Fresh Flesh (6 page)

She agreed, these berries were huge and
sweet. The best food she'd tasted on the island.

"Sar. . ." Dick whispered.

Summer 1984.

Sar's wide, anxious grin filled his face as
he pointed from the mouth of Richard's cave. He kept saying
something in his native tongue and anxiously pointing outside.

"What is it, Sar?"

Sar motioned for him to follow and he led him
away from the cave east and down a criss-cross path to the 75x75
clearing.

Sar showed him vegetables were growing.
Potatoes, carrots and tomato vines in another section where the sun
could peek through the trees and provide enough light. The Japanese
farmer kneeled and shoveled dirt with his hands. There were joyful
tears in his eyes as he said, "
Dojō!
"

Richard thought a dojo was the place where
martial arts were learned. He would learn later that
dojō
also meant
soil
.

"Dick?" Jessica repeated until he came back.
"Lost you for a minute."

"Sorry, sorry. I—I found this clearing when I
first got here and should have shown you much sooner. Along with
the southwest beach it's my favorite spot on the island. I come
here from time to time."

"The ground doesn't have any weeds growing in
it?"

"I try to keep any weeds from growing around
these berry bushes. They are—well, you can taste how good they
are."

Bees buzzed around Dick's head as he
explained which berries she could pick. He took a blackberry
between his thumb and forefinger and held it up to the intense
sun.

"Have you ever picked one of these
before?"

"No." she was more concerned about the
bees.

"You never went out and picked berries?"

"I—I said. . .no. W-will these bees. .
.s-sting?"

"If you do your coconut tree dance, they just
might."

"Funny."

"Jessica, stop. Be very still." He pointed.
"There's a bee crawling in your hair."

She could feel tiny legs traversing through
her hair. Moving toward the tip of her ear.

"Still," he whispered. She had to be very
still. The bee reached her ear and she could feel her hair
beginning to stand on end. Her heart was playing the bass drum in a
heavy metal rock song.

THUMP-THUMP. . .THUMP! THUMP-THUMP,
THUMP.

Dick started laughing so hard he could barely
stand. She turned and realized that there was never any bee
crawling in her hair. It had only been the curious branch of a
nearby bush playing with her hair. It had only felt like a bee.

"All in your mind!" His face turned red from
laughter. "See? Fear is all in your head."

She forced a grin as her blood pressure left
the red zone.

"Sorry about that," Dick said, his laughing
reduced to a chuckle. "I saw a chance and, well, couldn't
resist."

"That's okay. I will get even." Jessica would
too. She wondered how? Dick was the ten year veteran on this
island, surprising him here would be challenging.

"I was saying," Dick continued, walking over
to the plant behind Jessica. "You can pick any of those berries.
They're all edible. However, this one. . ." he held out a cluster
of small white flowers on a purple-mottled stem that grew on the
outskirts of the clearing.

"Aww, pretty." Jessica cooed.

"Yeah, real pretty. And deadly as hell. Eat
one of these and you won't be coming home for dinner, get me?"

She inched away as if it were poison ivy.

"They're all over the island," he said. "Just
be careful."

"Don't worry about me. But how—how do you
know they're so poisonous?"

Dick's answer was cryptic: "Ask me again
someday."

And under much more unpleasant circumstances
she would.

For the first time Jessica didn't walk out of
the island latrine looking like she'd been trapped in New York
City's sewers.

Dick waited for her to go down to the beach
this sunny morning. She was going to try to lead the way without
any help. Every morning she'd tried, making it closer and closer
before she stared at him with lost, confused eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"How can you tell there's something
wrong?"

"One, you're not holding your nose. Two, you
don't have a disgusted look on your face. Three, you haven't
complained about the smell yet. You always complain about the
smell."

"Well, it does stink."

"It's supposed to. It's shit." He chuckled.
"Now, what's the problem?"

She looked down at her naked feet. "I had
almost forgotten. . ." He waited for her to continue, but after a
minute, he had to prod her.

