Lisica Chapters

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19 – He Is Back

Triquet wanders the sub in a refractory mood all afternoon. Their thoughts are sluggish and emotions bruised and they don’t really know why. Probably just exhaustion. This place is so intense. The sub had been the only place they’d been able to find some solitude. At least, until now. Someone’s coming. Triquet calls out, “Fancy meeting you here.”

Miriam ducks through the hatch and crosses the sub’s main compartment of the lower floor, wearing one of her field bags and a helmet with a light. She has an eager gleam in her eye. “Triquet, love. So glad to see you. I’ve got a, well, a personal question to ask if I might. Oh. No, not you personal. Me personal.”

Triquet had instantly grown guarded despite themself and Miriam had noticed. Now they just feel abashed. “Ah, well then fire away. Secrets are like crack to me. I am immune to TMI.” Miriam is just too adorable and seeing her lightens their mood.

“It’s a… well a bit of a wardrobe question, you see.”

“I like how your voice got all posh and Victorian there.”

“Well, I’m stilted not for my own sake, but I guess for yours. I don’t want to presume too much. It’s nothing really. I’ve just, well, I didn’t know Alonso would be in the condition he’s in so I brought a fancy little piece for myself. Don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I had no idea what I was getting myself into here. None of us did, eh? But I just took this lovely fitted bodice out of storage for the first time and tried it on and guess what?”

“You look like Florence from Florence and the Machine?”

“Oh, you think so? I adore her. No. It was too big. I’ve bloody shrunk. Not just in the boobs but everywhere. I was afraid I’d have gotten bigger with age but I guess I’ve dropped some weight here just in the last few weeks on the island.”

“You know, I’ve noticed that before on digs. Like I’ve got a working field weight that I tailor all my selections to,” they turn to provide an admirably flat profile of their seventies cowboy shirt and tweed kilt for Miriam’s admiration, “and then at home I just let myself go, wear mumus and fuzzy slippers all day. So you need someone good with a needle to help you take it in?”

“Would you be a dear?”

“But of course. I might even have a bit of lace I can spare to fancy it all up. Sounds like fun, girlfriend. But not now, though? You’re headed somewhere?”

Miriam squeezes Triquet’s arm and widens her eyes with cartoonish excitement. “Down! Down…! These tunnels still have so many secrets to yield. Come with me?”

“I’d have to fetch my gear.”

But the geologist’s enthusiasm drags them both toward the entrance to the tunnel past the next chamber. Triquet ducks through the hatch to find Miriam suddenly speechless watching Esquibel at work. The doctor is down below in the hull breach of the sub, laboring to seal the tunnel entrance with metal panels and grates. Preoccupied, she doesn’t see them until Triquet’s shadow moves across the wall. Then she spins with a gasp and reaches for a black satchel at her feet.

“Sorry,” Miriam chimes. “Didn’t mean to scare…”

“Ah! Miriam! Why are you sneaking up on me like that?”

But Miriam shakes her head no, tight and annoyed. “Excuse me, Esquibel, I think I’m the one who might be owed answers here. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Esquibel straightens with a grim exhalation through her nose, her mouth in a flat line. “This is now a security issue, Doctor. I am in charge of security.”

“Oh, are you?” Triquet asks. “First I’ve heard of it.”

“Please. You must understand,” Esquibel indicates the tunnel mouth below, “there is at the minimum one known kidnapper on the other side of that tunnel. Flavia has escaped from him but we have no indication that he has given up.”

“Well, yes, but this is just silly. What we’ve also learned is that the whole cliff face here is riddled with caves and tunnels. If they find this one blocked they’ll just go to the exit by the waterfall.”

“I am blocking that one next.”

“But what I’m saying is we don’t know all their ways in and out. They could have a thousand. We’ll never know. By taking away the only ones we do know… I mean, isn’t that some kind of tactical error or something?”

