Moving With The Sun

by Nicki Huntsman Smith

  After some months, other survivors began migrating to her island home, recognizing the inherent security of living in a place that was only accessible by water and two bridges. Of course, it had been necessary to destroy the bridges to increase their safety, but it had broken her heart. How many times had she been stuck on the Beach Road drawbridge waiting for a tall-masted boat to sail down the Intracoastal Waterway below? She had such wonderful memories of this place...her island...her sanctuary before and after Chicxulub. She loved it like the child she never had. And while she had allowed Rosemary to take over leadership of her fiefdom – at seventy, she didn’t have the energy for the job – she intended to stay active in all aspects of their community. She felt it was her due as the oldest resident. And now, as a supplier of water to the Colonists, her position as unofficial overlord to her vassals was strengthened. Water equated to life – not a small thing. And as long as she maintained the proper balance between ‘imperious’ and ‘accommodating,’ everything should be fine.

  She was an old woman, but she was no fool. If they wanted her water, they would take it with or without her permission. But since Rosemary seemed determined to preserve the niceties of civilized society, they would continue to dance around each other in a subtle power struggle. In truth, it was more like a chess match, and she suspected Rosemary relished it as much as she did.

  She heard a noise at her back door, snapping her out of her reverie.

  “Hector, is that you?” Her raised voice echoed off the marble tile.

  “Not Hector. It’s your other Latino boyfriend, here to clean your pool and trim your shrubbery.”

  Ingrid laughed, waiting for the man to appear around the corner, her heart beating faster than normal. The thought made her feel both foolish and giddy. To have a wildly inappropriate affair with her gardener would have been scandalous twenty years ago. Now, it didn’t matter who she slept with. And she very much enjoyed sleeping with Hector.

  “You are a vision, my darling.” The salt and pepper hair was still thick and lush. She admired it as he bowed over her hand, planting a kiss on her fingers. Most men Hector’s age were either bald or well on their way to it. She considered it a symbol of his virility, since there was also nothing lacking in the nether regions.

  “Why don’t you move in with me?” she said, suddenly. The thought had just occurred to her. “It’s absurd for us to keep up this pretense.”

  Hector’s eyes opened wide in surprise. She adored the tiny flecks of gold in the chocolate brown irises. In her old life, she had never had a conversation with any of her landscape workers intimate enough to discern their eye color.

  “I would not compromise your reputation,” he replied in his accented voice. The sincerity was unmistakable.

  “You realize how silly that is? Things have changed. Nobody cares who sleeps with me or anyone else these days.”

  “I care. It would be...unseemly.”

  “So we’re just going to skulk around, continuing this illicit romance behind everyone’s back forever?”

  He pulled her into his arms, still strong from a lifetime of manual labor. “It makes it even hotter, don’t you think?” He flashed a smile revealing white teeth within in the gray beard. “Now about that shrubbery...”

  She laughed. “You’re incorrigible. We just did it last night, and you already want more?”

  When he kissed her cheek, she saw their reflection in the hallway mirror. His dark skin against her alabaster was so striking that it made her smile. Who would have thought the priggish, puritanical, mildly racist Ingrid would be carrying on like this with an illegal immigrant laborer? No one who used to know her, that was certain. It was never too late to become a better human being. She worked on it every day.

  “We need to give your back a rest,” she said, with some regret. “How is the arthritis today?”

  “It is a little better. Amelia came by with a soothing balm. That is what the smell is, in case you were wondering.”

  “Amelia, hmmm?”

  Hector laughed. “My dear, you have nothing to worry about from her. She is at least twenty years younger than us, and she has a boyfriend already. Trust me, she is not interested in this old Mexican.”

  “She doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

  “I think Fergus keeps her happy.”

  “He’s an odd duck. There’s something very strange about that man. And I don’t just mean his hair.”

  “Never judge a book by its cover, mi alma.”

  “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said anything. But you have to admit, he’s rather mysterious. One day, I’d like to get him alone and pick his brain.”

  “Is it me who should be jealous now?” He gave her bottom a gentle squeeze. She had an impressive derriere for a seventy-year-old.

  “Absolutely not. I’m devoted to my sexy gardener.”

  “And I am devoted to my white boss lady.”

  “Perhaps your back doesn’t need a rest...”

  “Shall we test the mattress in the Lilac Room? I think it is the only one that has not been christened.”

  “Excellent idea. Ask me in French though. And then Italian. And then Mandarin. And then Swahili.”

  Hector’s grasp of language was extraordinary. He spoke a dozen different ones, including several African dialects she had never even heard of. He had recently revealed this fascinating talent which, she realized soon after, worked on her like an aphrodisiac.

  Chapter 5 – Tyler

  Tyler agreed with Kenny. The female sitting on the sand with her hands behind her back and a pissed-off expression on her face did look like a grown-up, real-life version of the Little Mermaid.

  “Zip ties? Is that necessary, Lucas?” Rosemary spoke to the man who was in charge of all things security-related in the Colony. Lucas also happened to be Rosemary’s boyfriend.

