“It wasn’t easy, I’ll tell you that. I had to use a number of traps to snare her.”
“Why did you want her?”
“I didn’t really, but she kept coming to the village, harassing people and vandalizing property. We tried befriending her, but she was too wild to tame.”
“Sassy has been a constant nuisance,” Eleanor added.
“I tried many ways of catching her,” he went on. “I set ankle nooses and made a cage to fall on her while she devoured a carcass I left as bait, but she either cut her way free or avoided the traps. I even followed her to her lair once, which was nothing more than a hollow in the mountainside. I’d brought another carcass with me, dosed with ten grams of Zolpiden.”
We came up on a sign in the sand with a warning: Danger! Bees. It was repeated in four different languages. I didn’t ask about it. I wanted to know more about Inglewood’s Viking. “Wasn’t that dangerous?”
“It wasn’t enough to kill her, and I’d rather not have a spirit from the likes of hers haunting me.”
“No, I mean following her to her home. What if she’d seen you?”
He shrugged. “Most likely, she’d have butchered me, but I managed to follow her without being detected. I waited until she fell asleep, then set the bait at the entrance. In the morning, she ate it, and when she passed out, I carried her down the mountainside.”
“Where do you keep her?”
“I built an iron cage in a nice little area up ahead.”
“You did that all on your own? Why didn’t anyone help you?”
“We offered to help,” Eleanor said, “but he refused.”
“Why?”
“It was a challenge,” he replied. “I’ve always enjoyed a good challenge.”
We walked a few minutes longer before there was a buzzing off to my left.
“Be careful,” Eleanor warned. “Our bees are kept over there.”
I looked into a clearing, where a bee colony rested on a cliff fourteen feet above the ground. Like the cliff where water fell onto the shower stalls, it was a flat surface with man-made stairs leading up to it. The bees buzzed so loudly it sounded as if they were amplified.
“They’re like bumblebees,” Inglewood said. “They won’t sting you unless you antagonize them. However, it doesn’t take much to infuriate them and their toxin is quite deadly. That’s why we put the colony up there. They generally don’t fly too close to shore because the pollen is scarce down there. Our beekeepers go up there once a week to collect the honey.”
“Is that all you keep them for? Honey?”
“That and beeswax,” Eleanor said. “We use that for candlesticks and other things.”
“How much honey can they make in a week?”
“Loads,” Inglewood answered. “These bees can produce twice as much honey as any on the outside. Which is good, since we’re always in need of honey and candles.”
“How long does it take for the toxin to kill you?”
“If it’s not sucked out, you’ll die in a day or two, very painfully. In a way, that’s a good thing, since it keeps people from trying to use the bees to commit suicide.”
Inglewood led us to a path leading into the forest, and not long into the trek, we reached iron bars, like the bars on an eighteenth century brig. The cage was some forty feet in diameter and abutted the mountainside, where there was a cave entrance. The whole thing was covered by a roof of bars, while the ground was carpeted in lush grass. The mountain went straight up and thick brush afforded some privacy. Lamps stood at the corners of the cage.
“I really need to go in there and cut that damn tree down,” Inglewood grunted.
The tree he referred to was inside the cage and its trunk was bent against the ceiling.
“The cave goes back several feet,” Inglewood explained, “and before I got her in there, I had this area cleared of stones so she couldn’t throw them at me. She’s smart enough to dispose of her own waste so she’s not living in filth.” He reached into his cloth bag and brought out a plate of cooked food, similar to what had been served at the Welcoming. “I feed her twice a day, and sometimes I bring her gifts.”
Toys were scattered on the ground inside the cage—dolls, toy cars, wooden blocks, and an inflatable pool.
“She’s intelligent and perfectly capable of taking care of herself,” he said, sliding the plate through a narrow opening. “Which makes it all the more painful to keep her caged.”
He took an eight-foot pole from a nearby tree and used it to push the plate farther into the cage. Then he returned it to the tree.