Esquibel has heard enough. She raises her hand. “I am not speaking to you now as a medical doctor but as a Lieutenant Commander and field officer who is in charge of this mission.”

“Whoa.” Triquet raises their own hand. “You can stop right there. Nobody signed ol’ Triquet up for any military mission, lady. Save your fancy titles for someone who cares.”

Miriam shakes her head and scowls. “This is a scientific mission, Esquibel. I am a geologist. These are caves. I demand access.”

Triquet is riled up now. “I mean, where does the security end, Esquibel? Will you just lock us all up inside the bunker? I mean, if the natives have access to the whole island. Or can you call in? You can, can’t you. Cancel the whole mission. Bring in the Navy and have them bury another fucking ship in the sand for no reason.”

Esquibel only looks at them with a closed face, backed into the corner. She doesn’t understand how they can be so dense. “Tell me. How many islanders are there?”

“We have no idea,” Miriam answers.

“Precisely. And tell me, what is their disposition toward us? The last report from Amy didn’t sound very good.”

“No, it didn’t. But it’s not like they tied Flavia up and carried her away. They just tricked her. They’re harmless. Since I know their tricks, they won’t work on me.”

“And one last question. Why did they want Flavia?”

Miriam falls silent. Finally Triquet offers, “Sounded like a forced marriage situation to me. But who knows? Maybe they were just working out some deep cultural thing. It sounds like most of them are fine and only one of them causes trouble. We just have to figure out a way to get the good guys to realize we’re on their side and not Wetchie-ghuy’s. Then things will be peachy. But yeah, Miriam… Maybe Miss Super Soldier is right. Not about blocking things up. But wandering alone through the tunnels might not be the best idea right now. Maybe just until the situation stabilizes.”

Miriam shakes her head in disbelief. “Can’t believe this. I finally gain access to the bedrock of the island and you’re going to take it away from me? With your military fever dreams? Shocking.” She returns to the hatch. “There will be a mandatory meeting tonight. This will not stand. Regardless of your priorities here, you do not pull rank on me. Ever. Understand, Esquibel? You’ll have to use whatever you’ve got in that bloody black bag to stop me.”

They listen to her footsteps clanging away, along one deck then the next one above. Finally Triquet exhales. “Good lord, Esquibel! Where did you learn manners, from all the bullies at bully school?”

Esquibel only shakes her head. “I am sick of coddling you people. You have no idea what you are talking about. Colonel Baitgie and I have done all we can to protect you precious little scientists from the big bad military. If I was an actual security officer and not a nice and reasonable medical doctor, I would be yelling at you about operational security all day every day.”

“So yes. All the bullies at bully school. Good for you. Maybe next time you recruit a team of scientists you let them know the military is kidnapping them before it happens.”

Esquibel lifts her hands, helpless. “That was not my call.” But she doesn’t know how to appease Triquet. “The island remains entirely classified. It’s a matter of timing and finessing of policy that we could have you here at all.” That seems to have no effect either. Triquet only watches Esquibel with speculative hostility. Finally she thinks to change the subject. “Look. Doctor Triquet. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something else anyway. We will have our mandatory meeting tonight I am sure. But until then, I think it is now very much time to exhume the body of Maureen Dowerd.”

Triquet exhales with such force it’s nearly a gasp. “Autopsy. Right. Now you’re speaking my language.”

Ξ

Two shadows darken Flavia’s door. She is in her cell, deep in her work, fingers rattling the keyboard. “Eh, what is it?”

“Uh…” Jay begins. “Just like checking in on you?”

Flavia frowns comically and turns to regard him. Pradeep stands there with Jay. They look like awkward teens about to ask for the car keys. “Hello, boys. And what do you think you can do for me?”

They shrug at each other. Pradeep says, “We were just, uh, talking, thinking about your—your whole ordeal. We weren’t sure you’d had a chance to…” He waves his hands in a vague gesture.

