“In that case, I can live with it, I guess,” Merritt said. “Gotta keep the herd straight, even if it comes to this.”
Dmitri nodded and moved to close the duffle bag. Ruck surprised everyone, including himself, by rushing over and snatching the bag from Dmitri’s hand. He pulled back the flap and gazed inside. At once he fell back, bending at the waist, a moment later vomiting on the floor. Someone said, “Damn.”
The bag contained two young white men. Correction—not two white men—their heads.
Once he’d regained his composure, Ruck turned and looked at Merritt. “James, this is bullshit. I need to know what’s happening here.” He could tell Merritt was planning on ignoring him and added, “For all intents and purposes, I’m second-in-command. I wanna know what’s happening.”
Merritt turned and eyeballed his childhood friend. “Second-in-command?”
“That’s right,” Ruck said, holding his ground.
It took a moment, but eventually Merritt smiled. “You aren’t bothered that Shepherd sits in his house on high and looks down at us in our tents?”
“House on high?” Ruck shook his head. “You’re talking about that one-room concrete square? You’re actually bothered by that, James?”
“I am. And I’m going to do something about it.”
“Knock it down?”
“Build one better,” Merritt said, smiling. “Several better, in fact.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The island is beautiful,” Merritt said. “Have you ever stopped to consider the possibilities?”
Ruck frowned.
“I suppose not,” Merritt said. “You aren’t a dreamer. You have no imagination. No backbone.”
“James…”
“I’m taking over the island,” Merritt said, matter-of-fact. “I’m going to build it into something truly magnificent. Buildings. Electricity. Basketball courts. Roads. Maybe even Internet.”
“Shepherd will never go for that,” Ruck said. “You know he stresses the importance of simplicity.”
“I know,” Merritt said, smile widening.
It took a moment, but realization dawned in Ruck. “The guns… You’re planning to do this by force. Put a gun on Shepherd and Miss Amelia…and me…and make us all follow your vision?”
“No,” Merritt said.
“No?”
“I’m not planning to use force on our people. Unless I have to, of course.”
“I don’t understand.”
“To build the island in the way I imagine,” Merritt said, “we’re going to need labor.”
“I’m lost, James.”
“Cheap labor,” Merritt said. “The cheapest labor I can think of.”
“I still don’t follow,” Ruck said, shaking his head.
“Slaves.”
“Where are you going to get slaves, James?”
Dmitri laughed. His men laughed. Merritt simply smiled. “We already have one,” he said, speaking softly and slowly, as though talking to a child. “Dmitri is handling the rest for us. The population on the island is about to increase…and lighten at the same time.”
“What does that mean?”
“Slavery’s back,” Merritt said, “but this time, black men are holding the whips.”
More laughter.
“You think those guns will keep a bunch of slaves in line, James? White men? Men used to the world being their oyster? You have to be kidding. The island will be downtown Baghdad.”
Merritt sighed, touched the duffle bag. “We just have to make sure they don’t put their heads together,” he said. “Divide and conquer.”
“I don’t know who you’ve become,” Ruck said. “You’re making…sick jokes. These animals decapitated two men. It isn’t funny.”
“My jokes bother you, but living in a tent doesn’t?”
“I can’t do this anymore,” Ruck said, shaking his head. “I can’t handle this. You have to let me go, James. I don’t want to live on the island anymore.”
“You know that isn’t possible, Ruck.”
“I’ll run,” Ruck said. “I’ll run off like Candace.”
Dmitri grunted and frowned.
Merritt was quiet for what felt like an eternity. Then he said, “I was afraid you’d feel this way, Ruck. I really wish you hadn’t put words to my concerns, though.” He turned back to the table and grabbed ahold of his rucksack, positioned it over his shoulder.
“James…”
Merritt walked past Ruck, his oldest friend, without looking in his direction. Ruck sighed and moved to follow him.
Two of Dmitri’s men cut him off.
“Out of my way,” Ruck barked.
The men didn’t respond or move.
“James,” Ruck called. “Tell these fools to get out of my way.”
Off in the distance the front door closed. Ruck frowned. A beat later, a car started and the engine gunned.
Ruck looked around at the men now circling him. Disgraced Army troops, all of them. He searched their eyes for humanity, for grace, for a simple crumb of kindness, finding none. Several pair of dark eyes, dead, staring at him. He swallowed.
Heard Merritt drive away.
“Shit.”
✽ ✽ ✽
Lemon lay on the floor gazing into the darkness of the room. She had fallen asleep to Aiden’s rhythmic snores and woken to what sounded like footsteps outside shuffling around the house. She held her breath and listened. Eying the broken door, she cinched the belt of her robe tighter around her waist and eased to her feet. More shuffling outside. She took a deep breath and moved to the door and opened it. The sky was black and starless.
“You scared me,” she said, relaxing at once.
Sheldon held up a bottle of Jim Beam and grinned at her like a fool. Then he opened the bottle and tilted it to his lips and took a swig. His dark skin had patches of white-pink where he’d been burned. The spots slick with Vaseline.
“Jim Brean,” he slurred. “Jim and the breanstalk. Jim and the breanstalk.”
