by J D Stone
“You don’t believe me?” I was flabbergasted.
“I’m not saying that. Just… asking. It seems a little far-fetched. Imagine if I came to you with all this.”
“Dude, first of all—I’m in the Marines, right? I have a security clearance and happen to know that crazy shit like this most certainly does happen. Not all the time, and maybe not here so much, but it happens. Second, I’d be a prime target.”
“Okay, sure. A prime target.” He frowned. “For whom?”
“For whom! Look at you being all proper while I’m fighting for my life.”
“Fighting…” He looked around at our paradise. “Sure.”
“Shut up.” I pulled myself up to sit next to him, very aware of how my boxer-briefs were clinging to me and how Moon was watching.
We sat there for a while, watching the ladies swim, splash each other, and beckon, trying to tempt us to dive back in. Warm sunlight shone down on us, keeping us quite comfortable even with the wet underwear. Jason waved them off, eyeing me speculatively.
“Listen, we’ll get out of here and everything will go back to how it was. Okay?” He sighed, then nodded as Chanchai handed him a beer, taking a seat behind us.
“I hear you’re a Marine,” Chanchai said.
“Yup.”
“Ever kill anyone?”
I glanced at him, wanting to deck the guy. Most Americans knew that wasn’t a question one should ask a Marine. Foreigners, though, such as this guy… With a shake of my head, I let him off. Taking another swig of my beer, I asked, “Ever taken money for sex?”
“What?” He held his beer an inch from his lips, glaring.
“You asked me if I’ve killed because I’m a Marine. I’m making a point.”
“Fuck your point.” The guy chugged the rest of his beer, then tossed the bottle aside as he headed for the front of the boat.
“That wasn’t necessary,” Jason said.
I chuckled. “You know what bullshit that question is? Imagine I had killed someone, or multiple someones. So that guy makes me feel bad, makes me relive that moment? He got off easy by not getting a punch to the throat.”
“Dude.” Jason laughed. “I don’t see this side of you too often.”
“Yeah, well.” I shrugged. “It’s possible I’m a little uptight, what with everything.”
“What if…” Jason considered, then shook his head. “Nah, never mind.”
“What?”
“I mean, what if he was actually referencing the guy on the beach? He couldn’t know about that, right?”
I frowned, having not considered that. Since I hadn’t killed the guy on the beach, this shouldn’t have worried me. But my alarm system was on overdrive, paranoia raging, so I kept an extra eye on Chanchai after that.
All of that was easy enough to forget, though, when we were in the water and diving to see the exotic fish. Right then, one of the ladies swam by in her bikini, eyes on me instead of the fish. She smiled, then surfaced. She had turned as she did, so that my eyes couldn’t help lingering on her ass, and it was a damn fine one at that. Shaking my head and thinking about Kosum, I surfaced too, and found Jason laughing with Chanchai, sharing a story about drinking with businessmen in Japan.
“This guy was puking his guts out—my boss—and a pigeon was there right next to him, eating it up!”
“No way,” Chanchai said with a hearty laugh, the girls cringing in disgust.
“True story.” Jason glanced my way, held up his beer, and grinned. He and I both knew that was a story about him, not his boss. This version put him in a better light, at least, so I let it slide. Hell, I had been there, had heard the girl who had been considering going home with him still debate it with her friend. The fact that she had not been completely turned off right away amazed me, and had to say something about Jason’s game. In the end, she didn’t go home with him, and I had to help my buddy to a cab. We planned on heading back to Okinawa the next morning.
“You got any stories in you?” one of the ladies asked.
“Stories?” I accepted a beer from Chanchai, taking it as a peace offering, and leaned against the side of the boat. “Can’t think of any.”
“You can’t think of any?” Jason gave me a doubtful scowl.
“You want to be embarrassed, or…”
He mimed throwing the beer bottle at me. “Don’t you dare.”
“This guy,” I started, but laughed, shaking my head. As much as our trip had been chaotic, the beer was combining with the bliss of the warm water and peaceful beauty of the orange sunset to give me a feeling almost of peace. “Nah, I don’t have any stories.”
