The Pirate Episode

by Kristy Tate

  “Joel, what if we don’t drink the Witching Well water.” Since she had her back to him and she couldn’t see his face, she had no way to read him, other than the momentary pause of the paddle. “What if we drank from the Fountain of Youth instead?”

  Joel didn’t say anything for a moment but continued to paddle. “Why would we do that?”

  “Think of all the things we’d see and all the people we could meet!” Cami said, excitement edging her voice. “We could introduce ourselves to Abraham Lincoln, maybe even tell him to stay away from theaters. Maybe we could slip Hitler some Witching Well water and send him back to the dinosaurs where the only things he could harm would be raptors—and he’d have to catch them first. Just think of all the good we could do!”

  Joel chuckled. “I don’t think it works that way, Cami.”

  Cami trailed her hand through the water. “Instead of teaching biology, you could teach history. You’d be really good at it because you’d have been there!”

  “And what will you do?”

  “Me?” Cami realized she wasn’t very good at answering that question. In the past, her mom had pretty much made all her important decisions.

  The paddle splashed in and out of the water, but Joel didn’t make a sound. He was waiting for her answer. “What do you want to do?” he pressed.

  “If I could live forever, you mean?”

  “No. Living forever isn’t a very good option.”

  “Why not?” she asked. “We’re both young and healthy and with the help of the Fountain of Youth, we always will be!”

  “Do you want to have children?”

  “Of course!” Lots of them. She didn’t want anyone to be an only child like she was. She wanted her children to have brothers, sisters, maybe even pets.

  “Do you want to watch your children grow old and die?”

  Cami lifted her hand out of the water and dried it on her skirt. “I think that would be the most horrible thing ever.” She paused. “I guess…maybe I wouldn’t have kids.”

  “Really? Is that what you want?”

  “We could give some of the water to your mom, maybe cure her cancer,” she said after a while.

  “I thought of that.” Joel sounded gruff.

  She twisted to see his face. He didn’t look happy. “That’s a good idea, right? Curing cancer?” Spinning her legs around, she turned to face him.

  Joel shook his head, a small smile playing around his lips. “There’s no guarantee the Fountain of Youth is anything more than a myth.”

  “We thought that about the Witching Well,” Cami said.

  “We really don’t know if the Witching Well works,” Joel said.

  “What do you mean? I’m here, you’re here. What more proof can there be?”

  “We don’t know we’re here! For all we know, I’m having some fantastic dream and any moment I’m going to wake up on the floor of the biology room while you’re at your house doing your homework.”

  “Under that theory, how can we be sure of anything?”

  “We can’t.”

  Cami scooped up some water from the river, and flung it at Joel’s face.

  “Hey!”

  “Did you feel that?”

  “Of course I felt it.”

  “That’s how you know if something’s real or not. You feel it.”

  Joel stopped paddling.

  Cami tried to imagine a life without children. “Maybe kids are the way we live forever,” she said slowly. She fell silent, thinking about her own parents—the father who was never there, and the mother who was. Which was worse? They both seemed equally horrible. Cami’s shoulders slumped, and fatigue caught up to her.

  As if he could read her mind, Joel said, “I’ve heard it said that in this life we have two chances at a loving family. The first is your family of origin, and the second is the family you create.”

  She looked up at him, studying him in a new way. “I always wanted a family like Tessa’s,” she admitted, “with lots of siblings. A house full of people, laughter.” She turned so he couldn’t read her face. “I feel guilty saying that, or even thinking that. I know my mom should be enough. I’m enough, probably more than enough, for her,” she added in a much smaller voice, “I’m not even sure she wanted me.”

  “Your mom would do anything for you.”

  Cami met his eye. “Oh, I know. She’d commit murder for me.”

  Joel smirked and resumed paddling. “Yes, she would. And she’d probably get away with it, too.”

  “But I’m pretty sure I was never on her agenda.”

  “You are now.”

  Cami twisted her lips.

  “What about your dad? Is he completely out of the picture?”