“I am fine.” She returns to her work. “Those little bastards don’t get any more of my time than they have already taken. Thank you.” She turns back to her work and the equations start to flow from her fingers. She adds in an absent voice, “If you want to help me, tell me that you big strong men will guard and protect me if any of them try to come after me again. Will you do that?”

“For sure. We got your back.” Jay takes another step into the room. He is always a little too loud and eager. Bodyguard duty must sound like fun to him.

Pradeep is, as always, more cautious. “Do you have any reason to believe this Wetchie-ghuy character will try again?”

“I don’t know! Why would you think I know? I don’t speak the language. All I really know is that he wanted me to stay with him in his filthy little hut on the mountain and he wanted me to wear his loop around my wrist. I had to escape with the help of a little girl. Does that sound like he has given up to you?”

Pradeep frowns. “We won’t let anyone take you anywhere, Flavia. I absolutely promise. But I really wish I knew what he wanted from you. We’ve got weeks more of this and we have to come to some kind of resolution or it will be unbearable.”

“Then how about we throw him off a cliff? Problem solved.”

“Ehh, maybe…” Pradeep edges out of the doorframe. Flavia stifles a smile at his discomfort. This obviously isn’t going the way he intended. He slips away without another word.

“He a big guy? How old?” Jay is evidently preparing for the fight.

“What? No, you idiot. He is a little old man. This is not like a boxing match. He is very clever. Wetchie-ghuy tricks you.”

Jay cocks his head. “What was it like in there, Flavia? We got this whole other world right next door. Were you scared?”

“Yes, but more confused and frustrated. It took me so long to figure out what had happened. The food was terrible and they were not very nice. It was like the time I went to a conference in Delaware. But at least then I had a hotel bed.”

“Cool. How did you escape? You didn’t really talk much about it. Did you have to run for your life? Climb out your window?”

“You have seen too many movies. No, this little girl woke me in the middle of the night and led me away. We just walked out of camp as quietly as we could and she brought me a very strange way back to the village. Lots of climbing. More than my poor legs can do. But she was very patient with me. Xaanach. She mimed choking Wetchie-ghuy to death all the time. So I did too. It’s how we knew we had the same goals. I can’t say she was a sweet little girl. Wiser than her years, for sure. But I owe her my life.”

“Awesome. Well. We’re super glad you’re back. And if there’s anything you need, you just let me know.” He lays his big callused hand on her shoulder. She likes its warmth. Despite herself, Flavia pauses writing code and leans into it. “Like, yeah. You want a massage? I can do that.” He starts gently kneading her neck and she groans, surprised by how much it releases.

“Oh, that feels so good. This is like some kind of day spa now, between you and Mandy with all this touching.”

“Totally. We could be the therapists. Take you to a mud bath. Do like some pedicures.” He begins to work her muscles more deeply, getting into it. His hands are strong. He’s quite good at this. Flavia drops her shoulders and surrenders to his touch.

Ξ

Katrina and Mandy stand on the beach, using the drone to retrieve the weather station after breakfast. They are softly chanting Lizzo lyrics, arms linked, swaying back and forth, bumping hips. Katrina wears the headset. Mandy cranes her neck up, trying to spot the little black dot against the gray sky.

There it is, lifting off with the hacked-together weather station hooked and swinging beneath. Mandy mutters bitterly, “Stupid Wetchie-ghuy, stupid kidnapper ruining everything. We were finally gonna have access to the cliffs from the other side. I could just climb out to any spot I wanted whenever I wanted. We wouldn’t have to do this at all if he hadn’t stolen Flavia.”

“Just when you think you’ve finally escaped all the creeps.” But Katrina’s voice is absent, focused on her task.

“I can’t believe what Esquibel did on your decks last night.”

That gets Katrina’s full attention. She giggles, her body echoing the dance moves she’d been inspired to perform. “Fuck yeh, she was awesome. Oh my god I haven’t danced so hard in ages. We need to give her a DJ name. What do you call her?”

