Chapter Two: Down Twisted — Part 4

Before he can think, Joe snags both her hands, pulls her close, and Daria yelps, caught seemingly off balance and now leaning against Joe’s chest, looking up at him. Joe takes a second to gather his thoughts. He has no idea what to say, and Daria’s physical proximity to him has created a strange, sugary hot discomfort that he has never experienced before. He isn’t entirely certain that he will ever want to experience it again, and because of that, his entire focus is on ending this discussion with Daria, and in so doing, creating a safe and permanent physical distance between himself and the girl. Her smile is a little lopsided, and she’s staring into his eyes, trying subtly to twist out of his grip. Joe instinctively holds her wrists, knowing that if he doesn’t do something soon, she’s going to worsen the bruises already there.

“Can I call you Daddy?” Daria asks it suddenly, giggling.

Joe is startled. “No.” He shakes her for a moment until she squeals, biting her lip and nearly to tears.

Once she is calm again, Joe lets her go. “You may call me Captain.”

“Yes Captain, O Captain.” Daria says, rubbing her wrists, her eyes locked with his.

Joe adjusts his clothes, shaking his fingers out, spreading them toward the ground in a quick flick, as if in flinging them open, he might somehow dispel the memory of Daria’s touch from his hands. “As your Captain, I am ordering you never to hurt yourself again. I am ordering you only to act in violence in defense of your crew and yourself, except when ordered to act in contradiction by myself, or Blake. Violate these orders, and you will know true suffering. Do you understand?”

Daria snaps to attention, all playfulness out of her pose. Her heels slam together and her back rises straight. He buttocks clench and her shoulders square up. Her right hand comes to her eyebrow in a firm salute.

“Yes Captain.” She says loudly.

“At ease.” Joe says, turning away from her. “Let’s get back to the survey.”

Joe is quiet as Daria slips an arm around his, hanging on his elbow. “Will you ever order me to hurt myself?” She asks, sounding innocent.

“Of course not.” Joe says, sounding indignant.

“What about Blake?” Daria asks.

“Never ever.” Joe looks to the left, a trail leads into the main part of the island, and he thinks he can hear ducks, or duck-like birds ‘squacking’ at each other.

He turns suddenly, girl in tow, sensing her disappointment at his answers. The duck population is rather small, and Joe looks disappointed. “Won’t be putting duck on the menu at this island.”

“What about those?” Daria asks, pointing to any of hundreds of birds now visible on the lawn of a building now burned to the ground.

“Albatross is not food.” Joe says. “Trust me on this one.”

They find no buildings standing on the island, and Joe knows the Storm must have set everything ablaze, only to put it in check with the torrential rain that followed. He’s pretty sure, judging by the edge of damage, that the rain must have been the only thing keeping the island from being fully razed. A rat scurries by, and Daria watches it work the brush line. The island, Joe knows, is a precarious ecosystem at best, with the only viable species being dependent either on their ability to fly or swim away, as the sea will eventually reclaim the land. The rats, and any other animal without wings or fins, will perish. He’s never let rats on his ship, and he has no intention of uninvited guests now. He’ll make a note to inspect every corner of the Edgewind before he leaves.

“The rats will eat the bird eggs.” Daria says. “They don’t do well on islands, destroy the environment.”

“Not my problem.” Joe says. “If I can’t eat it, I’m not killing it. Things got to get real ugly before I eat rat.”

He takes out his binoculars and scans the island. “This place is a dead zone. There had to be people here, but I got no signs of it anywhere. No bodies, no bones. It’s fucked up.”

“Rats?” Daria thinks.

“I don’t see even a scrap of cloth.” Joe ponders. “Maybe the bodies burned with the buildings.”

Daria slowly lets go of his arm, starts scanning the horizon. “I’ve looked for tracks and trails, for any signs of human motion, past and present. I’ve got nothing, Joe. Not a toe print, not a broken branch, no fresh remains except the ones you and Blake left on your fishing trip, and in another day even those will be gone. This island is human free, or the humans in question left, or they are damn good at hiding, and by damn good I mean living in a cave under ground good.”

“It’s not a big place. But it gives me the creeps.” Joe says. “We’ll stay another day, and we’ll stay close to camp, all of us.”

“Yes Captain.”

Joe takes a moment and stops Daria, taking her hands gently, forcing her to look at him. “You’re going to be okay, right?” He asks.

“Yes, of course.” Daria says.

They walk for a time, finishing their circuit of the island, just to be safe, looking for any sign of other human life. Daria is always close, brushing against him, hanging on him, ever so often commenting on something she sees. Joe humors this because it seems to be in Daria’s nature to be a little creepy, and not intentionally so. Daria pauses in her usual cadence of chatter and observation, and says something carefully, her tone profound. It seems hard for her to speak, as if in doing so she is admitting to some deep flaw of which she is entirely self-aware, and totally uncomfortable with.

“I am sorry to be a burden on you.” She says suddenly. “I know I’m crazy. I try not to be, but I, uh … I am what I am.”

“You are not a burden, and I’ve had crazier loons under my command. Just be grateful you fell in with such good friends, you know?”

Joe and Daria have come back toward the runway, stopping short of two massive gaping holes in the ground that are now nearly filled with water. Joe looks up and down the runway, toward rusted buildings that are little more than slag lines and melted glass, and tries to imagine what must have been there. Daria makes the connection a second before he does.

“Fuel bladders. Must have been either buried here, or sandbagged on the surface. Must have blown when the storm did. Probably burned out even with the rain.”

“That’s a lot of heat for an island this small.” Joe says, using his binoculars to follow trails of scorched dirt and plants, tracing the path of the flame from the storage tanks along natural runoffs in every direction. “Might be what killed them all.”

“Might be we’ll never know.” Daria says.

The two walk back to camp, and say nothing of what they found to the others. Joe makes a point to hand Daria, who is still hanging on his elbow, off to Jynx, and then to make a pointed walk back to Blake. The two will talk in signs for some time, Blake looking agitated, Joe’s expression both innocent and intent. In the end Blake points to the ocean and then puts his hand down, walking away from the discussion in a mild fit of anger. He retires to their tent and does not come out until well after dinner. Joe tells nobody why Blake is upset, and Heath is the only one out of the nine nosy enough to know.

Advertise Here