be about a million hiding places up there. I didn’t have anyone to watch my back, so it didn’t seem smart to hang around.”

“I could go up with you,” I offered. “The two of us could do a search.”

“Not gonna leave Billie and Con. Anyway, all our weapons are over there.” She nodded toward the other side of the lagoon. “We’ve taken enough casualties for one day. What we’ve gotta do now is get ourselves back to the beach.”

Which is what we did.

We waited a few minutes for Connie to recover some more. Then we helped her sit up. We needed a way to keep the bandage (her folded T-shirt) in place against the side of her head, so Billie volunteered my belt. While I held the bandage against the wound, Kimberly wrapped the belt around Connie’s head—making passes over the top and under the chin, then fastening the buckle.

Then we lowered Connie into the water. We floated her across the lagoon on her back, and helped her out on the other side.

I was only half a help; my belt being otherwise occupied, I needed one hand to keep my shorts from falling off.

We found our stuff where we’d left it. I removed one of the tomahawks from its sling, and used the rope as a belt for my shorts. Then I refilled my pockets. (We hadn’t touched the food yet, but nobody wanted any.) It was agreed that Billie and I would work together on helping Connie back to camp, and Kimberly would take care of whatever weapons we couldn’t manage. I put on my pink shirt, and stuck a tomahawk down the side of my rope belt.

Kimberly ended up in her Hawaiian shin, with her chest crossed by rope slings, a tomahawk at each hip, her Swiss Army knife tucked down the front of her bikini pants, four spears hugged against her side with her left arm, and the ax in her right hand.

I took one side of Connie; Billie took the other. We held her by the arms.

With Kimberly in the lead, we started downstream.

Connie whimpered and groaned and sometimes cried. With Billie and I holding her steady, though, she was able to stay on her feet and support her own weight, most of the time. Every now and then, she sagged and we had to struggle to keep her from going down.

We stuck to the stream; it was easier going than the jungle, and seemed like the most direct route back to the beach.

Sometimes, the stream was too narrow for the three of us to walk side by side. We always managed to keep Connie up, through places like that.

We only had real trouble once. That happened when we were making our way down a fairly easy slope. We would’ve been fine, but some damn bird suddenly flapped up out of nowhere and crossed right in front of us. It startled the hell out of us. Billie yelped. All three of us, I think, flinched and jumped. But then Billie had a foot slip out from under her. We tried to hold each other up, but we all fell down, splashing in the shallow water and landing on the rocks of the stream bed.

Only Kimberly, a few strides ahead of us, got away unscathed.

The rest of us weren’t scathed in any major way—not from that. It just added several new sore places to each of us.

Soon after that stupid fall, we hobbled out of the jungle and onto the clear, bright sand of our beach.

The big hunt was over.

We hadn’t found our prey, but we’d been preyed upon.

Connie is mighty damn lucky to be alive.

All that was yesterday.

Andrew’s lighter, in my pocket at the time of our fall into the stream, got soaked and stopped working. This had us very worried. A couple of hours in the sunlight yesterday afternoon dried it out, though, so we were able to get our campfire going again.

Connie is doing fairly well. The gash on the side of her head isn’t large. It bled a lot for a while, then clotted and hasn’t reopened. She’s got quite a lump there, under her hair. She complains of fierce headaches and shoulder pains, but nothing serious has happened so far. I mean, she hasn’t fainted or had dizzy spells or blurred vision.

We think she’ll probably make a full recovery.

Agony, by the way, has improved her personality; she’s in too much pain most of the time to be a bitch.

Also, she seems to be busy feeling sorry for herself and wanting everyone’s sympathy. At least when she’s awake.

She didn’t have to do any guard duty last night. Kimberly, Billie and I took turns, with me taking the morning shift so I could work on my journal here.

Been writing like a madman, ever since dawn.

A while ago, Kimberly woke up. She came over to the fire and we said “Good morning” to each other. She asked how the journal’s coming along. I said, “Fine. I’m just about caught up.”

“I hope you’re making it clear that Wesley’s behind all this,” she said. “Wesley Duncan Beaverton the third. So there won’t be any doubt about who murdered Keith and Dad.”

“It’s all here,” I said.

“And he’s probably the one who dropped that rock on Connie yesterday.”

