Chapter 17

“Hey, Callista, right? Callista?” Evie trotted down the hall toward the perky trainer and girlfriend of Wilmer Dembeck. “Thanks for turning me on to your friend’s class. But I couldn’t hack all of it.” She shrugged apologetically.

Callista impulsively hugged Evie. “Quite all right. He understands. He has a devout following. Those gals torture themselves regularly with my Wilmer. They’re used to it. They love him. Everybody loves Wilmer.” She leaned in close and whispered in Evie’s ear. “Especially me.”

Evie scrunched up her nose and giggled conspiratorially. “Andrea might have mentioned that a time or fifty. How long have you two known each other?”

“Come on, I’ll buy you a juice delight and we can girl talk.” Callista led Evie to the quaint restaurant near the front of the gym. “Andrea loves these crazy concoctions our new juicer makes.” She ordered two fruity drinks and sat at a small table near the window. “You back for more?”

Evie pretended to take a sip of the drink. “This is heavenly.” She smiled and watched Callista take a long drink. Their glasses were poured from the same blender so it must be safe to drink. “Nope.” Evie pointed to the floor. “Forgot my bag. I was a little rattled about the massage thing.”

Callista frowned. “I am soooo sorry about that. I just didn’t think.”

Evie patted the girl’s arm. “No worries. It’s my baggage. You couldn’t have known.” She smiled warmly at Callista. “So how long have you known Wilmer, the handsome-beyond-real man of yours?”

“Call me Calli. He is, isn’t he?” She squirmed in her chair and giggled. “We met about six years ago in Austria. He was guiding climbers, and I was one of the women in his group. We hit it off right out of the gate. My mom gave me and my sister a trip to Europe for Sarah’s college graduation present. She got her degree, and I got to be the chaperone. We had a blast. When I got home, Wilmer friended me on social media, and it just got better from there. It’s all legal and stuff. He got his work permit and everything.” Calli’s smile chilled a touch and Evie caught it right away.

“And then what? What’s the frown for?” Evie mirrored Calli’s physical movements and expressions to build rapport. She’d learned that trick from her captors as well.

“Nothing, really. Except…” Calli leaned in. “Wilmer’s brother came over a couple months ago. Keizer’s such a slob, and he doesn’t have any money of his own. Wilmer pays for everything.” Calli took another drink for strength.

Evie did too.

“And he’s fat! Oh my God, is he fat. Wilmer makes excuses for his older brother cause he thinks he owes Keizer. His brother quit university to take care of Wilmer when their parents were killed in an avalanche while skiing in the mountains. Wilmer was still in school.” She drew back. Evie figured Calli realized she was sharing very personal information with a woman she’d just met.

Evie sat back as well purposefully instilling relaxation into the situation. She took a long drink savoring the sweet pulpy liquid. “You’re right. This is delicious. Amazing.” She took another drink. “Your secret is safe with me, Calli. I have a really weird sister I don’t tell people about, too.” Again, Evie tried for the let’s-share-confidences air. “She’s a Marie LaVoe convert. Lives in a swamp and tells fortunes.” Evie leaned in close. “Hair all nasty. You know the type. Call me now!” Evie impersonated the famous fortuneteller who’d run amuck with the law a few years back.

That set Calli to giggling, and back in the sharing mode. “Well, Keizer doesn’t have a job and can’t work in the States, but he keeps talking about this big deal and some chunk of money that will be coming in any day now. Then he says he’s going to Argentina and buy a ranch.” Calli finished her drink. “That’ll be the day. He’d never be able to get his fat butt on a horse. Wilmer is so fed up. His brother sits around eating our food and drinking anything he can get his hands on. Wilmer would kick him out, but he doesn’t think Keizer has anywhere to go.”

“I’m so sorry you have to put up with that. My sister is always begging for money. She just spends it on dead mice, dried frogs, and voodoo stuff.” Evie gave a visible shudder. “That’s why I joined the army. Got me out of the swamp.” Evie shook her head sadly.

“Maybe Keizer’s not so bad.” Calli giggled and squeezed Evie’s hand.

“Ladies.” Wilmer appeared with a glass of something green and frothy. “May I join you?” He planted a chaste kiss on his girlfriend’s forehead.

Calli smiled and squeezed his hand. “Of course, Wilmer. Evie and I were just girl talking.” She smiled sweetly.

“Ut oh. Am I in trouble?” Wilmer smiled and the lights got brighter. The table vibrated with anticipation and Calli giggled outrageously. The Prince of Personality was in spectacular form.

“Not at all, Wilmer. I came back for my bag and Calli introduced me to these juice delights. They are incredible. She was telling me about how you guys met. So romantic.” Evie fanned her face. She still had her ear bug in, so everything said was heard by her team. “And you have family here. How nice.”

