“It’s like a bomb went off….”
All around them, portions of many of the mountaintop’s trees had been sheared off, vegetation stripped of its leaves. Water pooled in several places, little lakes created by smaller pools being blown together by the winds. Above, the massive red-and-white communications tower seemed intact, though Boone could see some cables strung in nearby branches like decidedly unfestive Christmas garlands. The air was incredibly humid, and wisps of cloud blew about. He took several steps toward the trail and stopped, looking around.
“Where’s…?” Boone began.
“Don’t know.”
“What was his name, again?”
“Aidan. Means fire.”
“Think the wind and rain might’ve snuffed him out.”
“I see what you did there. Nice.” Emily’s words were playful, but her expression was sober as she looked up and down the trail. “No way he could survive this.”
“That being said…”
“Yeah, let’s get the hell out of here. Can you walk?”
“Think so. Feeling better after such a restful sleep. Storm drowned out your snoring.”
Emily slapped a flattened palm hard on his bare upper back.
“Ow!”
“Ooh, got a nice hand print with that one. You want me to tape that up for you?”
“I’ll live.” They walked down to the trail and headed back toward the steps. Boone spied the rope Emily had used to rescue him, still tied to a tree on the edge of the slope. He was debating retrieving it when his bare foot pressed down on something that wasn’t mud. Stooping, he plucked a small object from the muck. It was covered in grime and the cord was now gone, but he knew immediately what it was. The blue bead.
“Is that…?”
“Yeah.” He stooped and swished it back and forth in a puddle, bringing forth the deep cobalt hue. He held it up between two fingers. “Sorry I had to toss you earlier. Won’t happen again.”
“Better not. It looked good on you. I mean, not as good as that manly whistle.”
Boone glanced at her in confusion before noticing the pink whistle dangling against his bare chest. Smirking at Em, he added the blue bead to its lanyard. “That reminds me.” He retrieved her green whistle from a pocket and hung it around her neck.
“You found it!” she said, mouth agape in amazement.
Grinning, he placed his own whistle to his lips and gave a single tiny toot. Emily replied with one of her own.
“Speaking of finding things…” Boone looked back along the trail. “I ditched my sandals when I thought we might run into Aidan but I’m thinking I better have those for our climb back to civilization.”
“Umm… the odds they weren’t blown halfway to Hell’s Gate are zero to nought.” Emily noted.
“Point taken. Then let’s see if we can find some walking sticks. I’m betting the steps and the trail down are a mess.”
Boone had not been wrong. Trees were down across the trail in some places, small boulders in others. Standing water pooled on numerous steps, and sections of steeper hillside were veined with streams of runoff. Surprisingly, the elfin cloud forest had weathered the storm quite well. Most of the ancient mahogany trees were still intact, though many branches were bare.
“The Saba Conservation folks are gonna be busy,” Boone remarked as he carefully planted the tip of the stout piece of limb he’d found into a puddle and swung down to the step beneath.
“Hope everyone’s okay,” Emily said. “How’re you holding up?”
“Long as we take it slow, I’ll be fine.”
“Taking it slow seems like our only option,” Emily remarked, swinging her legs over a fallen tree limb and reaching back to help Boone across.
Half an hour later they reached a bend in the trail and the clouds opened up enough that they could spy a village far below.
“Whoa…” Boone steadied himself on his walking stick as he took in the sight.
“I see some roofs off…”
“Not as many as I would’ve guessed. That’s Saint John’s.”
“Let’s keep going, yeah?” Emily urged. “I’m a little concerned about landslides, what with all that rain.”
“Lead the way.”
Another half hour of carefully picking their way down the debris-covered steps and they were treated to another mist-shrouded view of a distant village of red roofs… and not-roofs.
“There’s The Bottom,” Boone observed. “I see a lot of damage.”
“Hey, do you hear something?”
They listened intently. Voices calling out.
Emily laughed. “Unless the storm blew in a howler monkey, I think someone’s yelling Boooooooone.”