“Yeah.”

“You got that?”

“Sure do.”

“Good.” She shook her head. “I’d sure hate for him to get away with this. If he ends up killing all of us, maybe that diary of yours’ll be the only way anybody ever finds out the truth.”

“My God, I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“It probably won’t,” Kimberly said. “Anyway, I’m going in for a swim. Can you hold down the fort for another ten or fifteen minutes?”

“Sure.”

So then she jogged down to the shore and charged into the water.

She came out of it a few minutes ago. When she first came out, she did some push-ups on the beach. Then sit-ups, knee-bends, etc. She just now walked over for the ax. I guess she plans to swing it around, the way she did yesterday. I’m going to watch. So long for now.

Thelma’s Story

And who should wander out of the jungle this afternoon but Thelma?

At the time she put in her appearance, nobody was actually keeping watch.

Billie and Kimberly were out in the water, trying to spear some fish for supper. Kimberly was going after them with Connie’s special spear, while Billie stood by with the pot. They’d just finished nailing their second fish when Thelma came toward our campsite.

Connie was asleep under one of the shelters. We’d let her drink a few slugs of bourbon after lunch to ease her aches and pains. It must’ve helped considerably, because she zonked out. She’d been snoozing for a couple of hours by the time Thelma showed up.

I was stretched out on my back beneath the leafy roof of the other sun shelter, my head propped up by a mound of sand, my paperback held above my face with both hands. I’d been reading, watching Kimberly and Billie, reading a bit more…

Thelma’s shout of “Help!” startled me so much that I flinched and the book jumped out of my hands.

I flipped over onto my belly.

The paperback had landed in the sand about four feet away.

Thelma was about fifty feet away, walking slowly toward me. More of a stagger than a walk, actually. Small, stiff steps. She was bent over a little, as if cramped. Her arms hardly moved at all. She carried herself like someone who’d recently fallen down the cellar stairs, or something.

She had some pretty good damage to her face, including a shiner and a fat lip.

One sleeve was missing entirely from her blouse, leaving her right arm bare to the shoulder. The blouse was filthy, spotted with blood, and untucked so it hung down in front of her shorts.

Even though her blouse was buttoned up, I saw right away that she’d lost her bra. You couldn’t miss it. She has large breasts. Un-leashed, they swayed and bounced, making the front of her blouse leap around as if she had a couple of wild animals trapped inside.

One bare knee had an abrasion similar to the one on Connie’s shoulder.

Her hands were empty.

There was no sign of Wesley. I figured he might be nearby, though, using Thelma as a diversion while he snuck in.

Also, Thelma had given us a taste of how dangerous she could be without any help from Wesley.

I reached out and grabbed the ax. Hanging on to it, I crawled out from under the shelter and stood up.

She raised an open hand.

I twisted around. Kimberly and Billie were still busy fishing. Apparently, they hadn’t heard the shout.

“Hey!” I yelled. “Billie! Kimberly!”

Their heads turned. Because of the slope of the beach, I doubted that they could see Thelma. They could see me, though. I gestured for them to come out, and added, “Hurry! Thelma’s here!”

I looked over at Connie. She was curled on her right side, the same as before, to keep the pressure off her wounds. The shouting must’ve woken her up. Her eyes were open, watching me.

“Thelma’s here,” I told her, even though I was repeating myself.

She didn’t say anything. She barely moved. But her upper lip twitched slightly.

Kimberly and Billie were sloshing toward shore.

For at least a while, it would be just Thelma and me. And Wesley, if he was trying to pull off a sneak attack.

Thelma was still coming.

“Stop,” I said. “Don’t take another step.”

She stopped.

“Put both your hands up. Put ’em on top of your head.”

She obeyed. Her breasts lifted. So did her entire blouse, a little bit.

I thought about frisking her.

Not just so I could feel her up, either: the way her blouse hung down, big and loose, there was plenty of room for hiding weapons.

The other two gals would be here soon, though, so I gave up the idea of checking her.

“Do you have any weapons?” I asked.

“No,” she muttered. She had a dull, sullen look in her eyes. “I didn’t come here to cause any…”

“Thelma!” Kimberly blurted. I looked back and saw her break into a run. Billie hurried after her. Over at her shelter, Connie didn’t want to miss out. She was getting to her hands and knees.

