Horizons

by Catherine Hart

  Despite Roberts’s claim that it was far too late to do anything about Wynne, they dashed down to the shoreline. Blinking away tears, and shading her eyes from the glare of the fast-setting sun, Kelly scanned the rolling waves. “I can’t see her. Does anyone see her?”

  “I thought I saw something bob up, way out there,” Gavin replied excitedly. Then, on a depressed note, “No, I think it was just a swell—the way the light caught the top of a wave.”

  “Maybe we should try to swim out and look?” Zach suggested.

  “Too dangerous,” Frazer put in swiftly, before Zach could put words to action. “The undertows around these islands are notoriously treacherous. Moreover, it’s going to be dark soon, and you won’t be able to see worth beans. Also, chances are if you did bump into something in the dark, it would be a lot more menacing than poor dead Wynne.”

  “He’s right,” Alita agreed with a shiver. “We can’t risk more lives, especially if she’s already past help.”

  “At least we can search the shore, can’t we?” Blair contributed woefully. “Her body… she might have washed ashore.”

  They traversed the beach for over a mile in each direction, until it was too gloomy to see anything but indistinct shadows.

  “We’ll try again in the morning,” Zach said, once they were assembled back at the campsite.

  “It would be nice to give her a decent burial,” Kelly said sadly. “She was such a sweet woman, and you could tell she loved her husband to distraction. It’s all so tragic.”

  “Which is why she went loco and killed herself,” Alita pointed out dismally. “I hope I never love anyone that much.”

  “I hope I do,” Kelly rebutted. “And I hope I find someone who loves me just as greatly. Not that I’d want him to kill himself over me, mind you. I just want him to care for me with all his heart.”

  “What bothers me,” Blair put in, “is that, for all intents and purposes, Wynne committed suicide. Wouldn’t that have been against her religious beliefs, especially if she wanted to join her husband in heaven?”

  Roberts spoke up for the first time since they’d all gathered together again. “I reckon she thought she got the okay from God, so I don’t guess He’ll hold it against her. Wasn’t like she was in her right mind. When I called to her to stop, she even turned and waved. Had this funny sort of smile on her face, like she was almost happy. ‘I’m going to meet my James now,’ she said. Then she toddled off again, ’til this wave came along and… and that’s the last I saw of her.” The big man sighed heavily. “She never came up again. I don’t reckon she even tried.”

  “You liked her, didn’t you?” Blair surmised quietly. “Beneath all that gruff talk of yours, and all that cursing, you liked Wynne.”

  “Yeah,” he admitted, sounding abashed. “She reminded me o’ my granny. Real religious, always tryin’ to make you mind your manners, as true-blue as they come. Not many women like that anymore. Mary Beth sure wasn’t.”

  If Kelly hadn’t been watching him closely, she might have missed the way his eyes misted slightly, how he bowed his head to hide it, blinking rapidly. On closer inspection, there were faint tracks in the dirt on his face, and his nose appeared more red. She couldn’t help but wonder if the man had been crying, and she was very touched by the thought. Maybe he wasn’t as cold, as hard-hearted, as they’d all assumed he was. And she could only imagine how traumatic it must have been for him to sit helplessly by, while Wynne drowned herself right in front of him. Not to mention that he had, despite being bound, kept Sydney safe from harm.

  On impulse, Kelly turned to Zach and said, “Let him loose.”

  Zach looked at her as if she’d just grown a second head, one without a brain. “What? Are you nuts?”

  “I’m perfectly sane. I’d also like to think I’m a fairly reasonable, humane person.”

  “But not too smart, apparently,” he told her bluntly. “Turning a self-confessed murderer loose in our midst would not be a particularly wise move. It’d be like buying your canary a cat to play with!”

  Kelly just shook her head at him. “Can’t you see, though? In trying to protect ourselves, we only made things worse. Roberts is right. We all share in the responsibility of Wynne’s death.”

  “Look, I know you’re feeling a little guilty right now. We all are,” he acknowledged. “But that doesn’t mean we should let compassion rule and go off the deep end.”

