Catching On Fire

by Sue Knott

  Except for the isolation, life was good in Tortola. There was the chance of a potential hurricane through November. But, the villa had “hurricane proof” windows and doors and its own generator, so we were set to weather anything that came our way – in theory.

  Chapter 64

  It was closing in on the end of August. We’d been in Tortola for weeks. I assumed we might be staying much longer since I hadn’t heard a single word from Amy.

  While the weather had been unbelievably gorgeous the entire time, the forecast threatened the possibility of a tropical storm or even a hurricane within the next several days. I figured we could handle a tropical storm. I supposed it couldn’t be worse than some of the more intense blizzards we’d had in Buffalo. But the prospect of hurricane made me nervous.

  I felt so cut off from the world in our villa. If we didn’t drive down to the beach, days would go by when we’d never see another human being. I considered the visits from the housekeeper and gardener to be like presents of humanity. If anything terrible happened to us, how long would it be before anyone would even know we needed help?

  If there was a hurricane, I could gas up the generator so we wouldn’t have to sit in the dark feeling helpless. (Sitting in the light feeling helpless wasn’t that much better, but every little advantage would help.)

  The next day the forecast made it sound even more certain that a hurricane would be coming our way. They still hadn’t upgraded the “tropical depression” to a “tropical storm,” but they were talking like that would happen at any time. I took the girls down to the grocery store and we stocked up on supplies.

  I tried to pick out things that wouldn’t require refrigeration, just in case the whole generator scenario didn’t work out. I let the girls pick out whatever snacks they wanted. As I remembered from storms in Buffalo, snacking was one of the prime family activities during a storm. Snacking and baking cookies. But, I was pretty sure we wouldn’t want to be turning on the oven in this tropical heat. With all the windows and doors shut against the storm, that villa would be transformed into a steamy nightmare.

  The next day they did upgrade the tropical depression to a tropical storm. And they continued to forecast that it would pass directly over Tortola – most likely as a category 3 hurricane. I searched around for all the supplies I could find. Fortunately they were pretty well organized. Flashlights, candles, matches, board games, even an extra supply of bottled water were all stowed in obvious places. I supposed if you lived in the Caribbean, summer hurricanes were a common threat.

  I was stunned the next day when there was a knock at the door. I hadn’t heard a car come up the road. And it wasn’t like a car could come up silently. Heck, I could hear cars coming up a road that was halfway over on the other side of the mountain.

  There weren’t a lot of privacy measures at the villa. It was all about the view. Large expanses of windows substituted for walls . Even the door was glass. And there was nary a drape in sight. I was totally unnerved as I approached the door. But, then my heart leapt! It was Jim! What was he doing here?

  I flung open the door. “Jim!” I threw my arms around his neck. Had it been that long since I’d seen him? He seemed to have filled out and changed so much. I wasn’t sure how I felt about his scruffy, new beard.

  “Hey, hey, hey, hey!” Jim backed up to release my grasp on his neck “sorry to disappoint you, but the doctor is not in.”

  I backed farther away. It looked like Jim. But it certainly didn’t sound like Jim.

  “Rachel, it’s Pete!” He stuck out his hand in greeting.

  “Pete! What on earth are you doing here?” It had to be Jim’s brother, Pete. I felt like I knew him from all the help he gave us setting up the CussedEmOuterwear.com site.

  The girls had come in from the pool deck to see what all the fuss was about. “Girls, you remember Jim? This is his brother, Pete!” The girls were thrilled to have visitor.

  “Hey, now, just because I’m related to Jim don’t hold it against me.” Pete smiled broadly at the girls.

  “Pete this is Gerry and Terry. Or, as they’re now known Chris and Pat.”

  “Please to meet you, Chris and Pat.” Pete shook the girls’ hands.

  “Well, come on in and sit down. You look like you’re about to drop from heat exhaustion. You didn’t walk up that hill, did you?”