Kimberly raced past me, then slowed, then stopped a few strides from her sister.

Thelma started to lower her hands.

“Don’t.” Kimberly jabbed out with the spear, prodding her in the ribs.

“Ow!”

“Stay put.” She held the spear in both hands, its point an inch or so away from Thelma’s chest.

Billie arrived. Both of us moved in and stood with Kimberly.

“Can I put my hands down, now?” Thelma asked.

“No. Don’t move. Billie, you wanta search her?”

With a nod, Billie stepped forward. She went behind Thelma. Using both hands, she started at the armpits and worked her way down Thelma’s sides.

“I haven’t got anything.”

“We’ll see,” Kimberly said.

Billie patted the pockets of Thelma’s baggy shorts. After checking around the waist, her hands moved up Thelma’s front. She stayed outside the blouse, but pushed in the fabric until she met flesh. She rubbed up and down, lifted and shoved Thelma’s breasts this way and that as she checked underneath and between them.

Thelma grimaced while this went on. She also winced a lot, as if she were being hurt.

“Does he have to watch this?” Thelma wanted to know.

Meaning me.

“Make him look the other way.”

“Shut up,” Kimberly told her.

Squatting, Billie squeezed Thelma’s rump, patted the legs of her shorts, and shoved a hand up between her legs. When the hand jammed against her crotch, Thelma gasped and went to her tiptoes.

“Nothing,” Billie announced.

“Okay, you can put your arms down.”

She lowered her arms.

Billie came around to the front, and stood beside me. A second later, Connie joined us. This was the first rime since the attack yesterday that she’d been up and walking without any help. But she seemed to be on the verge of falling over. She leaned against her mother.

We all stared at Thelma.

Her chin was trembling. She sniffed. “I… I know you’re all mad at me. You have a right to be, I guess. I shouldn’t have…”

“Cut the shit,” Kimberly said. “Where’s Wesley?”

She struggled to speak. When her voice came out, it sounded so high it was almost a squeak. “Dead.”

“What?”

“Dead!” she blurted. “He’s dead!”

“Yeah, right,” Connie muttered.

“He is!”

“When did he die?” Kimberly asked.

“Yesterday.”

“When yesterday?”

“Morning.”

“Who did that to Connie at the falls?” Billie asked.

Thelma blinked and shook her head.

“Did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Throw that damn rock over the falls?”

“No! We… We weren’t at any falls.”

“Where were you?” I asked.

“His place. Wesley has this… secret place. It’s past the falls. It’s nowhere near the falls.”

Billie glared at her. “If you didn’t throw the rock, who did?”

“I don’t know!”

“Did Wesley throw it?” I asked.

Before Thelma could answer, Kimberly said, “He was dead by then, remember?”

“That’s right,” I said.

“Which means you did it,” Kimberly said, and gave Thelma another quick poke with the spear.

“Ouch! Don’t!” She grabbed the hurt place.

“You did it,” Kimberly said, and jabbed the back of her hand. The spear put a pale dent in it.

“Stop that!”

“Tell the truth.”

“Wesley made me!”

“What do you mean, he made you? He was already dead.”

“No. He wasn’t. We were there. We were watching you all. We were up there above the falls, and spying on you, and he wanted to, you know, kill him.” She nodded at me.

“Me?” I asked.

“Yeah, you. I told him we shouldn’t. I didn’t want anybody else getting killed, but Wesley said he’d kill me if I didn’t do it. What could I do? He would’ve killed me. So I went and snuck down to the stream and did it.” She glanced at Connie. “It wasn’t supposed to hit you. It was supposed to hit him.”

“Stupid bitch,” Connie muttered.

“I’m sorry. What can I say? I couldn’t see what I was doing. Just a quick little peek or two. Somebody would’ve seen me up there watching, so I just had to throw it blind, and it got you by mistake.”

“Sure,” Connie said.

“It’s the truth! If you think I hurt you on purpose… I never would’ve done it on purpose. Look what Wesley did to me!” She raised both hands, open fingers trembling toward her face. “He beat me. Look how he beat me! All because I hit you instead of that boy!”

That boy.

Nice.