Lemon wondered what she would do if he fell over. Would he have to lay here and sleep it off? She certainly could not lift him up.
“You don’t strike me as a bourbon drinker,” she said.
“Miss Amelia said it would be good for the pain.”
“That right?”
“I want to see him,” Sheldon said. “I want to see him.”
“Who?”
“I want to see the man who burned me. I want to see him.”
“He’s asleep,” Lemon told him. “And I was, too. You should consider getting some rest yourself.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I want to tell the man who burned me that they smeared me with Vaseline. They smeared me with Vaseline. I don’t like it. It’s sticky. It’s sticky.”
“Go,” Lemon said. “Before you do something you regret.”
Sheldon shook his head again, the sudden movement throwing off his balance so that he had to steady himself with a hand against the door frame. He blew out a flutter of air with his lips and whinnied like a horse. “What does Shepherd’s wife regret?” he asked.
The question surprised Lemon. “You want to know my regrets? There’s too many to name, I’m afraid.”
“I regret Vaseline,” he said, swaying with each syllable.
Lemon didn’t respond to that. There was no end to the things she regretted, moments she wished she could either rewind or erase completely. She touched a hand to her stomach and let the dark night swallow her thoughts.
“You don’t want to say, because I’m too stupid to understand?” Sheldon let his chin drop to his chest. “People think I don’t know I’m stupid. I know.”
“Sheldon, listen—”
“I was stupid to get burned. I was stupid to come here. My garden is stupid. I got burned because I’m stupid. Everybody’s sick of vegetables. I’m stupid for getting burned…”
Lemon pursed her lips. “I regret treating you badly,” she s
aid and noticed there was no quiver in her voice. “I regret feeling as though I was somehow better than you and all the others. I’ve been corrupt for a long time.”
“Corrupt?”
“Do you think it would be okay if I read with you? Take over where Candace left off? I’d like to make sure that you learn as much about those dogs as possible. And then I’ll—”
“Yes.” A deep smile made it all the way from Sheldon’s mouth to his eyes, and with it came balance and proud strength in his posture. “Yes. Shepherd’s wife can read to me. Yes.”
Lemon matched his smile, reached her hand forward. He grasped it, drowning her hand in his grip. A pact decided and settled between them.
“I’m mostly alone here,” she said. “On the island, I mean. I’ve lost two good friends. Maybe you and I can be friends. Real friends that treat one another with respect. Would that be okay?”
“Two?” he said.
“Pardon?”
“You said you lost two good friends?”
“Yes.”
“Miss Candace and…”
Lemon sighed. “A woman named Sheila. She was here before you came.”
“What happened to her? I thought we couldn’t leave. What happened to Miss Sheila?”
“I think it’s best I don’t talk about that,” Lemon said. “I don’t want to go to a dark place. It still makes me sad when I think about her.”
Sheldon’s legs nearly went out from under him. He reached for the door frame again. Lemon grabbed ahold of his shirt, even though she was certain she couldn’t keep him from actually falling. Something a friend would do. He righted himself, and she let go.
“First order of business as your new friend,” she said, holding forth an empty hand. “Give me the bottle. No more drinking for you.”
Sheldon held on to the bottle and stared at her, his eyes seeing something and nothing at the same time.
“Sheldon,” Lemon said, beckoning with the fingers of her outstretched hand. “Give me the bottle.”
He flinched and frowned as though coming out of a deep sleep in a strange place. “What?”
“The bottle, please,” she said once more. “You’ve had enough to drink. No more.”
He held the bottle up, looked at it, then reluctantly passed it to her.
“Thank you, Sheldon.”
“You gonna drink it?”
Lemon smiled. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask that.”
“It helps with the pain,” he said. “Maybe it will help when you feel sad about Miss Candace…and…and Miss Sheila.”
Lemon twisted the cap off of the bottle and turned it down so that the golden-brown liquid inside rained out on the ground. She recapped the empty bottle and placed it in the pocket of her robe. A spark in the distance caught her eye, made her shake her head. “I don’t imagine that’s Merritt out there with that lighter,” she said. “But I know I’m being watched. I’ve felt it for a few days now. Wood with one of his cigars?”
“Nuh uh, not Haywood Daniels. This one sneaks and smokes cigarettes, not cigars. They aren’t good for you, either.”
“Who are we talking about?”
“Will,” Sheldon said.
“Also known as Captain Obvious.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said. “I’m just talking out loud.”
“I really like talking to you.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“You’re not sad anymore?”
She shook her head. “It’s about time I stopped casting myself as the victim, Sheldon.”
“Huh?”
“I’m going to leave this place someday.”
“You can’t leave.”
“I’ll be a mother someday, too,” she whispered.
“Shepherd’s wife will be a good mother.”
“I’ve been thinking about it,” she said. “Candace made a mistake.”
“What?”
“Merritt doesn’t say why he sleeps at the beach, but it’s to guard anyone from leaving the island. That’s what that is all about.”
Sheldon nodded.
