“It is only a short way from our island, easy to get to. Remember that. We can come and go very quickly. We could stay here for a while even. Maybe, some day in the future, our people will live on this island again. Maybe we could be the first to return.”
“Oh Bolo, you have such crazy dreams! Why would you make a new home here when we have a good home? This is a lovely place, but our island is nice too. We should come here to have visits, but no more, I think.”
Bolo frowned. It wasn’t the response he’d hoped for. They continued on in silence for a while then he led them off the beach and into the bush. Sala didn’t protest, she seemed to enjoy the experience and was eager to see more places. The travel wasn’t difficult since the jungle wasn’t extremely dense and they made their way steadily around the small mountain and toward the island’s center.
Sometimes, he felt as if he heard whispers in the air around them, soft and impossible to grasp, but they were there. No more than the whispers of the wind against the leaves, but somehow different. Judging by the odd looks passing over his wife’s face, she may have heard them too. Curious, he thought, but he marched on, mind focused on what he needed to do. What they needed to do. After all, Sala was more important in this than he was, truth be told. Without her, things would be desperate, and she was needed as soon as possible, which was why they were here the morning after he had been chosen. If it were possible to make their way in the dark they would have been here last night.
There was no time to delay, that had been made clear to him.
9
“Thomas, nice to see you again, my friend.” Lomate held his hand out in greeting, taking Thomas’s hand in a firm grip and pumping vigorously while smiling with just as much enthusiasm. “And your beautiful sister, it is good to see you both! So, we are going back to Kabara, yes? Always in a rush, Thomas! Before, it was your poor sister missing. I hope it is nothing so serious this time.” He peered out from beneath two bushy eyebrows, his eyes alight with curiosity.
Thomas glanced over at Osea, Lomate’s deckhand, as he busied himself organizing random things on the boat. Looking back at Lomate, he contemplated telling him just what had happened, just so there would be no surprises later, but then thought better of it. He just didn’t have the desire to recount the tale and see the look of disbelief on Lomate’s face.
“We have some interest in the island, Lomate, in Vaqava, but first we wish to visit Kabara and talk to the people there. We wish to know more about Vaqava before we return.”
Lomate looked a bit troubled, his smile diminishing by half, but he remained enthusiastic, to some degree. “You are writing a book, maybe? You Americans, always finding ways to become rich and famous. I won’t say I am excited by the idea of returning to Vaqava, but let us see what the people of Kabara will say, yes? The villagers always have exciting tales to tell. They are even more superstitious than the rest of us. There will be plenty of stories to put in your book, I think.”
He climbed down into the boat and held out a hand to assist his passengers. Thomas let Sophie board the craft first, then followed up behind her. The smell of the sea was strong and he took in a lungful, breathing deeply through his nose, and holding it before letting it go from his mouth in a whoosh. It was a smell he’d always taken to. In his humble opinion, man was meant to live by the sea. It was natural and he felt people were happier in such an environment because they were living in a way they were meant to. It was too bad the effect seemed to be lost on his sister now. She was sitting on the rear seat opposite him, facing off toward the horizon, leaving him nothing to converse with but her backside.
There was a fear in him he might possibly lose her after this was all said and done. The odds of a baby being born in a vision and remaining behind in the vision were one in infinity, he thought. What were the odds they would travel a quarter of the way around the world and find the same baby, alive and well? Not good, he had to admit to himself. The same thoughts must be on his sister’s mind and what a terrible burden that must be.
He rubbed Sophie’s back and gave her shoulder a squeeze, meaning to offer some sort of comfort, then made his way up to the boat cabin. The inside of the cabin was clean and organized for a sea vessel, but it was intended as a charter ship, so cleanliness would be important to the customers. He’d always pictured boats all the same and there were only two versions in his imagination. Either there were the luxurious yachts partied on by celebrities and foreign diplomats, outfitted with swimming pools and Cherrywood cocktail bars, and occupied with models prancing around in bikinis. Or, there were the old worn fishing boats, worked on by crusty old fishermen like that salty seadog from the movie Jaws, outfitted with nets and hoists and crates full of cheap whiskey, and occupied by nothing more than a hull full of scaly fish or click-clacking crabs.
Lomate was no crusty old fisherman though, and the Wavebreaker was no worn-down fishing boat with chips of paint missing from its battered exterior. The boat was newer, shiny, and red, with a gleaming hull. Its Captain was a simple man for sure, with a tank top and shorts on, wearing no shoes at all. His hair was dark and cropped close to his scalp, as was typical for his people. He donned a smile he never seemed to stow away, as was also typical for his people. Thomas had to admit to himself he had a fondness for the man. The last time they had traveled out this way they ran across an abandoned boat with a bloody scene onboard and Lomate was unfortunate enough to witness Thomas shoot and kill another man with Lomate’s own speargun. That sort of thing was likely to bring two people closer together or drive them inevitably apart, and since Lomate showed enthusiasm about bringing them on as charter once again, he assumed the former was true. He truly hoped so anyway, he felt there was a storm coming and having the Captain firmly in his corner to help guide the way would be vital.
