Red Sand (10 page)

Tuk continued, “That is the bounty of your physical self. Simple muscle movements are not what will keep you alive here. You must pay much closer attention to your mind.

“Sometimes ships don’t pass here for months at a time. How long can you live this way? Grapple with the idea that you may never get home. Even more mind-bending will be the realization you’ll all reach eventually. You might not
want
to go home. That is the decision we have come to. Believe me, it is the hardest of all.”

No one spoke for some time. They set upon their meal in silence. Only the clatter of silverware and the crunching of bones added ambiance. The air seemed thicker, the walls closer. Emily kept her eyes on her plate.

As everyone finished, Tuk spoke first. “You must have many questions, and I want to help you answer them all. Now is your chance to ask. Yes, Emily.”

Emily hadn’t raised her hand this time, just her fork. “Why is your hair white?”

“Good one. I’m surprised no one asked earlier. Our good Doctor Ados discovered a poultice made from locally available materials to prevent lice. The coloration also helps us keep cool. It gets hot on the Flow.”

Emily, a self-certified mysophobe, took umbrage at the thought that they were not already protected from lice. “If that's a problem, how soon can I see the Doctor?”

“You’d look fetching as a platinum blonde, I’m sure, but the coloration is permanent. I suspect none of you want to spend the rest of your lives looking like this. Besides, right now, no one has lice.”

Someone from another boat crew spoke up. “Why do you call the volcano Mount Elvis?”

“It’s our King! And, it looks a bit like his pompadour from the sea.”

Eddie raised his hand. “When will we get to see it from the sea?”

“As soon as a ship arrives.”

“When is that?” Eddie didn’t raise his hand this time. There was an unveiled threat in his voice.

“Soon,” was all Tuk would say, still smiling politely but staring Eddie down. Emily noticed that every time the concept of rescue came up, Tuk evaded it. Of course he would. How could he know when a ship would come?

Desperate to defuse what appeared to be a situation, Emily decided to ask about the mystery of the Prince Edward. “Back on the ship,” she began, and then paused. A terrible gulf of time opened up between then and now. She immediately regretted her flippant start.

Tuk wiped his mouth with his hand, washed down a mouthful of water, and beckoned with his hand. “Please. Anything.”

Reluctant to start again, she felt all eyes on her. “That… last night… I ate dinner with the Captain. He told us a story about a ship that had gone missing.”

Tuk smiled at her. “Happens all the time.”

“Yes, well, this one, apparently, was stolen.”

Tuk lost his smile. His entire body froze. When he thawed, he waved his hand in dismissal, “No one could steal a cruise ship. That’s ridiculous.”

“The Captain needed a pay-off. The company was going under, so…”

Tuk cut her off. “No honorable Captain would lie to you like that. What a ridiculous story. I don’t need to hear about it. If everyone is done eating, we can call it a night.”

Emily rushed onward. “The reason I ask is that I think I found it. One of the walls of Lauren’s bungalow had writing on it. What do you know about the Prince Edward? Did it crash here?”

Now the man pouring her water, in fact all of the White Hairs, stopped dead. Silence filled the vacuum that had once been air. They were casting glances at one another. What had she said wrong?

Tuk waved his hand in dismissal.   “Emily, is it? Emily. Debris washes up on our shores all the time. We have no idea where it comes from. Maybe this did come from a ship called the Prince Edward. If it disappeared, there would be all sorts of wild stories and conspiracy theories. You can’t put stock in hearsay.”

“It isn’t hearsay. I read about it in the papers, online.” Emily was not happy. It wasn’t the answer she wanted. She knew Tuk was hiding something, but she didn’t know what.  She pressed on. “Did all the survivors get home?”

“Which survivors, dear?”

“The survivors from the Prince Edward.”

