The Island of Ted

by Jason Cunningham

  Ted entered the medical tent first and laid Manny’s limp body onto Lanie’s bed. Ted and the others followed them in quickly and set the other boys, who were now conscious, flat on the ground. Lanie burst between them and attended to Jorge first. She poured alcohol onto a rag and wiped away a few wounded areas. He convulsed a few times and spit up a little blood.

  “He’s stabilizing,” Lanie said. “Small wounds.”

  Lanie turned to Nik on the floor and doctored his wounds as well. She quickly filled a syringe and pumped liquid into the boy’s small arm. He convulsed a few times. She dabbed alcohol onto his arm where shards of metal protruded as the boy thrashed wildly, looking around confused.

  “Is okay… only minor cuts. He’s got a concussion.”

  She turned to Ted and shouted, “Take here, hold his head!”

  Ted immediately took over, elevating the boy’s head. Lanie then turned to Manny, who wasn’t moving. She hesitated for a moment, not bothering to clean him with alcohol like she had the other boys. She slowly moved her body over his and gave him a motherly hug while checking his pulse with her hand pressed to the side of his butchered neck.

  He wasn’t breathing.

  A tear ran down Lanie’s cheek as she filled a syringe and injected it right into his chest. He didn’t move or convulse. He just stayed perfectly still. Lanie grabbed a small knife and made a vertical incision down his battered chest to his navel. She looked around frantically, searching for something. Ted used his free hand to toss her a box of latex gloves. She quickly removed the gloves and struggled to slide them over her shaking hands. It took an uncomfortable amount of time to get them on. It was hard for Ted to watch.

  Lanie began crying quietly as she separated Manny’s chest cavity with a metal clamp. The villagers looked away in horror as she gently massaged his heart in her hands, trying to force a beat. She massaged over and over and over. Several minutes passed.

  Ted’s eyes began swelling with tears. Only then did he notice that Manny was missing half of his right arm. Rene put his hand on Lanie’s shoulder. She wouldn’t stop. He tightened his grip authoritatively and she finally stopped. They could all hear Lynette crying outside the tent for her dead son.

  Rene gently touched Lanie’s face and said, “He’s with God now.”

  Lanie put her bloody hands over her face and cried into them. Ted switched off with another villager and walked over to put his arm around her blood-soaked torso. Along with Rene, the villagers began to latch onto one another as Jorge, frightened, rose up and walked out of the tent as if bewildered. The smallest boy watched the scene unfold with a look of overwhelmed terror on his face.

  The rain stopped falling around nightfall. Lanie sat on the beach watching the tide roll in and out, her medical coat still red with stains. Ted watched her from a distance and wondered what to do. He walked over and sat down next to her. They both stared straight ahead and Ted pondered what words of comfort he might use to ease the sting a bit. Instead of talking, he decided to just put his arm around her. She rested her head on his shoulder as tears fled her tightly closed eyes.

  • • •

  The next day, Ted brought a large team out from Manila to search every inch of the island. After a week the team concluded that Manny and his friends had managed to stumble across the only live land mine on the entire Island of Ted. The villagers took comfort in what the surviving boys had told them.

  “Manny fell on the mine to save us,” they said.

  Ted couldn’t help but weep as his mind shot back to his first angry encounter with the boy.

  This small kid with a giant heart… he just wanted a few coconuts. What kind of bastard am I?

  8

  Ted stood in the south beach village as rain soaked the entire camp under the glow of moonlight. They encircled the mound of dirt which housed Manny’s body. Rene stepped forward and opened his Bible.

  “A good name is better than precious ointment, and the day of death than the day of one’s birth. It is better to go into the house of mourning, than to go to the house of feasting. For by the sadness of the countenance, the heart is made better. Ecclesiastes, seven.”

  Ted’s eyes found Lanie, whose head was bowed, perhaps in prayer – a grieving soul making petition for the living. She wore her old coat, the one that was torn down the side. Ted figured she must not have been able to wash the blood out of her new one. Lynette sobbed quietly and then fastened onto Rene, who wore a stoic expression of comfort. Ted assumed him to be holding it together in order to strengthen the others. And it worked.

