“You stay put!” she gasped. “Stay put, you little cocksucker!”
I kept shouting for help.
Then I spotted the ax in the sand, not far from my left elbow. I hauled it toward me by its haft.
“Thelma!”
Kimberly’s voice, an angry shout.
Thelma glanced in the direction it had come from. Gasped. Then flung herself at me.
I swung the ax as hard and fast as I could.
The flat side of its steel head struck her in the forearm.
The right forearm.
She cried out and the razor leaped from her hand.
She landed on me. Her head knocked me in the crotch. A second later, though, she rolled off. Making grunty noises, she rolled over a few times and got to her hands and knees. As she staggered to her feet, she snatched up her shorts. Holding them up with both hands, she ran for the inlet.
Kimberly went sprinting after her.
Lean and quick, dark except for the white of her bikini.
At the water’s edge, she leaped and reached with both hands for Thelma’s shoulders.
A great flying tackle.
Except that Thelma twisted around and smashed her elbow into the side of Kimberly’s face. The blow deflected Kimberly. And dropped her. She smacked down on the water, and Thelma kept going.
I was on my knees by then, in spite of the bash to my nuts. I turned to look for the others.
Back at the sleeping area, Connie was sitting up and staring in my direction. Of course, she was too battered to come running to the rescue. And Billie didn’t dare leave her behind. Billie, on her feet, a spear in her hands, was standing ready to fight in case Wesley should spring an attack on her and Connie.
I got to my feet and hurried toward the inlet.
Thelma was lunging through thigh-deep, black water. I couldn’t see her very well. Suddenly, I thought she was coming back. Which scared the hell out of me. I stopped short. I fought with an urge to turn around and make a run for it.
If I ran, she would finish off Kimberly.
I had just decided to go back for the ax and fight to save Kimberly when I realized that Thelma was smaller than before. Nothing showed below her waist—because she was in deeper water. She wasn’t returning. She’d been wading away, the whole time.
I hurried to help Kimberly.
She was on her hands and knees, head hanging, her face a few inches above the surface of the water. When I reached her, she didn’t look up.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She didn’t answer.
“Kimberly?”
“Go and get her,” she muttered. “Don’t let her get away.”
I looked for Thelma. At first, I couldn’t find her. Then I spotted a dim shape way out near the point.
“She’s awfully far away,” I said.
Kimberly muttered, “Damn it, Rupert.”
“I wouldn’t be able to catch her.”
She groaned.
“Can I help you up?” I asked.
“Don’t touch me.”
She sounded disgusted.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“You’re sorry, all right. Jesus H. Christ.”
“I almost got killed.”
“That would’ve been a big loss.”
Man. I was beginning to wish Thelma had killed me.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll go after her. If that’s really what you want. What do you want me to do if I catch up to her? Am I supposed to try and bring her back? Or do you want me to try and kill her? Maybe I’d better take along a knife, or something. Can I have your knife?”
Head still hanging, Kimberly said, “Forget it. Just forget it. Go to bed, or something. Shit.”
I’d never felt so low. I mean, you could tell she was completely disgusted with me and thought I was a waste and a loser.
Which is true. I am.
I decided to follow her advice, and go to bed. The problem with that, though, was Billie and Connie. They were there waiting for me, and I was crying pretty good by then. I just couldn’t help it.
“What happened?” Billie asked. She didn’t sound disgusted with me. She sounded like she cared.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Thelma got away. I let her get away.”
“Neat play,” Connie said.
“Hush up,” Billie said. Then she poked her spear into the sand and came over to where I was standing and put her arms around me.
It was one of the nicest things anyone has ever done.
She was all soft and warm and gentle, stroking my hair with one hand and my back with the other while I cried against the side of her neck. She kept murmuring, “It’s all right, honey. It’s okay. Everything’s fine.”
She’s the best woman I’ve ever known.
I calmed down pretty soon, thanks to Billie. Then Kimberly came along, so I got out of Billie’s arms and turned around to face the music.
“Are you okay, Rupert?” she asked.
“No. I really screwed up.”
“You’re not hurt, though?” I shook my head.
“How the hell did she get loose?” Connie asked.
“I… I untied her hands.”
“You outa your fucking mind?”
Billie put a hand on the back of my neck, and rubbed me.
“We’ll talk about it in the morning,” Kimberly said. “Everybody go back to sleep, now. I’ll keep watch.”
“I’m sorry,” I told her.
“What’s done is done,” she said. Then she turned away and walked back to the fire.
That’s about it for last night.
More than enough, if you ask me. Aside from the fact that so much happened—good stuff and bad stuff and some very weird stuff—it’s taken me most of the morning to write it down.
And I’m not even caught up yet.
The Inquisition
Anyway, I had all last night to worry about explaining the fiasco with Thelma. I wanted to make up a good story about it, so I wouldn’t look totally stupid and gullible and perverted.
Also, there was a whole lot I didn’t want to talk about.
But I couldn’t concentrate very well. I was lying there on my “bed,” trying to focus on coming up with a good lie, but all I could think about was what had actually happened. I kept reliving everything in my head. Not just remembering, but sort of feeling most of it—the confusion and fear and excitement and revulsion and arousal and terror—though in milder forms than when all of it was going on for real. And in jumbled order.
I couldn’t even get away from Thelma by falling asleep. My nightmares were worse than what had really happened. I don’t remember much about them, just that they had a lot to do with sex and razor blades, and that they were awful.
I was glad when morning came, so I wouldn’t have to suffer through any more nightmares.
After everybody was up, we gathered around the fire and ate the last of the canned ham for breakfast.
Have I mentioned the canned ham before? It was one of the things Keith and Andrew salvaged after the explosion. We got into it for the first time a few days ago when we didn’t have any fish. Anyway, now it’s gone—and we’re starting to get low on things to eat.
We’d started off on the trip with a lot of stuff, a great deal more than eight people could hope to finish off during a week at sea. The explosion happened when we still had four days left, and I guess that Keith and Andrew recovered about half of the food that was left. Including some good stuff like the canned ham.
They didn’t fare nearly so well with the drinks—we must’ve had enough soda, beer and hard stuff on the boat to keep an army happy. All that survived the explosion, though, were a few bottles of booze. (Nothing carbonated—soda, beer and champagne—survived the explosion. They all blew.) Anyway, I’d say we were pretty lucky to end up with as much as we did.