Boone raised the whistle to his lips and blew three long blasts. The voices stopped, then three shrill whistles replied. “Rescue party.”
“Ten bucks it’s Sid or Sophie.”
“No bet,” Boone said with a grin. He hefted his walking stick and blew another trio of piercing tones as the pair resumed their downward trek.
“I can’t believe that shack is still standing,” Emily said, as the little banana plantation came into view. “That’s where I woke up.”
“Boone! Emily!”
“Up here!” Boone shouted.
Finally, the two groups spotted each other. Sid and Sophie, as well as a pair of Royal Dutch Marines, were climbing the trail from below. A fifth person, a mustached man wearing camo pants and a Duff Beer ballcap, brought up the rear. This man’s composite metal walking stick put the others’ to shame, appearing to be a purpose-built trekking pole.
“You two filming a Tarzan movie?” Sid quipped, as the rescue party gawked at the sight of Boone and Emily: shirtless, bloodied, caked in mud—and, in Boone’s case, barefoot.
“Yeah. Sorry, chaps, all the roles are taken,” Emily shouted back, breaking into relieved laughter at the sight of her friends and the soldiers.
Sophie approached, the mirth in her face melting away as she spied Boone’s taped-up side. “What happened up there?” she asked. “Are you hurt? Is that… duct tape? And Emily, your face!”
“What, am I going a bit Elephant Man?” she asked, touching her tender cheek, which was swelling and discolored. “But you should see the other guy.” She started to giggle.
“You’ll probably need binoculars, though,” Boone said.
Emily burst into laughter, tears streaming down her face. Boone joined in, grabbing at his side and wincing, as all the tension of the past twenty-four hours was translated into gales of laughter.
Sid and Sophie stared at the pair with bemused looks on their faces.
“Maybe they’re in shock. Dehydration?” one of the marines mused in a low voice.
“No—” Emily gasped between laughs “—it’s just how we are!”
“But seriously,” Boone managed, not looking serious at all. “We’re gonna need a hospital.”
“If it’s not too much trouble,” Emily snickered, bringing herself back under control.
Boone noticed that the marines were not armed. “Hey, Sid, the killer… he kidnapped Emily and… well, let me skip ahead: he may still be up there. The man’s name is Aidan.”
“It means fire,” Emily tittered.
“Will you stop that?”
“Can’t.”
Sid interrupted. “Blond male, six-foot-two, gray coveralls. Remnants of duct tape on wrists and ankles.”
“Where…?” Boone began.
“Upper Hell’s Gate. Homeowner thought a tree hit her roof. Found him in her backyard.”
Boone and Emily finally sobered. “How did you know where to look for us?” Boone asked.
Sid gestured back down the trail. “A resident found Gerald and Gordon’s car down in Rendez-vous along with Mrs. Beach’s yellow Hyundai. He thou
ght it was odd and the phones were still down, so he drove down to Windwardside and spotted my patrol car. Once I got up there and saw the cars, I remembered you were staying with Gerald and Gordon…” He looked at Emily. “Or The Double Gs… nice one, by the way.”
Emily curtsied. “Thank you.”
“And I put it all together when I found these in the back of Mrs. Beach’s car.” He pulled Emily’s sunglasses from a shirt pocket and offered them to her.
“Oh, thank God!” She slid them on, her face breaking into a beatific smile. “I really like this pair.”
The man in the Duff hat stepped forward and spoke in a pronounced Saban accent. “You sheltered in the tower building?”
“Yes,” Boone said.
He nodded. “That’s what I woulda done. You find the sleeping bags?”
Emily smiled at him, “Yes! Boone was upset you didn’t have any beer in there, though. He’s such an ungrateful wanker.”
The man laughed. “You’d have to talk to the telecommunications people ’bout that.” He stuck out a hand. “James Johnson. Most folks call me Crocodile. Probably on account of this.” He tapped his side, where an enormous knife hung in its sheath.
