Atlantic Pyramid

by Michelle E Lowe

  I didn’t quite know how to respond. I’d retrieved my clothes and toiletries, but somehow I felt unfulfilled. “We found the General Gates and the Insurgent,” I said, avoiding the question.

  Lafitte snorted. “So, you met the mad sea king, then? What did he have to say?”

  “He said everything has an ending and that things are going to get bad before they get better,” I replied, studying Lafitte’s face.

  Lafitte’s expression melted into a stone-serious one. “He told you that?”

  I nodded. “Why? What does it mean?”

  Lafitte walked over to a cabinet where he kept bottles of wine and brought one out. He popped the cork and said, “I don’t know. The only thing I can interpret from that is change. And if change is coming to a place like this, not everyone will survive.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Travis, Khenan, and I slept in hammocks in the hull. We’d stayed up most of the night, drinking and playing poker with the pirates. I slept so soundly it seemed nothing could wake me—until someone called my name.

  “Heath, get up.”

  I recognized the voice but tried to ignore it.

  “Damn it, Heath,” Gavin said more insistently. “I know you can hear me. You need to go back to the plane and do something about my corpse. I can’t believe you went out there and did nothing but get that stupid bag.”

  I decided to tune him out. Maybe if I treated him like an unwanted advertisement, he might eventually fade away, like Lafitte’s first mate. I turned to the side and pulled the sheet over my head.

  “Oh, I get it,” Gavin said derisively, “you don’t want to take responsibility for what you did to me, huh? You’re gonna leave me out there forever, is that it?”

  I clenched my teeth. I wanted to sit up and yell at him that it wasn’t my fault he’d died, but I kept my mouth shut and threw my arms over my head, pressing my biceps against my ears to block out his voice. I closed my eyes, doing my best to disregard everything he said from that point on, no matter how vulgar or unfair it was.

  The golden rays of the morning sun came in through the window. An echo of Gavin’s voice lingered in the air, but it faded like lowering the volume on an annoying disc jockey on a radio. When I finally opened my eyes, he was gone.

  As Travis and Khenan continued to snore, I got out of the hammock. I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. I stretched my arms and back, spotted my bag lying on the floor, and decided to do something I’d wanted to do for days—brush my teeth.

  I rinsed my mouth with water from a bucket that had caught the previous day’s rainwater and spit over the side of the ship. The fog already covered the area. I slid my tongue over my teeth, feeling the minty freshness I’d taken for granted and debated whether to change clothes. But I’d wait until I took a shower at the waterfall.

  By the time I finished with my teeth, I was ready to get on with the day. My stomach grumbled and my head hurt from drinking. The leftovers from our shark dinner had been thrown overboard. Unlike dead things from the outside, the flesh of the native dead rotted fast.

  An hour had gone by before I went back down. “Khenan,” I whispered, “wake up.”

  He slowly raised his eyelids and groaned. “I got an ’eadache, mon. Is cruel to wake a mon wit an ’angover.”

  “I wanted to let you know that I’m heading back to the village. Do you want to come or are you going to stay here?”

  He closed his eyes for a moment, then slowly rose, his eyes still closed. “I’ll go wit’ you, but whatcha up so early fa?”

  I held my tongue about Gavin. “Just an early riser, I guess.”

  Smacking his dry lips together, Khenan finally opened his eyes. I went over to Travis’ hammock and shook him. “Get up, we’re leaving.”

  Travis didn’t stir, just kept on snoring, oblivious to the world.

  “Let me ‘andle dis,” Khenan offered, pushing me aside.

  I took a couple of steps back as he grabbed the hammock and yanked it, flipping Travis onto the wooden floor. The thud was so loud it woke a crewman sleeping nearby. He said nothing, only raised his head slightly, looked at us, and sank back into his hammock.

  “Why’d you do that, mate?” Travis asked, rubbing his shoulder.

  “I wanted to see ‘ow far I could flip an Englishmon.”