  When Cami didn’t answer right away, Joel added, “I’m sorry if it hurts to talk about him. We can talk about my dad, if you like. He can’t be any better than yours.”

  “My dad’s not a bad man. Now that I’m older, I’m beginning to see he just wasn’t a match for my mom. For all I know, he may have wanted to spend time with me, but my mom wouldn’t let it happen.” Cami trailed her fingers in the water again. “He probably just got tired of fighting her.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “It seems likely, doesn’t it? My mom is such a bulldozer.”

  Joel didn’t disagree with her. “But it might also be an easier story to tell yourself. I know because I’ve told myself all sorts of stories about my dad.”

  “Like what?”

  Thunder boomed.

  Cami had been so engrossed in their conversation she hadn’t noticed the gathering storm clouds until they sounded.

  Startled, Joel looked up at the purpling sky. Clouds, dark and heavy, billowed above them. “We should probably find shelter,” he said.

  Boulders stacked like a giant game of Jenga lined the bank. Joel pulled the canoe to the side. Foliage edged the river, and the tip of the canoe disappeared into a giant fern. He stepped out, smashing green leafy plants with his big boot.

  After tying the canoe to the bush, he held out his hand to her. “Cami?”

  “Any idea where we are?” She took his hand and climbed onto the shore. “I’m guessing the Florida Everglades.”

  “It doesn’t matter as long as we’re together and safe. What more do we need?”

  Cami hadn’t spent a lot of time camping, but she remembered going with her cousins and a truck full of stuff. “How about sleeping bags, a propane stove, freeze-dried food, insect repellent, a tent, a flashlight for starters.”

  “Not necessary.”

  Necessary? She considered the thick foliage around her. Of course, there wasn’t a restroom or even a porta potty. Necessary suddenly seemed relative. She followed Joel through the jungle, pushing aside the sticker bushes trying to snag her clothes. Fat raindrops splattered around them.

  Joel pointed at a distant cave and headed for it. “Maybe we can find shelter and build a fire.”

  Cami followed. Drawing near, she peered into a cave so deep and dark she couldn’t see the end. She blinked in the gloom, but slowly her sight adjusted and she saw a fur rug on a dirt-packed floor, and a stack of wooden crates holding a variety of supplies including a jug, a bucket, and a knife.

  “Stay here,” Joel said. “I’ll gather wood for a fire.”

  “Wait, I’ll come with you.” Together they collected armfuls of fallen branches and twigs while the rain increased its intensity. Water rolled down Cami’s cheeks, neck and arms, drenching her.

  Back inside the cave, Joel arranged the fallen wood into a teepee and placed twigs beneath. Cami wondered how the logs could burn after being soaked in the rain.

  Joel picked up the jug, uncorked it, and held it to his nose. He poured ale on the wood. Using the flint and tinder he found beside the jug, Joel struck a spark. The pile of wood burst into flames. Joel leaned back on his heels, studying the smoke curling along the roof of the cave and into the sky. “We only have a few chances at being a dad,” Joel said, pic
king up their conversation. “My dad did it wrong.”

  Cami unfolded the blanket, drew it around her shoulders, and sat down on a fallen log in front of the would-be fire. “Maybe he did the best he could.” She pulled the blanket around her a smidge tighter, but her shivering increased. “I think my mom’s probably trying to do her best. She’s just not very good at it.”

  Joel sat beside Cami on the fallen log. Wrapping his arm around her, he pulled her against his chest. “We don’t have to be like our parents.”

  Pressed against Joel, Cami felt her shivering ease slightly. He held her tightly, resting his chin on the top of her head.

  She breathed out a sigh. “Why are we here? Why am I here with you?”

  “Those are two different questions.”

  “Then I want two answers.”

  Lightning crackled, thunder rumbled and Joel laughed. “So do I. I wish I knew if this is all a fantasy, a psychotic break, a hallucination, or something real that can’t be explained.”

  The fire quivered and sizzled and sent fragrant smoke into the air.