“Skeebee! She was totally Jam Master Skeebee last night!” But Mandy’s laugh trails away. She tastes a wetness on the wind that wasn’t there a moment ago. “Hold on…” She releases Katrina and steps away, toward the lagoon. Mandy studies the marine layer but it lies low, too close, hiding the movements of the sky behind. If there’s a new storm out there she can’t see it. “But I can taste it.”

As frustrated as Mandy is that her modern tools have been mostly useless out here so far, it has forced her to become more like her ancestors in her understanding of the weather. She is proud that her nose registers each subtle shift of the wind now, that she can smell the swamp of Siberia on the eastern wind or the chalky arctic Alaskan interior from the north. Losing her satellite imagery and digital meters is only making her a master of her field in a way that no amount of lab work could ever do.

And she gets to do it with Esquibel and Katrina!

Mandy watches the sea darken. Yes, there’s something out there, possibly headed their way. She turns back to Katrina, but she’s still preoccupied with the drone. Now Mandy really wants to see the barometric reading it carries. She’s pretty sure she can feel the pressure dropping—that she’d been feeling it drop for some time. Oh, no. This might be another big one.

“Where’s Triquet and Esquibel?” Amy calls out to everyone in the bunker. She works to reinforce the door before the storm hits. The tarps on the roof have been doubled and reinforced. Next, she’ll hang double tarp curtains against the exterior of the windows. Then they’ll be snug. As soon as they find those two.

“Not downstairs,” Miriam calls back as she climbs the stairs from the trap door, closing it behind her. “I checked every inch. Even already found a way around Esquibel’s barrier. What nonsense.”

“She’s probably hiding from you now,” Amy teases. “In fear of Doctor Truitt. Don’t poke the Irish wolfhound.”

Miriam bares her teeth, joining her at the door, but Mandy chimes in as she passes, “From what I’ve heard of the exchange, you’re in for a fight. Esquibel doesn’t back down. Like ever.”

Miriam’s eyes flash but she doesn’t say another word.

“I’ll go find them.” Jay steps to the door. His limp is finally easing and he’s eager to get one last stretch of the legs in before he’s cooped up in the box for days on end again.

“Uh, we don’t know when it’s gonna hit,” Mandy tells him, “but between my barometric and wind speed readings, it might be soon and it might be hard. I wouldn’t go out there.”

“When was the last time anyone saw them?”

“At the exchange,” Miriam replies archly. “I left them down there. Maybe they got stolen away by Wetchie-ghuy.”

Flavia’s haggard voice emerges from the cluster of cells, “Please don’t talk about him! Don’t even make jokes!”

“Sorry, Flavia,” Miriam calls out. “That was thoughtless of me.” She grimaces a silent apology to everyone else.

Amy pokes her head through the doorway. “Pradeep? Can I get you to finish binding the door like I’m doing here? I’ll come with you, Jay. But let’s hurry.”

Moments later, in hard shells on top and shorts on the bottom, they are out the door and into the darkening camp. Everything is lashed down and covered in tarps. The wind whips at them in eddies and swirls, icy cold.

They begin at the far edge of the grove to the west, wanting to be methodical in their search. Jay tries to scan for tracks but there’s been too much traffic here lately and the sand is too soft to register foot placement or sole pattern. They slip under the trees, following the path they first did when they discovered Tenure Grove. “Man, that was, what, three weeks ago now? Almost? The first time we walked into these trees?”

“Feels like a year.” Amy shakes her head in wonder. “So much has happened in such a short time.”

“Yeah, and I have a feeling the fun ain’t about to stop. Especially if we can’t find these two madlads.”

“Did you just call Triquet a lad?” Amy emerges beside him as the understory clears. They walk on the soft duff.

“Uh… I guess so. And Esquibel, if we’re counting.”

“Yeah, but she probably won’t care about being mis-gendered. Triquet probably does. I hope you aren’t—”

“No, I get it. But, look, it’s an internet meme. Madlads are wild and reckless. It’s just a generational reference thing. There’s no gender to the meme. It can be anyone. I bet Triquet knows that.”

