New Homeport Island (17 page)

forming a spout and I would have to be even more careful. Once
I pulled it down I left it to cool and fetched more clay to form
 some deep cups to catch the water as a receptacle, as I got the
 clay I noticed animal tracks in the mud and said to myself,
“Somewhere around here there’s a cheeseburger running
 around.”  I had been up since early in the morning it felt like
 three or four hours had passed and it seemed to be ten in the
 morning I thought I had slept in but must have awoken just a
 half hour after dawn. The sun would be high soon and I
 wouldn’t want to be hanging out fireside, so after I formed a
 couple of vases and deep bowls I made sure the fire had enough
 wood and headed up to the hill top for another ‘look-see.’
I scanned the ocean for any signs of ships and the skies for
 any aircraft and there was nothing, as I looked to the sky I asked
 myself, “If the rumor of reprogramming a satellite was true why
 wouldn’t they have sent an aircraft?” and then I remember
Artimus and his reputation. I had handled the road closures due
 to snow, it was more high profile than I wanted it to be but he
 was seeking some credit, any kind of clout at all. He must have
 needed this mission to offset the holy hell he brought down on
 us by making such a big deal of the legal technicalities of
 utilizing public and private resources as the military, calling it
 martial law. For all I know the U.S. Navy attacked and sunk us
 in some damn political game.
Mr. Mormus was struggling to keep a positive context in
 his perceptions as dehydration really took hold, this was not a
 club med situation. He tried to recall what he was doing in his
 last moments before the loss of the ship but could only recall
 making sure he grabbed his hat as he left his stateroom. Now he
 thought, “How absurd…I needed my hat didn’t I? It’s lost at sea
 somewhere but in this disaster the one thing I must be sure to

grab in the last minute is my hat?” He stood there looking
 bewildered and was noticed by EM1 Haydel, she made a point
 of walking past him in his confusion and uttered as she passed,
“I see I’m not the only one that’s forgotten what my tongue
 tastes like.” which only further confounded him. He said to
 himself as she walked away, “No I was…my hat? my hat??” He
 looked around and said, “I was…there was…I was thinking…”  
EW3 Dannette Ramsley was with her boyfriend Dale, they
 had taken to hiding together in the shade so as not to be noticed,
 as did Francesco and Monica they had each other and this
 concealment resulted in their being more hydrated than the
 others, so long as they were with their partner they were where
 they should be. Everyone else seemed to be driven to find
 something or get somewhere, though it seemed only a few had a
 drive to do something. Dannette struck a coy demeanor which
 was unlike her she tended to want to prove she was a party girl
 and was definitely involved in any work or action that was going
 on. She asked dale as she leaned over with her head toward his
 shoulder, “So where are going to build our house?” and she
 gleamed a smile that brought a brightness to her face. Dale
 responded short of breath from the lack of food and water,
“Texas” She laughed and caressed his hair and said, “I think we
 may need one here for a week or two, you know a vacation
 home.” Dale’s vision was blurred and he pointed right out at the
 center of the beach and said, “There.” Danette noticed his
 condition and said, “I’ll get you some water.” and she grabbed
 his tee shirt they had been using as a sponge and went to the surf
 to wet it.
Monica was resting in Francesco’s arms beneath the shade
 of a small lean-to he had made far away from the pentagon
 against a tree. As she napped in his arms Francesco spoke of

making a fishing pole to get some fish and finding a lighter that
 still worked to start a fire for them. Francesco said, “When your
 awake I’ll start making a fishing pole and wade into the water,
 we might be able to get clean water out of one of these trees.
It’ll be okay, then they’ll rescue us and we never set to sea
 again. We’ll move to the desert.” Monica interjected, “Not the
 desert…a lake”
Hauldbalm was doing his ghost bit again, stumbling around
 tripping in the sand and Charlie Mcree took pity on him taking
 him by the arm and guiding him to the shade saying, “C’mon
 master chief” Hauldbalm asked with a dry high pitched raspy
 voice, “Any chance of milk in those things?” Charlie smacked
 his butt and said, “Not yet.” Hauldbalm laughed but sounded as
 though he were coughing up his dying breath. Dave Artimus one
 time captain of a destroyer and now the senior officer of a beach
 collapsed near a young mess specialist and asked, “What’s for
 lunch?”  MS3 Wildly ran his fingers through his blonde hair and
 said in a hush, “There’s the choice of boot leather or seaman
 recruit.” Dave put his arm around Robert Wildly and whispered
 right against his cheek, “Don’t even joke about that.” A chill
 shot down Wildly’s back.  
Mitch Hackel was with the gym room crowd, Tinnel,
Washam, Candelia, and Nuema was sticking close to them as
 well. They decided to dig a trench to filter the water through the
 sand, once they started digging Hudlow further down the beach
 also started digging saying, “Mine doesn’t need a mote it’ll be
 bigger with a tower.” FC1 Forester figured ‘what the hell, why
 not’ and joined Hudlow making sand castles.
As Hudlow dug he suddenly yelled out, “uh, uh
 huh…ooow ooow!” James Hudlow had made a discovery…it
 was a sand spider. He stumbled around scratching at his buzz cut