“What do you do in the Marines?” one of the women asked. I frowned at Jason, but he pointed at my arm—shirt off, I’d almost forgotten about the small Eagle, Globe, and Anchor tattoo I had done the week after boot camp. Not all foreigners knew what that meant, but it seemed Marines weren’t shy about coming to Koh Samui. Not surprising.
“Computer stuff,” I said. “Basically sys admin.” My usual answer when not wanting to let others know the intel-side of what I did. Giving that information away in the wrong situations could be a huge mistake. As it was, the fact that these people knew I was a Marine already bothered me enough.
“Not much for stories in that,” Chanchai said, nodding. “I work as a network administrator myself.”
“Yeah?”
He winked. “When I’m not out here helping foreigners get booty.”
The ladies laughed at that, taking the comment as an invitation to get close. One moved up on Jason, the other eyeing me suggestively. At my headshake, she walked back over to Chanchai and tucked her forefinger in the front of his swim trunks.
The man glanced down at her finger, looked straight at me, then took her hand and moved it away, dropping it.
She said something in Thai, sounding like she was cussing him out, then headed for the front of the ship. His eyes never left mine. At first, I thought he was challenging me, but it lasted a little too long. I started to wonder if this was some sort of flirtation.
I turned to see Jason and the other lady kissing, his hand moving her bikini top aside so that her brown nipple showed. With a sigh, I went to the back of the ship and sat, feet dangling in the water and watching the sunset.
Streaks of bright pink stretched across the orange sky, the sun now completely out of sight, clouds flickering in waves of dark water.
They wanted stories. I laughed, thinking over the type of stories I could have shared. My first week in Okinawa, where I had been sent to a training exercise even before meeting my team, finding myself in torrential downpours and muddy water up to my knees—and how someone had nearly died that first day. Or maybe the way Jason and I had met, the guy pulling a buddy of his out of a car, the buddy shot. Apparently, Jason’s pal had asked him to take him by a friend’s house. The guy was addicted to all sorts of drugs and attempted to rob a drug dealer at gunpoint without actually having a gun, and was using Jason as a getaway driver. Didn’t turn out so well, and as far as I knew, Jason had never spoken with the guy after that.
Or what… sex stories? I had a few, but wasn’t the type to run around spouting them off. Jason knew a few of them, for sure, but hopefully would keep those to himself.
A shuffling sounded beside me and I turned to see Chanchai there, looking down at me. “You okay?”
I nodded. “Just thinking… about how vacations are always so exhausting.”
He nodded. “My whole life is a vacation.”
“Funny.”
He knelt next to me, looking out at the water and pointing to an island to our right. “There, some friends are meeting to have a beach barbecue. If that doesn’t relax you, nothing will.”
“Yeah?”
He nodded, starting the boat toward one of the islands. “Come on. You’ll love it.”
I glanced nervously at Jason, but he had his face buried in the lady’s breast, not likely to care one way or another as long as I didn�
�t try to pull him away from her. The other lady was at the front of the boat, staring out the opposite direction while speaking on her phone.
At least Chanchai was over my little jab, and honestly, I felt like a jerk. Imagine going to a country where many foreigners misguidedly considered their main export to be puntang, then some jackass Marine rubbing that in your face. Yeah, it was a big deal. Tourism was a big part of Thailand’s GDP, and judging by Jason and some of the fat Germans I had seen prowling around, a lot of that was related to sex. Likewise, a lot of Marines killed people. Neither of us needed these things rubbed in our faces.
We reached a small pier, and Jason pulled his face up to grin my way. “Tonight, man… It’s going to be epic.”
“Always is with you, man.”
They went ahead, but I turned back to Chanchai and stepped onto shore, waiting for him. “Hey, I wanted to apologize. No hard feelings?” I stuck out a hand.
He shook. “Not at all.”
