He had a surprisingly lovely baritone singing voice. It was deep and melodic, even if the lyrics he was singing were ridiculous.
I turned to Daphne. “Is that the theme to Gilligan’s Island?” I whispered in her ear.
“Who’s Gilligan?” She whispered back, and Curtis chuckled and nodded as David caught on to the fact he was being recorded and stopped singing self-consciously.
“Hey!” he grumped. “I’m not ready for my closeup right now.”
I used to watch Gilligan’s island at my grandparent’s house growing up. I’m pretty sure that the boat they wrecked to get on that island was a lot nicer than the one we’d be taking to Nico. The battered vessel barely looked seaworthy.
“How long is the trip again?” Daphne asked Curtis in despair as we piled onto the tiny motorboat. The feeling of the ocean moving beneath us, deep and unfathomable, was instantly palpable. The boat felt like a tiny mote of dust atop the water that stretched, unbroken to either horizon.
“Six hours,” Curtis replied. His voice was tight. “Four if the weather holds.” He was already pressing down on his pressure point buttons.
I reached out to David’s hand for comfort and he pulled me closer on our bench seat. As the motor roared to life and we pulled away from the pier, the reality of the journey began to set in. It was too late to turn back.
Dry land—wonderful, stable, dry land—was soon a distant memory. Every now and then, a salty spray of water would rise up and smack us in the face in the open-top boat. The sun bore down on us relentlessly when it broke through the otherwise angry looking sky. And the entire time, the rise and fall of the water felt like the world’s longest rollercoaster. I don’t like rollercoasters at all.
Daphne threw up within the first twenty minutes and then curled up under her seat to get out of the sun. Trevor joined her about ten minutes later. David, Curtis, and I did better, but only insofar as we didn’t vomit. We all felt awful. The ferry operator and his two-person crew watched us suffer with disinterest. I suppose we were not the first group of foreigners to find themselves unequal to the journey they made on a daily basis.
As the trip wore on, I caught David singing again. His voice was softer this time, and less carefree but no less beautiful.
“The weather started getting rough/The tiny ship was tossed/If not for the courage of the fearless crew/The minnow would be lost, the minnow would be lost/The ship set ground on the shore of this uncharted desert isle/With Gilligan/The Skipper too/The millionaire and his wife/The movie star/Professors and Mary Ann's/Here on Gilligan's Isle.”
I joined him for the next verse, earning me a dazzling smile:
“So, this is the tale of our castaways/They're here for a long, long time/They'll have to make the best of things/It's an uphill climb.”
“I hope we don’t get stranded forever on Nico,” I told him seriously when we fell silent again.
“There are probably much worse islands to get stranded on,” David remarked, “this one has a cool volcano and a magic fern.”
“It might have a magic fern,” I amended.
“Have a little faith,” he said, kissing my forehead and settling his arm around my waist. “We’re going to find it. This will all work out. It’s all going to be worth it.”
To my immediate right, Daphne raised her upper body up enough to vomit again over the side of the boat. I was shocked she still had any stomach contents to expel. In response, Trevor immediately got sick again as well. One of the crew members opened a Tupperware that was probably his lunch but contained what smelled like fermented fish marinated in cat urine. My nose wrinkled, and I buried my face in David’s shoulder to avoid becoming the third person to throw up in the preceding thirty seconds. This entire boat ride was fucking awful.
“I really hope you’re right, because this can’t get any worse.”
Then the rain started to fall in fat, heavy drops. I wrapped both arms around David’s middle and held on for dear life.
18
David
“Welcome to the Nico islands,” the woman who must be Dr. Cruz said wearily when we arrived. She must have been waiting for quite a while, but she smiled at us pleasantly as she approached up the pier. Our four-hour boat ride had taken six and a half stomach churning hours and it was now nearly dusk. Even the crew of the boat looked relieved that it was over. “You survived the ferry! You all must be exhausted.”