“He didn’t want you getting hurt. And he wanted him getting killed—so when I hit you instead, he blamed me for screwing up everything. He… he beat me and…”

“Pretty damn active for a dead guy,” Kimberly said.

“He wasn’t dead then.”

“Ah. So you were lying when you said he died yesterday morning.”

“It was after you all left the lagoon and everything.”

“He beat you up, and then he died.”

“Must’ve taken a lot out of him,” I said.

Glaring at me, she blurted, “I killed him!”

The rest of us went silent. I think we were stunned.

“What did you all think, he died from those old spear wounds? They were nothing. He was getting over them. I’m the one who killed him. You have me to thank for it, and nobody else.”

Kimberly looked her in the eyes and said, “I don’t believe you.”

Thelma’s mouth dropped open.

“You wouldn’t harm a hair on that asshole’s head. He can do no wrong, as far as you’re concerned. He’s your god.”

“He hurt me!” she blurted. “After I hit Connie with the rock, look what he did to me.” She gestured to her battered face again. “And this!” She fumbled with the top button of her blouse, then stopped and said, “He has to turn around.”

Kimberly gave me a nod.

I turned my back to Thelma.

A few seconds passed. Then she said, “See? See what he did?”

Kimberly murmured, “Jesus.”

I took a look over my shoulder.

Thelma’s head was down. She had her blouse off.

Her huge breasts were striped with scratches, smeared with livid bruises. Some of the bruises were shaped like fingers; others were crescents. From the look of her breasts, she’d been lashed by a switch, slapped around with open hands, and bitten.

Sobbing, still not raising her head and noticing me, she turned around. “And this!” Her back didn’t look as if anyone had slapped or bit it—just whaled the crap out of it with a switch. Her skin was streaked with threads of dry blood. She must’ve taken fifty lashes back there.

“And that isn’t all!” she blurted. Keeping her back to us, she started to put her blouse on. “I’m not gonna show… not gonna pull my shorts down…”

I took that as my cue to turn away.

“But he… he made me strip… take off everything… and then he beat me and beat me… all because I dropped that rock on Connie by accident… He didn’t want her damaged. But oh, God, he was sure the hell happy to damage me. And he got all turned on, beating me, so then he… he did other things to me.”

“He raped you?” Kimberly asked. She sounded upset.

“That was… yeah, and worse, too.”

I looked over my shoulder again. Thelma had her blouse on, and was trying to fasten its buttons. Her eyes were red and wet, her nose was runny and her hands trembled so much that she was having real trouble with the buttons. She saw me watching, but didn’t complain about it, so I went on and turned around.

“What else did he do to you?” Kimberly asked her.

“No. I can’t… I won’t tell. It’s too awful. But at least… It wore him out. That’s the good part. When he was done, he was so tired he couldn’t stay awake. He fell asleep and that’s when I killed him. I bashed his head in. There was a rock nearby and I grabbed it and I bashed his head in.” One of her hands fluttered away from her blouse. It held an imaginary rock. She raised it and hammered it down. “Bashed him till there was nothing left of his head but a big bloody pile of crap!”

Kimberly shoved her spear into the sand. She opened her arms and Thelma staggered into them. They hugged each other and Thelma bawled her head off.

Thelma on the Hot Seat

After Thelma finished her story and finally got done crying her eyes out in Kimberly’s arms, we went over to the shelter where I’d been reading, and sat down on the sand. We couldn’t all be in the shade, but Billie and Kimberly prefer the sun, anyway. Thelma, Connie and I got to be under the roof.

Thelma crossed her legs the best she could, and wiped her eyes. She sniffled. Then she said, “I’ve just gotta tell you all how sorry I am. I just went crazy the other night.” Meeting Kimberly’s gaze, she said, “I should’ve let you kill him, right then and mere.”

“That’s for sure,” Kimberly said.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ll just bet,” Connie muttered.

“I am.” She glanced at the rest of us. “Maybe I deserve getting punished for what I did. I was wrong, and stupid, and I hurt all of you.”

“Fucking right you did,” Connie said.

“I know, I know. But… I paid for it, didn’t I? Wesley saw to that. He hurt me a lot worse than all of you could ever come close to. And I… even though I rescued him, I’m the one who bashed his brains in. So I think… I think I paid for my mistakes.”

