Page 9 of Redemption Island

There’s a moment in napping where you sense where you are, you’re aware of your surroundings, but you’re so deeply in a dream or memory, you can’t move. I was in that state, feeling the pressure of Rick’s hands on my ankles, forcing my legs apart, the weight of his palms over my calves like the clammy underbelly of a snake. The rhythmic inching of his fingers coming closer to a part I did not wish him to enter.

A hissing sound mixed with Rick’s voice.

“Do you…siss…like this…siss?”

My eyes flicked open, and I screamed in response.

11

Day 24 – Tack

I heard the blood-curdling scream despite the distance. This wasn’t a woman frightened by a mouse, but someone in imminent danger. Juliet.

I dropped my journal and raced in the direction of her tree house. Listening as I hurdled over small brush and crushed twigs under my feet, I waited for another sound that didn’t happen. I held my breath as I ran the longest two miles in my life. My pace quickened each second there wasn’t another bellow, and fear grew that whatever I’d find, I’d be too late. I had no assurance the cry came from her tree house, but I didn’t know where else to start. Nor did I have a sense of the direction her cry occurred. I shouted her name with no response. With us as the only two human residents on this island, sound was distorted under the treetops.

“Fuck,” I cursed, as I neared her home, finding the ladder removed. “Juliet?” I yelled, hoping she would give me some sound, some recognition that she heard me. A crash above my head had me rushing toward the tree I’d climbed to reach her balcony. I launched myself from the closest tree to the vine I used to propel myself over her railing. Dropping onto her balcony, I wasn’t prepared for what I saw.

A large, speckled snake dangled above her.

Not being versed in the great outdoors, I had no idea the type, other than the length seemed endless and part of it lay in a ribbon across her legs. The head was above her, its body coiled over the natural rafter of a large tree limb.

“Juliet,” I whispered, uncertain how I was going to save her. She didn’t whimper or sigh or blink. For a moment, I wasn’t certain she was still alive, but then the lizard-like tongue slithered from its mouth, and Juliet squeaked.

The knife she’d used on me lay on a stand next to her bed and my only thought was to somehow sever the head of this creature, hoping it wouldn’t strike her before I could make it through his thick skin.

So mesmerized was the creature by Juliet, it didn’t sense my movement as I neared the bed. With her legs trapped and her fear paralyzing her, I didn’t know how I was going to get her to move, but I aimed for what I assumed was the neck directly behind the eyes and struck.

Blood rained down on Juliet, but the head remained mostly intact. It lowered and fear surged through me that it would lash out at her. Several things happened in tandem.

“Roll toward me,” I demanded, as I braced to step on the frame of the bed and launched the knife at the wound of its head. She could only twist the upper portion of her body but it was enough. The snake shot forward at the movement, and I stabbed again, forcing the head away from her.

The body was retreating as the head dangled obscenely from the base. His tongue slithered forward, eyes matching the devil. He was dissected, but not dead. I hacked one more time and the head fell to the bed, narrowly missing Juliet’s hip. I stood over her like a savage hunter, legs spread and straddling her body. Quickly, I kicked the head away from her and bent to push the surprisingly heavy weight of the body off her legs. Her knees bent, and she kicked out at the remaining loops of its body as well. Then she leaped from the bed and ran for her door.

“Juliet,” I cried, quickly following after her. One hand reached for her upper arm, catching her before she crossed through the exit. “Juliet, did he get you? Are you okay?” I spun her to face me, and without thought, drew her to my chest. The warm blood on her cheeks drenched my shirt, the stench overwhelmingly rancid. She pushed on my chest with a force that surprised me into releasing her and scrambled in the opposite direction. She collapsed and huddled on the floor near a small chair.

“Juliet,” I whispered as I slowly approached her. Her knees drawn upward with hands over her head, I witnessed her fear, a tangible presence hovering over us. She was trying to cover herself as if she could disappear in this position. Her body trembled, forcing her slender knees to knock against one another.

“Juliet,” I whispered again as I lowered to a squat, softening my voice as if I spoke to a child. I had no practice with children, but I tried to keep my tone tender. My hand reached forward despite my hesitation. I circled her wrist in hopes to remove her hands from her head. She flinched but I tightened my hold. The effect was what I wanted. She looked up at me, eyes wild and glassy, her face spattered with blood.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Her head shook and tears leaked from her eyes. She seemed too strong to cry. She hadn’t cried that night. She hadn’t cried when she came to kill me. Witnessing the delicate streams trickling down her thin cheeks crushed me in a way I’d never felt before.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice so low it cracked, and I knew she hadn’t heard me. She hadn’t been afraid that night, or at least she didn’t show it. But she was frightened now, and I couldn’t decide if it was the snake or me she feared. When she looked away from me, I dreaded the thought was the latter.

Shifting to my knees, I reached forward and wrapped my hands around her shoulders, the quake of her body so evident she vibrated under my touch as I lifted her. I shifted a second time and instantly dragged her into my lap, enveloping her by circling her back and rounding my other arm over her tight knees that were pressed to her chest. She was so frail, yet I did not consider her weak. She fit over my thighs, and I drew her to me. Her head fell to my shoulder. I didn’t think before I kissed the top of her head where her hair met tanned skin. Keeping my lips there, I whispered again.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Nothing will ever hurt you again.”

+ +

I’d returned to my tent after lifting the dead snake head and launching it into the jungle. We worked in tandem, and in silence, as we removed the dead weight of the snake body, disengaging it from its position coiled around the limb rafter. I wanted to comment on her lodging, but each time I opened my mouth for a sarcastic comment, I would see the hollow look in her eyes and the blood still splattered on her face.

Her shelter was stable, with a small bed made of tree trunks and other furniture framed by bamboo. She’d argued with hand motions that she would take care of the linens, refusing my attempt to strip the bed, but I refused to ignore the mess. There was nothing processed or pressed in her place, only the natural wood of our surrounding. Was she resourceful? Had she made these things? How did she get them up here? These ridiculous questions occupied my mind as I worked beside her.

She’d made no other sound than a grunt or a grimace. Darkness began to creep into the trees, and I didn’t want to leave her but I didn’t know how to stay. I feared the stench of death would draw other creatures to her shelter, but she refused my suggestion.

“You could come to my tent,” I offered, standing near the door as I watched her stare out the window into the growing night. She shook her head. Her arms crossed over her chest, hands clutching her elbows. She looked broken, and I wondered briefly if she’d looked like that after what we did, after what she did. She was no longer innocent of crime, but this near-death experience brought a strange sense of perspective.