"What?"

"It's kind of embarrassing," she said,
blushing.

"You, embarrassed? Now, there's something I
haven't seen. What is it?"

"My period."

Dick's face turned bone-white.

It had been ten days since he'd teased her
with the bee incident, and—without even trying—she'd found the
payback.

"Dick? Dick, you okay?"

"I, er, forgot. . ."

"You forgot I was a woman?"

"No, how could I forget that?"

"That women have menstrual cycles?"

He nodded. 'Yeah, yeah. . .something like
that." Silence.

Stares.

Lost words.

"Uh. . .Dick, I don't suppose you. . .you
have any ideas for. . .you know. . .?"

He looked at her dazedly. "For. . .what?" He
really didn't know what she was hinting at.

Okay
, she told herself,
be
blunt
. "A tampon."

All the blood in his facial flesh seemed to
drain away.

"N—no."

Silence.

Stares.

Lost words.

"Don't worry, it's my problem. Come on, let's
go to the beach."

For a monumental first time she led him
straight to the beach. Although she doubted from the look on his
face—the shocked speechlessness—that he would have been able to
help anyway.

"Oh my, Dick. Look, there!" Jessica pointed
at the sky. They had been sitting on a huge piece of ocean-rotted
driftwood, watching the tide, Dick had gone away to relieve himself
and then she saw it. So high in the nearly cloudless sky it seemed
unreal. A fine, chalky line of fuel trailing behind it.

Dick ran onto the beach, trying to zip his
fly. "Huh, what is it?"

She pointed to the sky where the tiny jet
rumbled in the faint distance. "A plane. They can't be that far up
there."

"Fifteen, maybe twenty thousand feet." Dick
replied.

"Do you think, think they can see. . .?"

"Us? No."

"Why don't we set up a signal? Maybe they are
a search plane? Maybe they are looking for us?"

"No," he replied quickly.

She watched the sleek plane slip across the
sky as if it were on a sheet of ice. It flew almost as graceful, as
liquid as the birds she'd seen on the island. It took a moment to
swallow her astonishment and realize how strange Dick had reacted
to the sight above.

"What's wrong with you? No? No what? The
signal? No, to them coming back?"

"Yeah," he answered flatly and turned for the
ravine. "I'm going back to the cave."

"Hey, what's wrong with you?" she raised her
voice, pointing at the plane. He was at the edge of the ravine.
"DON'T YOU WANT TO GET OFF THE ISLAND?"

He kept walking until he was not there at
all.

She turned and looked back up at the jet.
What was his problem? He'd been on the island for eleven years and
had never seen a boat or a plane and now she spots a plane and he
seems disinterested? Was he crazy? Had he been chewing coca leaves?
Smoking something funny in his special clearing?

She looked up at the jet and waved her arms
frantically. "HELP ME. HELLLLLLLP MEEEEEEEEE. HELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLP
MEEEEEEEEEEFEEE!" She kept yelling until her vocal chords were
thrashed. She knew it was a foolish, futile thing to do, but it
made her feel good, it raised dormant hopes that someone might be
looking for her, Jessica Stanton, wife of multi-millionaire Edward
Stanton. That somebody had faith she had survived.

She tried running back and forth, frantically
waving her arms. Screaming, pleading and praying.

The plane moved away, ignoring her.

How could she blame them? The plane to her
looked tiny. Did she expect them to swerve out of the sky, swoop
down and snatch her off the island? Of course she did.

Then it happened.

A dark blur ejected from the plane and slowly
began to drift down toward the island.

Jessica stopped moving, staring. "What. .
.the?"

The blur slowly transformed into a parachute.
Funny, though, because she'd always thought parachutes were
attached to people, and the thing at the bottom of the web-like
chute was no person. As it drifted closer. . .closer. . .

A green box?

"What. . .the. . .?"

After a brief spell of confusion, it all
became clear.