  “He saved Sydney,” Kelly argued stiffly.

  “So that suddenly makes him a saint?” Gavin asked incredulously. “Guess it’s true what they say about dumb blondes.” His dark eyes scanned Kelly’s figure in a frankly appraising way.

  “I agree with Kelly,” Alita chimed in quickly, surprising them all. “Just look at his wrists. They are scraped raw. You can tell he fought to get free.”

  “Sure, but to save Wynne or his own hide?” Frazer countered.

  Alita struck a haughty stance, hands on her hips. “So where would he go if he was loose? Nowhere!” she declared, answering her own question. “We’re on an island, estupido! There is no place to run to, unless one wishes to go round in circles like a mad dog!”

  “Which he well might be,” Zach reminded her. “I certainly wouldn’t sleep soundly, knowing he could creep up and bash me in the head some night.”

  “Can’t we let him free during the day, and tie him up at night?” Blair proposed. “That way he could move around, get proper exercise, feed himself, and we still wouldn’t have to worry about being attacked in our beds.”

  “We don’t have beds, but I get your point,” Frazer noted.

  “For the sake of argument, what’s to keep him from attacking one of us in broad daylight?” This from Zach again. “Or from taking off and hiding in the woods, only to sneak up on us when we least expect it?”

  “We could watch him during the day,” Kelly submitted. “Keep a constant eye on him. At six against one, the odds are in our favor. He needs some amount of movement, at least, Zach. It’s criminal to keep him chained up constantly.”

  “Besides, we’ll probably be rescued within a few days, at most,” Frazer added, playing Devil’s advocate now.

  Zach remained firm. “In that event, it wouldn’t hurt to keep him bound. He’s the actual criminal, after all, and hugging a tree for a couple of days isn’t going to hurt him.”

  “I say we put it to a vote,” Kelly suggested, aware that Frazer was waffling and taking advantage of it.

  “Do I get a vote, too?” Roberts inquired wryly.

  Gavin sneered. “Get real. I say no, keep him tied up.”

  Zach nodded. “Ditto.”

  In quick succession, all three women voted to free him, but only during the day.

  Frazer hesitated.

  “Well, Fraz? What’s it going to be?” Kelly prompted. For good measure, she added, “What do you think Wynne would want us to do?”

  “Dirty pool!” Zach complained.

  “Free,” Frazer announced finally. “But not until morning. I want at least one night’s decent shut-eye.”

  “You gonna be able to sleep, with that boy’s body lying there, and Wynne likely to wash ashore with the tide?” Gavin asked, his tone intimating that he wouldn’t be resting too well under those circumstances.

  His comment reminded them that Wynne wasn’t the day’s only victim. Zach heaved a weary sigh, eyes closed as if in prayer. “Lord, when is this going to end?”

  “Soon, Zach,” Kelly murmured, reaching out to touch his hand in commiseration. “Help will come.”

  Blindly, he took her fingers in his and held tightly. “But will it be soon enough?”

  * * *

  They buried the boy by torchlight, none of them wanting to leave the chore until morning. Their impromptu grave side service included a prayer for Wynne. Afterward, they sat around the campfire, morose and silent for the most part, waiting for their breadfruit to bake in the coals. One by one, they gradually drifted off to sleep, each hoping that tomorrow wo
uld bring deliverance—or, failing that, less death and disaster.

  There was no sign of Wynne’s body the next morning, for which they were all privately thankful—which was about the only thing for which they were grateful at the moment. Again, it was bananas and coconut for breakfast, along with chunks of cold breadfruit. Even little Sydney wrinkled up her nose at the limited fare, as if to say, “Same old, same old.”

  “Water, water everywhere,” Blair quoted drearily, staring out at the ocean, “nor any drop to drink.”

  “Or to wash with,” Kelly grumped. “I hate to think of having to clean up in salt water. In fact, I doubt it’s really possible. I know swimming in it leaves your hair sticky.”