“Sassy, daddy’s here, sweetie. Come get your breakfast.”
I waited for the mighty Viking girl to appear. A moment later, a figure emerged into the yard, clutching a doll in her arms. She was very small and had the face of an eight-year-old. This wasn’t the killer I’d been expecting.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” Inglewood said fondly.
“What happened to her parents?” I asked as she tentatively approached us.
“They probably died when the tribe turned on each other.”
Sassy crouched at the plate of warm food, holding the doll to her side. She studied the meal. Then, with her free hand, she picked up some and threw it with little grunts.
“I suppose I’ve spoiled her,” Inglewood said. “She’s a picky eater now. Every day, I try feeding her vegetables, but she always tosses them away.”
“I feel bad for her,” Eleanor said sullenly. “I always have, even when she stole from us. I wish she could learn things. You know, evolve.”
“Yes,” Inglewood agreed. “I’ve tried to teach her English and how to read, but she’s incapable of grasping anything beyond what she learned during her lifetime. She’s lived a hard and terribly long life.”
I studied the girl as she plucked bits of vegetables off her plate. She wore a red dress with spaghetti straps, camouflage pants, and no shoes. She had silver scars carved into pale flesh and her unkempt hair fell to her tiny waist. Her pastel skin was dirty and she had dark circles under her blue eyes.
“I hate keeping her locked up,” Inglewood moaned. “I wish she could interact with the other children. The clothes she’s wearing belonged to children who’ve died over the years.”
“It’s hard keeping the children safe,” Eleanor admitted softly.
After Sassy cleared the vegetables from her plate, she stood with it, then shouted at us before she stomped back to the cave.
“I like to think she’s saying thank you,” Inglewood said.
Eleanor took my hand. “Let’s go back to the village, shall we?” She turned to Inglewood. “Are you coming?”
“Not right now. I think I’ll stay for a while and read to her when she comes back out.”
As Eleanor led the way back to the beach, she asked, “What do you think about the Bermuda Triangle?”
She held my hand and I enjoyed her touch. “I think it’s dangerous as well as interesting.”
She smiled. “I suppose that’s the best way to describe it.”
“Do you miss home?”
“I miss Mississippi and going on riverboat rides.”
“I thought sailing made you sick.”
“Rivers are different, even a river as big as the Mississippi. The ocean is so vast and stretches hundreds of miles into nothing. I guess I’m afraid of the unknown. Which is ironic, considering where we are.”
“What else do you miss?”
“My mother, although she’s been dead a long while. All she ever wanted was for me to be happy. It thrilled her to no end when a wealthy man asked for my hand in marriage. He promised to give me everything I ever dreamed of.”
“Did he? Give you everything you dreamed of.”
Her expression dampened, but it did nothing to quell her beauty. “Darwin Bradford loved to be in control. He always had to be, especially when it came to women.” She paused a moment. “In his defense, it wasn’t completely his fault. That’s how most men tre
ated their wives in our day. Yet, even after we arrived here, he continued to keep me under his thumb, demanding absolute obedience. He forced me to wear all those useless Victorian clothes, even in this heat. He talked down to me as if I was a helpless child.” Her eyes found mine, her expression straightforward. “If I hadn’t left the Obsoletes, I probably would have ended up swinging right next to Mrs. Chancier.”
I’d never met Darwin Bradford but I didn’t like him. If Eleanor asked me to go to his village and beat him senseless, I wouldn’t hesitate.
“And I also miss the stars,” she said fondly. “Since childhood I was always fantasized by all those twinkling little lights. I would sneak out on warm summer nights to stare at them in our yard and allow myself to drift away into my own imagination where I would have marvelous adventures in other worlds.”
The depth of emotion she expressed when speaking about stars told of her longing to relive what was most likely the happiest moments of her life. It made me feel obtuse for I had always lived under light polluted skies, only experiencing patches of star-filled nights in certain parts of the world, so I hadn’t taken notice of the stars’ absence. Thinking on it, I assumed the fog blocked them completely out from the islanders.