  Tyler liked Rosemary both as a person and as the leader of their small citizenry; she was fair, candid, and one of the smartest people he had ever known – next to Kenny. He had yet to decide how he felt about Lucas.

  “Err on the side of caution,” Lucas replied in a Cajun drawl. He wore his signature Ray-Bans; the perfect nose and chiseled jaw were smeared with zinc oxide. Lucas was a man who had beaten Chicxulub and seemed equally determined to beat skin cancer. The sunglasses and buzz cut evoked images of every highway patrolman in every television series since the seventies. He hadn’t ridden a motorcycle in his previous life, although he might have begun his career on one. When the end came, he had been a rising star in the homicide division of the New Orleans PD.

  “She doesn’t look dangerous to me,” Kenny said. “She looks like a beautiful drowned rat. Banging bitch!”

  Tyler punched his arm.

  “Let’s hear your story,” Rosemary said. “What the hell were you doing swimming across the channel today when the current is so strong?”

  “Trying to find food.” The low, dulcet voice seemed at odds with the youthful face. She was stunning under all that wet hair and gritty sand.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Zoey.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “From the mainland, obviously.”

  Rosemary arched a shapely eyebrow. “Smart-assery will get you nowhere.”

  “I’m originally from Tallahassee.”

  “And where have you been living the past two years?”

  Tyler watched the face pull down in a frown and the chin begin to quiver. He resisted the urge to wrap the bedraggled mess in comforting arms. Kenny’s smirk told him the compulsion must have registered on his face.

  “I’ve been on the road since my sister died, just trying to stay alive and find food. Decided to cross the peninsula and see what was on the other side. I hooked up with some people in Tequesta, but they were a bunch of psychos. I had to leave.”

  Tyler saw the skeptical expression on the face of the Colony’s leader. He knew what she was about to say next.

  “What a load of bul
lshit. You tell us the truth or you swim right back across that water. You have three seconds, starting now.”

  “Fine.” The chin-quiver vanished. Sapphire eyes regarded Rosemary like a science experiment that had taken an interesting turn. One corner of the full mouth turned up in a lopsided grin.

  Rosemary had seen through the poor-pitiful-me act.

  “I’m a spy. I was sent here to surveille the area and report on any indigenous people and their defenses. Most importantly, I’m to inventory any food and provisions which may be appropriated, whether by stealth or by force.”

  “That sounds about right.”

  “But since I don’t intend to go back to that bat-shit crazy group, you have nothing to fear from me. I wasn’t lying when I said they were psychos. I only lied about the rest of it.”

  “You don’t intend to go back? Then where will you go? North, up the island? We’ve placed land mines in that direction.” It was Rosemary’s turn to lie. “So probably not the best choice. Perhaps out to sea, then? We can provide you with a kayak, a gallon of water, and some dried fish. Lucas, please escort this woman to the Atlantic. Take the circuitous route, not by the Love Shack.” She turned and began to walk away.

  “What? Wait! I want to stay here. I was honest. I told you everything, and I didn’t have to.”

  Rosemary stopped, then pivoted at half-speed. “Of course you had to. I would have known otherwise, and I would have had you restrained and confined without food or water until I got the truth. We don’t believe in torture here, but we do believe in honesty.”

  “I won’t go back there. I can’t.”

  “I’m not asking you to.”

  “I want to stay here, with you people. I can tell you’re...kind and good. Not like what’s out there.” Wet tendrils tipped in the direction of the mainland.

  “You’re not invited to stay. You’re a liar and a spy.”

  “I’m neither. At least not under normal circumstances. I had to promise them I would do this mission so I could escape. I jumped through hoops and promised all kinds of revolting sexual favors just to be considered.”

  “Then why not explain all that in the beginning instead of the drivel you first gave me?”

  The sodden red hair tilted to one side. “For one very good reason – you may have another spy already here.”

  Tyler watched skepticism mingle with alarm on Rosemary’s face; watched her think furiously for a few moments before speaking.

  “Lucas, take her to our house. Restrain and confine her.”

  Chapter 6 – Rosemary

  “So much for staying under the radar,” Rosemary said, plopping down on a bench next to one of five picnic tables positioned outside the Love Shack. At the moment, the shaded area served as an outdoor conference room for an impromptu gathering of the Colony’s leaders.

  She studied each of the half-dozen faces while Zoey’s words echoed in her mind: You may have another spy already here.

  “I can conduct a one-on-one interrogation of everyone,” Lucas said. “I bet I can find out who the spy is pretty damn quick.” He had removed the sunglasses, revealing unusual golden-colored irises. Those eyes were what had initially attracted Rosemary to the former New Orleans police detective, and there was no denying the confident “predator” vibe the man exuded – another turn-on. She had known where she would place him after a cursory interview soon after his arrival; she had also known he would be difficult to control.

  So she slept with him.

  There was no more effective method for controlling a man than through his penis. Once they were lovers, he settled into his role as head of security, and thus far he was doing an excellent job. It was a bonus that he was also generous in the sack.

  She glared at him. “We’re not going down that path, Lucas. We don’t torture people.”

  “We do if they have bad intentions.”