The sight sparked Boone’s memory. “Sid… the murder weapon for Statia and Saint Kitts was probably a machete. I disarmed the killer and threw it…” He thought a moment. “To the right of the building, if you’re facing it.”
“I’ll track it down,” Crocodile said. “Sid, all-you okay getting back with these two? I want to see how my mountain is doing.”
“Of course,” Sid said.
“Croc here built this trail and its 1,064 steps,” Sophie said with a sense of Saban pride.
“Well, not all the steps,” the man said with a grin. “Just most of them. Four times a day, up and down the mountain with a donkey, a hundred pounds each of cement and water. With 2,000 other workers, of course. Lately, I’ve been working on all the other trails on the island….” He looked up toward the summit, shrouded in clouds. “But now it seems I’ll be back working on this one.” He pointed his trekking pole up the slopes. “How’d it look up there, after?”
Boone told him.
Croc nodded as if he’d expected it. “Yeah, was afraid of that. This is the worst I’ve seen. But…” He gestured around them at the stripped trees. “All of this? If we get some good rain, then in maybe three, four months… it will all be green again.”
“Boone and I’ll be sure to do a few rain dances for you, then.” Emily said.
Croc tipped his cap to them. “Well, I’d better get to it, then.” He turned and trudged up the mountain.
“How did the villages do?” Boone asked. “We saw a lot of roofs off here and there.”
“Could’ve been worse,” Sophie said. “The winds were insane. Couple people swear there were tornados. We’re still assessing damage.”
“Anyone hurt?” Emily asked.
“There is one gentleman, Christopher Brady, who the neighbors can’t find. He may have sheltered with another family, so hopefully he’ll turn up. As for injuries, aside from that—” Sid pointed at Boone’s side “—I haven’t heard of any injuries thus far. What happened to you, anyway?”
“Remember that machete I mentioned?”
Sid whistled. “Let’s get you down to the hospital, then. I think they’ll have something a little more professional than duct tape.”
“Don’t let Florence Nightingale hear you say that.”
“You want another handprint on your back, beanpole?” Emily threatened with a grin.
“Come on,” Sophie said, heading back down the slope. “Let’s get you two down from here.”
The next day, Emily sat at Boone’s side. As it turned out, the machete wound wasn’t as bad as it could have been, his ribs having deflected the blade— which was cold comfort to the ribs, as one of them had been cracked by the impact. The doctors had stitched him up and plied him with antibiotics, but Boone had decided to forgo any painkillers. Even so, he had slept like a log until now.
“Morning, lazy-pants. How you feeling?”
“Actually… pretty good. You?”
“Bit knackered. Jaw hurts a smidge,” she replied, handing him some water from a bedside table. “So, here’s some fun news. There’s another hurricane coming.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Hurricane José. Just a Category 1 right now but they expect it to strengthen. We’re on the edge of the cone, though. Everyone’s hoping it steers north and misses Saba.”
“You hear any more about the damage from Irma?”
“Yeah. A lot of the other islands were hit bad, but here damage was surprisingly light, all things considered. A few roofs gone. A lot of trees down. The islanders have been out and about, cleaning up already. Oodles of handsome young Dutch soldiers running around with chainsaws.” She stopped. “Actually, that part sounds like a horror movie.”
“I’d watch it,” Boone said, grinning.
“They got the electricity back up in a jiff, though, didn’t they?” Emily remarked.
“I dunno, did they?”
“Yep. Local cell calls are back up, too. Speaking of which—” she waggled her phone- “—Lucky and Anika are going to swing by in a tick. Chad dropped by too, but you were down for the count. He’s doing well, by the way—in a room down the hall.”
Boone nodded, half-hearing her as his attention was drawn to Emily’s eyes, sparkling in the sun from the window. Her sunglasses were up on her head, and she looked positively radiant, even with the purplish bruise on her cheekbone. Her smile filled him with content—he loved the way her lip curled up from her perfect row of upper teeth, dimples framing it all. Boone held out a hand to her. She took it. “How are you… besides the jaw?”