  “Apparently pretty bloody far,” Travis grumbled, standing up. “You best sleep with both eyes open, ’cause I’m gonna get you for that.”

  We gathered our belongings and left the ship, taking the star lamp Laffite gave me when I asked for it. I led the way to shore, following the planks. On land, we headed north toward the village. I couldn’t explain it, but as we got closer, a heavy feeling weighed on me, as if a giant had me pressed under his thumb. It got to the point where the heaviness became so overwhelming it was like I was walking through quicksand. I tried to maintain a normal pace and said nothing about it. I figured it had something to do with the alcohol I’d drunk.

  Marissa called to us as we reached the village. “Guys, guess what happened!”

  Tammy was behind her, running as fast as Marissa, her dark eyes wide and cheeks red and glossy.

  “Wah?” Khenan asked.

  I knew the news would be bad and hoped it had nothing to do with Eleanor.

  “Inglewood is dead,” Marissa blurted.

  Two conflicting emotions shot through me—shock and relief.

  “Dead?” Travis echoed. “What the bloody hell happened?”

  “He didn’t come back yesterday,” Tammy said, “so someone went to check on him.”

  “Didn’t come back from where?” Khenan asked, his voice rising.

  “He went to feed that Viking girl,” Marissa replied. “Y’know how he is, sometimes he stays there for hours at a time, but never all day. This morning they found him by her cage.”

  “Jesus,” I said, “what killed him?”

  “She did,” Marissa said. “She somehow got out of her cage and slit his throat.”

  “That little thing?” Travis said in disbelief.

  “You mean that vicious little thing,” Marissa retorted.

  “Has she been caught yet?” Travis asked.

  Marissa shook her head. “No. She must’ve high-tailed it into the forest. She’d best not come back to loot our shit like she used to or she’s gonna get a bullet in the leg.”

  Eleanor stood on the edge of the pier, looking in our direction. While the others continued to talk about Inglewood and his killer, I started toward her. She rushed down the steps and ran to me. I picked up my pace, and a few seconds later, I held her in my arms.

  “Oh, it’s awful, utterly awful,” she said, burying her face in my chest. “He was such a good man. He didn’t deserve to be killed in such a brutal manner.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I held her as she sobbed.

  “Heat,” Khenan called from behind me, “we gonna go see ‘im. Wanna come?”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to see another dead body. In fact, I was positive I didn’t. But Eleanor loosened her grip and said somberly, “You should go. It’ll help you understand the kind of danger this place presents.”

  Her voice was stern yet gentle, like a mentor teaching a student a hard lesson in life. I didn’t argue. I only nodded and followed Khenan and Travis down the shoreline. When I looked back, Eleanor had her arms wrapped around herself, her long blonde hair draped over her bare shoulders, reaching just below her breasts. I wanted to turn back more than anything.

  We passed various people on our way. Some cried and others talked among themselves. We said nothing and kept moving until we reached the path leading to the cage. Inglewood’s body lay near the feeding slot. As we approached, a man standing near the corpse ran into the woods to vomit. I was certain I didn’t want to see.

  When we reached Inglewood, Travis crossed himself and gasped, “Lord be merciful.”

  A powerful numbness dulled my senses. I felt nothing as I gazed at the butchered body, studying it like t
he Mona Lisa at the Louvre. Inglewood was on his back, with one leg over the other. His arms were above his head, as if he’d been killed during a stickup. The wound across his throat was jagged. A sharp, bloody rock was nearby.

  “How did she get out?” Travis wondered.

  “Through that hole up there,” a woman said, pointing at an opening near the top of the cage. It had been pushed up by the same tree Inglewood had talked about cutting down. It wasn’t big enough for a grown person to squeeze through, but enough for a girl like Sassy.

  Inglewood must have arrived just as she was getting out and she attacked him before he could stop her. The food dish was empty, but there were vegetables scattered around him. After killing him, she must have eaten what she wanted and fled into the woods.

  “Since he was murdered, we can give the poor sod a proper funeral,” Travis said.