We nodded, me going along with Jason and one of the ladies, the others giggling as they ran ahead to circle around a grouping of rocks. I could already see the fire reflecting on the sand, but when we turned the corner I stood for a moment in awe. This was not some small beach fire—his friends had a massive bonfire going!
If I could clear my mind and ignore Kosum and all that had happened related to her, this would be my idea of heaven. Back in my days on Camp Pendleton, this had been the way to do it. You go to California, you have to do the bonfires down in San Diego. Everyone gathers around with wood pallets, the kind that stores get rid of after using them for transportation. Burn ‘em up, drink beers, and maybe barbecue hot dogs and roast marshmallows.
Seeing this same culture here made me feel almost right at home. Scantily clad ladies? Check. Fire and beer? Check and check. I walked up and accepted a beer from a girl who eyed me seductively while biting her lip, took the bottle opener from Jason—he had one of those rings that did it—and grinned as I took a swig.
Fire crackled and embers flew. With the fire’s heat and a cool night breeze, I could stand there staring at the flames all night long. The ladies asked us questions like where we were from in America, and if we had ever been to New York. I admitted that neither of us had.
“Come to Cali someday, though,” Jason said, winking my way as he knew they wouldn’t be likely to. He lived in Japan anyway and would soon have a wife. If they did show up to see him somehow, he certainly wouldn’t be smiling.
My focus returned to my beer and to one of the sticks of meat a stranger held out to me. I had to admit, with the fire casting light on the grease of the meat and the smell of barbecue hitting my nostrils, it looked damn good. The conversation around me became a dull hum as I bit into the meat, losing myself in the bliss of it. As far as I could remember, the last time I’d had meat that good was at a barbecue with some local buddies in Okinawa. We had rented a house for New Year and they had taken care of the cooking out back, set up a fun party of friends. Nothing crazy like this—certainly no women walking around in bikinis or exposed nipples. Jason was playing with the other woman while his first playmate watched. The first didn’t seem to mind one bit.
Getting back to those guys would be a relief. Hanging out with Jason was fun, but it reminded me that I wasn’t a horny teenager anymore. For me, settling down in a relationship certainly wouldn’t be the worst.
I finished the meat stick. Laughing at some guy’s joke that I couldn’t quite understand because of his thick accent, I took a seat on one of the rocks. There had to be about a dozen of us gathered around the fire at that point. Another foreigner—a woman—kept glowering at Jason’s debauchery, although she didn’t seem to mind the advances from the guy moving close to her. After a minute she noticed me looking, scowled, and wrapped an arm through his. So, not hitting on her, maybe? Likely her boyfriend or even husband.
Not that I cared. I was merely curious. Eyes scouring the rest of the group, I noticed Jason staggering over to grab another beer, and he nodded my way. At least he was doing what he had come here for. Better to let him get it out of his system.
Chanchai hissed something to his buddy, glanced my way, and gave me an awkward smile. A moment later, the two were up, walking away from the beach.
I wasn’t feeling this in the slightest, so went over to Jason. “We need to roll.”
“Dude.” He eyed me, then the drunken lady whose hand was on his leg and was glaring my way as if I had just spat in her face. “Now?”
“I’m not sticking around. Are you with me?”
“Of course. This…it’s fine. But if you insist, you know I got you.” He stood, ignoring the plea of the girl for him to stay.
“Pay now!” she shouted. “You promised, motherfucker.”
Jason and I were already moving away from the group.
He paused, eyeing me and then gesturing around. “Fuck, we’re on an island.”
I frowned. Of course, he was right, but there had to be some way to get out of there. “We pay some other boat guy here to take us back?”
“Sure, maybe. But let me check with Chanchai, yeah? See if he’ll be open to taking us back—slip him some extra cash.”
“Hurry it up.” I folded my arms and watching him jog back.
The sand seemed to move. Apparently, I was tipsier than I had thought. A silhouette appeared in the night, emerging from behind some rocks in Jason’s direct path toward the fire. She looked very familiar.
“Kosum?” I asked, cocking my head. But no, it wasn’t her. It was one of the other women from the beach party. The beers clearly impacted my vision and thinking.
