Damselfly

by Chandra Prasad

  “When the chief can no longer protect the island, I will,” Pablo finished.

  A hundred years? No hunters? It was hard to understand what the old man was saying. Harder still to believe it. Clearly, he wasn’t in his right mind. Maybe it was old age; maybe it was being marooned on this island, all alone. Talk about going stir-crazy. And yet Pablo gazed at him almost reverently, like Luke Skywalker might look at Yoda.

  “The chief has taught me things,” Pablo said. “Things I’ve always wanted to know. Like how to live in nature, surviving, taking only what you need. The chief—all he wants is to live on this island by himself. I can respect that. He doesn’t want anyone to mess with it. And he’s right. People have a way of destroying everything that’s beautiful.”

  At that he looked directly at Rittika and Rish. “It’s funny, we’re in this whole new place, this Eden. But you guys are still the same: selfish and destructive. You’ve never been able to see past yourself, your money, and houses, and vacations. When I used to tell you about the things I believe in, you looked at me like I was crazy. You didn’t get it then, and you don’t get it now.”

  “Bro, listen to yourself. What the hell’s gotten into you?” Chester asked. “We’re your friends.”

  “You’re not my friends. You run around the jungle with your spears, yelling about war. You tortured Anne Marie, then let her die. She needed our protection, and all she got was pain. So don’t dare try to tell me you’re the good guys.”

  At that, a burst of anger exploded in me. I thought about how worried I’d been about Pablo. I thought about how much I’d missed him, and how I’d always counted him as a friend. I’d assumed he’d counted me as one, too.

  “But you’ve spilled blood, too,” I said. “You killed the ibis—an innocent animal. An endangered animal.”

  In that instant, I saw the old Pablo. Hints of sorrow and regret flashed in his eyes. Although fleeting, there was still a tenderness there as he looked at me. If I were going to be honest with myself, I guess I’d hoped Pablo would be more than a friend.

  “What can I say?” he said softly. “There has to be sacrifice to achieve the greater good. You guys started this thing—I’m just trying to finish it.”

  “Pablo, we’re going to leave,” Mel said, her voice even and controlled. “I’m sure you’ve seen the raft.”

  I wondered why she had chosen this moment to announce our news. Maybe she thought it would calm him down.

  “I’ve seen it. But it’s not big enough for all of you.”

  “That’s right,” said Rittika, reappearing from behind Rish, still holding the conch. “Some of us want to stay.”

  “The chief won’t allow you to stay. The longer you’re here, the more you destroy.”

  At that, the monkey on the old man’s shoulders hissed and jumped to the ground. He began to scamper around Camp Summerbliss, in and out of tents. “He’s probably looking for shoes. He’s the one who stole Chester’s,” Pablo said. “He’s got a pile of ’em in the caves, from god knows when—and who.”

  I felt sick thinking about those shoes, and about what had become of their owners. Mel must’ve been thinking the same thing, for she asked how many others had come to the island.

  The old man began to count on his fingers like a child. He got up to nine. “They came on boats,” he said. “One or two at a time. Some left right away. But some stayed. I gave ’em a scare.” He pointed to his knife sheath, then ran a long, ragged fingernail across his own throat.

  Pablo looked at him and nodded. Then he said, “Like I said, sometimes sacrifices must be made. And there will be more sacrifices, if you don’t go. All of you.”

  There was no question that it was a threat. I felt simultaneously revolted and mind-blown. I realized that the chief and Pablo finding each other was like a perfect storm. The old man wanted only one thing: to keep the island—his island—free of others. Pablo wanted only one thing, too: to protect this vulnerable place of natural wonders. Somehow, these two callings had collided, becoming one and the same, and uniting two unlikely people in the process.

  “All right,” Rittika said suddenly. “I respect where you’re coming from. Maybe you’re right. Maybe we should leave.” She looked at the old man, then bent her head as if in shame. “I’m sorry for the trouble we caused.”

  I stared at her dumbfounded. Was the world turning upside down? Rittika was not one to go down without a fight. I had never seen her yield to anyone, least of all to a shriveled old man.

  Lifting her head, Rittika looked at her brother, who nodded, then handed the conch to the old man. He clutched it in his bony hands and smirked his decrepit smile. The jungle, once again, went eerily silent.

