The Triangle

by Jennifer Victores

  Mark tossed the door onto the fire, which began to hungrily lick at the edges of the wood. He pulled a small, folding Swiss Army knife from his pocket and a tiny, airplane-sized bottle of whiskey from his other pocket.

  “How are you doing?” Mark asked, carefully eyeing his friend.

  “Worse than I look,” Dave said, his voice shaking slightly.

  “We can’t have that,” Mark said, trying to keep his tone light. The specter of losing Dave was hanging over his head. He knew that if they didn’t do something drastic soon, in another day or two, the priest would be dead.

  He crouched down and carefully removed the bandages from Dave’s shoulder, scowling as he surveyed the white puss oozing from the wound.

  He shook his head.

  “You never can do anything the easy way, can you?” he asked. “Always got to make it difficult.”

  Dave snorted. “Why would I want to make things easy on you?”

  “I’m not going to lie to you. This is going to hurt. A lot.”

  “I’m not going to lie to you. I’m going to be cursing at you. A lot.”

  “As long as you bless me later, Father,” Mark said.

  “Let’s get the cursing over so we can get to the blessing part, then, why don’t we?”

  Mark poured a little of the whiskey into Dave’s wound. The priest screamed and Mark did his best to ignore the stream of words pouring out of him as he took the knife and thrust the tip into the fire, heating it up. Not only would the blaze sterilize the instrument, but it would also make it so it would slice through flesh like butter.

  “Okay, here we go,” he warned as he took the blade from the fire.

  Mark took a deep breath and then shoved the knife into the wound in Dave’s shoulder. His friend screamed and immediately passed out, which was a mercy for both of them. Mark set about cutting out black, rotted chunks of flesh. The heat from the metal cauterized the wound as he worked so he didn’t have to deal with blood. The stench of the burning flesh turned his stomach and nearly made him pass out, but he did what he could to breathe through his mouth.

  When he was finished, he poured more of the alcohol into the wound to flush it out. Finished with that, he liberally applied antibiotics before bandaging it back up.

  As soon as he was done, he got up and walked a short distance away. His knees were shaking and eventually buckled. As he crashed onto the sand he began to vomit. That was the most horrible thing he’d ever had to do and he knew it would stay with him for the rest of his life. However long that was.

  ~

  It was three hours before Dave woke up. In that time, Mark had cleaned up and cooked the rest of the fish he’d caught.

  When Dave finally opened his eyes he groaned and wrinkled his nose.

  “When we get back home, I don’t ever want to see another fish again, much less eat one.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir. How are you feeling?”

  “Better, thank you. I think you burned all the toxins out of me.”

  “That was the idea.”

  “You know, I think that--”

  Dave abruptly stopped talking. He tilted his head slightly, staring fixedly at something beyond Mark’s left shoulder.

  “What is it?” Mark asked.

  “It’s a boat!”

  14

  Mark squinted, looking in the direction Dave was pointing. There, bobbing up and down on the water, was indeed a boat.

  “Shoot the flare!” Dave said.

  Mark scrambled for their pile of supplies, retrieved the daytime flare gun and fired it, sending the plume of smoke high into the sky. He held his breath for a moment, his eyes fixed on the ship. Slowly, she turned, coming to bear on them.

  “She saw our flare!” he shouted, tears streaming down his cheeks. “She’s coming!”

  Dave began praying fervently in Latin.

  Together, they watched with growing excitement as the ship drew closer. It was a small ship, and eventually they could make out what appeared to be its sole occupant.

  “It must be a fishing boat,” Mark mused.

  “Don’t you dare say fish.”

  “I don’t know, Dave. It looks pretty old.”

  “It could be the boat Saint James and Saint John were in when the Lord called them to be apostles and I wouldn’t care. We’re saved! That’s all that matters to me right now.”

  As the boat came closer, Mark realized it wasn’t even anything as grand as a fishing boat.

  It was a rowboat.

  His consternation quickly gave way to excitement. If the man was on a rowboat, that meant either the man’s ship was nearby or else civilization was.

  Either way it was the best news ever.

  ~

  Sally was having lunch out with her friend Meredith. She hadn’t wanted to go, but everyone—including her parents--had been bothering her about getting back into her life. People appeared to be worried that she was going to become some sort of recluse.

  The truth was, she wasn’t yet ready to talk about Mark with anyone.

  Still, she understood everyone’s concern, which was why, against her better judgment, she’d finally agreed to have lunch with Meredith. It was turning out to be an even bigger mistake than she’d thought it would be.

  “You need to have a funeral for Mark,” Meredith stressed, reaching out to grasp Sally’s hand. “I know how difficult this has been for you, but you’ve got to let him go. Everyone needs closure.”

  Sally blinked at her, wondering if she could possibly be hearing the other woman correctly.

  “Excuse me?”

  “A funeral. A celebration of Mark’s life. It’s time to lay him to rest figuratively, even if you can’t literally. You’ll never be able to get on with your life if you don’t.”