“You might want to sit down with them at some point and get some real guidance on your behavior. Okay?”

“Sure thing, boss. Soon as we find them.”

“How’s your ankle?”

“Pretty good. Good range of motion. Good stamina so far. Kinda weak though. I wouldn’t want to do much that’s technical and have it fail. That’d be bad. Huh. Well this is the end of the grove this way. Did they like go to the waterfall?”

“Almost the end. We still need to check that one last fairy ring.”

“Right. The grave site.”

They step onto the twisted cords of the redwood’s roots and peer into the enclosure within.

Triquet kneels beside Esquibel down there. They have exhumed the body of Maureen Dowerd, who lies on her side on a white plastic sheet. They wear gloves and white smocks and are murmuring to each other, absorbed in deep conversation. Jay registers the planks of the coffin’s lid leaning against a tree, the corpse’s curled and mummified hands with purple nails. Then the first rain drops spatter onto him.

“Oh, no,” Amy sighs in despair.

Esquibel spins, looking up at them, alert and defensive. “Eh. Good. It is just the biologists. They can help.”

Amy laughs, a little derisive. “What do you mean just?”

“No no,” Esquibel waves the slight away. “I only meant it is not someone who will try to stop us.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s exactly what we’re here to do. Feel that?” Jay holds up a hand. The rain is coming from over the top of the cliffs, random fat icy drops. If they hadn’t been so preoccupied with their autopsy then they would have noticed it.

“Big storm coming. We’re buttoning up the bunker. We’ve got to, uh, clean up and…” Amy waves her hand in a kind of general inclusion of everything before her. “You know, before it hits.”

Esquibel nods. She immediately begins to gather the white plastic sheet beneath the body. “Yes, we have finished our primary exam. And we’ve learned what we can of the cause of death. See?” She lifts the stiff corpse, turning it so they can see her scalp behind the left ear. The blonde curls are clotted with dark blood. Esquibel gently peels the hair away to reveal the blunt force wound that crushed her skull and ended her life. “I’d wanted to take a look at her internal organs too, but… Ecch. I hate the rain.”

“Feels like it’s gonna be a cold one too, Doc.” Jay doesn’t know how he feels about what he sees. He’s been on a couple digs before where they unearth dead bodies, but never with this kind of personal connection. Like, he’s seen her face in photos and now her remains are just so naked and vulnerable, twisted on the ground. He wishes they could just leave her in peace.

Only Triquet hesitates. “Yeah, I don’t necessarily consider this exam complete. There’s a number of tests as an archaeologist I’d like to run. But many of them involve taking samples. And I’m not sure what the guidance here is on taking biopsies from, like, an Army employee who’s the same age as my great-grandma.”

“Hurry, guys.” Amy leaps into the fairy ring and pulls a pair of nitrile gloves from her pocket. She snaps them on and grabs a corner of the sheet. Jay awkwardly follows. “We don’t want her grave to fill with water before we can get her back in it.”

“I guess we can pull the old girl back out again some day if we need,” Triquet reluctantly allows. “Ooo, that is cold rain. And it’s coming from the north this time? Lawdy lawd.”

They slide the body back into its simple wooden coffin. A single desiccated lilac wildflower pressed against the floorboard is its only decoration. Leaving her wrapped in her new plastic shroud, they re-seal her modest tomb and push the meter of earth that covered it back on top. They’d had to cut a whole nest of roots away from it to reach it. They place the severed pieces awkwardly atop.

Now it is raining in earnest. They tamp the loose earth down as well as they can and hurry from the grave site, Esquibel using a second plastic sheet as a large shawl to protect herself from the pelting drops. Triquet scoots into her relatively dry embrace and they pick their way under the trees like a honeymoon couple.

The wind continues to swirl, coming around and over the cliffs to fill their little bay from every direction. They are protected from the full blasting force of this storm, this assault from the Arctic that might be the last of the season.