Her smile slipped a notch. “Umm… better when I don’t think about it. Some pretty effed-up dreams last night.”
“Where’d you sleep?”
Emily indicated the chair she’d been sitting in like a game show hostess showing off the prizes.
“Well, there’s your problem. You could’ve asked for a room, I’m sure they would have—”
“Oh, they offered.” She leaned over and kissed him gently. “But I opted for companionship over comfort.”
“I see they’ve got excellent bedside service at this hospital,” drawled Lucky’s voice from the hallway. “Sorry to intrude…”
“Oh no, you caught us,” Emily said, feigning distress. “Our secret’s out!”
“Good to see you, Lucky,” Boone said. “Please, come in.”
“How you two doing?” Lucky asked, stepping into the room. Behind him, Anika slipped in with a huge bouquet of tropical flowers.
“We’re doing all right.”
“Anika, you brought flowers!” Emily gushed.
“Is there a flower shop open?” Boone asked.
Anika let out a delicate laugh and held the flowers up. It was now clear they were somewhat the worse for wear. “Oh, no, some of these are from my landlord’s garden… and some from the neighbor’s garden… and some from… well, you get the idea. A lot of plants lying around. Half for you and half for Chad.”
“How did your place hold up?” Boone asked her.
“Fine. I was holding the bedroom door shut for a few hours, but the roof held. Most of my neighbors’ cottages looked to be in good shape, too.”
“How about you, Lucky?”
“Well… uh… it’s kind of a good news bad news sorta thing. Good news is, where I live in The Bottom, not far from Sid and Sophie, there was very little damage. A little flooding from some runoff, but the cottage itself is near pristine.”
“But…” Emily prompted.
“Umm…”
“Your boat,” Boone said.
“How’d you…? Uh, yeah. The lot I had it in… that sectio
n was hit by a tornado, they think. Buncha roofs gone. And the Shoal ’Nuff… well… total loss, I’m afraid. I mean, to be honest, she wasn’t in the greatest shape to begin with…”
“I’m sorry, Lucky.”
“Yeah. So… here’s the thing… I know you left Bonaire to come here to work for Scenery Scuba, but… Well, no easy way to say it: I’m gonna be shutting down for a while. The boat was insured, so I can afford to pay you for a bit. Maybe get your help cleaning things up. Shop took some damage. I may try again, I may not, but I’m afraid, for the foreseeable future…”
“Hey, Lucky, it’s okay. And again, I’m sorry about your boat.”
“Me too,” Emily added.
Lucky looked like he might tear up but he quickly brightened. “Aw hell, I came here on a whim, I may stay on a whim. Who knows, maybe in a few months I’ll come lookin’ for you. Both of you.” He jerked a thumb back toward the door. “If you’ll excuse me a minute, I gotta go break the news to Chad.”
“Well… so… that happened,” Emily said, after Lucky left. “You think Frenchy would take us back?”
“Who’s Frenchy?” Anika asked.
“Frenchy the Belgian,” Boone said. “He owns the Bonaire dive shop we were working at, Rock Beauty Divers.”
“Once the internet’s up, I can drop him an email,” Emily began. “I’m sure he’d—”
“Em… I dunno.”
Emily stopped, looking at him.
“This whole experience, dropping into a completely different place on the spur of the moment… with you… I loved it. I’m not sure I want to go back there just yet. Do you?”
“But… we kinda need jobs, Boone. Jobs bring money, money brings food, food keeps you alive…”
“I’ve got a fair amount saved. You know me—I’m not a big spender.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Umm… excuse me?” Anika shyly raised her hand.
“Floor recognizes Anika,” Emily said.
“Well… just the day before yesterday, I received an email from a friend I went to school with. She’s with a dive op that just moved to a bigger location and bought a new boat and they’re searching for new dive instructors.”
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