We continued toward the village in silence. I wanted nothing more than to stay by her side.
Chapter Eleven
The village slowly came up to meet us. Soon Eleanor and I walked over the long pier, heading for the steps leading up the mountainside.
“Do you have any plans today?” she asked, breaking the silence.
“Actually, I need to get some things from my plane.” I became self-conscious about my breath, having not used toothpaste in a while. “Unless you need help with the docks.”
“No, there are plenty of people to get it started. You go gather what you need. When you come back, you’re more than welcome to help.”
“Of course,” I said, climbing the stairs with her. “Don’t think I’m the type of guy who won’t lift a finger.”
She smiled. “I never thought that for a second. Do hurry back, though. I’m sure to miss you.” She let go of my hand and continued up the steps. I stared at her, unaware that I now stood beside the row my hut was on.
“’Allo,” Khenan called from behind, ascending to my level.
I returned to watch Eleanor as she headed on. She glanced down, as if she knew I was watching her, while Khenan came up alongside me. “Ah, she is beautiful, eh?”
“Um, sure,” I said, quickly heading for my hut, aware of how obvious I was in my gawking.
“Sure?” Khenan said, following me. “You is smitten.”
“All right, let’s not make this into some high school romance thing,” I grumbled, entering the hut to grab my socks and tennis shoes.
“Are you going somewhere?”
I stepped out and sat on the patio chair. “I’m headed to my plane to get a few things.”
“Let’s get Travis. I tink ’e isn’t trilled about starting on da docks, any’ow.”
“I think I’m good on my own,” I said, slipping on a shoe. “I survived once, I’ll be okay.”
“Don’t tink dat be wise. Out der you’re surround by dangerous tings. It be best to have other ‘round far protection.”
Damn it, I thought. I didn’t want to be a dick with someone who only offered to help, but I wanted to go get my things without worrying about anyone getting hurt on my account. At the time, I didn’t feel I needed anyone to watch my back and that I was more than capable of taking care of myself.
“Trust me,” Khenan urged.
“All right,” I huffed while lacing up my sneakers. “Let’s jet.”
We went down to the shore, where we found some people preparing breakfast on their grills, while others headed for the waterfall with small bags. The smell of simmering meat flourished everywhere. Unlike yesterday, when everyone had gathered around me, I now received only a few greetings and waves. Most simply ignored me. It was exactly as Khenan had predicted. I’d become just another face in the crowd.
“Hey, guys,” Marissa said, standing next to her grill, “where are you heading off to?”
“My plane to get some things.”
“Oh.”
“Wanna come wit us?” Khenan asked.
Great, more company. I thought grimy.
Before Marissa answered, another woman stepped through the open doorway. She was younger than Marissa, at thirty or so, wearing a tank top and short pajama bottoms, with long silky hair and dark freckles across her fair skin. Her round face didn’t quite match her petite frame.
“Hey, Khenan.”
“Hey, Tammy.”
“Is this the guy you told me about?” she asked Marissa. “The one you found yesterday?”
“Yep,” Marissa replied, scooping scrambled eggs from a hot pan with a spatula and sliding them onto a plate. I wondered where the eggs came from. The Shark Hunters, maybe.
“You’re cute,” Tammy said with a grin. “For a man.”
“Thanks.”
“They asked if I’d like to go to the junkyard with them,” Marissa said.
“For what?”
“To get some stuff from his plane.”
“You’re not going out there, are you?” Tammy whined. “Not with those sharks.”
Marissa placed the spatula in the pan and used her free hand to grasp Tammy’s face. She puckered her lips and said in a babyish tone, “You’re so damn adorable when you worry. Yes, you are.”
“Stop that,” Tammy said, slapping her hand away. “I hate it when you do that.”