“You’re very forgiving of yourself;” Billie told her, perfectly calm. “You nearly killed my daughter. You did mess her up badly. God only knows how long she’ll be in pain from that stunt you pulled.”

“I’m sorry,” Thehna muttered.

“Sorry,” Connie said. “Big deal.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“We’ll figure out something,” Kimberly told her. “We can’t just forget what you did. My God, you not only attacked us and injured us, you betrayed us. You went over to the enemy. He’s the guy who killed Dad and Keith, and you helped him. You’re a traitor to your own family.”

Thelma started crying again.

“We can never trust you,” Kimberly went on. “Never.”

“But… But I made things right. I killed him.”

“Did you?” Kimberly asked.

“Did I what?”

“Kill him.”

“Yes!” She sobbed a couple of times. “What do you think, I’m lying? I made it all up?”

“It’s crossed my mind.”

“You… you saw what he did to me!”

“That’s no proof you killed him.”

“What kind of… proof do you need? Do you wanta see his body?”

“Until I do see his body,” Kimberly said, “I’m assuming he’s alive.”

“This is the same guy,” I pointed out, “who tried to make us think he’d blown himself up with the yacht.”

“It smells like a trick to me,” Billie said. “I don’t think she killed him.”

“She didn’t,” Connie said. “No way.”

Thelma wiped her eyes and uncrossed her legs. “Let’s go,” she said. “I’m ready.” She sniffed. “I’ll take you there now, and you can see for yourselves. You’ll… you’ll see I’m not a liar.”

“Not a liar?” Kimberly curved a corner of her mouth. “Give me a break. You lie like a rug. Do you think I’ve got amnesia? I grew up with you. My Christ, you lied every chance you got—even when you didn’t have any reason to lie.”

“You’re full of it,” Thelma said.

“The question isn’t whether you’re a liar, the question is whether you’re lying about Wesley being dead. And the consensus is, yes.”

“Well, you’ll just see.” She scooted backward to get out from under the shelter. “Let’s go. Come on. You’ll see.”

“No hurry,” Kimberly told her.

“Well, maybe I’m in a hurry.” No longer crying, she now seemed to be in a huff. “Nobody’s gonna believe me, and you’re all gonna keep on treating me like some kind of a leper till this is settled.”

“Nobody’s treating you like a leper,” Kimberly said.

“You’re not a leper,” Billie said.

“You’re a traitor,” Connie said.

“That’s exactly right,” Kimberly said. “A traitor. But we’re giving you the benefit of the doubt because you’re my sister.”

“What benefit of the doubt?”

Kimberly paused a moment, then said, “We probably ought to execute you.”

“What!”

“Kill you. The way I see it, you committed a capital offense when you helped him escape from our ambush. If you weren’t my sister—and Dad’s daughter—I would’ve probably killed you by now.”

Thelma suddenly looked as if she might throw up. “You’re kidding,” she murmured.

“Do you think so?”

Connie smirked and said, “I don’t think she’s kidding.”

“We’re being easy on you,” Kimberly went on. “We’re giving you a second chance. But you’d better not be lying about Wesley.”

“He’s dead and I killed him! I’m not lying about that! If you don’t believe me, let’s go right now!”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Kimberly said.

Which took us all by surprise.

“Or the day after tomorrow,” she added.

We all stared at her.

“Shouldn’t we get it over with?” I asked. “I mean, it’ll be really nice to know for sure. If he is dead, we won’t have to worry about him sneaking up on us…”

“I’d sure like to know,” Billie said.

Thelma brightened. She obviously had the impression we were on her side. “See?” she said. “They’re for going now.”

“We haven’t heard from Connie yet,” Kimberly said.

Connie grimaced. “I’m not going anywhere. Are you kidding me?”

“Is it okay if we leave you here?”

“Alone? I can’t stay here alone. This whole deal might be a trick. Maybe the minute you’re gone, Wesley comes out and gets me.”

“Don’t worry,” Billie told her. “We won’t leave you by yourself.”