  “It was more like crawled. That’s no hill. That’s one steep mother of a mountain.”

  The girls giggled. Pete was certainly not the “gosh, golly” kind of guy that his brother was. “Well, that helps us keep out the riffraff.”

  “Let one slip by today.”

  “Quite.”

  I poured Pete an ice-cold lemonade and we all sat around the kitchen table. “So, how is it that you’re here?”

  “Your friend, Amy, had been talking to Jim about how worried she was for you and the girls. Jim told her about me and Amy had him track me down. I think she’s worried you might be a bad influence on her girls. She figured I might be able to keep you in line.”

  “And you just dropped everything and came? That’s pretty amazing.”

  “I didn’t exactly drop everything. I brought it with me.” He hefted his backpack up on the table. “As long as I have my computer, I’m good to go.”

  “Well, I really appreciate your coming with that hurricane on the way.”

  “Fortunately, it’s really easy to get a seat on a plane headed toward a hurricane zone.”

  Pete got up to pour himself a second lemonade. I liked a man that so quickly made himself at home and was self-sufficient. But, when he rounded the corner into the pantry area, he was a tad surprised. “Holy crap! Did a junk food bomb explode in here?”

  “Are you criticizing our hurricane supplies?” There hadn’t been room in the cupboards for the bulky bags of chips and cookies, so I left them on the counter.

  “I think you can be arrested for contributing to the delinquency of minors. Or maybe child abuse. It looks like you could be the cause of America’s childhood obesity epidemic.”

  “Since we’re not in America, that can’t possibly be true. Do we have your favorite snacks? There’s still time to run to the store.”

  “Does this finely tuned hunk of manhood look like it consumes snacks?”

  “Forgive me for failing to notice your abs,” I lied. It occurred to me that he had failed to ogle my boobs. Just like Jim. I wondered if rather than being gentlemanly, the Kirkwood brothers just weren’t boob men.

  “How’s Jim doing?”

  “The subject turns to abs and the first thing you think of is my brother? That wouldn’t be the Jim I know.” A slight smile crossed Pete’s lips. “He seems to be having the time of his life plotting his course to saving the world. You know, if you’d tried dying of an incurable disease, you may have been able to get him to stick around instead of plotting a medical assault on the third world.”

  “Yeah, well, there’s something about dying of an incurable disease that doesn’t totally appeal.”

  “Just as I suspected. You’re a selfish bitch.”

  I looked pointedly at the girls hoping Pete got the idea that I didn’t use words like “bitch” around them. “I’m afraid that compared to your brother, I am.”

  “Yeah, well, same for Mother Theresa.”

  I laughed. “I take it you don’t take after him?”

  “No. He’s a real buzz kill. I’m much more fun at a party.”

  Pete then went on to prove just how much fun he was. He had the girls and me in stitches.

  Chapter 65

  The next day the predicted hurricane fizzled. When the storm finally hit us, it was just two days of rain and a stiffer breeze than usual. Pete said that he was with us for the long run, even though he’d rushed here specifically for the hurricane.

  It had really killed Pete to go “on the grid.” I felt a little guilty about that, but I didn’t think it would do him any harm. He didn’t seem like the type who would ever be on the run fr
om the law. Of course, neither did I. “Pete, do you know if there’s a warrant out for my arrest?”

  “Last I heard, there was no warrant. But they are actively seeking you for questioning.”

  “Hmm…how active is actively?”

  “As I understand it, they’ve interviewed everyone who knows you well. I know they talked to Jim. But, I don’t think the search has gone international – or even national. I mean, your face hasn’t been on the news or anything.”

  “That’s a relief. While your goal might be to stay off the grid, my goal is to stay off the news.” I wondered if Jim had shared the secret identity of Anne Hawn-Imus with his brother. If he had, Pete certainly wouldn’t miss an opportunity to torture me about it now.