The plane was dropping the green box for the
island! Jessica may have been a little naive sometimes but she knew
damn well planes didn't parachute green boxes out of the sky to
"freakishly unknown" islands. The island was not unknown. Someone,
somewhere knew about the island.

The tell-tale green box drifted closer. Two
thousand feet and growing larger. . .larger. . .

Dick had not been truthful with her.

She had suspected he'd fudged the truth
somewhat, exaggerated like most men did, but not anything
significant. This was blatant proof he'd lied to her. But why?

Drifting closer. Growing larger.

Only one terrifying question choked Jessica's
mind: what was going on? Everything Dick had told her—especially
his so-called fishing shipwreck—became suspicious. Now she didn't
know what to believe from him.

Dick's closet full of lies raced through her
brain, fooling with her concentration on the green box's
destination. She saw where it was going to fall and sucked in her
breath.

No, it can't be.

She closed her eyes, clenched her fists,
feeling the anger rise in the pit of her stomach. Her first sight
had been unbelievable and shocking but the second was worse. She
opened her eyes and confirmed. She saw the target destination for
the green box.

The east side of the island.

She ran as if tiny jet-thrusters were
attached to her ankles, twisting and turning through the ravine,
darting toward the cave. It was a mile from the beach to the cave
and she covered the distance quickly. A month ago she would never
have imagined traversing the ravine like a born native, but she
didn't stop to appreciate her improving skill. She had worries and
fears that would only be calmed by learning the truth Dick had kept
from her about the island.

She reached the cave, heart pounding like its
rhythm during the bee incident. She shot up the small dirt incline
and through the cave mouth. There he sat, sitting on the rock.
Staring at the wall and whittling.

She moved inside and stood in front of him,
breathing hard and ragged.

"What's wrong with you?"

He didn't stare at her, didn't answer and
continued whittling.

"Dick? Please talk to me. What's going on
here? Who knows about this place? What is going on here? Why have
you been lying to me? Talk to me!"

He raised a hand to slap her, but stopped,
"Shut up."

She stepped away, mouth agape. The cave wall
stopped her, made her a prisoner to Dick's sudden hot-temper.

"Just shut up," he said. "Don't act like a
fucking woman."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Every woman has this maddening rant and rave
mode. Just calm down."

"Calm down? I deserve to know the truth," she
said with flushed cheeks. "Why have you deceived me?"

He motioned her to sit down with his pocket
knife.

"No thanks, I'll stand.'" Her tone full-on
pissed off.

"Now I know how you got all these
things."

"What things?"

"If you had been shipwrecked like me you
would not have had time to grab anything. But somehow you've got
plenty of matches and string. And I think you have other stuff,
things I haven't seen. You've been lying to me all along, and now I
want—no I demand—to hear the truth."

"The day I let a woman demand anything of me
I'll chop off my dick."

"Go right ahead, you have the knife in your
hands," she snarled.

He jumped to his feet, a dark, dangerous look
filling his eyes.
Uh oh, too far
. She was blocked by the
cave wall, unable to move away from him.

He reached out and grabbed her shoulder with
his soiled left hand. He balled up a fist.

Oh shit, here it comes
.

Dick drew his arm back, filled his muscles
with enough adrenaline to execute a bone-crunching blow. His facial
muscles went rigid. His eyes were stone.

He brought his fist forward.

NO!

She froze. Closed her eyes.

And at the last millisecond before impact
with her jaw, Dick pulled his punch and opened his hand. He was
very strong and could have given her a shiner but didn't.
Last
second guilt?

His slap-punch still hurt. Her jaw stung,
numbed like shots by her anesthetic-happy dentist. In the darkness
of her closed eyes, she saw bright fireworks. It was supposed to be
a wonderful first kiss, not an anger and abuse that caused this
effect.

He let go of her shoulder. Her hands went
directly to her throbbing jaw.

He grunted, spat and exited the cave. The
sound of his ragged tennis shoes tearing through the dirt on the
beaten trail, and then the ravine echoed in her ears.

He was gone.

She sank to her knees, crying into both
hands.