“I’m not going with you looking for his body. I can’t. I’m too… I feel like shit.” She fixed her eyes on Thelma. “Thanks to you, you stupid fuck.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry. Can’t tell you how much ‘sorry’ helps the throbbing pains in my head and neck and shoulder and arm and… I’m one big fucking pain from head to toe, thanks to you. So don’t give me ‘sorry.’ Piss on you.”

Kimberly held up a hand. “We won’t make you come with us,” she said. “Not in your condition. And it’d be stupid to leave your mom or Rupert behind to protect you. We don’t want to be splitting up our forces like that. What I suggest is that we stay put. We wait a day or two before we go out and…”

“A day or two!” Thelma blurted. “That’s ridiculous!”

Kimberly raised her eyebrows. “He isn’t going to walk away, is he?”

“No! Of course not!”

“If you hadn’t busted up Connie with that rock, we could go right now.”

Thelma scowled.

“So we’ll wait until Connie can travel?” Billie asked.

“Yep.”

Billie smiled. “That sounds like a pretty good idea.”

“Thanks.”

Connie, an oddly sly smile on her face, added, “It’ll give Wesley time to die.”

We all looked at her.

“We don’t really believe she killed him,” Connie explained, “but we know he’s badly hurt. Maybe he’s not getting better. Maybe he’s getting weaker all the time, and has some infections setting in. I mean, that could happen to me, you know? Which is what made me think of it.”

“It won’t happen to you,” Billie told her. “You’re going to be fine.”

“Yeah, I guess. I’m not too worried. But I have all you guys son of taking care of me. Wesley doesn’t have anyone. We’ve got Thelma, so she isn’t there to help him. Long as we’ve got her, he’s on his own. If we give him enough time, maybe he’ll just waste away and die without us ever having to touch him again.”

“That’s right,” Kimberly said. “But even if he isn’t wasting away, it might screw him up if we don’t come looking for him right away.”

“He’ll think something went wrong,” I added.

Billie grinned. “Something did go wrong.”

“You’re all crazy,” Thelma said. “He’s dead.”

“He’d better be,” Kimberly said. “That’s another thing about our waiting period—it’ll give you time to reconsider. Maybe you’ll want to change your story.”

“There’s nothing to change.”

“You’d better think about that. If you didn’t kill him, you’d better let us know before we pay a visit to his body. If we get there and find out you’ve led us into a trap, there’s gonna be hell to pay.”

“I’m not lying.”

“In the meantime, we can’t exactly treat you like one of the gang. Go get some rope, Rupert, would you?”

“From the tomahawks?”

“No, we’ll need to keep using those. Bring over what’s left of the hanging rope.”

“What’re you gonna do?” Thelma asked.

I’d started to scoot out from under the shelter, but I didn’t want to miss anything, so I stopped.

“Tie you up,” Kimberly answered.

“Tie me up?” Thelma sounded shocked.

In a calm voice, Billie explained, “You’re his accomplice. What do you expect?”

“I killed him.”

“Yeah, right,” Connie said.

“Rupert,” Kimberly said. “The rope?”

“Oh. Okay.” I went ahead and left them. I ran across the sand, found the remaining length of rope among the supplies, snatched it up and hurried back toward the shelter.

Approaching it; I heard Thelma complaining, “… stayed out in the jungle by myself, if I’d known you were going to treat me like a criminal.”

“Maybe so,” Kimberly said.

“You should’ve,” Connie said.

“You want to do the honors?” Kimberly asked me.

“Sure.” I ducked under the roof.

“Go ahead and tie her hands in front, for now. We’ll see how it goes. If she gives us any trouble at all, we’ll put ’em behind her. Do you hear that, Thelma? You don’t want them behind your back, do you?”

“No.”

“Then you’d better cooperate.”

I knelt in front of Thelma. She glowered at me and held out her hands. I bound them together, wrapping the rope around her wrists, going in and out between them in a figure-eight pattern. I made it tight enough to keep her secure, but tried to avoid cutting off her circulation.

When I was done, a lot of rope was left over.

I picked up the hanging tail. “What about this? Should we cut it off? I could tie it around her feet, or…”

“Maybe just let it hang,” Billie suggested. “That way, we’ll have something to grab hold of if she tries to run.”

“A leash for the bitch,” Connie said.