“Candace thought the best time to try to leave was when Merritt was here for one of the night meetings with the Trustees,” she said. “Good thinking but she went about it wrong. She waited until he got to our side of the island and then she ran. The nighttime was the perfect cover for Merritt to catch her once he realized she’d run. Perfect cover for him to do whatever he did to her. I bet she didn’t see him coming.”
Sheldon cleared his throat. “The white man killed her. With his car.”
“That’s what Merritt says,” Lemon admitted. “I find it odd, though, how murky the story is. Just like with Sheila.”
“Miss Sheila?”
“I’d do it differently than Candace,” Lemon continued. “I’d wait until everyone was asleep and then make my way to the beach. I’d hide out nearby until Merritt woke up. Eventually, he’d make his way here with the rest of us. That’s when I’d leave. Twenty minutes for him to get here and realize I was gone. Twenty minutes back. That would give me almost an hour head start.”
“I’d be scared,” Sheldon said, shaking his head.
“I’ve done it before,” Lemon said, smiling. “Hidden out near the beach. And when he left to come to this side of the island I went through his tent. The man has some secrets, let me tell you.” Thinking of the number she’d found scrawled on a slip of paper, tucked away in Merritt’s tent so carefully it had to mean something, and the strain on Merritt’s face once she calmly recited the number to him. What could it possibly lead to? She couldn’t wait for an opportunity to find out.
“You’ve gone through Mr. Merritt’s tent?”
She nodded. “I have. So what do you think of my plan?”
“I think this is a night for the bleating of Judas goats,” a voice called from the gloom.
Sheldon frowned and turned.
Lemon gasped.
Merritt walked forward from the shadows. “Not bad thinking, Mrs. Potter. I have to give it to you, you’re smarter than I’ve given you credit for being.” He smiled and moved ever closer to her, making her flinch and shrink under his physical presence. “Excuse us, will you, Sheldon?”
“What?”
“Go away.”
“Oh, okay, sure. I’ll go away. I’ll go away.”
Once the giant shuffled away, disappearing under the tree cover, Merritt turned his full attention back to Lemon. “Listening to you before has me wondering now. You didn’t by chance sniff my boxers when you were going through my things did you, you scheming bitch?”
Monday, June 25
He woke to the room soaking in violent sunlight. Squinting and covering his eyes, he spotted a gaping space where the damaged front door belonged, the door completely off its hinges and propped against the wall. Lemon was standing by the open entry, a stripe of sunshine flowing through her thin cotton dress and whispering a secret—she was wearing panties but no bra. He swallowed as his gaze roamed her body, then shook aside the lustful thoughts she inspired and attempted to focus his attention elsewhere. Outside, insects and birds trilled and chirred. The smoke of a fire carried on the searing breeze. But it was of no use trying to move his mind to nature and its beasts; who was he kidding? Nothing at this moment was as captivating as the Ghost Woman.
Inhaling a long breath, he reminded himself that he was angry with her, that she was the enemy and couldn’t be trusted or relied upon in any meaningful way. He sat up and tongued the gum where he’d lost an incisor.
Lemon turned toward him, a blur in the wash of dazzling sunlight. “You’re awake,” she said. “They’re preparing to fix our door. It’ll probably be loud.”
Aiden didn’t respond, but noted that she’d said “our door.”
“You must be starving,” she continued. “There’s a bowl of vegetables there for you.”
“Eat it yourself,” he said, turning to gaze at a wall. It was painted the color of cranberry
juice, an odd choice. In his mind, a poor fit with the yellowish-brown carpet.
“My husband’s idea,” Lemon said. “Not a color scheme I would’ve chosen.”
Was she a mind reader too? He said, “You’re still here?”
“You’re angry with me. I understand. But in time I hope you’ll realize that I’m on your side.”
“The hell you are.”
“I made sure they moved you here.”
“That supposed to mean something to me?”
“I guess not.”
“Don’t pat yourself on the back,” he said bitterly. “Your efforts have been perfunctory, at best.”
“Perfunctory? Now there’s a big word. Figuring it will throw me off balance? Have me scurrying for a dictionary?”
“Why would I think you’d even know how to read a dictionary?”
“Mmm,” she said, offering nothing else. The sadness he’d seen in her eyes last evening was in her voice then. Sadness that admittedly broke off something inside of him. Damn her.
He turned to avoid Lemon’s gaze and thought about Saina and the locket he’d stolen from her. Saina was surely upset by that violation, likely livid. He wondered if her anger would wither at some point and turn to concern. Would she lead the charge to find out what had happened to him? Or would her anger change into apathy instead? Would she simply write him off as a dreadful mistake? A lapse in judgment?
Lemon said, “Look, please eat. You need your strength.”
“You don’t know how to take a hint, do you?”
“Pride comes before the fall,” she said.
“Great. Now you’re quoting bumper stickers.”
“The Bible, actually.”
“The Bible?” he said, incredulous.
“Yes.”
“Just go away.”
“I live here,” she reminded him.
“And I’m the honored guest?”
“That’s one way of looking at it.”
“Don’t kid yourself,” he said. “You people disgust me.”
“It sounds so ugly when you say ‘you people.’”
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