Wilmer snorted. “Not for long.” He turned toward Calli. “I gave him two veeks. Hiz visa expires den. I cannot have an illegal in my house. I have too much to lose.” He slid a finger down the side of Calli’s cheek. “Dis voman means the vorld to me.”

Calli giggled and blushed appropriately. Nothing in his body language or verbal communication gave Evie pause to think he was not completely honest and forthcoming with the truth. He was definitely in love with the cute little Calli.

“I believe you. Calli, you’re one lucky woman.”

Calli took Wilmer’s hand under the table. “Yes, I am.”

“Darling, have you seen Moto today? He had a massage scheduled vith Mrs. Ortega and did not show.” Wilmer frowned. “Dat man’s character is questionable. Mrs. Ortega is not a voman to be stood up.”

“Does he do that often? Just not show up?” It was the opening Evie jumped into.

“Not really. And he’s a good masseur. Strong hands. But sometimes I get a creepy feeling around him.” Calli shuddered and Wilmer put an arm around her.

“Dare is somtink strange in here.” Wilmer pointed to his head. He guzzled the last of his revolting looking drink. “Back to vork vit me.” He kissed the top of Calli’s head. “Two veeks, darling.”

That made Calli’s smile even bigger.

After Wilmer was out of hearing range, Calli leaned in closely. “Two weeks can’t come soon enough for me. Wilmer won’t do anything to compromise his visa. He won’t even speed. He loves this country, and his position here. We make good money and Wilmer wants to become a citizen.”

“Sounds like you two have a great life planned. I can see why he wouldn’t do anything to hurt his chances, and you. You’re such a lucky lady. And nice.” Evie smiled at the effervescent trainer.

“This fall we’re both starting a fitness science program at Texas A & M. The gym is paying. I already have an Associates in physical education.”

“A real go-getter, huh? Now I know why Andrea speaks so highly of you two.” Evie held out a fist for a congratulatory bump.

“I could never have done all this without Wilmer. He really set me straight about education and setting goals. Eventually we want to open a franchise of high-class gyms, and a line of health drinks. Together we can do it. I’m glad he’s getting rid of that leech of a brother.” She paused to take a breath. Calli was obviously excited about her future and bounced in her chair while describing their plans. “We’ll probably have to pay for his ticket back to Germany.” A little frown peeked out from behind all her exuberance. “It’ll be worth it.”

Evie nodded in silent agreement. “I wonder what happened to your masseur?” She pulled her bag from the floor as if to leave.

“No idea. He’s only been with the club about a year and sometimes he’s a very secretive guy. I keep my distance.” The young woman shrugged. “How’s Andrea? Have you talked to her? She’s really okay, isn’t she? I mean, I don’t want to pry, but I really do consider her a friend. If there’s anything I could do for her, or Conrad, you’d let me know, right?”

“That’s very sweet, Calli. I’ll let her know you’re concerned. Maybe she’ll give you a jingle. She’s having a great time with her nieces.” Evie hated lying to Calli after sharing such personal confidences, but it was necessary for the moment. “I gotta go. Thanks for the, what was this again?”

Calli jumped up and spontaneously hugged Evie. “Orange cran-raz banana flip. It’s Andrea’s favorite.”

Evie laughed. “There’s no way I’m going to remember that, but it was fabulous. Gotta go.”

Evie checked out of the club with a swipe of Conrad’s family pass and headed down the street toward a little taco stand a block away. “Guys, need a ride. Meet you at Chacko’s Tacos.”

She heard Conrad’s response in her ear. “Be there in five. Bull’s babysitting. Simon’s doing whatever Simon does. You know he hacked into a government satellite data file?”

“This is an open frequency. And no, I didn’t. I was never there.” Simon spoke absently, obviously engrossed in pulling data from somewhere he never was.

Evie chuckled. “That’s my guy.”

“Relationshipee, I believe is the correct term.” Simon’s response was dry and low. His focus was obviously split between their communication and the computer and was working overtime, but he had to get his little dig in.

“Roger that, baby.” Evie responded as she spotted Conrad’s SUV down the street. The ear bug system was an open forum and she could identify several chuckles.

****

Her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth and her lips were cracked in several places. She wiggled her legs to shoo the biting sand fleas away. Gritty sand caked the side of her face along with the remnants of dried blood from the gash on her forehead. Her hands stung from a million small cuts and her foot was a lovely shade of purplish-black. She still had no name for herself, but flashes of a tall man in a uniform with a gun, persisted. From what little she could retain in her pounding head, she knew he was a soldier, a fighter of some kind. His dark, tanned face showed white patches and lines around his dark brown eyes from sunglasses and hours of squinting in the bright light of some far-off battlefield. He was tall and dripped masculinity. The soldier carried his AR like a father carries a young child; protectively and with purpose. His muscular arms bulged beneath a camo shirt and Kevlar vest, while long legs sported a tactical style holster trapping a handgun against his thigh.