Tuk grew angry. He threw his fork down. Then he calmed himself. “I’m certain the survivors of the Prince Edward are perfectly happy where they are.” He glanced at his men around the room. He smiled sweetly at Emily. “It must be hard to sleep in a bungalow next to one of the disappeared. Would you like us to help you change rooms? We have something nice here in the Manor House if you prefer.”

Beside her, Carter choked.

Emily didn’t like the idea of being anywhere near Tuk and his men. Something didn’t sit right with her. “No, I have my own hut, and that’s fine with me.” It wasn’t the modern steel and glass architectural jewel she had in Minnesota, but given the choice…

“As you wish. I’m sure you’ll have the opportunity to leave the island soon. You can look for answers on the internet when you get home.” His tone implied something more sinister than his words. He stood up and clapped. “Thank you everyone, for all your hard work. May we have many such meals in the future.”

It was only then that she noticed Tuk’s clothes were brand new. He had replaced his old coat and pants with a new pair. Where could he find a new pair of white clothes?

She remembered the body they’d found in the cove.

She almost made it outside before her salted fish came up again.

Back in camp, they sat around the fire, digesting.

Emily sat down as far away from Carter as possible. Mason joined her when he noticed Eddie sitting next to Carter. Amy slid in close to Mason, complaining about the cold. He put his arm around her.

Mason asked Emily about her day.

“Amy was right. Fish are worse than the greenhouse. I still can’t get the salt out from under my fingernails. When I get home, I’m going to kill the Morton girl.”

She was serious, but everyone laughed.

“How about you two? You were on the same detail?”

Amy answered. “More salt. We had to scoop it out of the pools. On the plus side, feel how smooth my heels are!” She offered them up for inspection. Mason took them in his hands and began kneading them. “That feels good,” she moaned.

Uncomfortable, Emily welcomed a distraction, even Carter, when he spoke up across the fire. “I heard a psychological question involving survivors once. It went, ‘What is the one thing you would want after being stranded on a desert island?’ Never thought I’d get to test it with first-hand experience. Anyone care to answer?”

“A cigarette.” Eddie lit a reed of grass in the fire and then put it to his lips.

“Chocolate,” someone answered.

“Ice Water.”

Despite Carter initiating the conversation, Emily decided to join in. “A shower.” Everyone agreed. Hygiene had become an issue.

“Bacon,” Amy said. Mason laughed.  “Really! Bacon.”

“A glass of Scotch,” Mason added.

Carter watched carefully, as if noting every answer for future use. “Interesting. You see, this theory proved that whatever you wish you had is also the first thing you want after sex.”

“Carter!” All the nervous laughter proved the theory. Emily found it disgusting.

Mason said, “When I get home, I’m going to have all of the above. And then some.”

Amy mocked surprise, “What, you’re not going to ‘grapple with the idea of staying on the island’?” She did a pretty good impersonation of Tuk. They all laughed.

“Hell, no.”

Carter asked seriously, “How will you leave?”

Mason stretched out both arms toward the light of the fire. Then, in his own dramatic version of Tuk, “’With these two hands’.”

Emily didn’t like how they’d brought Tuk to the fire, even mockingly. She’d gotten on his bad side. She just didn’t know how. Either way, it was the wrong side to be on.  She tried to change the subject. “I can’t believe it’s only been a few nights since we were in the water.”

Mason followed it. “I thought I was a goner. I was too drunk to swim. I held on to some floating junk as long as I could. I had just about decided to let go when I heard a whistle.”

“Like this?” Amy pulled out a small silver whistle and blew a shrill note.  “That was me!”

Mason stared at her with dawning appreciation. “Amy, you saved my life. I heard that whistle and thought, ‘Hang on just a few minutes more.’ Then someone pulled me out of the water. Thank you,” he said, and took her hand. She smiled back at him.

Someone shouted “Get a room!” and the conversation drifted on.

Mason must have thought that was a good idea. Emily heard him whisper to Amy, “Do you really eat bacon after sex?”

“Why don’t you find out?”