  “This seems to be a pretty good place to stay off the news. I doubt they even have a news camera on the island.”

  It looked like Pete wasn’t aware of my blonde, publicity-hungry alter ego. Good. The fewer people who knew, the better. “I never thought to ask…those BVI passports you brought for the girls…are they listed as females on those?”

  “Yeah. Amy figured the closer to the truth, the better. And you should realize that you’re not ‘Belongers.’ I think that means you can’t vote. The classifications for citizenship in British territories are unbelievably complicated.”

  “Dang. I was hoping to make a difference in the next election. They’re thinking about putting restrooms down by the beach and I have strong views on that.”

  “Typical spoiled American with an affinity for modern plumbing.”

  I snorted resentfully at his pompous, outhouse-embracing self.

  “Hopefully, now that I’m here to complete the happy family, it’s less likely that you’ll draw the attention of anyone looking for you. Hell, I don’t even think the authorities know you have the girls.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, Amy has been laying low. She hasn’t let anyone know the girls aren’t home. Sooner or later, someone’s bound to figure it out. But, for now, she says no one’s come looking for them.”

  Amy’s FBI connection likely made that agency reluctant to interview the girls. She said she had connections with Homeland Security and other agencies. Maybe they, too, would hold off as long as possible in deference to her – if her connections were powerful enough.

  I don’t think they’d even be able to come up with relevant questions for the girls. It was pretty obvious the girls knew nothing about weapons. In fact, none of the Seers seemed to know anything about weapons. We’d never imagined the Glyphs to be about anything other than saving humanity.

  “Did they release any information on what kind of weapons we’re talking about?”

  “No. The Feds have been pretty tightlipped about the details. They were really pissed that the weapons information was leaked. I don’t think they want the world to know how much Glyphs code they’ve been able to make sense of. They’re probably afraid someone’s further ahead at deciphering than they are. Don’t you get any of this on the news here?”

  “There’s no reception. I think they may let their cable go for the summer. If they even have cable here.”

  “That explains why I never see the television on. I thought you might’ve banned it. And I couldn’t imagine a softy like you enforcing that kind of ban with the girls. But, you do have cable here. I’ve been flicking on the tube after you’re all in bed. You just have to know how to work the remotes.”

  I was as embarrassed about being called out for being soft with the girls as I was about not knowing how to work a damn TV set. But, I never claimed to be a technical whiz and I just didn’t have the heart to enforce super-strict rules after all those poor girls had been through.

  Unlike me, Pete was a disciplinarian. He had the twins getting onto a strict regimen of chores and reading. They might have rebelled if they didn’t adore him so.

  Pete was just as disciplined about his own habits. I felt like a degenerate in comparison. In this tropical paradise, I spent a lot of time liming (the islanders’ word for lazing around).

  That changed when the school year officially began. I started the girls on a formal homeschooling program. They were such excellent students, it really only took a couple hours a day to cover the material. I delivered lessons by the pool so we could cool off now and then. September was the hottest month of the year here.

  Pete worked several hours a day at his computer. He wouldn’t tell me what he was working on. After he was done with his own work each day, he’d show the girls how to perform some of his computer magic. At my request, those lessons were low on espionage tactics and high on things like Photoshop®, animation, and website development.

  Visitors could only stay in the BVI a month before needing additional documentation. So, Pete hopped the ferry to St. Thomas in the US Virgin Islands, planning to make his way back surreptitiously.

  I was anxious about Pete leaving. Having him here took away so much of my stress. If it took him a while to get back, I’d be under double stress: Dealing with the girls by myself, and worrying about what might have happened to Pete. September was a big month for hurricanes in the Caribbean, too…even more reason to worry about Pete making a speedy return.

  All that worry was for nothing. Everything went according to Pete’s plan. He was back on Tortola in less than two days.