He planted himself in the high seat next to Lomate, looked over all the gauges and instruments clustered around the steering panel, then out the front window over the open sea. They were on the move now and it wouldn’t take long. Maybe a half day, if his recollection was true. It was difficult to say. His previous trip he had been alone and in a heightened state of alarm thinking his sister was likely raped and murdered and dumped at sea. The way his mind raced during the whole trip, he was surprised he remembered anything at all. Desperate as he was before, as the situation had been, it all turned out reasonably well, minus the tragic death of his sister’s beloved Jacob. She turned out to be okay though, and the baby as well, so there was only so much despair he could suffer over Jacob’s death. He was a seasoned man, never one to be prone to sensitivities, outside of his sister’s involvement. The taking of Jacob’s life wasn’t something he quickly got over. It haunted his sleep still, but he didn’t carry a bag of guilt over his shoulder with him everywhere he went, either. Most people would do the same thing, he thought, if you put them in the same circumstances and they were the types of people who would pull a trigger. Many weren’t.
He looked back to his right, at his smiling captain, and gave him a brotherly rap on the arm. “Last time we traveled to Kabara together, you left me on the boat. Will it be necessary this time, as well?”
Lomate looked over at him, gauging him it seemed. “No Thomas, I don’t think it will be necessary this time. Before, you were very … agitated, let’s say? I thought it best if you left the discussions to me. This time I think you are different. This time you have a mission, yes? But your motor does not run so hot.” He laughed, checked his heading, then gave Thomas a solid rap on the arm, for good measure. “This time I think you and your sister will speak with the villagers and see what village life is. You should have this experience! A kava ceremony and a Lovo feast, where they cook the meat under the ground, it is delicious.” He shook his head in wonder, as if remembering his last bite of roasted pig like it was yesterday.
“I’m sure it’s wonderful, Lomate, but I’m afraid that once again I will have to decline the feast. This time I’m more interested in the history of the other is
land. I want to know if there were villagers there in the past, living on the island. If there were religions. Rituals. That sort of thing.” He looked sideways at Lomate and added, “For the book.”
“Oh, you have a crazy life, my friend! Religious rituals and the ancient Fijians, eh? Cannibalism, is that what you want to hear about? You want all the tasty details of the ancient Fijians appetite for eating their enemies?” He laughed and gave Thomas another rap on the arm. “I can tell you these things. Fijians stopped the practice about a hundred years ago. When we get back to Denarau I can take you to the shops and show you the tools we used for killing and eating. The neck breakers and skull splitters, the clubs with tiny spikes to tenderize the meat. You can take some home for souvenirs, yes?”
“Oh, it’s very tempting, Lomate. You really know how to sell a guy.” Thomas looked back around at his sister, who was still in the same position he left her, facing the side of the boat, and staring blankly out to sea. “Maybe we will, but it’s not so much the cannibalism I find interesting. It’s the religious practice.”
“We Fijians are good people. We love our families and our God. Most Fijians are good Christians. Except the Indians, they like their Hindu gods.” He said this last with his nose wrinkled, as if he were smelling something distasteful.
“What about before? Before the Europeans brought Christianity to the islands. What was the religious practice then? Do you know?”
“Ah, my friend, it is difficult to say. The islands were all different, in small ways. Our ancestors had many gods, gods for every rock and tree. I did not grow up with those gods. When we return, you can meet my family. My grandmother is still alive and could tell you some stories, I think. We will have dinner, all of us together.”
“It would be an honor for Sophie and me. Perhaps we will get to do that before we leave, Lomate. Until then, I’m hoping the villagers on Kabara can tell me some information.” He took another look back at his sister, still sitting in the same position and the same spot, only now she was stretching her hand over the side of the boat to allow the spray of water to splash her. There was a sign of life at least, he was thankful for that much. “This is our second time spent together, Lomate, and I feel both times I carried a family burden on my shoulders. Our trip here isn’t for any book. I prefer not to say exactly what we are returning for, but let’s say it has to do with recovery and healing.” He reached up and gave Lomate’s shoulder a squeeze. “I hope our burden doesn’t become your own. You’re a good man, Lomate. In the future, I hope our two families can come together for some lighthearted companionship.”
With that said, he leaned back into the tall chair and laid his head back against the seat. The boat had a relaxing rhythm to it. First the high, muted pitch of the motor as it climbed a wave, then the loud roar as it surged briefly out of the water, followed by the crash of the boat hitting the surface. The rhythm repeated, lulling him but not allowing him to reach that gentle embrace of slumber.
Cheated of its desired respite, his mind began to drift, flipping through random thoughts like a deck of cards, passing from one to the next so quickly he didn’t have the time to recognize half the memories before they were shuffled back into the deck. Eventually his thoughts settled and out of the dust arose his memories as an entrepreneur.