  Sally spoke through a clenched jaw. “That’s not happening. They’ve never found the ship or the bodies, or even any wreckage. Besides, I feel in my heart that he’s alive. You know that feeling you get, where it’s almost as if you can sense the other person? When you know they’re in trouble? Mark and I have always had that. He’s not dead. I’d know it in my heart if he was.”

  Meredith gazed at her sympathetically. “Honey, you’re deluding yourself,” she said, squeezing Sally’s hand. “Which is understandable, especially given the circumstances. Heaven knows I’ve been there. Not with the dead husband part, but with the deluding myself about my husband part.”

  Sally couldn’t believe her ears. Meredith’s husband was a womanizer who cheated on her frequently. And yet every time he came back begging at her door, Meredith forgave him and took him back, saying this time when he promised not to do it again, he was being serious and he would keep his word. The fact that she was comparing their messed up existence to what was happening to Sally now with Mark missing was insane.

  “I’m not holding a funeral until I have a reason to do so, and that won’t happen until I have a body,” Sally said. “That’s the end of it. Can we talk about something else, please?”

  “Look, this isn’t just about you. A lot of people loved him and need the opportunity to grieve and say goodbye. The fact that you would deny all of us that, well, it’s not fair,” Meredith said. “You need--”

  “Not fair? You want to know what’s not fair? It’s not fair that you’re lying, cheating husband is alive and with you while my Mark, the kindest, noblest husband in the world is…missing. Where is the justice there?”

  “How dare you say that to me?”

  Sally burst into irrational laughter, unable to contain herself. It was the only response she had for such an insane question.

  “Stanley is--”

  “Stanley is a pig,” Sally spat. “You’ve said so yourself on many, many occasions. What did he buy you this time to make you look the other way and tell yourself he’s not so bad? And who’s been there every time he’s made a fool of you? Who held you when you cried, and helped you dig your s
elf-esteem out of the garbage? Huh?”

  She paused for a moment, frowning at her friend. “Oh, that’s right. Me. Now when I need your support, you’re so quick to tell me I am the delusional one. Mark is not dead, and unless I see his body, there will be no funeral.”

  Sally stood abruptly and stormed out of the restaurant. She could hear Meredith blustering behind her, spouting something unintelligible.

  It didn’t matter. They were through. Meredith was a taker and always had been. Sally’s only mistake had been in thinking if she someday needed Meredith’s support, she would get it.

  That had so not happened.

  She managed to make it to her car and sat for a moment, clenching the steering wheel with one hand and wiping angry tears from her eyes.

  Her phone rang and Sally scowled. If Meredith was calling her to try to have the final word, then she had another thing coming.

  She glanced at the screen, but it wasn’t Meredith.

  It was John calling.

  She eagerly snatched it up and punched the button to connect the call.

  “Did you find him?” she asked breathlessly.

  “No, but we found…something. Can you come down to the office?”

  “Yes. I’m ten minutes away. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

  She sped out of the parking lot, skidding slightly as she turned onto the street.

  What could they have found? Why hadn’t he just told her over the phone? Hope and fear vied for dominance in her heart as she raced toward the Coast Guard station. She came to a red light and nearly ran it before slamming on her brakes at the last second.

  Breathe. Breathe. You won’t do Mark or the girls any good if you get yourself killed driving like a maniac, she told herself.

  It seemed like the longest drive of her life, with her mind and heart racing faster than the car’s engine. She finally reached her destination and a young man in uniform escorted her into John’s office.

  John was sitting behind his desk but immediately stood when she entered.

  “What is it? What have you found?” Sally eagerly burst out, unable to contain the words for even a second more.

  John looked perplexed, as if he was trying to find the words he needed.

  She didn’t understand what could be so difficult that he couldn’t just spit it out. Suddenly, a gleam on the wall caught her eye. There was a picture of The Guardians, her husband’s boat, hanging alongside all the other pictures of boats lost at sea.

  Her mouth gaped open and her stomach lurched.

  John turned his head, saw what she was looking at and quickly strode over to the wall. He tore the picture off the wall, crumpled it into a ball and dropped it in a trashcan.

  Then he heaved a sigh and met her gaze. “It appears we found the boat.”

  There was something peculiar about the way he said it, as if it was a question and not a statement.

  “What do you mean appears? Did you find it or not?”

  “It seems to be the boat.”

  “I don’t understand. How hard can it be? It’s either Mark’s boat or it’s not,” she said, getting frustrated.

  And if it was Mark’s boat, where was Mark?

  “We…I…it would be helpful if you could positively identify it.”

  She had the oddest reaction to his words, an icy finger flickering up her spine.

  Identifying the boat is a lot different than identifying a body, she reminded herself.

  “Where is it?”

  “It’s on an island about 45 minutes from here. If you wouldn’t mind taking a short journey, I’d like you to accompany me there.”

  “That’s fine. Whatever I have to do,” she hastened to say.

  “Great. We’ll go by helicopter. We can leave whenever you’re ready.”

  “I’m ready now.”

  He nodded and escorted her out of his office and down the hall. Five minutes later, they were in a helicopter, heading out to sea.