Marissa grinned and leaned over, her lips puckered again. Tammy leaned in and gave her a kiss. When they drew away, Marissa said, “I think I’m gonna sit this one out, boys. We’ve got a lot of work to do today and I’m sure Eleanor is gonna need all the help she can get.”
“All right,” Khenan said, “see you ‘round.”
“Bye,” I said, leaving with Khenan. “Nice meeting you, Tammy.”
“Bye,” she said sweetly.
As we walked away, Marissa said, “Stop flirting.”
“I wasn’t flirting,” Tammy countered. “I just said bye. Jeez.”
Travis lived in a hut at the end of the last walkway, closest to the sea. When Khenan knocked on the door, he responded from inside, “Who is it?”
“Is me, idiot. I got Heat wit’ me.”
“Come in, lads.”
Nailed to the inside wall of Travis’s hut was an oil painting of a pinup girl leaning over a tombstone in the middle of a graveyard. The only furniture was a cot across from an oak dresser and a night stand. Bottles of alcohol sat on the dresser and bedside table, most with melted candles wedged into their mouths.
Travis had a collection of handguns, rifles, and spears hanging from bent nails on the wall. He used the skin of a stingray as a curtain, the tail reaching all the way to the floor. The hide was beige with dark spots. It was thick enough to blot out the light, although there wasn’t much light to block. It was the first time I’d seen a stingray from the Bermuda Triangle, and judging by the size of the thing, I could understand why they were a threat.
On the table was a plate sprinkled with crumbs and a half-filled wine bottle with what I assumed was water beside it. A large Union Jack draped the back door and we had to move it to the side to get to the back porch. There, Travis sat in front of a round vanity mirror that was propped against the railing, shaving with a disposable razor. Aside from one rectangular line racing down his jaw, the lower half of his face was covered in shaving cream. His dreads were also missing.
“Mornin’, lads,” he said as he slid the blade slowly across his face.
“Cut yer ’air again, mon?” Khenan asked, staring at the pile of golden locks on the floor.
“Nah, it just fell out.”
“Smart ass Englishman,” Khenan snorted.
“Aye, I guess me arse is smarter than me head,” Travis said jocularly. “Ready for a long day of tree cho
pping?”
“Actually,” I said, leaning against the rail, “we’re going out to my plane. Want to come along?”
Travis turned his head slowly to me. “Aye, I forgot about that.”
“Den make ‘aste and shave yer face, princess,” Khenan urged. “We need to get.”
“You know I bloody well hate it when you call me princess,” Travis said, sliding the blade across his lower jaw, then rinsing it off in a basin beside the mirror. “It’s Mr. Princess, all right? How many times do you need reminding of that, eh?”
I smiled at their banter, then turned my attention to the mountainside, where Eleanor’s house sat above other homes. Although I’d be back in the morning, I’d miss her. I couldn’t remember feeling so strongly about any of the women I’d known in the past. I’d always been on the move, searching for new and exciting experiences. I’d never given Heath the family man much thought. I hadn’t even lived in one place for more than a year until I’d moved to Florida and gotten a job as a flight instructor. I wasn’t the type who slept with a woman and then split on her, especially after having been raised by two headstrong women. Even so, I’d never found the right woman to share my adventures with.
“Heath,” Travis said, interrupting my thoughts. “Hello, Heath?”
I snapped my head around to him. “What? Did you say something?”
“Bloody hell, mate, I asked how far in the junkyard your plane is.”
I was about to answer when Khenan cut in. “’e don’t ’ear you ’cause ’is mind be on Eleanor.”
“Oh?” Travis said, raising his eyebrows. “Fancy her, do you? She’s a sight, eh?”
I flushed with embarrassment, feeling like an adolescent having to admit to a crush.
When Travis finished shaving, he washed the remainder of foam off his face, changed his clothes, and brushed his teeth. He then packed some bottles of water into a small backpack, along with a loaf of bread and meat to make sandwiches.
“We ought to bring guns in case we run into sharks,” Travis suggested, plucking two World War II rifles from the wall and handing them to us.
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