“It's important to begin a search on a full stomach.” -- Henry Bromel, Northern Exposure, The Big Kiss, 1991
Lunch was plentiful, if not exactly filling. He couldn’t just sit there any longer—and by the look of boredom on Amanda’s face she felt it too. They needed to get up and do something. The camp was stocked with firewood and water, perhaps they could go exploring. He stood up and held out his hand. At her questioning gaze, he nodded towards the brush behind them. “Let’s take a walk.”
“Ok, let me grab my pack.” She stuffed the water bottles and a couple of jackfruit into the front pocket before turning her attention to him. He cocked his head and laughed. ‘Ever the scout.’
“What?”
“Nothing.” He smiled. “You ready?”
“Yep, let’s go.” She turned back and grabbed the knife sitting on the long log that they had declared ‘the couch’ and stuck it in her pocket. “You never know.” She mumbled under her breath.
After reaching the top of the rock formation, he reached for her hand to help her up. Never letting go, they continued their walk, hand-in-hand. Her warm fingers entwined in his made him smile. When had she become such a big part of his world? Wasn’t it just yesterday she rushed into his life? Sneaking a peek at her sun-kissed skin as they trudged through the sand, he couldn’t hold back the thoughts. ‘She really does have great legs!’ He chastised himself for thinking such things. They were friends and partners. That was all.
“Lee?”
“Hmmm? I’m sorry, what were you saying?” Embarrassed to be caught daydreaming about her, he ran his hand through his thickening beard.
“I was just asking if you were thirsty.” She shook the bottle in front of him.
“Oh, yeah. Thanks.” It really was a good thing she found that spring this morning. It was hot, and getting hotter. They were going to need all the water they could find to stay hydrated.
“Lee, what’s that?”
“What’s what?” He looked to the area she was pointing out.
“That shiny thing--there--hidden by the trees.”
He shaded his eyes against the blaring sun, struggling to focus on the object. Too far away to tell what it was. Putting the cap back on the water bottle, he handed it to her. “Let’s go take a look.”
Removing branches and vines that had grown over the burned out metal, he looked back at her. “Well, so much for naming this island after us. Looks like someone beat us here.” The crumpled remains of what appeared to be a crop duster lay before them. A small tree grew out of the rotted cockpit, and years of rain had corroded the shell of the small plane and left rings of rust.
“You don’t suppose . . .” She couldn’t finish her thought, staring at what was left of the cockpit, but he knew exactly what she was getting at.
“Well, I doubt it fell from the sky by itself. I’ll go take a look.” He grasped the door handle and yanked on it, almost afraid it would come off in his hands. Ignoring the loud creak, he lowered his head and stepped inside. The interior was gutted with only two large duffle bags lying askew on the floor. Nature had clearly claimed this wreckage as it’s own. Large cobwebs and vines hung in every corner and a family of rodents had obviously been calling it home for quite some time. He slid up to the front of the plane, bracing himself for a gruesome scene. He wasn't disappointed. By the looks of the skeletal remains the pilot had died several years ago.
Climbing back through the shifting wreckage, he grabbed one of the duffle bags and slowly opened it. Cocaine. A drug runner. Lee zipped it back up and grabbed the other expecting to find the same. Much to his surprise he found bundles of cash and a case of very expensive rum. At least the pilot was smart enough to wrap them individually so they wouldn’t break. “How thoughtful.” Lee whispered as he grabbed one and tossed it into his pack.
“Lee? What did you find?” Amanda yelled into the plane. Zipping the bag back up, he slid out of the wreckage.
“Seems the pilot was on a drug run.” He dusted off his clothes and shook his head to rid himself of the decay. “I found enough cocaine in there to make up for our botched assignment. The DEA will be quite happy with the Agency for this score.”
“How long do you think it’s been here?”
“By the looks of the pilot in there, I’d say several years. But with this warm weather, it’s hard to tell.” She shivered at the mention of the dead pilot and he tried to take her mind off it. “What do you say we continue our walk and see if we can’t find some more of that . . . what did you call that big rock fruit?”