Growing up, Thomas had spurned the idea of going to college, despite his parents hope and offer to pay for it. In his opinion, College was an overinflated ball of horseshit ready to burst and he didn’t want to be near one when that happened. He had no calling, and the typical response to that was “Get enrolled, get started, the first two years are prerequisites anyway. You don’t have to pick a major in the first year.” His parents told him that, his guidance counselor, and even other friends, parroting the same thing that they had been told by others. Thomas didn’t parrot though. He saw college as a business structure that soaked the lifeblood out of its future, chaining a huge brick of debt to its young students before setting them adrift into an unforgiving ocean.
Instead, he elected to get right to work, choosing construction. Not only because the industry was booming and jobs were easy to come by and paid well, but he enjoyed a lot of the work that the field offered. New homes were being built all over the place so getting his foot in the door took only a couple of weeks. Granted, starting out hadn’t been the most fun endeavor. He spent the first year slogging through rain, snow, and mud as a laborer, cleaning up after the guys who had some trade skill. But he was persistent and worked hard and by the end of the first year he was learning maintenance as part of a small warranty team, entering people’s homes to make common repairs. Another year and half of that and they rewarded his continued high efforts with a position as an Assistant Construction Manager. Now he was out of the mud and into the shit! In that role, he learned the real management part of the business, the nuts and bolts of how a house goes together, and the process of permitting and working with inspectors. Before long he was running his own jobsite and managing the building of about fifteen homes at a time. It was busy and stressful work but he thrived in it.
Then an opportunity had presented itself, as they so often do, and he was quick to seize it. His parents owned a twelve-acre parcel of land not far outside of Vancouver, Washington and it was zoned residential. After a three-hour dinner conversation with his mother and father, followed by a two-week spell in which his father did his normal due diligence, he got the green light from his old man. They would get the land cleared of timber, which would net them a tidy sum, then have the land developed and plotted, after which young Thomas could hit the ground running his first subdivision as a General Contractor.
That first project turned out to be forty-two single-family homes and netted them a profit of just over one and a half million dollars in a twenty-eight-month period. It was the first project of many and they grew the business fast, with the help of an extremely hot market. Thomas was a stickler for details though, and that was where his success truly came from. His homes were built well, he didn’t skimp, and his homeowners were always moved in to an attractive house that was free of defects. Their reputation grew and grew until they were one of the most respected builders in the Portland Metro area. Thomas was doing what he loved and was making enough money to cause him feelings of guilt at his good fortune.
What he loved most about it though wasn’t the money or the work, it was the chance to be with his family. Dad was mainly a financial backer but both parents gave a lot of valuable advice and input, and of course mother loved to make all the calls when it came to design and curb appeal. Sophie also helped a great deal and was integral in running things. She completed a two-year degree in Business Management but chose to leave without a Bachelor’s Degree in the interest of running the family business. It had saved Thomas at the time, and completely without his asking. He did what he wanted with his life and he wished for no less for his sister, but she had come of her own volition, approaching him the same way he had once approached his parents. She could run the office, she said. His accounting practices could be taken over in-house, permit work done by a specialist, so on and so forth. She threw herself into building the office and staff while he built the homes. Together they made an amazing team and soon they were closing over two hundred homes a year.
Then the tragedy came. The accident that had claimed the lives of both their parents. After that, neither of them had the fire to continue what they thought of as a family endeavor. Thomas, recognizing this very quickly, began to call up some of the people who had approached him about buying during his rapid growth period. It didn’t take long and the business was sold to a larger builder, who wanted their inventory and landholding. The sales price went for just a little over fourteen million and with that, both he and Sophie had the means to mourn their parents in whichever way they saw fit.
Sophie chose to travel, constantly on the move to unfamiliar places, unable to sit still. Thomas thought it was likely so she could avoid thinking too much about what ha
ppened to their parents. He didn’t begrudge her that lifestyle. As nervous and protective as he was, the idea of traveling and exploring the world while she was young and fit made him proud. She was a responsible girl, for the most part. Maybe a little too trusting at times, but he felt she was doing something that would enhance her personal growth.
For his own part, he took up writing and exercise, two things he always dabbled with but was never too serious about. After the company sold and his family was all gone, he got much more serious. His body, which was always naturally strong, grew more powerful and could have been placed on the cover of one of those fitness magazines—with a little airbrushing maybe. His writing was very much a hobby but he loved it. Short stories, often unfinished, and a handful of novels, always unfinished. He loved to get ideas out on paper, but he had yet to learn to finish them. Someday, maybe.
Abruptly his mind shifted on him, and instead of the far past, a more recent past came forth out of the fog of his memory. He began to think of Vaqava again, what little he knew of it. The only part of the island he’d seen was the beach they landed on when they first arrived. There was never any reason to enter the jungle. But it wasn’t the island itself that was coming back. It was the things he had seen on the island.
In his mind, he retraced the steps taken on that beautiful yacht called Sun Seeker. Its gorgeous façade torn asunder by the bloody violence that left its mark in the bowels of the vessel. Thomas could remember every detail, from the clumps of hair that stuck to the fire extinguisher that was used to bash Chris’s head in—he deserved it, he thought absently—to the overwhelming metallic smell of all the blood that had slammed into his senses when entering the galley.
Cave of Bones (Dark Island Series Book 2) Page 7