  “Today I bury a son,” he said. “But my hope is not in this world but in the paradise to come, when our Lord will make all things new. And there will be no more death or pain, crying or mourning. But for now we suffer these things. I commit Manny’s body to the ground in this hope. Goodbye, son.”

  As the tears streamed down Ted’s crimson face, he thought of his own father. Would Pops like what had become of his son? Would he be proud the way Rene was proud of his son who had one day earlier given his life to save two others. Ted knew the answer to that question and it was a heavy load to bear.

  A feast was thrown that evening in Manny’s honor but Ted withdrew to his own side of the island. He entered the massive foyer and looked around at his big screen TV, his leather furniture, the kitchen stocked with his favorite foods. The place he had built suddenly looked cold and lifeless, almost evil. He moved through the mansion like a ghost, picking up and replacing various ornamental items. The word useless echoed in his ears and was etched on his face. Finding himself in the spacious kitchen, he grabbed a bottle of aged wine and poured a glass. It wasn’t long before he was pouring another.

  • • •

  Rene found Lanie inside the medical tent tying her hair back with a rubber band. Laughter was heard outside the tent.

  Rene looked at her and said, “Will you be joining us? The feast is now starting.”

  “Hindi, Po. I’m going to see Ted.”

  “Invite him over. Is good to eat.”

  Lanie turned to Rene and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek before exiting the tent.

  A bonfire lit up the beach and fish were cooked over a spit roast. Lanie walked with a heavy sadness, but took a moment to watch the villagers in their moment of healing, before heading into the forest.

  • • •

  Ted, consumed by alcohol, straddled his couch as loud music blasted from expensive speakers. Not satisfied with the track, Ted stumbled over to the stereo system and began searching through his CDs. Then he heard something. It was familiar, yet strange. It was the doorbell.

  “Why did they install a doorbell?” he thought to himself. Even in a drunken stupor, the irony couldn’t escape him. He turned off the radio and heard the bell again.

  Good luck telling people I’m not home.

  Ted stepped cautiously toward the door. He opened it to find Lanie standing there with a tote bag, looking at him with great concern.

  “Are you okay, kano?” she asked.

  “Wonderful,” Ted answered with a slight delay.

  Lanie smiled to ease the mood but the look wasn’t returned by Ted. He left her standing in the doorway and started walking back to the kitchen. Lanie followed him inside and closed the door behind her.

  He began filling another wine glass.

  “Would you like a drink?” he asked.

  “No, thank you,” she said. “Ted, I just want to

  thank you for helping me with the boys.”

  “Helping?” he sighed. “Yeah.”

  Ted downed his glass like he was shooting a pill.

  “You are drunk? Maybe I come back.”

  “I might as well be,” he said. “It’s the only thing to do here in my big, expensive house. Look at this…”

  He ran his hand over the counter tops.

  “This is Italian marble. My guy out here paid some Filipino workers three dollars a day to install it.”

  “Ted… what y
ou saying?”

  “I’m saying the only thing I’ve done in my thirty-four years on this planet is consume resources. That’s it! Look at this house; I’m a monster, Lanie! I’m nothing. That bomb was on my land. Manny is dead because I couldn’t be bothered to clean up my own property! I had been here for how many months and didn’t…”

  Ted took a breath but couldn’t stop. “And to think… I tried to… I almost… screwed up your life too. Sweet Lanie from Manila who wants to help kids.”

  “Why you say that,” she asked. “Ted, can you speak slowly so I can understand?”

  He didn’t.

  “My father died building orphanages in a Mexican slum and I indulge myself in a house so big I get lost going to the bathroom!”

  Lanie jumped as Ted smashed his wine glass against the tiled wall of his kitchen.

  “And yet here I am… wallowing in pity, spilling my guts to a woman who doesn’t understand a word I’m saying.”