  “Right. But we’d be torturing innocent folks in the process. I won’t do that.”

  Tyler spoke up from his seat at the back of one of the tables. “Maybe this Zoey person knows more than she’s saying. I think we should start with her.” As a marine biologist, he was in charge of anything that involved the Atlantic Ocean and the Intracoastal Waterway, and since it was a position of some authority, he was also a key member of Rosemary’s advisory board.

  “Yes, we’ll do that, and soon. But I wanted to get everyone’s thoughts on the situation before we proceed.” Rosemary took pains to at least give the appearance of a democracy. After winning the popular vote in a landslide a year ago, she had the final say in all matters. But involving others in her decisions fomented good will. Making sure people were happy was an easy way of extending her stint as Colony leader for years to come. It was a job she had grown to love, and she had no intention of relinquishing it. Just as she had been addicted to the adrenaline rush of separating rich people from their money, she was now addicted to the admiration and respect she received from her constituents. She would not fail them.

  “She said ‘maybe,’ correct? That could mean ‘maybe not’ too, yes?” Hector said from the other side of the table, where he sat next to Ingrid.

  Hector and his horticultural knowledge were arguably the Colony’s most vital resource. It didn’t hurt that he was also a charming gentleman. Rosemary noticed he and Ingrid had become cozy, but she kept the observation to herself. Who cared if the two oldest citizens of the community were sleeping together? If it made Ingrid happy, it was beneficial to everyone. The prickly old broad could be exhausting.

  “Yes, but we have to assume it’s true, for our own sake, and we have to take steps to identify the person. Think about what would happen if the spy returns to the fold and relays every detail of our operation here to a gang of hungry, desperate people. They would want to launch an immediate invasion. This,” Rosemary gestured to the Love Shack and the hundreds of solar panels generating electricity on the sunny day, “is enviable. Who wouldn’t want what we have? Fruit and vegetables and clean water, thanks to you, Hector. And Ingrid too, of course.” The old woman narrowed her eyes at the hasty placation. “And the aquaponics facility, courtesy of Tyler, gives us a buffer when the wild fish aren’t biting. We have created not just quality of life, but sustainability. And we’ve done it in paradise. Good grief, if I wasn’t already here, I’d want to invade.”

  “Who all knows about this alleged infiltrator?” Amelia asked. The tiny Native American woman was the closest thing to a doctor they had, and her wisdom extended beyond dealing with sick and injured humans. Rosemary often found herself asking for the woman’s advice.

  Rosemary said, “Lucas, Tyler, and Kenny. Lucas spotted her from the watchtower before she tripped the wire, and Tyler and Kenny heard the perimeter breach. And now the rest of you.”

  Amelia nodded. “It’s my opinion that we keep this under wraps. The last thing we want is neighbor distrusting neighbor after we’ve all worked so hard to forge this community through cooperation, symbiosis, and harmony. It is quite a remarkable place, and if others knew about it, they would want it for themselves. There are evil, lazy, opportunistic people who would rather steal than build.”

  The last comment met with a round of nodded heads. Most of the Colony’s citizens had come from somewhere else. After surviving the plague, they had lived through the collapse of modern civilization and its brightly-lit, law-abiding, well-fed world.

  Starving people are capable of the worst atrocities.

  “Exactly my point,” Lucas said. “People will want what we have if they know about it. At any time, the spy could decide to go back to the mainland and report. Most of our security measures are for keeping people out, not for keeping folks in. We have to know, Rose. I know you don’t like it, but there’s no other way.”

  “Who’s going to interrogate you, Lucas?” Ingrid said. It was no secret that the two disliked each other. “You’ve only been here a few months. You yourself could be the spy.”

  Lucas flashed the old woman a smile t
hat would have melted most females under the age of eighty. “I’m no spy. And even if I had been at one point, I would have switched sides. I love it here.”

  “You have a point,” Rosemary said. “If there is a spy, he or she could have made that same decision. Why leave? Unless, perhaps, the Tequesta group had some kind of leverage.”

  “And that’s why we have to assume the worst,” Lucas replied. “The spy is here and intends to return with critical information about us. Maybe they’re holding a loved one hostage. If I were in charge over there, that’s what I would do.”

  Ingrid made a snorting sound of disgust.

  Lucas ignored it and continued. “We have to interrogate the swimmer, at the very least. There’s no point in waiting.”

  Rosemary nodded. “Yes, you’re right. We don’t all need to be present for the...questioning. Let’s get on with our jobs. Hector and Ingrid, you two have a lot on your plate with the well upgrade. Please keep me posted. Tyler, the sea is perfect today. I assume you’ll be taking out a small crew?”

  The young man nodded. “Yes. I have a good feeling about tuna. I’ll take Kenny and a couple of guys out on the Celestial Seas. We’ll drop a few lures and see what happens.”

  They would likely be eating fresh yellow fin for dinner. When Tyler said he had a good or bad feeling about fish, weather, or anything relating to the sea, she always paid attention. He was young, but his education in marine biology and a lifetime of fishing with his father off the Florida coast made him priceless.