“You’re all just horrible,” Thelma said. “How can you do this to me? I know I made a little mistake, but… I’m all beat up. It isn’t fair. You saw what he did to me. How can you tie me up? I saved you. I saved you all from Wesley, and… you’re treating me this way. You’re horrible.”

“Why don’t we put a gag on her?” Connie suggested.

“No!”

“Then do yourself a favor,” Kimberly said, “and stop whining.”

Thelma shut her mouth and turned its corners down.

Soon after that, we broke up. Thelma wanted to lie down, so Kimberly, Billie and I led her over to her sleeping place. We helped lower her onto the bed of rags. She curled on her side. With her tied hands up close to her chin, she looked like she was about to start praying. But then she plucked up the end of a beach towel—one of the several towels we’d brought along on the picnic—and covered her face with it.

“Don’t get up without asking,” Kimberly told her.

“Go away and leave me alone,” Thelma said through the towel.

Kimberly crouched beside her. “Look,” she said, “cut the attitude. We’re being damn nice to you, under the circumstances.”

“Like fun you are. Am I supposed to be grateful… ?”

With the flat of her open hand, Kimberly smacked her on the side of the head.

Thelma let out a startled yelp.

In a slow, steady voice that wasn’t like anything I’d ever heard from her before, Kimberly said, “You brought Wesley into our lives, sister. We warned you about him. You wouldn’t listen. You thought he was so damn wonderful. Now, my husband is dead. Dad is dead. It’s all because of Wesley—and Wesley is because of you. Do you get it? You did this to us! You!”

She gave Thelma’s head another slap.

Billie put a hand on Kimberly’s shoulder.

Kimberly raised her head. Her eyes were brimming with tears. As she looked up at Billie, she blinked. Tears spilled out and trickled down her face.

It’s amazing to see Kimberly cry. She is so tough, most of the time. But when she weeps, it’s like watching a heartbroken kid trying to act brave.

I choked up, myself, at the sight of her tears.

It made me remember Keith’s funeral, and how I’d sung “Danny Boy” like some sort of idiot, and how she had hugged me afterward.

The best hug I’ve ever had. All sloppy and sentimental, but coming from the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known—not to mention that Keith’s shirt was open so I could feel all that bare skin against me, and the soft push of her breasts through her bikini.

I wonder if I’ll ever get another hug like that from her.

Who knows? There’s always hope, I guess.

I’d really like a lot more than a hug. I’d like her to fall madly in love with me, and seduce me.

Fat chance of that happening. I’m not much of a prize. Gals who look like Kimberly don’t give guys like me a second glance.

Though, who knows? As long as we’re marooned on this island, anything is possible. I am, after all, the only living male. (If you don’t count Wesley.) Maybe, eventually, all three of the gals will get after me.

Who am I kidding?

Anyway, it’s nice to imagine. Except that the fun of imagining such things has sharp edges that hurt.

With me as the only guy on the island, these gals would probably turn to celibacy or lesbianism before they’d throw themselves at my feet. That’s the kind of luck I have with babes.

What got me started off on this tangent, anyway?

Kimberly crying.

I would’ve liked to kiss the tears off her eyes.

Licked them off her cheeks.

Licked her everywhere.

I just stood there watching. She’d hardly begun to weep before she stood up, brushed the sand off her knees, and wiped her eyes. “Keep an eye on her, Rupe,” she told me.

“I will.”

Billie still had the hand on her shoulder.

Together, they turned away and headed for the water. They went back to spear-fishing. Connie had already returned to her shelter, and was lying down. I went to mine, took out my journal, and got down to business.

I started to write about Thelma coming out of the jungle.

But I was facing the inlet, which put Thelma behind my back. So I changed positions, turning sideways. Now, I’ve got Thelma off to my left, Kimberly and Billie in the water to my right, and Connie straight in front of me.

Connie is lying on her side, like before.

Facing me.

She is probably suspicious of the fact that I turned myself in her direction. It would never occur to her that I did it in order to keep Thelma in sight. She is sure to think I’m ogling her.

Every so often, she has opened her eyes and sort of gazed across the sand at me.

She hasn’t said anything, though.

No “What’re you looking at!” No “Fuck off!”

Getting beaned by Thelma’s rock really took the starch out of her.

I ought to give Thelma my thanks.

Anyway, I’m all caught up, now.