  The chief proceeded to examine the conch. With his attention on the shell, I half expected Rish or Chester to launch a surprise attack, but they didn’t. They were probably waiting for Rittika to tell them what to do.

  For what seemed like an eternity the old man studied the conch. Then he put it to his lips. The sound that he produced was the loudest we’d heard yet, more thunderous than thunder. Birds squawked and winged into the air. Something small and shadowy skittered past on the ground, disappearing with a squeak into the jungle. We waited nervously, unsure what we were waiting for.

  Looking pleased with himself, the old man laughed. Despite his odd appearance, I realized there was something innocent about him—it was almost as if his mind hadn’t aged along with his body. He let the shell hang by his side. Then he turned to Pablo to speak. When he opened his mouth, however, he could only gasp.

  Suddenly, he dropped the conch and grabbed his throat. His gasps turned to raw, guttural spasms. He stuck out his tongue like a dog. It hung there, skinny and pink, sloppy and strange, saliva dripping off the end, as his eyes rolled back in his head. I took a step back in horror, watching his arms and legs begin to twitch. Even his bad leg jerked about.

  One by one, he lost control of every part of his body. I’d never seen anyone have a seizure before, but I was sure this is what one must look like. The thrashing, flailing, and convulsing. It was madness.

  Pablo put his arms around the old man’s body from behind, trying to calm him. The monkey screeched wildly. I watched in horror as the chief began to gnaw on his own tongue, turning it to bloody chuck. His eyes had rolled back so far that only the whites were visible.

  He looked pathetic, tragic, and possessed all at the same time.

  Desperately, Pablo shoved the tongue back into the old man’s mouth, but it was too late. It was already bitten in half. The whole scene was a gorefest: spit and blood everywhere, the monkey screeching maniacally from the sidelines, a piece of pink tongue on the ground, everyone stunned quiet except the old man, who tried futilely to breathe and talk as his body shut down.

  The last thing I remember before the old man died was Pablo’s expression. He looked like that painting The Scream by Edvard Munch, his mouth a perfect O, his uvula visible at the back of his throat. By then, Mel had put the tip of her knife against Pablo’s back.

  “Don’t move,” she warned. He was still clutching the chief and didn’t look like he was in a position to do anything at all. Rish and Chester pried his arms off the old man and tied his wrists together with vines. The old man slumped onto the ground.

  “What just happened?” Avery demanded, tears streaming down her face. Beside her, Ming was bent over, dry-heaving.

  I didn’t need anyone to explain. And the fact that I already knew how the old man had died made me feel so guilty that I almost dropped to my knees. When Mel looked at me, I couldn’t meet her eyes. I could only imagine how she must feel—disappointed and betrayed, as disgusted with me as I was with myself. Her knife might have been pressed to Pablo, but I was pretty sure it was she who felt stabbed in the back.

  “I poisoned him,” Rittika said simply.

  “What? How?” Avery sputtered.

  “Remember that little yellow frog? Mel filled syringes with its poison, but I was the one wh
o actually did the deed.” She gloated, bending down and patting her sock. “I’ve had one tucked in here. Thought it might come in handy, and it did.” She glanced at me, but I couldn’t meet her gaze, either. “Thanks, Sam.”

  Scornfully, Rittika assessed the chief’s body. Then she bent down, plucked the wire eyeglasses from his loincloth, and attached them to the shark’s-tooth necklace around her neck. A hunter’s trophy. Darkly, she turned her attention to Avery and Ming with a new level of authority.

  “Toss him into the ocean,” she ordered. “I don’t want him on my island anymore.”

  Too much had happened too quickly. I couldn’t think, not even about Pablo and the old man. When Mel said we needed to get some rest and make decisions in the morning, I didn’t object.

  I watched Rish and Chester tie Pablo’s ankles, too. Then they double-checked their knots. Betty asked Pablo if he wanted water or food, if he needed to go to the bathroom. But he wouldn’t even look at her, much less speak. Rish and Chester carried him into a tent and laid him down inside. We didn’t know what else to do with him.