“Jackfruit.” She giggled.
“Right. Jackfruit. Let’s go.” He held out his hand and smiled when she took it without even seeming to notice.
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"The Devil finds work for idle hands." -- Proverb
He couldn’t watch her anymore. She was making him nervous! What was she thinking? “A-man-da! We’re not moving in! You don’t have to straighten up the camp. We’ll be out of here in a day!”
“I know, Lee. I just . . .” She looked so solemn. No matter what was going on in her life, she usually wore a smile and had a great attitude to go with it. He hated to see her upset.
Lee clicked the blade back into its slot and set down the piece of wood he was sharpening. “Amanda, come sit down, please.” She wandered over to him and plopped down on the sand next to him. He picked up her right hand and stroked it trying to calm her nerves. “We’re gonna be off this island in no time and you’ll be back with your family where you belong.” When she didn’t answer him right away he searched her eyes trying to read her thoughts.
“I know that. It’s just that I feel so bad for that pilot. His family has no idea what happened to him. He’s been here for God knows how—”
“Amanda, he was a drug runner—”.
“He was still a human being, Lee--with family and friends.” She pulled her hand from his grasp.
“Ah, yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck roughly. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Of course, she wouldn’t be thinking of herself. Amanda always thought of everyone above herself. Awkwardly he grabbed the piece of wood he’d been carving and gave her a weak smile. “Look, what do you say I go test this spear out and see if I can catch us some dinner?”
“Sounds great. I’ll make sure the fire is ready.”
“I –”
“Just don’t spear yourself!”
He sighed. “Yeah.”
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“The best of intentions . . . the road to hell is paved with them.” -- Unknown
“Well, I have to admit. I didn’t think you were going to be able to catch anything with that stick—”
“It’s a spear.” Why did he suddenly sound like a cave man?
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She held up her hands laughing in mock surrender. “It really was delicious. I haven’t eaten fresh fish like that in so long. I just don’t get much time to take the boys fishing anymore.”
“I guess, we do keep you pretty busy around the Agency, huh?”
She shrugged. “The boys are getting to that age where fishing with their old mom isn’t cool.”
“Oh, I don’t know . . . I think their mom is pretty cool.”
“Well, thank you very much, sir.” She smiled as a flush found its way to her cheeks.
Silence permeated the air for a few awkward moments as Lee stacked more logs on the fire. “So . . .”
“We could tell ghost stories, but I’m afraid all your stories would be too true to life.”
“Yeah or still classified.” He reached behind him for his backpack and slid out the bottle of rum from the crash site. “We could play a drinking game. You know, to pass the time.”
“What, you mean like spin the bottle?”
“Mrs. King, I’m shocked! I was thinking more along the lines of “Truth or Dare.”
“How is that a drinking game, Stetson?” She eyed him suspiciously.
“I would ask you if you wanted truth or dare and if you decided not to answer or do the dare, you’d have to take a drink.” Seeing the look of confusion on her face he wished he’d never brought it up. “Never mind. It was a stupid idea.” He attempted to slide the bottle back into the pack.
“No, no.” She took the bottle from his grasp and read the label. “It sounds . . . fun. Besides, it’s not like either of us has anything else do.” She grinned. "You go first!"
“You’re first!”
“Now come on! It was your idea so you should go first.”
“Fine. Dare.”
“Gee, that’s a surprise.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” He reached for the bottle in her hands, and grinned when she held it out of his reach.
“Nothing.”
“No, you meant something by it or you wouldn’t have said it.”
“You never tell me anything about yourself.”
“So you think I’m just going to pick dares the entire game?”
She shrugged and stared at the fire, running her fingers over the bottle cradled in her lap.
“Alright, I promise to do both equally. Satisfied?” She smiled brightly back at him, and he swallowed nervously. ‘Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.’
Amanda ran her pendant across its chain for a few moments as if she were contemplating the meaning of life. Finally, she blurted out the dare. “I dare you to eat the rest of the cararilli.”