Movement from my left. Someone coming at me! I stepped left and out of the way, saw the shadow of the guy before I saw him, and struck. A shout came from the woman—a warning, no doubt, and then she was running at me, too. The guy had a bottle, but I wasn’t going to let him hit me with it. Moving left and to the outside of his right arm, I disarmed him and had the bottle in my hand. Catching him with an elbow, I stepped back and out of the way as he tried to kick at my torso. Before I knew it, I had the bottle up and was bringing it down on his head, beer splashing over both of us as it cracked but didn’t break.
He stumbled back, and I called, “What now, motherfucker?”
“What’s wrong with you?” the woman shrieked, then more in Thai, and she ran back toward the fire.
I stared at the man kneeling on the beach and holding his head, a line of red down the side of his face and on his arm. He was mumbling, eyes rising to meet mine.
Damn, it was Chanchai.
“You’re crazy,” he muttered, then pushed himself up. I braced myself for an attack, but he followed the girl back toward the fire.
For the first time, it hit me that maybe he hadn’t been trying to attack me. Holy hell, what had I done?
11
My predicament worried me. The woman and Chanchai would run back to tell the others I had attacked him. I had no doubt about that. Jason had gone to find Chanchai with the goal of getting us out of there. Now, that seemed unlikely to happen.
Our best bet, then, was to find someone else on this island. Some other ferry or boat we could hire to take us to Koh Samui. It wasn’t too late, but it was night. I wasn’t sure how the people around here were about such situations, and it was Jason who had the money.
My first instinct wasn’t to run, but to check myself. I blinked, took a breath, and then eyed the broken glass and specks of blood that darkened the rest of the sand. The moonlight was faint. Firelight blocked by the tall rocks.
Was it possible he had been trying to attack me? That he was going to… what? Kill me there, or try to abduct me? No, that thought was ridiculous. For one, he had been with me out on the water and brought me here. If he had wanted to attack me, hadn’t he had so many other opportunities? While we were swimming, for example. He could have drugged Jason or taken him out as well, then made the move on me. Sure, he might not have wanted to with the ladies around, if they w
eren’t in on it.
All paths in my mind pointed toward that easy answer, though. The takeaway was that I had royally messed this up. I could hear shouting growing closer, and in a moment of panic I threw myself away from the beach, sprinting toward the line of palm trees and bushes. The cries grew angrier as I passed through the opening in the rocks, telling me that they must have seen me.
They were drunken locals, though, and I was a Marine. A confused, tipsy one, but still a Marine. Darting between trees and never sticking to a straight line, I soon slowed, doubling back toward the location of the fire but at an angle that would, I hoped, keep me away from my pursuers. No way had Jason come running after me, unless it was to stop the others and argue my defense. I had to hope he was back at the fire.
Emerging on a slight cliff, I realized the path must have taken me up, so that now I was looking down on the fire, not more than fifty feet off. Jason was there, arguing with Chanchai and the two ladies we had come with, while a man strolled on the other side of the fire with a cellphone to his ear—I could tell because of the light.
“Police,” the stranger said more than once, pointing at Jason and then speaking more Thai into the phone. Again, “Police will come for him. Maybe you.”
“This is crazy!” Jason protested. “No way would Tyler attack you for no reason. Maybe it was someone else, maybe—”
“Maybe your friend is a psychopath!” one of the ladies said, wrapping her arm around Chanchai. The other kept her distance from all of them, arms folded as if hugging herself.
“He wouldn’t…” Jason turned, hands running through his hair, almost looking in my direction.
To my horror, he didn’t sound convinced. Who could blame him, though? I had been sounding a little crazy, lately. And there was the dead guy on the beach back on Koh Samui. Could my friend think I had done that, too? If I were in his shoes, would I think it of him?
He was almost facing me, and I considered trying to flag him down. Of course, if I did, the others might notice me, too. And even if they didn’t, how would Jason get to me without giving away my location?
