CHAPTER 32

Michelle spotted Vincent when Omar ducked under a strike she was throwing.  Vincent was stalking toward them, club raised high over his head. 

Her shift in attention and surprised expression caused Omar to turn slightly, to see the reason for her sudden lack of concentration.  Michelle had almost walked right into his kick, which might have damaged the valuable mother of his child.  Omar was off balance when he restrained the kick and was turning to look at the same time.  He couldn't react fast enough. 

Vincent bashed Omar in the side of his head with the heavy club.  He swung it two-handed, like a baseball bat.  Just before consciousness left Omar, as he was falling, he managed to kick out with one long leg, quick as a snake, connecting with Vincent's stout paunch.  Both men collapsed into the sand at almost the same moment.

Michelle dropped to her knees, hands to her face, between them.

"I'm okay," Vincent said after a few moments, sucking breath carefully, as Michelle crawled over to him.  He was doubled up and breathing hard, both hands over his burning belly.  He coughed, took a few deep breaths and staggered to his feet.  "Got the breath knocked out of me."

Michelle turned and put her hand on Omar's head, checking his wound.  Her hand came away bloody. 

"Get away from him," Vincent yelled.

Michelle looked at him, confused.

"Get away, get away.  Hurry.  Walk over to the fire.  Just get the hell away from him," Vincent was saying, harshly.

Michelle stood up slowly, not understanding his urgent exhortations, shocked he would yell at her like that.  Vincent went over to her and pulled her roughly away from Omar.

"He needs help," Michelle said.  "He's bleeding."

"Let him bleed.  He'll probably recover.  We need to tie him up."

"But he's hurt.  He can't do anything..."

"Michelle, if you touch him, you'll start healing him.  He may not kill you, but he will kill me, and I don't want you to start healing until he's safely restrained."

"Vincent," Michelle said smiling.  "I really can't heal."

They both jumped when they heard Omar's moan.  He sounded like a wounded lion, more growl than groan.

"What will we use?" Michelle asked, gazing around the beach.  She started looking for Omar's clothes.  "Maybe his pants and shirt?"

"I burned them," Vincent said.

Michelle laughed aloud.

"I thought it would be harder for him to leave the beach, without clothes."

They looked at each other in consternation.  Both were clad in the most minimal attire.  Michelle was the first to start laughing.  Then Vincent joined her.  They had nothing to tie Omar up with and the situation seemed so silly that neither was able to stop.

"I won't take off my bra," Michelle said, doubling up.

"Well," Vincent said, trying for a humorous shred of dignity, "you can just forget it if you think I'm taking off one single item of my clothing."

"You only have a single item, Vincent," Michelle gasped.

They howled.  They kept laughing hysterically, from sheer exhaustion and from relief that Omar was incapable of hurting either one of them for at least a few minutes.

Omar growled again and they both sobered up.  Michelle was hiccuping.  She was not laughing any more but she couldn't control the hiccups.

"We'll have to roll him up in the beach blanket," Vincent finally decided.

Michelle felt like the laughter had taken almost as much from her as the fight or even the swim to shore.  She was weak as a kitten when she pulled the blanket over to Vincent.

"I thought you were going to find a road.  Get help, Vincent," Michelle said.

"I saw you two fighting.  I couldn't just leave."

Michelle smiled at the little man, who had straightened Omar's limbs and was quickly rolling him up like a cocoon.  She tried to help but he shook his head, not wanting her to even touch Omar.  He was seriously overreacting to her dubious healing powers.  "He could have killed me within seconds, if he had wanted to."

"Well, he had all the advantages.  You were already exhausted.  He had been hypnotizing you from the moment you arrived on the beach.  Then those lights..."

"You saw them?"

"As I was coming in."

"He said they were dead spirits."

"Right," Vincent said cynically, staring down at Omar now wrapped up in the blanket, sighing at his inadequate handiwork.  "I think this will hold him, if we're lucky, for about five seconds.  After he wakes up.  I don't want to hit him again." 

"No, don't," Michelle said, shuddering and shaking her head.  The urge to at least wipe the blood off of Omar was almost overwhelming.  It was running from his scalp down over one side of his face.

"I said I would kill him," Vincent began, "but I just can't..."

"I was planning to do it myself," Michelle said, sighing.  "I couldn't either."

"Maybe there are some tough vines, to tie him up with, if we go up the path.  Or we could make a run for it, right now," Vincent said.  "Hope he won't catch us."

They both stood still, studying Omar.

"Vincent, I know what to do," Michelle said, smiling suddenly in relief.  "Let's dig a hole!"

"Brilliant!"

They started scooping out a large depression in the sand.  It went pretty fast, even though they were both tired.  They had to dig one which would be deep enough to tip him into and that would hold his arms pinned to his sides.  With the blanket to restrain his movement it would be almost impossible for Omar to get free.