We’d just gotten off the boat and were all reacting to land differently. Curtis had his camera ready, but he looked too wiped out to film. Daphne was barely functional enough to walk and was squatting awkwardly with all four limbs on the ground. Trevor was lying face down on the dock. Casey leaned against me heavily, but she was more cognizant than the others. Having gone on a few really rough yachting trips in my life—an activity far less glamourous than movies would suggest—I’d fared the best.
“Dr. Cruz? It’s a real pleasure to meet you in person. I’m David Breyer.”
She smiled. “Yes, yes. I recognize you. I watch your cooking show when we get reception! Our whole village loved it when I made your bouillabaisse for them. You’re going to be a real hit with everyone. I hope you don’t mind signing autographs!”
I had no idea that I was syndicated in the Philippines. Under my arm, Casey giggled near-hysterically as we stumbled through some extraordinarily awkward introductions. All of us needed rest, especially Trevor, who’s greeting was a face-down thumbs up and Daphne who just smiled like a crazy person when she was introduced.
“Is there a hotel here?” I asked Dr. Cruz. I’d almost asked if there was an inn or tavern, just proving how much this whole experience was reminding me of a Dungeons and Dragons campaign (Nathan and I used to play as teenagers).
Dr. Cruz rolled her eyes at the idea of there being a hotel, and Casey froze under my arm.
“There’s no hotel, but you can stay with me. Come on, let’s get inside before the real rain starts.”
It was already starting to sprinkle again. Our tired crew followed the tall, sixty-ish woman through the tiny town. Through the raindrops, I spotted something that looked like a school, something that looked like a restaurant and store, and a tiny church. That was it. That was the entirety of the town: school, food, church. They had their essentials covered, but not much else.
Dr. Cruz led us to a large structure on the edge of town, constructed entirely out of cinder blocks. It wasn’t a house exactly, more like a multipurpose building.
“This is actually our community center and hospital,” Dr. Cruz answered in response to my questioning look. I live here in the attached apartment. You all can sleep in the infirmary. We’ve got enough cots for all of you. It may not be as glamorous as you’re used to, but I’d bet that a warm, stable bed sounds pretty fantastic. I’ll bring you something to eat.”
“Thank you so much, Dr. Cruz,” Casey said feelingly. “You’re very kind to welcome us into your town and take care of us. We didn’t know what kind of accommodations were on the island. I promise we’ll be in better shape tomorrow.”
The other members of the crew mumbled their own thanks with varying levels of coherence. Dr. Cruz laughed graciously.
“Don’t worry about it! Trust me, everyone has this reaction to the boat ride over. It’s not for the faint of heart. When I first came here in the seventies, the ferries only ran a couple of times each year. I waited for three months to catch it, and then when I got here I immediately wanted to go home. Unfortunately for me, the weather meant I couldn’t leave for another three months. In the intervening time, I grew to love this island, but I still remember that first ride. It’s brutal.”
Her smile crinkled the laugh lines around her eyes and mouth. She was clearly a woman who spent a lot of her life smiling and laughing and I found myself liking her instantly. She showed us into the infirmary where there were indeed five beds, neatly made up with blue blankets. It was a bit clinical and, well, communal, but I sat down on the edge of one gratefully. We were
in no state to complain about the lack of privacy.
“This is the best bed I’ve ever seen,” Daphne mumbled, crawling into hers while fully clothed and covering her face with a pillow. “Just wake me up, like, never.”
Dr. Cruz left us to settle in and returned an hour later with a mild chicken soup and rice. It was actually quite flavorful and exactly the right thing to serve a bunch of seasick travelers. Curtis and I managed to wolf down a bowl or two, but Daphne, Trevor, and Casey were all asleep by the time she returned.
“Get some sleep,” Dr. Cruz told Curtis and me as she took her leave for the evening. “The phone over there calls directly to my apartment if you need anything in the night, and there are bathrooms and showers in the adjacent room. Tomorrow we get started on the real work! I’m so excited to show you the island! You’re going to love it.”