A few moments later, they were gone, leaving Emily cold and alone.

Emily woke with a start. She suffered from insomnia late into the night. Frustration dreams haunted her. She felt her head. Did she have a fever?

Outside, dawn bruised the horizon. Grey light crept through the cracks in the wall, over the sand, and past a resting cockroach. Visions of dead passengers, stolen vessels, Tuk with the head of a fish, swept over her every time she closed her eyes. She knew she’d need her energy to survive even the next day, but she couldn’t sleep at all.

Footsteps sounded on the path outside. At this hour? Fear pushed her up and out the door. She ducked into Lauren’s empty room but immediately regretted it. There they were, those ugly words, RIN DWA, staring at her.

It had been the right decision. The footsteps stopped in front of her hut and went in. It took the space of one breath before the person came back out again. She could see his feet through the crack in the door. They were big feet.

They turned toward her. The door ripped open. She scrambled back. A face as ugly as any nightmare peered in, followed by a hand that reached for her neck.

Emily crushed herself against the back wall. It broke, sending her sprawling across the sand as the hut collapsed. Whoever the ugly one was, the roof slowed him down.

In an instant, she was convinced the other six had disappeared the same way. Her mind told her legs to run, and they obeyed. 

Emily stumbled across the landscape for an hour. She had no direction, no intention, she just needed to get away from camp, to think, to be alone. She had to get off the island.

She fantasized that she would find a hidden cove where some abandoned life raft lay drifting, long forgotten, filled with supplies of water and canned food. Still seaworthy, she would push it out to sea and sail away from here. That fantasy kept her going when panic and pure adrenaline left.

Rational thought began to seep in. She didn’t have any supplies with her. No water, no food. She had no idea where she was going. She was thirsty. Her muscles burned.

She gravitated toward the back side of Mount Elvis. The sand gave way to a steep, rocky hillside. She paused to catch her breath. By now they must realize she was missing. She hadn’t shown up for her work detail. Would they send someone after her?

Of course not. Emily hadn’t searched for Lauren. Karma is a bitch. 

Emily hadn’t run ten feet in the past ten years. She never guessed she’d be running for her life. Where did she expect to go? She could hear her husband’s voice in her head.
Emily, Emily, Little Emily. You never think ahead. 
He had always taken care of her. Where was he now?

Howie’s shoes flapped loosely around her tiny feet. She couldn’t climb over rocks without sliding around. Every step had to be deliberate, cautious, slow. She knew this gave them time to catch up. She had to think: where would she go?

She stopped at a rocky outcropping and stared across the ocean. Somewhere out there people still lived ordinary lives. Three days on the island felt like three months. How could anything be the same anywhere else?

In the distance, silhouetted against a white cloud, a mottled purple mound rose above the water. She caught her breath and stared. The mound didn’t move. It wasn’t a ship. It was an island. She had to tell the others.

Rocks clattered behind her. She swiveled to look south. A white spot bounced up and down, first behind this boulder, then behind the next, growing closer.

She scrambled down from her perch. She couldn’t run back the direction she came in the sand. She could only pick her way across the terrain in front of her. How she longed to run! Fear gripped her in a panic. Every inch seemed hard-won. The rocks only grew bigger, the hillside steeper. Whatever sand she found, she dashed through until the next igneous roadblock.

She tried handholds on the boulder in front of her. The stone looked like air entrained chocolate. Each bubble edge was sharp as a razor blade. Her hands bled. She fell so many times she’d lost count. Sand stuck to the blood on her knees, caked by the sun. Her elbows were skinned. It was like trying to climb a cheese grater.
I wish I’d brought some Neosporin.

She fell into a sandy pit caught between several boulders. She sprinted across the open sand and leapt up the rock opposite. She wasn’t fast enough. Halfway up the rock, she saw someone enter the sand pit behind her. She stopped climbing, froze, closed her eyes like a little girl. A tear forced its way out.