  I realized why Eleanor wanted me to witness this scene. She needed me to see that horrible things could happen in this lost section of the Bermuda Triangle. I had to abandon any sense of security I harbored from the outside. Here, the human race wasn’t at the top of the food chain. We were somewhere in the mix. Travis and Khenan knew better, that was why they wanted to come with me out to the junkyard. Being a lone wolf out here was a surefire way to get killed very quick. That made me dizzy.

  * * *

  That night, we held a wake for Inglewood at Miller’s tavern. The people who knew him best said a few kind words and then Eleanor made a toast in his honor. After that, it didn’t take long for the mourners to get drunk. As the drinking continued, Mrs. Turk sniffed around for a young man intoxicated enough to take her home. Carlton tried getting in on the action but she wouldn’t have it. He was too old for her.

  Eleanor was in no mood for conversation after her toast. We shared a table with a few others, and whenever I glanced at her, she smiled, but her eyes couldn’t hide her sorrow.

  Some spoke about Inglewood, while others continued to drink. The tavern was packed and poor Paddy could hardly keep up with the orders. Finally, the bar was tapped out. What liquor there was worked its magic, and Carlton and Mrs. Turk left together.

  Soon afterward, Eleanor stood up. “Heath, I don’t want to be alone tonight. Will you come and have a drink with me in my hut?”

  It seemed inappropriate but I was delighted. “Sure.”

  I met her back at her place after returning to my hut. She asked me to wait outside if she wasn’t on the porch when I arrived. I waited on her front porch and admired the village lit up in different colors against the endless black sky. When Eleanor returned, she wore a green T-shirt and a long flowing skirt. She held two wine glasses in one hand and a bottle in the other.

  As she handed me a glass, I asked, “Is this the same wine I had at the Welcoming? That stuff went straight to my head.”

  “I’m sure it did. You have to build up a tolerance to the things that grow here. But no, this came from the outside.”

  I took comfort in that. The other wine had put me on my ass and I didn’t want to get sloppy-headed around her.

  “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the lamp I held.

  “I thought I’d give you stars,” I said, handing it over.

  With her free hand, she accepted it and studied it a moment.

  “Oh, darling, this is wonderful. Thank you.”

  Her wide smile was all the gratitude I needed.

  She sat the lamp near a chair. “Ah.” She sighed, sinking into the chair. “This is more like it.” She filled her glass with an amber-colored liquor, then handed me the bottle.

  Her pale skin had turned golden in the glow of the lanterns. As I poured my own glass, she said, “I’ve seen photographs of women in string bikinis sunbathing on the beach. If I ever leave this place, that’ll be the first thing I do. In my day, a woman would never show so much of herself. Do you like it?”

  “Girls in string bikinis?”

  “No, silly,” she said with a giggle, “the wine. Do you like it?”

  “Oh, wait a second.” I took my first sip. “It’s very nice and sweet.”

  I found myself hypnotized by her eyes. If she told me to leap off the porch, I probably would, without question.

  “It’s the last bottle I have. My ex had tons of wine and brandy on his boat. When I left him, I took some for myself.”

  “Really?” I liked it less after hearing where it had come from.

  “He drank constantly after we arrived and I feared he’d do something that would put him in his grave. I disliked him from the start but I never wanted him hurt.”

  As she stretched her legs, her skirt slid off her calf. She pointed her toes and swung her foot a couple of times before crossing her legs. “The Victorian era was a terrible time for women,” she said matter-of-factly. “We wore layers and layers of unnecessary clothing all year ‘round. In those days, a man had no knowledge of a woman’s body. The law even prohibited the use of female cadavers for medical study. Doctors could touch a woman only in places her clothing didn’t conceal, which meant her hands and face.”

  “That sounds rough,” I remarked stupidly.

  She nodded and took another sip. “You have no idea. In an ironic way, coming to this place was my ticket to freedom. Here, I’ve been able to live long enough to benefit from the thoughts and views of modern women.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like life in general. As strange as it may seem, I’ve learned to enjoy life during my stay in the Devil’s Triangle.”