She was so cheerful and nice that I couldn’t help but smile and nod despite my unbelievable tiredness. I supposed she probably didn’t see a lot of new faces around here. We were probably a welcome change. She shut off the light on her way out the door.
“Thank you again Dr. Cruz,” I told her as she departed. “We really do appreciate your hospitality.”
She merely nodded and shrugged.
“People around here have to help each other out. It’s just our way. You’re very welcome though. See you in the morning.”
I dragged my bed closer to the one that Casey was sleeping soundly in and lay down on the crisp linens. Casey looked better today, I noticed. Not quite as pale, despite the day’s immense challenges. Maybe she was getting over whatever bug she’d been battling. I ran a hand over the soft silky skin of her cheek and she smiled in her sleep.
It had been so long since I’d been in love, or more likely I’d never been in love because the feeling I was experiencing was overwhelming me. Every time I saw Casey’s face, I felt a subtle little jolt of excitement and wonder. Like a kid on Christmas, just realizing that I got to spend another day with her made me want to slide down a banister excitedly. Although Nathan’s comment, and my truthfulness about the prospects of our production were beginning to eat at me, I couldn’t dare to tell Casey the truth until I knew she shared my feelings.
I fully believed that we would find the flame-leaf fern and introduce the world to it. I even believed it was likely we’d record some very good footage. But there was no distribution deal for The Quest. I was financing this little circus myself. We were only three days into filming and had only driven one member of the crew into quitting, so that wasn’t great, but other than that, everything was going well. It was all going to be easy from here on out.
19
Casey
“I refuse to hike in this weather, and we can’t film in it,” Daphne announced, staring out the doorway as dark bands of rain swept across the village. “I’m going back to bed until you need me. Preferably tomorrow.”
Our first day in Nico was shaping up to be a total waste. We’d planned on beginning our ascent on the volcano, but it was just as well since we were all still weak and exhausted. I was secretly glad of the rain. Hiking up a volcano didn’t sound remotely appealing to me at the moment. I woke up feeling lethargic, nauseated, and grumpy. Unfortunately, there was still plenty of work to do.
“We can film with Dr. Cruz indoors,” Curtis suggested before I could, and Daphne sighed a long-suffering sigh. She reluctantly collected her lighting equipment. Curtis, David, and Trevor had all beaten Daphne and me to getting up and showered. In truth, I was half on Daphne’s side and about to recommend we go back to sleep, but we did need to get the interview footage with Dr. Cruz. I was tempted to let the crew film without me but was too much of a control freak to permit it. We ended up filming on the covered patio of Dr. Cruz’s apartment, which happened to have a lovely view of the rain and the volcano beyond it.
“Have you ever done an on-camera interview before?” I asked her as she watched Daphne work on the lighting levels with typical newbie wariness. Dr. Cruz shook her head.
“You’re joking right? I think you’re the first film crew to ever come to Nico,” she told me. “If there was another one before you, it would have had to be during the war.”
The war she was referring to, I assumed, would have been World War II. More than fifty years ago, the Philippines became a theater for fighting between the Allied and Axis powers. The idea that a film crew could have never visited the island was astounding, although the nightmarish ferry ride that could only even be undertaken during half the year was an admittedly powerful disincentive. It certainly wasn’t on my top ten list to visit, as I’d never even heard of the place until the day before yesterday.
“Well don’t worry. The camera isn’t nearly as intimidating as most people think. Just pretend it isn’t there. We’ll edit out anything awkward, silly, or embarrassing.”
“Promise?”
“No. Not if it’s really, really funny. Then we’ll probably leave it in,” I admitted, and she laughed uneasily.
David, who was sitting to the right of Dr. Cruz put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t worry. They always make me look really good,” he promised. She rolled her eyes and blushed a faint pink.