  “You might get the dirt off, but the salt would dry on your skin and most likely itch,” Blair agreed. “And I don’t think I’d care to try it except as a last resort. I break out in a rash just from lake water. I think it has something to do with the algae, or maybe the fish.”

  “Well, I’d give my right arm for a bath right now. Or a shower. Even a quick slap with a washcloth.”

  “And a change of clothes,” Alita added wistfully. “Even a hairbrush would help.”

  “That I’ve got,” Kelly said, brightening. “There’s one in my purse, and if you two don’t mind sharing, neither do I.”

  “Oooh! Get it!” Blair cooed in delighted anticipation.

  “And a nail file, if you have one,” Alita all but begged. Kelly reached eagerly for her purse. Just then, Zach called out, “C’mon, ladies. Shake a leg! We agreed to get an early start today.”

  Kelly and Blair groaned. Alita cursed in Spanish.

  “Can’t you guys go, and let us girls tend the home fires?” Kelly suggested hopefully.

  “No, we really need you. The more people we have looking, the more territory we’ll be able to cover at a time.”

  “What did I tell you?” Alita hissed, shoving to her feet. “He’s the Energizer Bunny in disguise.”

  “Now he wants to explore that blasted jungle again, like Indiana Jones. I’m telling you, if we don’t find water soon, he’s going to drive us all wacky,” Kelly muttered. She tossed her knapsack and purse into a nearby clump of bushes, where they would be concealed until she got back.

  “Why’d you do that?” Blair asked, half curious and half amused. “It’s not as if someone is going to come along and steal your wallet while we’re gone. Really, Kelly, we should be so lucky!”

  Kelly paused, then gave a wry laugh. “You’re right. I guess it’s just a habit with me, to stuff my purse out of sight somewhere. Comes from living too long in crime-ridden cities, I suppose. First Houston, and now Phoenix.” Today, there was no need to leave anyone behind to watch over an injured member of their party. The most badly wounded had already succumbed, everyone else was mobile—and Roberts, no longer tethered to his tree, was going with them. They would all take turns carrying Sydney.

  Off they trudged, again spread out in their search pattern as per the day before. Ten minutes later Zach called out the roll, and everyone grudgingly responded.

  “Egad!” Kelly groused loudly. “I feel like one of those kids who followed the Pied Piper.”

  Frazer, next in line, heard her and laughed. “Maybe we can carve Zach a didgerido so he better fits the role.”

  “I am going to hate myself for asking,” Alita called out, “but what is a didgerido?”

  Blair, on her other side, instantly supplied the answer. “It’s a long trumpetlike instrument that the Australian aborigines make out of bamboo.”

  “Yeah, just what Zach needs,” Gavin contributed sarcastically. “He already bellows like a bull elephant.”

  On cue, Zach shouted, “Pipe down and pay attention to your areas!”

  “I know precisely where I’d like to shove his ‘pipe down’!” Blair avowed.

  “Up with that pipe would be even better,” Alita proposed.

  A quarter hour later, they stumbled across their first significant find of the day. The lime tree was in Roberts’s sector, upon which they immediately converged.

  “At least we won’t have to worry about getting scurvy,” Blair said. “Not that we’ll be here that long… I hope.”

  “Hey! This is great! A little rum, and we’d have the makings for banana daiquiris,” Frazer noted. “I wouldn’t mind getting a little sloshed right now. My leg is killing me.”

  Roberts considered this a moment. “You know, there just might be a way to make us some home brew out of something on the island. That breadfruit maybe, or fermented coconuts. You can do it with everything from grain to potatoes, so one of these foods ought to do the trick.”

  “I’d settle for tea or coffee, myself,” Blair put in.

  “I’d be tickled with lime-flavored water, if only we had the water,” Kelly added.

  They loaded up on limes, stuffing their pockets full.

  “Okay,” Zach commanded, hoisting Sydney up on his shoulders. “Back to the search, troops.”