Without thinking about it for even a second he grabbed the bottle of rum from her, threw off the cap, and took a big swallow.
She shook her head and laughed. “I knew it!”
“That’s stuff’s awful. Can you blame me?”
Her face scrunched up in disgust and she shook her head.
“You’re turn. Truth or dare?”
“I better start off with truth.”
“I thought you might say that. Let’s see.” He pretended to contemplate his question for a few quiet moments, not wanting her to know that he had a burning question already lined up. After what he thought was the appropriate length of time, he cleared his throat and rushed ahead. “What went wrong between you and Joe?”
She held out her hand and he looked at her in confusion. It wasn’t until she eyed the bottle that he realized she was refusing to answer the question. ‘She must really not want to tell me--she never drinks straight liquor.’ He had assumed it was a sure thing that she’d answer all his questions and even attempt the dares to avoid the rum. He’d underestimated her yet again.
Amanda slipped the cap off the clear bottle and took a tentative sip. She coughed after swallowing and looked at him with watery eyes. “Smooth.” she croaked. Wiping the corners of her mouth she pressed on. “Your turn, and I believe it’s time for truth.”
Lee groaned inwardly. What was she going to ask him? How personal would she get? . It was a strange thought--titillating and frightening. Nonetheless, he steeled himself for what was to come.
“Why does your uncle call you Skip?”
“A-man-da! That’s the burning question you have about me?” He rubbed his forehead in frustration and disappointment.
“What am I supposed to ask?”
“Well, I don’t know . . . something . . . a bit more personal than that. We aren’t in high school.” Her face turned crimson and he regretted his last statement. “I’m sorry. Ask whatever you’d like.”
“No, no. You’re right. I was just afraid to get too personal. Ok . . . why did you and Leslie break up?”
‘Oh boy. You had to tell her to ask tougher questions!’ “Uh, well.” He ran his hand through his hair, but scowled when his fingers snagged in the tangles. “I guess I just realized she wasn’t what I wanted.”
“Not ready to give up your little black books?” She laughed nervously and absently took another sip of the rum. No coughing this time, only a grimace after she swallowed.
“No, that’s not it. I just realized that she wasn’t the one.” He tried to let her know what he felt without being too obvious. Hell, he didn’t even know what he felt, how was he going to communicate it to her? All he knew was that when he was with Leslie he felt like he was forgetting something--missing something.
Taking the bottle from her, he took a cleansing drink. “Your turn. I believe you’re due for a dare, dear partner.” When she opened her mouth to protest he added. “It’s only fair!”
“Alright, Scarecrow. Dare.” She glared at him and then snatched the bottle back. .
“Hey! I haven’t even told you the dare yet!”
“I’m just preparing myself.”
Lee laughed. He loved how she could make fun of herself and seem perfectly comfortable doing it. She really was one in a million.
“So, what’s my task?”
“Oh. Um. I dare you . . . to . . .” He couldn’t think of a dare! ‘Think, Stetson!’ Scanning the beach, he ran scenarios through his head but nothing seemed appropriate for Amanda.
“Wow! Already out of ideas, Stetson?” She mocked, her eyes challenging him as she handed him the bottle in triumph.
If they were going to play this game the way it should be played she’d need more rum . . . they both would! “Okay, smarty. I dare you to take 3 shots of rum.” He handed her the bottle with a big grin on his face.
“Three shots?”
“Three.” He nodded.
She seized the bottle and took a deep breath before swallowing down the hot liquid.
“That’s one.”
“One? That was at least two!” she squeaked.
“Amanda, I said a shot not a sip.”
She groaned and took her next swallow. “Two.” Coughing, it was barely audible.
He would have felt guilty if it wasn’t so much fun watching her fight every bend of the arm. She chugged down the final gulp. Lee wondered earlier how many swallows it would take her before she loosened up and the alcohol suppressed her common sense. Apparently, the number was two—otherwise she would have realized if she had opted out of the dare she would have only had to take one sip.
TBC . . .
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