  “Whatever this is,” Cami said, “we should try to make the best of it.”

  Joel pulled the blanket so it shielded her face from the smoke. “And find our way home.”

  “Then what?” Cami asked.

  Thunder sounded, and the rain turned from a few desolate drops to a deluge. The fire, although protected in the cave, flickered.

  “I don’t think I could go back to high school and sit in your Biology class as if nothing ever happened!” Cami said, raising her voice above the storm’s escalating noise.

  “But how do we know anything ever did?”

  “We could say that about anything, right?”

  He laughed. “Absolutely.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “What you believe—your truth—is the only thing that matters.”

  “I don’t even know what that means.”

  Outside, the wind howled. Tree branches moaned and whipped against each other. But inside the cave, folded in Joel’s arms, Cami felt safe. “If this is all a delusion, I think you should kiss me.” She sought out his gaze. “Don’t you think so?”

  He smiled and shook his head. “No. It’s wrong.”

  “Says who?”

  “It would be wrong on so many levels.”

  “I can be wrong on all sorts of levels. No one would have to know.”

  He leaned away from her. “I would know. I could lose my job, my license.”

  “I wouldn’t tell anyone,” she whispered.

  “Cami.” He had pain in his eyes. “I can’t kiss you. I’m pretty sure if I did, I wouldn’t be able to stop.”

  “Would that be so bad?”

  He nodded. “Think about where we are. What if you got pregnant? I couldn’t live with myself.”

  “So basically, we can’t be together in the twenty-first century because it’s socially unacceptable, and we can’t be together in the eighteenth-century because it’s dangerous.”

  He gave her a weak smile. “Yes. You’re dangerous.” He paused. “To me.” He pulled her close and kissed her temple. “But how’s this? If we ever get to where we belong, we’ll date when you go to college.”

  “How do you know we don’t belong here?”

  “Or,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “if we’re still here when you turn nineteen—”

  “Argh! Why do you get to make the rules?” Shifting in his arms, she kissed him on the lips.

  He pushed her away. A chill shook her and her body turned cold. The storm raging beyond the cave’s opening seemed to subside. The wind stopped howling and the rain slacked off.

  Joel stood and turned away from her.

  Cami fought waves of humiliation. “Joel—” She reached out to him.

  He shook his head. “Excuse me,” he said in a strangled voice before he headed out into the storm.

  CHAPTER 10

  Cami pulled the blanket tightly around her and went after him. Rain fell in a constant drip. The wind whistled through the trees. Clouds obliterated the moon and stars. With darkness surrounding her, Cami had never felt so alone. She stood outside the mouth of the cave, calling for Joel, wishing he would reappear.

  Twigs snapped to the left and right of her. At first she thought it was just the wind, but eventually a crowd of men, as dark as the night, emerged from the jungle. Scarred, tattooed, and wearing little more than loincloths, they stared at Cami.

  She stared back. Maybe they were friendly. They didn’t resemble the villagers they’d met earlier, but that didn’t mean they were hostile. Although some carried spears. And what was that club thing bristling with spikes? And was that a necklace made of teeth? Whose teeth?

  A few months ago in a history class, Cami had learned of a Reverend Williams who, with his wife, was a missionary in the South Pacific. He built chapels, taught Christianity, and lived happily among the natives for many years. Then he was cannibalized.

  Cami screamed.

  All the natives joined her. Pointing their weapons at her, they encircled her. Their grace and practiced form reminded Cami of her school’s marching band. Still screaming, they edged toward her, tightening their circle so they stood shoulder to shoulder.

  Cami spun around, searching for a way out. Finding none, she called for Joel.

  The natives began to chant, “Joel! Joel! Joel!” Rough hands grabbed Cami around the waist and hoisted her in the air. She kicked her feet, flailing and writhing, but two men held her arms and two others carried her feet.

  They carried her through the jungle, screaming and chanting Joel’s name. Passing through a circle of huts, they stopped in the middle before a pile of rocks topped with a large flat stone.

