Island Read online

  As much as I sometimes can’t stand Connie, it hurt to watch her crying. It sort of made me want to cry. It also made me want to comfort her. I knew better than to try a thing like that, though. So I kept my distance and silence.

  She’d finished crying, but still had her back to us, by the time Kimberly climbed down.

  Kimberly frowned at her. ‘You okay?’ she asked.

  ‘Fuck off,’ Connie muttered.

  Which didn’t seem to faze Kimberly. ‘Sure. Whatever.’ She turned to Billie and me. Crouching in front of us, she said, ‘Doesn’t look like anyone’s up there. We shouldn’t count on it, though. We’ll have to be really careful, and watch our backs.’

  ‘Wesley might be too weak to attack anyone,’ Billie said.

  ‘Good chance of it,’ Kimberly agreed. ‘But there’s no telling what Thelma might pull. I think she’ll do anything to save him.’

  ‘Stands by her man,’ I said.

  Kimberly came very close to snarling. ‘What a gal,’ she muttered.

  ‘We shouldn’t blame her too much,’ Billie said. ‘She never could see straight, as far as Wesley was concerned. She probably still refuses to believe he killed Andrew and Keith. If she’s even ... still in the picture.’

  Kimberly slipped the rope sling over her head and adjusted the tomahawk so it dangled by her right hip. ‘I’d say it’s ten to one she’s still alive. And on his side. If she attacks, though ...’ Shaking her head, Kimberly squeezed her lower lip between her teeth. Then she said, ‘We have to defend ourselves. I don’t want her hurt, though. Not if we can help it. She’s still my sister.

  ‘You’re my sister, too,’ she said, turning her head to look at Connie. ‘I’m not going to leave you sitting there, no matter how much you might prefer to spend the rest of the day sulking.’ She took her spear and stood up. ‘So get on your feet, all right? It’s time to go.’

  ‘Sure,’ Connie muttered. ‘Your wish is my command.’

  ‘You better believe it,’ Kimberly said, and smiled.

  I’ll have to quit writing, pretty soon. I went to work as soon as we got back to the beach, this afternoon. They let me stick with it while they prepared dinner. Then I took a break to eat, and came back to the journal. I’m going to run out of daylight before I run out of things to write about yesterday.

  I’ll be backed up pretty good.

  What I really need to do is stop trying to write about every damn thing that goes on. Well, actually, I’m not writing about everything. I’ve been leaving plenty out. There are a million little details that I haven’t mentioned, and some might even be important.

  You don’t know what’s important until later, sometimes.

  For want of a nail, the shoe was lost. For want of the shoe, the horse was lost. For want of the horse, the battle was lost. I don’t know what’s coming, so I might not even mention the lost nail. Does that make any sense?

  Maybe that’s why I try not to leave out any details that I think might turn out to be important. Since I don’t know how things will turn out ...

  Maybe if I stopped wasting time and paper with stuff like this, I’d get further.

  I’d better cut down somewhere. At this point, about half of my notebook is filled up. I’ve been writing on both sides of each page, but it looks like I might run out of notebook before I run out of story - at least if things keep going on for very many more days.

  I’ll try being more careful about what I include. And from now on, I’ll write really small.

  What if I end up running out of paper because I spent too much space writing about running out of paper?

  Life and its ironies.

  Back tomorrow. I hope.

  Day Six

  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 Kong. 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 flsh. With the reflection on the water above her, she seemed to be gliding beneath a translu
cent 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 time 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 falls. 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.