  Slowly, they began to disburse, dragging their feet like students reluctantly returning to class after recess. They’d taken but a few steps when Zach let out a yell loud enough to send the birds fleeing the treetops. Kelly whirled around, only to stare stupidly at the empty spot beside her—where Zach had been just a second ago.

  Chapter 8

  Before Kelly could comprehend what had happened, Gavin came dashing across the small clearing, his hands held straight out in front of him, palms up. He dived into Kelly, bowling her aside, and in the next instant Sydney fell into Gavin’s open arms.

  “What the devil?” Kelly muttered in confusion.

  At the same time, Sydney was shrieking and Gavin yelled breathlessly, “Got her! I got her! The kid’s okay!”

  “Thank God!” Zach’s voice floated down from above. As did the others, Kelly looked up, and gaped in horrified astonishment. Perhaps thirty feet overhead, Zach dangled upside down in mid-air, twirling slowly at the end of a vine which was wrapped around his ankle. The other end of the vine disappeared somewhere in the foliage at the top of a tree, no doubt attached to an unseen limb. Their immediate, amazed exclamations melded together.

  “Oh, my lands!”

  “How did he…?”

  “What in the…?”

  “Good grief!”

  “Get him down!” Kelly screeched. “We’ve got to get him down!”

  Again… “How?”

  And from Roberts, “Why? He didn’t want to let me loose. Besides, I think he looks real cute swinging around up there like a red-faced monkey.”

  “Toss me a knife, so I can cut this vine,” Zach hollered over the confusion below.

  “Dang, mate!” Frazer called back. “You’re hangin’ higher than most rooftops. Cut that vine, and the fall will surely break your neck.”

  “Climb it,” Gavin offered as a safer solution. “Haul yourself upright, and pull yourself up the vine, the way they do in rope climbing exercises in basic training. Once you reach a sturdy limb, you can work your foot loose.” By folding himself double, Zach managed to grab hold of the vine just above his ankle. The effort made him swing like a human pendulum, but at least his head was even with his foot now, the blood no longer pounding to his brain.

  “Be careful!”

  “Don’t untie the noose! Try to work your foot into it if you can, like a stirrup.”

  “Oh, God! I can’t watch!”

  Zach didn’t want to watch either, but necessity demanded that he keep his eyes open, no matter how dizzy it made him. Finally, his stomach lurching all the while, he maneuvered the loop over his heel and pulled himself into a standing position, losing his shoe in the process. Again the vine spun wildly, twirling him around like a top. He did close his eyes then, and fought to keep his breakfast down. The thick, twisted vine to which he clung with such desperation was old, dried out to the point of flaking, and creaked ominously beneath his weight—an audible warning of its brittle state.

  Praying as fervently as he’d
ever prayed, Zach coiled his foot in the loop and his hands around the upper length, and slowly began to hoist himself upward, inch by perilous inch. Several times, his sweaty hands slipped, nearly sending him plunging to the ground. His sore shoulder ached, crying out for relief from the strain.

  At last his head cleared the lower cluster of leaves. Daring to look upward, Zach was dismayed to find that the vine was attached to a limb still well overhead. Not that he intended to climb that high. Nor would that particular bough, slim and limber as it was, provide the support he required. Upon viewing it, he was vastly surprised, and grateful, that it had sustained his weight thus far. Surely, it wouldn’t do so much longer.

  Still spinning, Zach spotted a larger branch some distance out of his lateral reach. It was the only one near that appeared sturdy enough to bear him. There was one major problem, however. In order to reach it, he was going to have to swing himself over to it.

  “Okay, I can do this,” he told himself, screwing up his waning courage. “If Tarzan could do it, so can I.” He deliberately blocked out the fact that Tarzan had purportedly been raised by apes and trained to such daring exploits from childhood—whereas he, Zach, was in his thirties and, though fairly fit, not at all used to acrobatic endeavors of this level. Desperately wishing he could let loose long enough to dry his perspiring palms, Zach sucked in a quick breath and began to rock back and forth. Above him, the vine and its thin support groaned in protest. From below, he heard multiple gasps, echoing those in his own fear-frozen mind.