  Lanie searched his eyes, trying to communicate compassion despite the fact that his rapid-fire verbal assault didn’t fully compute. Ted stumbled back into the living room.

  “Ted, can you please slow down your speaking? I don’t understand you so well.”

  Ted finally obliged, speaking with increased temperance.

  “I should not have come here. What was I trying to achieve? How many people have I helped? And you… I don’t deserve to have you speak my name out loud.”Ted dropped to his knees, destroyed. Lanie bent down to his level.

  “Is reason for you be here, Ted.”

  “Lanie, don’t be naïve. You’re the one who’s here for a reason. This world I’ve created has done nothing more than make me increasingly aware of how inadequate I am as a human being.”

  “Is reason for everything, kano.”

  Ted smirked, almost in tears.

  “Ted,” she began in a soft voice. “I think of you in this way… as someone who sacrifice his life for a stranger in the snow. Someone who bring toys to little children. Someone who love and respect his parents. Someone who sees in me only the best things.”

  “I can’t take this,” Ted told her through mounting tears, with bitterness also present.

  Lanie put her hand on his shoulder.

  “I wish so bad I could speak in my language, kano, because I want to say something very much… but I don’t know it in English.”

  She sighed in frustration.

  Ted fought to steady his eyes on her and said, “Tell me anyway.”

  Lanie took a moment to consider. Then, suddenly, she began speaking to him in a foreign dialect with great passion and love in her voice. The words came quickly and flowed with emotion. She wept as she spoke, taking breaths between thoughts. Ted was lost in her words, lost in a tidal wave of love. She wiped back tears, with frustration, as her beautiful, unintelligible words spoke directly to his soul. The tenderness and longing in her voice were those of a parent talking to their child for the first time. Her voice then faded away; she was no longer able to speak from the heaviness of her sobbing.

  A long, palpable silence followed. Lanie reached into her tote bag and removed a shirt that she had made for him. She placed it on the floor beside him and quickly stood up and exited the house. Ted viewed her gift with wet, intoxicated eyes. His fingers grasped the shirt and gently unfolded it.

  It was a blue shirt with a white palm tree sewn in the middle. It was too much for him to bear: a gift of love for the unlovable. He took another three shots and passed out.

  9

  Two nights later, Lanie knelt on the beach in silent prayer as thunder crackled overhead, her white medical coat flapping in the wind. The villagers were making ropes and tying them to the roofs of their huts. Some were gathering fruit while others patched open windows with banana leaves as the wind grew in intensity.

  The locals always knew when something was brewing and were able to distinguish a passing storm from a life-threatening typhoon. This had all the makings of the latter. The camp was bustling with activity, yet Lanie was very still. She knelt lower, with her face almost touching the sand. Rene looked up and saw her on the beach and was glad to see that someone had not forgotten to do the obvious.

  Meanwhile, Ted sat on the couch with a plate of Pop Tarts, nursing a bad headache. He flipped channels, looking for a weather update since he, unlike the locals, didn’t know what to make of the thunder and wind. Finding a news channel, he raised the volume high.

  “… expected to hit the south-central Philippine islands in the coming hours. Residents are warned that a level five storm, also known as a Super Typhoon, could possibly emerge, producing winds of 250 kilometers per hour and surges of greater than five meters. Those in the regions of Cebu and Mindanao are urged to take cover immediately.”

  Ted sat up as his anxiety set in.

  “The western edge of the Filipino islands are expected to be the worst hit. Again, travelers are warned that a level five typhoon could strike the Philippines in the coming hours. The storm appears to be picking up steam.”

  Ted jumped to his feet and stepped onto the deck. The storm that greeted him was a visual spectacle: flashes of lightning revealed palm trees bending, manipulated by fierce winds. Each time the sky lit up, Ted could see an ominous wall of clouds advancing overhead like an unstoppable force. Chills racked his body – he had never seen anything like it before.

  Lanie’s face entered his mind and suddenly he took no thought of himself; only her, only the girl. Just then, heavy rain began to fall with a boom of thunder, as if someone in the sky had sounded a drum and released the floodgates. Soon Ted had no visibility, even under the strobe of those magnetic lights in the sky. He began to panic.