  Mark felt uneasy as he watched the shore retreat from view. The tiny rowboat they were in was not something he’d ever cheerfully venture onto the ocean in. Hopefully, the man’s fishing boat was nearby. He’d only spoken Spanish, but they had managed to communicate that they needed help. That was about all, which was frustrating. Hopefully it was enough.

  Fortunately, the man had agreed to take them off the island. Still, something wasn’t sitting entirely right with Mark about the situation. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.

  Mark also didn’t like leaving their boat behind, even if it was beached. He should have been rejoicing that someone had found them and was rescuing them, but something niggling deep inside him was extremely uneasy about the whole situation. Maybe it was the fact that the small vessel they were in felt as if it could capsize at any moment. Maybe it was the fact that their rescuer kept staring at them in a strange way. Then again, maybe it was just that he was terrified of what they were going to find out about Dave’s physical wounds when they got back to civilization and checked him into the hospital.

  Mark had done everything he could for him, but he needed professional care. What if what he’d done wasn’t enough?

  Every time he thought about it, he got queasy and felt a horrible sense of guilt. After all, it was his boat that had malfunctioned in the first place.

  He took a deep breath. They would get through this somehow. And being rescued by this man was a good first step.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Dave muttered.

  “Worry about what?” he asked.

  “None of this is your fault. You did everything right. We’re going to get back in time to save my life, given how this infection is spreading. Timing is everything, you know.”

  “Are you reading my mind again?”

  “No, just quieting my own. I’ve been telling myself this was an accident and I shouldn’t blame myself.”

  Mark shook his head. “You’re unbelievable. The last person you should be blaming for anything is yourself.”

  “Same goes for you,” Dave said doggedly.

  “I’ll stop if you do.”

  “Deal.”

  “Do you think we can trust this guy? He seems pretty squirrely,” Mark whispered, changing the subject. The man didn’t act as if he understood any English, but Mark didn’t want to take any chances on it.

  “I hope so, but it’s not like we really have much of a choice in the matter.”

  “I know we don’t. It’s just that I’m feeling really uneasy for some reason.”

  “I hear you. If it helps, I’ve got the flare gun with the last flare loaded into it in my bag.”

  “Great,” Mark said, rolling his eyes. “If it comes to that, just make sure you hit the guy and not the boat. We don’t need another boat going down with us in it.”

  “Technically, the first one didn’t sink,” Dave pointed out.

  “Thanks. That makes me feel loads better.”

  Dave shrugged. “At least it’s accurate.”

  “You know, for a guy whose job is all about faith, you sure are monotonously logical and precise.”

  “It’s a gift.”

  Suddenly, the man hissed something in Spanish and hunched his shoulders. He lifted his oars out of the water and cocked his head to the side as though he were listening to something.

  Mark’s heart began to pound. He wanted to ask Dave what the man had said, but he figured he had gotten the gist of it. The man wanted them to be silent because he had heard something.

  Whatever that something was, it was clearly making the man nervous and fearful. After everything they’d recently been through, Mark figured the odds were decent it should make them nervous and fearful, too.

  Unless he’s not a fisherman, but some kind of drug runner afraid of the authorities. In which case, we shouldn’t be quiet, but rather make as much noise as possible, he thought to himself.

  Making his decision, he filled his lungs wit
h air, preparing to shout as loud as he could. At the last moment, though, something stopped him. He thought about the pirates who had attacked Dave and him. They had easily been able to outrun the ancient ships in The Guardians, but they would be sitting ducks in this old dinghy.

  He strained his eyes and ears, trying to discover what it was that had sent their rescuer into such a state of alert. After several seconds, he still hadn’t heard or seen anything. Then, for just a moment, he thought he caught the sound of a motor. It was there one moment and then gone again. He glanced back at the tiny island they had left behind, wondering again if they had done the right thing.

  The rays of the sun began to pierce through the clouds and mercilessly beat down on them.

  “I forgot my hat,” he said suddenly.

  “What?” Dave asked, raising his eyebrows.

  “My hat. We left in such a hurry, I forgot to grab it.”

  “You can get a new hat.”

  “Sally gave me that hat.”

  “Sally will be so happy to see you she’ll buy you a hundred new hats.”

  Dave was right about that. He’d lost count of how long they’d been on the island, but there was no doubt Sally would be so happy to see him she’d cheerfully get him another hat.

  And he would never again go fishing without her.

  Scratch that. He would never go fishing again at all.

  ~

  “Where are we going?” Sally asked as she stared at the ocean below.

  “It’s a small, privately-owned island in the Berry Island chain near the Bahamas,” John said, his voice coming through on the headset she was wearing. “A philanthropist bought it a couple of years ago with the idea of turning it into an exotic animal hospital and sanctuary. There is a team on the island right now surveying it. They’re the ones who brought it to our attention this morning.”

  “Brought what to your attention?” she asked.

  He didn’t answer but merely shook his head. She still couldn’t figure out what it was that he didn’t want to tell her, but she was certain there was something.

  By the time they finally landed on the island, she was feeling completely sick to her stomach, both from the motion of the helicopter and the anxiety regarding what she might find.