hair kicking sand and uttering bizarre sounds. Forester had been
 bent over making his sand castle, he stood up and pushed his
 glasses up to his face and looked on in astonishment. As Hudlow
 continued the sandy beach version of the ‘I saw a spider and am
 freaked out’ dance, Forester looked around to see if anyone else
 had a reaction and no one did. So, forester shook his head and
 went back to building a sand castle calling over to Hudlow, “I
 think mine will have a mote.” Hudlow hoped around on one foot
 and then the other losing his balance but managed to reply,
“Mine too.”  
Tammy Melad saw the sand castle endeavors and the
 trench and she was staying close to Michele Syre. Michele was
 sweet and tammy was coy they were a perfect tease when it
 came to the older guys, they had given up their tee-shirts for the
 attempt to reduce the salt content by using them as Drinking
 cloth and they only had a couple of buttons done on their
 dungaree shirts. They were supple young women, both blonde
 and buxom, they considered tearing there dungaree pants down
 to shorts and the guys were tempted to just let them, but there
 was no telling what weather they may need to endure or when
 rescue might occur; so they rolled up the bottom of their pant
 legs to about knee height. They strolled down the beach fleeing
 leering looks and keeping distracted by talking about music and
 movies.
Athena Williams was also quite the looker she stuck close
 to Amber Alley. They had also surrendered their tee-shirts, but
 instead of rolling up there pant legs the hiked up their shirts and
 tied off the tails, their shirts would fall open in the front
 revealing their bra’s but it was a warm pleasant beach and
 everyone was conserving energy, perhaps only until the next

night of hide and seek which up until now had been a search for
 a sense of security from a trusted shipmate…turned ship wreck.  
It was Tammy and Michele that had set the mood with their
 stroll and it moved through the survivors like an electric pulse.
The men started gathering soft plant materials for beds and were
 shooting grins at the women as they made their nests, this was
 true of all of them with the exception of most of the married
 men. Athena shouted over to someone that had glanced her way,
“You guys are getting’ any!” Amber added, “We can make beds
 ourselves…you want to see something, then start a damn fire!”
The heat exhaustion had taken its toll so most of the guys just
 sort of fell back on their beddings. EM3 Eric Hubart laughed
 and called out, “It’s too hot we’ll get it going after the sun starts
 to set.” Amber pushed up on her breasts and did a twisting
 motion at the hips as she sat there next to Athena and said,
“Okay…no fire, no play.”
Michele strolled over to amber and asked, “Are you really
 whoring us out for fire?” Amber replied, “It’s just a motivator,
 their near dead from heat exhaustion anyways.” Linda Hays was
 laying on her back with a palm branch over her face and
 interjected, “Dehydration, this is dehydration.” Amber looked
 over concerned for Linda and said, “Okay, that then.”  
It was somewhere between two and three in the afternoon
 my watch was a casio databank watch and despite my love of it,
 it had succumbed to the depths when the great whale Paul f
Foster found her resting place, and it was just as full of water as
 were our lighters. I had set the top of the boilers on and checked
 it for a good mating seal, it was far from perfect. I used handfuls
 of sand to grind down the imperfections until I had a reasonable
 match. I considered joining the two halves with clay but
 thankfully came to my senses I still needed to be able to put the