  Reaching for his raincoat and flashlight, Ted blasted out the front door and into the horizontal maelstrom. He ran with all his strength, trusting only in his familiarity with the island as his senses were rendered useless. The fury of the thunder deafened his ears and blankets of rain stopped his vision. Yet he ran.

  After taking serious ground, Ted’s foot caught a stump and he crashed headlong into the bark of a banana tree, splitting his head open. He stood to his feet in a bloody daze and continued on, picking up even more speed as he cantered through the darkened wetlands. Swells of rain pounded him without mercy and he despaired that he would ever find the south beach village. Images of Lanie being injured, or worse, assaulted him as he ran. Ted didn’t even know what he would do once he got to her, but there was no time for a plan – only action. Suddenly, his foot caught hold once more and he went down hard, this time twisting his ankle. He let out a painful yell but it was stifled by the rain. Ted stood back up and, ignoring the pain, continued his trek toward the south beach area.

  After what seemed like a good ninety minutes, he reached the clearing and sped down the embankment leading to the village with dangerous haste. Rene saw him and immediately ran to greet him.

  “Ted… you are bleeding,” he shouted, his voice competing with the onslaught of rain.

  “It’s okay. Are you guys safe? Where’s Lanie?”

  “She went up to your place.”

  “What?” Ted said, bewildered. “No.”

  “She told me she going to your place to see if you okay.”

  “I came from there… we should’ve passed each other!”

  A boom of thunder caused them both to jump.

  “Where is everyone?” Ted asked.

  “In their homes. Filipinos know when a storm is coming.”

  “The news… on the news… it’s a typhoon.”

  Suddenly, they heard the sound of snapping rope. Ted looked over his shoulder and saw the medical tent collapse. He quickly charged over and began digging through the mess, throwing the canvas walls back as he searched deeper. Ted saw Lanie’s Bible on the ground and snatched it up. The pressed flower fell out of its page and the wind blew it away from him. He looked back and saw Rene struggling to nail down a thin beam of wood to reinforce his roof. The rain began to descen
d with even greater force. Ted fought to move toward Rene as waves began to crash over the beach. It was like moving in quicksand while blindfolded.

  Ted grabbed Rene’s arm and shouted, ”These houses are going to go! The waves will bury this place – it’s not safe here! If you stay, everyone will die!”

  “There are more than thirty people in this village. What choice we have?”

  A look of epiphany hit Ted’s face. Suddenly, in that one moment, his entire life made sense.

  “My house,” he shouted. “It’s huge! Everyone can fit in there – they will be safe!”

  “How far?”

  “Just through the forest. Gather your family and I’ll go and tell the others!”

  Another wave crashed onto the island. The situation was becoming desperate. Ted raced from house to house, instructing them in broken English to get up and follow him.

  • • •

  Forty villagers – men, women and children – trekked through the mud as the trees swayed and bent violently. The villagers could hear the sound of snapping branches, above the rain, as their senses were assaulted from every angle. Flashes of lightning allowed them to move forward with some bearings. The wind was fierce, howling with anger as the villagers fought tooth and nail for every step.

  Ted led the pack, with Jorge snug in his arms. He grunted and battled as the forward march progressed. He had already forgotten about his head being split open and the twisted ankle: this was life or death. His eyes searched for Lanie each time the relentless lightning lit up the forest. He saw no trace of her.

  Suddenly, one of the boys lost his footing and sailed backward. Rene’s hand caught the boy’s arm and pulled him in close. The wind continued to blow like a freight train as crashing waves could be heard from the beach. Just then, they saw a pinpoint of light in the distance: Ted’s porch light. It became a beacon of hope, of safety. The villagers trudged on, making slow, but steady, progress toward the light. The rice stalks under their feet were flat against the earth, having given up the fight. Still, the surge of humanity went forward with Ted at the helm. And yet, he did not find Lanie.