Was he the one who shot at her?

Was he the one who saved her? Saved her?

Her mangled neurons couldn’t quite figure it out.

What had she done to become a target?

A victim.

Random thoughts buzzed with painful vibration across her gray matter, but nothing substantial remained to take hold as a solid memory.

“Damn!” She swatted at a mosquito on her cheek. Fire burned through her rib cage. She swore she could hear the pest laughing at her, as it hovered just beyond reach.

Slowly, inch by painful inch, she pushed into a sitting position. Her head hung and her arms cradled her fiery, throbbing middle.

Broken ribs.

She placed her foot in the sand and felt a twinge of tenderness. The purple was only a bruise then.

Her hip ached. But only as much as it had the last time she’d taken a hard fall, trying to catch her tipping tripod.

Tripod?

Where had that come from?

“Well…Jane, time to bite the bullet.” Her first attempt at standing produced so much pain, she almost passed out. After a few minutes of shallow panting, she tried again, but it was no good. Her sorely abused core muscles screamed at their host. “Ahhh!”

The edge of the water was a little closer, but if she waited for the tide to reach her, it would probably be too late. She needed to cool off and find fresh water.

She glanced at the sun. It was high in the sky.

Noon.

Only Englishmen and fools go out in the midday sun. The colloquial saying danced in her mind.

A piece of caked sand fell from her forehead. It was rusty colored from dried blood.

Her blood.

“Lord, help me! Heaven knows I need it.” A sense of calm washed across her tortured body. Like that first drink of really cold water on a hot day, the feeling began in her chest and spread outward. Grasping a white limb of driftwood for a crutch, she summoned as much strength as she could, and fought her way to her feet. Stumbling and limping, Jane waded into the tide pool, relishing the cool water that lapped about her waist. “At least you know you can swim, Jane.”

There was no current behind the reef’s barrier and the pool was not very deep. She sank into the water letting herself float, easing her pain and cleaning some of the garbage smell from her shirt and body. She closed her eyes to the bright sun and floated, dipping her head beneath the water occasionally to rinse her hair and soak the sand and dirt from her head wound.

This time when she stood, there was less pain and she felt refreshed, almost clean.

She knew her island was small since she’d seen the entire thing from the ocean as she’d paddled her make-shift raft with all her might.

Small islands had people, right?

At the moment, people weren’t as important as water and food. Her mouth felt like a salty sewer, and her tongue was thick and dry.

“All right, Jane, my girl. Survival 101 says water first.”

Survival 101? Where did that come from?

Wading ashore, Jane surveyed her stretch of beach.

The white sandy shore bordered heavy green vegetation. The reef protected the shore as far as she could see, from her position on the ground. Brightly colored birds flitted among the tall coconut trees that formed a canopy above tangled vines and flowering bushes. In any other circumstance, the scene would have come right out of some Caribbean travel advertisement for Paradise Lost and Found. The tangy sea air and humid jungle scents combined to create a heady aroma. The only thing missing was the sweet coconut smell of suntan lotion and a Dirty Margarita.

And her memory!

Limping down the beach with the help of her make-shift driftwood crutch, Jane breathed shallow gulps of the scented air and listened to the chatter of the island birds. She had no idea of what direction she went or where the beach might end, but still she trudged on. Doing something in pain was better than just sitting in pain.

A Bananaquit, rousted from a tree near her, squawked and fluttered its wings. “Little Banana-quit, you have a big mouth for such a small bird.” Jane admonished the yellow and black bird as it flapped it wings and darted farther into the vegetation. “Bananaquit? Am I an ornithologist?” she considered out loud. Maybe that explained the camera memory. Maybe she photographed birds!

A sooty shearwater sailed low across the tidal pool which was turning into a lagoon the farther she limped. “I know these birds!” She would have patted herself on the back, had she been able to lift an arm that high. Looking around with renewed interest, she named more birds as she saw them. It helped ignore the pain of her stiff gait and awkward movements.

After what seemed to be hours, she paused. Was that the sound of rushing water?

She couldn’t run, but she limped faster toward the sound. Rounding a small dune, she saw it and nearly fainted! A small stream tumbled down high rocks forming a little pool before emptying over more rocks into the lagoon.

Water!

She stumbled into the cold water laughing with glee.