sea water in it and clean out residual salt afterward, I figured I
 could make a lip for one or the other halves but my need for
 fresh water was urgent. I checked the deep cups and vases I
 made and decided they were well enough. I choose the most
 misshapen of the vases to carry sea water to the boiler, I made
 sure the vent openings in the firebox were clear and making a
 bellows out of paper to stoke the firebox would have to wait.
The spackle on the fire box seemed dry and the small opening I
 left to insert wood was unobstructed; I had an extra brick I
 should have given a handle to, to block off the wood opening. I
 inserted the tinder and wood and added more tinder on top. Then
I took the vase I selected and fetched some sea water, it was low
 tide so I was only slightly battered by trying to carry a vase into
 and then out of the surf. I made two trips and all the liquid was
 held by the boiler and vase without any leakage or softening of
 the clay. The fire in the trench was low and had smoldering
 edges, I strung dry grass around a stick and used it to carry the
 fire over to the boiler and lite the firebox wood. The air flow
 seemed insufficient so I tapped at the vent port I had left in the
 lower side, yet another problem to deal with after I had fresh
 water.  
I sat watching the fire kneeled down with my face nearly to
 the ground, peering in. The flame was catching well and
 spreading through the wood but there was no sizzle or popping
 yet, I sat watching. They say a watched pot never boils I guess
I’d find out. I placed the vase to receive fresh water at the base
 of the nozzle propped up on some wood. Then I sat back and
 hoped for the best watching the flicker of flame in the box.
I knew there would be next to no pressure and shaped the
 bowl so that the water should boil quickly, if I could just get it to
 steam I would know what I was working with. So heeding the

old parable I listened for the popping and sizzling in the wood to
 start that would reassure me the fire had taken hold and would
 not be smothered by the now growing smoke, I ventured up the
 hillside to the peak again. The smoke was carried out well by the
 vent holes and it was a light smoke at that, though not visible for
 very long its smell was reminiscent of the smell of sandal wood
 incense. The peak of the hill that appeared to be a mountain
 from certain viewpoints felt as though it were under a
 magnifying glass under the sun, the water reflected the sun light,
 there were only a few clouds and it couldn’t be any later than
 three p.m. I scanned the horizon and skies for ships or aircraft
 and there was nothing, not even a high altitude passing
 commercial air craft.
Chief Brosuer walked up to master chief Hauldbalm and
STG2 Mcree and said, “Him really?” Charlie Mcree looked at
 him odd and said, “Well he’s older, but he’ll be alright.” Brosuer
 scoffed with a hiss and Hauldbalm said, “She has no idea what
 you mean, and I better not have the right idea.” Brosuer
 scratched his head and asked Mcree, “Do you like long romantic
 walks on the beach?” and he smiled. Charlie smiled back and
 then realizing what he originally meant turned pale and said,
“Oh…I wasn’t…he and I aren’t…ah” and then giggled Brosuer
 said, “I’ll let you think about it.” then stumbled off and fell flat
 on his face in the sand which appeared to be a melodramatic
 performance. Mcree stretched her neck to see if he was still
 alive. Hauldbalm asked, “Is he okay?” she responded,
“umm…He still breathing.”    
Atrisia was standing in the surf to cool off, with little water
 in their systems their sensitivity to heat had increased; it may
 have been as hot as eighty-six degrees Fahrenheit. She walked
 up as the crashing waves came in and then standing in the wet

sand, watched and felt the water recedding pulling sand over her
 toes, up the arch of her foot and cradling her heels. She wiggled
 her toes revealing them from beneath the sand exposing her
French pedicured nails, she arched her back and deeply inhaled,
 stretching her arms then running them through her tight curly
 blonde hair, and with a couple of twisting movements to relax
 her lower back she noticed everyone was watching her and she
 blushed, with that blush Ebony Allick sitting about twenty yards
 away let out a soft moan, it was then that Atrisia realized they
 were stranded on an island for god knows how long with only
 the clothes they were wearing and she was wearing Tweety bird
 panties.              
Scott Tinnel noticed the trend so he took his coveralls down
 to his waist tying them off with the sleeves; he had already given
 up his tee-shirt as well to the pile of drinking cloths. Scott
 walked out to the water and took a couple of handfuls and
 slowly caressed his well sculpted abs and putting both his hands
 behind his head, he flexed his biceps and leaned back throwing
 his legs further apart and also did a twisting motion loosening
 his lower back. Charlie Mcree seeing this started drooling,
 which was a remarkable accomplishment amongst so many
 dehydrated sailors, cast a shore in whereabouts unknown.  
Becky Clarkson and Joanna Spayner had joined the
 corpsman lying under a palm tree with a palm over their faces.
They had taken off their shoes and socks to dry and there was a
 definite odor, they had hiked up their pant legs and loosened
 their belts slipping their pants down slightly and I pulled up their
 shirts, they did still have their tee-shirts and Becky hadn’t
 shaved her legs in a week. The sight of that reminded many of
 the women another thing that was in store for them. Atrisia had
 gone over to the pentagon to check for progress as if there would