  A sacrificial altar! Cami’s heart stuttered. She stopped wriggling only for a moment, then redoubled her efforts. The men placed her on the altar, holding her spread-eagle while two women emerged from the crowd. They carried vines, which they used to tie Cami’s hands and feet together.

  A voice boomed from the darkness in a language Cami had never heard before, but all of the natives were immediately hushed and subdued. Cami twisted her head to watch an enormous white man clad in a British red coat stride toward her.

  “Now what have we here?” he said, stroking his beard.

  He drew so close that Cami smelled him: liquor, tobacco, and sweat. Despite his uniform, Cami didn’t think he belonged to the British army any longer. The natives held him in such reverence she guessed he lived among them as some sort of ruler.

  He ran his finger down her cheek. “Pretty thing,” he murmured.

  “Please let me go,” Cami said. “I-I’ll pay you.”

  He chuckled. “With what?”

  Cami’s mind raced, trying to think of how she could buy her way out. Rustling in the trees made her head snap up. Joel? Her heart soared. But he was one man, and without a spear or club.

  All the natives grabbed their weapons and went to investigate. An explosion erupted, sending leaves and plants flying into the air. The natives scattered.

  The man in the uniform bellowed as Joel dashed out of the woods and aimed a rock at the man’s head. The rock went wide and struck Cami. Her world went dark as pain started at her temple and quickly engulfed her.

  #

  Yelling like an attacking Viking, Joel charged into the now nearly deserted camp. He felt dozens of eyes watching him as he raced to Cami’s side. She lay motionless, her eyes closed, her fair hair spread around her like a halo, her lips parted.

  With trembling fingers, Joel drew the water bottle from his pocket. He knew what he had to do. He had known for some time he had to send Cami home. Of course, he couldn’t be absolutely sure she would return to Connecticut, but then again, he wasn’t absolutely sure of anything, but maybe that was the point.

  Maybe this was his subconscious’ way of purging her from his thoughts and desires. He had to let her go. His hands shook as he unscrewed the lid. “Safe travels, my love,” he whispered a
s he dribbled a few drops of the precious liquid between Cami’s lips.

  He stood back as she disappeared.

  Collective gasps sounded around him.

  “Zounds!” the British man shouted from his hiding place.

  The natives edged from the woods. Slowly, they crept toward him, bowing their heads and casting their weapons aside. They dropped to their knees as though worshipping him.

  “Um, this isn’t necessary,” Joel said.

  He looked around for the man in the red coat, but he had disappeared.

  Joel drew out his map and addressed the men kneeling at his feet. “Say, anyone know how to find the Fountain of Youth?”

  #

  Cami woke with a splitting headache. Lying on her back, she gazed up at a dying afternoon sun filtering through a thick canopy of trees. Autumn leaves, a myriad of colors. Maple. Elm. Wait.

  With pain thundering in her head, Cami struggled to sit up. She managed to brace herself on her elbows. Glancing around, she realized she was no longer in the Deep South. This was Connecticut. At least it looked like Connecticut. She lay on a bank beside a pond of clear water. She spotted a cluster of stones. One of them had words etched on it.

  By these waters we do sleep

  Clothed in night so dark and deep

  Lady Moon who doth guide our dreams,

  Shroud us in your silvery beams.

  Take us to a distant time

  When love and hearts doth combine.

  The Witching Well. Of course. This was where Joel had gotten the water. She’d heard of it, but she’d never seen it, and she didn’t know where it was. She’d known kids from school who had gone looking for it, but as far as she knew, none of them had found it. Lying back against the ground, she felt a few tears leak out.

  She’d thought being captured by cannibals had been bad, but facing her mother filled her with absolute dread. How could she explain her disappearance? How could she find her way home? And where was Joel?

  She didn’t know how long she lay there, but after a few skin-prickling moments, she knew she wasn’t alone. Opening one eye, she saw a gray-haired couple staring down at her. Only one of them she recognized.

  “You!” She bolted up.

  The jailer from the islands flushed beneath his scruffy beard.