Fresh water! Number one on the survival list.

Gulping handfuls, Jane splashed her face then sank into the sweet cold, up to her shoulders, lapping water like a puppy after a wild run.

For a while she just sat there…breathing, lapping and breathing some more. She took a mouthful and spit a stream through her teeth several feet into the pool. She followed that with a girlish giggle. A flash of memory saw her and another girl spitting great mouthfuls of water at each other in a plastic kiddie pool.

Family?

A sister?

Then it was gone, and her moment of clarity faded like ripples on the surface.

“Augggg! Why can’t I remember?” Her anguished cry sent a pair of Monk parakeets into the air. She followed their flight path until they disappeared behind a dilapidated shed near the top of the waterfall.

A building! Food was number two on the survival list, but she would take shelter instead!

Careful to follow a barely recognizable trail through the twisted vines and overgrown bushes, Jane made her way toward the shelter.

It sat on the edge of the stream. Mostly covered in jungle vines and flowering bushes, it looked like a quaint summer cottage in an overgrown English garden gone wild, waiting for occupancy. Tiny Purple-throated Caribbean hummingbirds buzzed about, feeding from the many flowers. Zipping in and out, they ignored the human’s approach. On closer inspection, it wasn’t a structure at all, but an ancient Mosquito net strung between four trees, draping to the ground. Many years ago, the vegetation claimed the net as a trellis, and now the walls and roof consisted of woven vines and air roots so thick Jane had to push a hand through to even realize the composition.

“Will ya look at this! My own house of flowers. Just like a fairy princess in some far away land.” She bent to peer through the hand hole she’d made, and winced. “A somewhat bruised and battered princess.” Jane straightened, leaning heavily on her crutch. She carefully pulled at the base of the net. It was solidly attached to the ground by vines and roots. “Damn.”

The trail led around the net house, so she followed the impressions in the grass.

Who had stayed here?

When?

Were they castaways like herself, or campers on holiday?

A few feet away she spied a grassy ring reminiscent of a fire ring. The stones were green lumps in the ground and a bougainvillea had grown up the three-sided frame where a pot must have hung. That pot now lay rusty and full of holes buried in the grass, the handle broken away from its attaching hinges.

Situational tools and weapons.

The words just popped into her head as the handle gleamed in the sun.

A rusty handle gleamed?

A deep chuckle seemed to emanate from the pit, beckoning her to grasp the handle.

“Take it girl. Use whatever you can to survive.”

Jane looked around for the voice, but not a leaf moved. Not one blade of grass bent to a strange footfall.

“Who’s there?”

There was no one to answer.

Jane’s ears strained to hear anything. But the only noises she could detect were those of the island, and its inhabitants. Birds squawked, peeped, and sang their exotic songs. The stream babbled and fell to the pool below. A slight breeze rustled through the coconut trees. One large green coconut dropped into the stream and floated toward the falls, disappearing over the edge before Jane could rescue it. “Damn! Number two on the survival hit list.” And she’d let it go without so much as a lifted finger. “Get your head together, Jane.”

Where there was one, there would be more, she told herself. Retrieving the pot handle was a challenge. Like standing the first time, it took a couple tries. She leaned in and gasped. She tried to squat and almost passed out from the intense pain in her chest. She would have to figure out something else if she really wanted the rusty handle.

“Tools.”

The irritating voice in her head was back. But this time it was low and rich, with a southern accent.

How strange…

“Tools.” The voice repeated.

“Yes! Yes. Yes, of course!” She balanced on one foot and used her driftwood crutch to pry the handle from the tangled grass and lift it to her hand. It took time and several attempts, but soon she held the rusty metal in one hand and her crutch in the other. “Ta da!” She congratulated herself on a task well done.

A task well done? “How about the first step of many, just to live.”

“Exactly.” The high sweet voice was back.

She was hearing voices. More than one? With different accents and tones?

There was crazy. Then there was really crazy! Jane was beginning to accept really crazy. If it helped her remain among the living for one more day.

She shuffled back to the net house and picked at the vines and netting with the pot handle. The netting came apart with ease, but the vegetation had grown so thick, the semi-structure stood now on its own. She worked at separating a hole just big enough to skinny through. It took a great deal of time and her body ached with every move. She could feel the task draining what little energy she still had, but after a while, the vines parted just enough, and she stumbled through.

The interior was dim and fragrant in a humid sort of way. Small, maybe six feet square, a stick and rope platform sat against one edge. A filthy tarp from some long-ago contributor, lay covered in dry grass.

A bed!

Jane collapsed on the tarp and let the pain take her off into oblivion.

The sweet voice called to her just as her eyes closed.

“Sweet dreams.”