  She drained her glass, then stood and walked over to me. She came so close our knees touched. Looking down with a girlish grin, her blonde hair framed her face perfectly. One hand rested near her inner thigh, while the other still held her wine glass.

  My heart began to pound. I realized what she meant by telling me she didn’t want to be alone. After losing her friend, she wanted some comfort. Death heightened sexual behavior in some people, probably because it reminded them that life is short, even on an island of immortals.

  “In my time, women weren’t supposed to enjoy sex,” she said huskily, leaning toward me.

  I swallowed nervously. She was a hundred and thirty-five years older than me. That difference far surpassed Dustin Hoffman and Anne Bancroft in The Graduate.

  “Do you?” I asked, my body trembling.

  Her answer was in her kiss. I could taste the sweet wine on her lips. She gripped my wrist, forcing me to drop the bottle. Her mouth pressed against mine and she moved my hand under her shirt, guiding it to her breast. A moment later, she stepped back and raised her shirt above her head. Her long hair dropped gracefully back over her shoulders as the shirt fell to the ground.

  I could have sat in that chair and admired her all night long, but she pulled me to my feet and led me inside. At that moment, my thoughts about escaping the island vanished from my mind.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Eleanor and I sat outside on her round wicker chair with only a blanket covering us, staring at the dots of light glowing through the tiny star-shaped holes of the lamp. The dots of light shone everywhere, on us as well as the porch ceiling.

  “Heath,” she whispered.

  “Yeah?” I said softly, sliding my fingertips lightly over her arm.

  “What did you do out there in the real world?”

  I still wasn’t used to the incarcerating way that sounded, in the real world. But at that moment, I didn’t care. “I taught people how to fly planes.”

  “That sounds exciting. Where did you live as a child?”

  “With my mother and grandmother in Northern California, until I graduated from high school. Then I went backpacking for a few years, until I went home to live with my father on the Wailaki reservation in Whitethorn.”

  “Tell me about your tribe.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  Her shoulders moved up on my chest. “I don’t know. Their history.”

  I thought for a moment. There was a story to tell but it took a whil
e for me to remember it. It had been a hell of a couple of days. My mind and body were exhausted, the latter which still tingled with pleasure.

  “My great-great-great-grandfather was killed at the Horse Canyon Massacre. He was twenty-two at the time. It was in September and the tribe needed horses for hunting when the winter came. He and sixteen other warriors went to the Round Valley and were shot down by the settlers they tried stealing horses from.”

  “That’s awful,” she gasped.

  “Have you ever heard about the Horse Canyon Massacre?”

  There was a moment of silence. “I think…I think I have…yes, I do remember reading about it in the papers weeks after it happened.”

  The fact that she’d read a piece of my tribe’s history dating back over a hundred years blew my mind. But, instead of getting caught up in the bizarreness of that, I went on. “My father told me the story the same as his father told him.” Then I said something I thought I’d never hear myself say. “And someday I’ll tell my own children.”

  Again, silence fell between us. I hardly noticed it, but what I’d said stunned me.

  Eleanor sniffed and rose off me.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “To get us some water.” She hurried toward the door. “I’ll be right back.”

  Her words trembled like a 6.0 earthquake. She was distressed about something, but I didn’t have time to ask before she disappeared into the house. Still, I got to my feet and caught the door before it closed.

  Candles gave me a view of her in the kitchen by a counter. She had one hand cupped over her eyes, sobbing softly.

  “Eleanor?” I said from the open doorway. “Are you all right?”

  She jumped and turned to me. “I’m fine. Sorry, it’s just that there are some things in life we cannot change. Coming here, I broke free from my controlled lifestyle. But it also took something from me.”

  “Whatever I said, I’m sorry if I—”

  “It’s not your fault. Making love to you this evening brought me more pleasure than I’ve ever experienced. It’s what we can’t gain from it that saddens me. What we can’t bring into this world.”