  Hours passed and night fell. As I crawled inside my own tent, I felt more paranoid than ever. It was true that we’d killed the enemy, or who we thought he was. But Rittika had proven to be the real cold-blooded killer. My mind replayed the showdown with the chief and Pablo over and over again. And each time I had the same takeaway. The only person we really needed to fear—the only person we’d ever needed to fear—was Rittika.

  I edged closer to Mel, acutely aware that she was mad at me. I knew we needed to talk about how I’d told Rittika about the poison. I knew I needed to apologize. Although I was pretty sure Mel would forgive me—she wasn’t one to hold a grudge—I wondered if my disloyalty would change our relationship. Maybe after this she’d never trust me again. Maybe she’d always be a little on guard. I wouldn’t be able to bear it if she stopped thinking of me as a sister.

  “Mel,” I whispered. I went to shake her, then heard the steady rhythm of her exhalations. She was sleeping. Damn, I thought. I wanted to get the difficult talk out of the way. But time passed, and pretty soon I fell asleep, too. I dreamt the monkey came back to avenge the old man’s death. To chew off our toes and fingers as we slept. Abruptly, I awoke, my heart racing, my body covered in sweat. But nobody was screaming in pain. The night was quiet, almost peaceful, except for the faint sound of Pablo crying.

  I wondered if Rittika was listening to him, too. If she was, did she care? I wondered if she’d been lying to me when she’d admitted to having nightmares. I wondered if anything got under her skin.

  At dawn I awoke feeling awful. My head pounded. I had a disgusting taste in my mouth, like something had crawled inside and died there. Also, I was disoriented—unsure for a few seconds where I was: Drake Rosemont, my own house, the island? Yes, the island. Once I had my bearings, I can’t say I felt any better.

  Mel wasn’t beside me. Maybe she was out collecting the last of the supplies we’d need for the voyage. I wondered if we would leave the island that day, or stick around a while longer in light of Pablo’s return. When I left the tent, I was surprised to see everyone except Mel sitting in a circle around the dying embers of a fire. They were speaking in quiet, conspiratorial voices.

  “He must have that disease,” Chester whispered. “What’s it called? Some Swedish word …”

  “Stockholm Syndrome,” Rish replied.

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  “Is that, like, even a real thing?” asked Avery.

  “Yeah, it’s real,” said Rish. “It’s when you start to identify with your captor. You start to think he’s doing the right thing.”

  “Well, that pretty much describes Pablo,” Chester said.

  “True.”

  “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I don’t blame Pablo,” Betty said. “The old man got to him while he was vulnerable. Pablo didn’t stand a chance.”

  “No,” Rittika objected. “Let’s be honest. Pablo wanted to be with the old man. They were like two peas in a pod.”

  “Does it even matter?” asked Betty. “Look, the old man’s dead, but Pablo’s still here—and he’s one of us. We’ve gotta help him.”

  “She’s right,” said Ming. “We’ve gotta do something.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Rittika asked. “You guys are way too forgiving. The old man and Pablo were threatening us. Stalking us. We were basically their prey.”

  “I agree with my sister,” said Rish.

  “I think we can help Pablo,” said Betty. “Rehabilitate him.”

  “What are we—therapists?” Rittika asked.

  “If not help, then what do you propose?”

  “Look, he’s too far gone. There’s nothing we can do.”

  “What are you saying?” Betty asked, her voice cracking.

  “You know what I’m saying.”

  “No, don’t even suggest it! That’s so wrong it’s beyond wrong. The old man—fine, he had to go. But Pablo, he’s our friend.”

  “Was our friend.”

  “At least give him a chance to explain himself!”

  When Rittika sighed, Rish put his hand on her shoulder. “Maybe Betty’s right,” he said. “Maybe we ought to give him a chance.”

  Rittika shook her head sulkily. “I don’t agree, but if you feel that strongly … go ahead.”

  Chester and Rish looked at each other, then went to get Pablo out of the tent. They untied his feet and helped him up. When he emerged, he was the same as yesterday: pissed off and agitated. He stood there, his back against the bark of a tree, staring at us with contempt.

  “I’m gonna give you the benefit of the doubt and untie this,” Rish said, untwisting the knots that bound his wrists together. “But don’t do anything stupid. Because we can do today what we did yesterday.” Pablo glanced at him scornfully, then spit on the ground.

  “Do you want something to eat?” Betty asked, her tone accommodating, like she was desperate to make peace. “Or some water? You must be thirsty.”