“They hardly have to work very hard at that, do they?” she mumbled. “If I woke up looking like you, I wouldn’t be nervous either.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” he said warmly. “You look fantastic. Just relax and speak slowly and you’ll forget the cameras are even there after a minute.”
Her blush deepened to crimson, and I shifted uncomfortably on the other side of the camera.
“Alright. Let’s get rolling,” I said loudly, redirecting the conversation to get us back on track and signaling to Curtis, Daphne, and Trevor to begin. “Dr. Cruz, can you tell us about how you first learned of the flame-leaf fern?”
Although Dr. Cruz was a solid forty years older than me, I still felt vaguely jealous that another woman was receiving David’s attention. When did I become such a jealous bitch? It was patently obvious that David was just trying to set her at ease, but I still bristled. Thankfully my discomfort was lost on Dr. Cruz. She smiled a wide, happy grin.
“The first I ever heard of the flame-leaf was when I arrived on the island back in 1979. This village is very small, only about ten families live here, but it’s the largest on the island. Before me, there was no permanent doctor, so they’d relied on folk medicine and visited Luzon for serious issues. One of the tribal elders told me about it when I asked about any medicinal plants in the area.”
“What did you learn about its properties from the tribal elder?”
“He said that there was an herb on the leeward slope of the volcano, a very rare herb, that had incredible health and culinary properties. It could dull pain, balance mood, maintain weight and body composition, and increase healing times. It was once plentiful when the volcano was more active, but when the volcano is dormant, it doesn’t grow as well. Additionally, the herb is so delicious that it’s often over-consumed and depleted when it is available.”
“What did you think when he first told you all that?”
She smirked. “What would you think? Doctors, alchemists, and optimists throughout history have sought the panacea or panchrest, the substance that can cure any ailment. Science of course has proved this to be a myth—there’s no way any medicine could be so powerful or versatile, but it’s one shared by almost every culture. Who wouldn’t want something like that? I figured this was just a local interpretation of that concept.”
“You thought that the tribal elder was just sharing a piece of colorful folklore?”
“More or less. I’ve found that almost all folklore has some root in truth. It may be exaggerated, but there’s always truth behind myth. I was curious about the herb though. I wanted to see for myself what the fuss was about.”
“And have you seen the flame-leaf fern’s medicinal properties for yourself?”
Unexpectedly, her smile disappeare
d. “I haven’t had the opportunity to study it as much as I’d like. The flame-leaf fern does exist. However, even though I’ve lived on this island for most of my life, the places where it grows, and the times it can be found and harvested were historically tightly guarded secret.”
“Why?”
“It was a question of scarcity. Because the fern only grows in a few specific conditions, and because it’s culinary applications are so delicious, those that possessed the knowledge weren’t likely to share it. Supplies of the herb were laboriously stockpiled by the tribal elders, and the harvesting was done in secret.”
“If it’s all so secret, why tell you at all?”
“A few reasons, the first being pride. Although I’ve never been privy to all the secrets of the people here, the flame-leaf is something that the local people have great pride in. They have few natural resources, unless you count fish. This is something they have that no one else in the world does. The second, I believe, is the fact that I’m a physician and a permanent fixture. I came here to help people, and I came to live permanently. I married a local man. My children and grandchildren are part of this community. Finally, I think the local people are unconcerned by the prospect that outsiders will ever be a real threat. This place is extraordinarily remote. Getting here takes far more determination than any colonial rulers have ever exhibited. Colonialists have come and gone from this region for millennia. They deemed this archipelago too much trouble, and rightly so. From her perspective, sharing this information with me was low risk.”
“Are you concerned that telling us any of this will hurt your relationships on the island?”
She laughed lightly.
“No. Because as excited as I am that you’re here, as incredible the prospect of this discovery, until extremely recently there was no reliable supply of the plant. Now that it seems to have begun growing with greater abundance, I think the islanders would be delighted to see that it drove traffic here.”
Lost and Found (Scions of Sin Book 4) Page 11