  I was worried he might want to move into the guest cottage so he could have more privacy. When he first arrived, he took one of the spare bedrooms in the house because the hurricane was supposed to be on the way. But, whether he sensed I liked him close for security, or he didn’t mind the lack of privacy, or he was just a creature of habit – he moved right back in to the room he had vacated.

  Pete assured me that my computer was set up in such a way that I was virtually untraceable.

  “That word, ‘virtually,’ means ‘not quite,’ doesn’t it?”

  “Look Warts, when it comes to not wanting to be found, I am the king of paranoia. And I assure you, I have no qualms about you using your computer. It’s as safe as mine. Probably safer.”

  Pete had taken to calling me “Warts.” He said I needed a nickname so he wouldn’t get confused and call me the wrong name in public. My BVI passport had me listed as “Sharon.” “Warts” was short for “worrywart.”

  “Why would my computer be safer than your computer?”

  “Because part of the safety is in the motivation of those seeking you. Right now, the only ones who appear to have any interest in talking to you are all agencies of the U. S. Government. They don’t have a warrant for your arrest, nor do they have what could be considered a reasonable reason to get one. Tracking you down through your computer would take warrants from multiple countries. It just ain’t going to happen. They don’t have the money, manpower, or political capital to waste on you.”

  “So, someone is after you that might be more motivated?”

  “No. But if someone were after me, they might have more resources, stronger motivation, and no need to play by the rules. But, at the moment, that isn’t the case.”

  “But it might be the case at some point in time?” Pete was starting worry me.

  “Not at any time while I’m here Ms. Worrywart.”

  “And you still don’t care to share with me any clue about why anyone would want to track you down ever…even in the future?”

  “Nope.” And he made clear that that was the end of the conversation.

  Chapter 66

  It felt good to be able to hop back on the computer. I felt more connected with the world. There wasn’t much happening on the CussedEmOuterwear.com site. Everyone was abuzz about the “weapon.” Most felt it had to be a misinterpretation. Some felt the whole weapons issue was invented just to throw others off the real track. I knew that would be unlikely. Amy would have sent for the girls if that were the case.

  The long, hot days of relative isolation were wearing on us. Pete and I were such opposites in so many ways. And the girls really hadn’t had anything
to look forward to in so long. Funny how after weeks in paradise, the pool lost its allure. These days, jumping in the pool was more necessity than a playful break.

  I don’t think Pete felt the strain quite as much as we did. He hadn’t been here as long. He was a loner to begin with. Mr. Survival Skills was off building contraptions in the forest for hours at a time several days a week. Maybe having that alone time made it less likely that I got on his nerves. (Though, I’d like to believe that I’m just the kind of person that doesn’t get on people’s nerves.)

  Pete never offered to take us with him or show us whatever he was working on. He refused the twins’ requests to help him.

  I suspected that whatever he was working on wasn’t designed for us. I imagined Pete might have some use in mind for a much later date. For all I knew, he could be planning to spend years out there in the woods living like some Robinson Crusoe, completely off the grid. There didn’t appear to be any buildable land in the forest above us, so I’m guessing Pete could exist undisturbed up there for decades.

  He was a lot like his brother after all. Both of them were seeking their own sort of refuge, far from modern civilization.

  Chapter 67

  Pete came back from one of his little sojourns in the forest with a nasty cut one afternoon. I cleaned it up as best I could and splashed it with iodine. I tried to bandage it in such a way that the scab would not tear off when the dressing needed to be changed.

  But my unsatisfactory nursing skills became apparent when Pete came down with a severe fever the next day. The wound was infected. I cleaned it more thoroughly and applied some topical antibiotics I found in a first aid kit. When Pete’s fever hit 103°, I gave him some acetaminophen.

  Bringing the fever down proved to be no easy task. I was worried Pete might have tetanus, but the symptoms didn’t quite match what I found online. Pete swore he kept up on his tetanus shots. (Though he was starting to hallucinate, so I wasn’t sure if I could completely believe anything he told me.)