  He looked at her and shook his head, his first attempt at communication since the old man’s death. I felt a little relieved.

  “We don’t want to hurt you, but we don’t want you to hurt us, either,” Betty said gently.

  “Don’t baby him,” warned Rittika, flipping back her hair.

  “I’m just trying to be nice.”

  “He doesn’t deserve it.”

  At that, Pablo glared at Rittika with a hatred so pure it made me recoil. “I wish it was you that got poisoned,” he hissed.

  She got up and walked over to him, leaning in close, getting in his face. I wasn’t sure which of them to worry for more—Rittika or Pablo. “It must have sucked to lose someone you loved.”

  “The chief called you an evil sow,” he retorted, staring into her eyes. “He said we should stick you—stick you like a pig.”

  “Hey!” Rish said, jumping in. “Do not talk about my sister like that.”

  Pablo gave him a sly, rancorous smile. “Oh, and here comes the sidekick—right on time. What are you so afraid of, Rish? That someone will finally tell the truth about your family?”

  At that, Rish lunged forward, shoving Pablo in the chest. Pablo put up his hands, blocking another shove, and continued. “And your father—the Maharaja of India—where’s he, Rish? Wasn’t he supposed to sweep down in his diamond-encrusted helicopter and save us?” Pablo turned his head, pretending to look around. “Where’d he go?”

  “Oh, let him talk,” Rittika told her brother. “That’s all he has now—words.”

  Fuming, Rish took a step back. I could see that it took effort. Rage simmered in his eyes, threatening to boil over.

  “Words? Yeah, I got more of those,” said Pablo. “What I think is that your father spent about three minutes looking for you, then went back to his mansions and Maybachs.”

  “Keep pushing me, man. You’ll regret it,” Rish seethed. Then he put his hand in the pocket of his threadbare sh
orts. He pulled something out—something I didn’t recognize at first. It was made of tattered leather. The old man’s sheath. I guess Rish, like his sister, had taken a trophy from the kill. With trembling hands, he opened it and held up the knife. It was twice the size of Mel’s blade, and twice as formidable.

  “If I don’t stop, then what?” asked Pablo. “You’ve always been all talk, dude. It’s your sister who calls the shots. You probably don’t even know how to use that thing.”

  “Shut up,” said Rish. But as if to reinforce Pablo’s point, he stole a look at his sister. She locked eyes with him and shook her head.

  “Bingo,” Pablo said.

  “I said, shut up!” Rish warned, turning to Pablo again. He gripped the knife a little tighter. I didn’t think for a second he would use it. Pablo might have been trash-talking, but he was right about Rittika being the boss.

  “Honestly, dude, what does it matter what I say? Don’t you get it? The chief’s gone. It’s over. Everything’s lost. So you can stop pretending to be a hero. You can go back to who you are.”

  “You don’t know anything about me,” Rish cried, his whole body trembling.

  For the first time, Pablo took a step forward. The early morning sunlight glinted in his mocking eyes. “Oh, I know a whole lot. Like how you’re probably glad we got stuck on this island. Because now you can finally admit it. You and your sister are totally into each other.”

  It happened so suddenly that I didn’t register it at first. Rish, embarrassed and furious, sprang forward and jabbed the knife into Pablo’s stomach. One swift play, in and out. Pablo winced and toppled over awkwardly on his side. On the ground he moaned. Blood dripped brightly from his wound, forming a gruesome, dark blot on the waistband of his shorts. A blot that kept growing as the seconds ticked by.

  “Oh my god, Rish, what did you do?” Betty whispered.

  Pablo began to writhe in agony. He tried to use his own hands to cover up the wound, but there was too much blood, and it was coming so fast. Out of nowhere, Mel appeared. She dropped the fruit she was carrying and knelt down beside him, putting her own hand against the incision, desperately trying to staunch the flow. Alas, it kept coming, dripping wetly around her fingers, trickling onto the mossy earth. I began to wobble, feeling the same dizzy, disbelieving sensation as when Anne Marie had fallen into the tar pit. In that instant, I couldn’t look at Pablo’s face because then I’d know what was happening was real. I could only look at the blood. I’d seen enough of that on the island to last me the rest of my life.