When they reach the campsite, it is dark and the leaf litter is swirling in the wind. Mandy stands near the closed door of the bunker in a yellow stormsuit, waiting for them. “Fantastic! You found them!” she shouts over the lashing rain in the trees above. “Now I’m just gonna get one last peek before heading in!”

She shepherds Esquibel, Triquet, and Amy through the door. But Jay hangs back. “I’ll come with you!”

Mandy frowns at his shorts and sandals. “You’ll freeze, dude!”

“Nah, I run hot. Lead on!”

It’s true. She shouldn’t be out here alone. Katrina would have been a better choice. Esquibel will never play in the storms with her. Instead, she gets this… overgrown puppy.

Mandy leads him to the redwood trunk. She wants to get over it before the growing wind might make it impossible. From atop it, she looks at the lagoon with rising excitement. It is a cauldron of gray and black water, the currents all askew.

The whole world flashes. Mandy sees her own silhouette on the sand below her. And then the crack of thunder hits them from behind, tumbling her into the freezing sand.

“Whoa… Whoa…” Jay drops beside her. Their ears are ringing and eyes dazzled. He hauls on her as she flounders in the sand. Finally, Mandy sits up, face covered in a coating of grains. “You okay, sister?”

She nods dumbly. Sister. Somehow, among all the shock and noise and rain and all the raging sensations inside and out, this is what her brain fixates upon. Why, in a crisis, Jay thinks of me as his sister. Aw. What a sweetie!

Mandy squeals in delight at the experience and rolls to her feet. Now she’s the one who pulls Jay upward, shouting into his worried face, “That was INCREDIBLE!”

“I know. Heh. Right?” But he is taken aback by her enthusiasm. This chick nearly got blasted by a million volts of lightning and she’s coming back for more? “What a monster! Keep leading on!”

Mandy gives Jay a cheery thumbs up and links her arm in his. Even he can tell the change in her, how suddenly unguarded she is. He isn’t sure why, but he enjoys it. Intimacy. Jay hasn’t had much of it in his life but when he gets it, man does it feel good.

They stroll down the beach as the freezing rain throws gusts at them. Mandy wants to get as far as she can from the cliffs so she can turn back and see as much of the storm as possible. But now that they’ve reached the edge of the beach the clifftops are obscured in dark clouds. “Aww. I wanted to see!”

More lightning flashes in the interior. “Yeah, that wasn’t a one-off, Mandy. We should get inside.” Even Jay has limits. But he feels for her, the stormchaser who doesn’t want to waste such an epic blast hiding in a concrete box.

She drops her shoulders. “Yeah. You’re right. Let’s go around this time. I don’t think I can climb the trunk when it’s so wet!”

Jay nods, taking the lead. Mandy drags her feet, unwilling to go back, even though her body is starting to shake with chills. When she fell, water ran up one sleeve and she hasn’t been dry since. And her face is absolutely soaked.

She follows him around the giant roots tipped up to the sky and back to camp, the world under the trees gloomy and dim even though it’s like 10:30 in the morning. Maybe she can come out again once the front has passed and the electrical activity has subsided. If she could ever get her wind speed gauge high up on the slope facing Alaska to the north she could probably get readings up there rivaling world records. But that’s all the way on the far side of the island. Still. Five hundred meters above the sea facing one of the world’s biggest storm incubators? Yes, please. In meteorological terms, this can be classified as porn.

Finally they make it back to the bunker and Jay hauls the door open of bunched green reeds, which is somehow doing a great job keeping the interior dry.

Mandy steps in behind him. The instant she pulls the door shut, pencils of white brilliance shoot through the reeds’ gaps and a thunderclap smites the bunker with such force that dust falls from the walls. Flavia screams.

Jay turns back to Mandy. Their faces are both fully spooked. She lifts a shaking hand and he gently high-fives it.

Ξ

“Before we begin,” Alonso says, “I am not interested in chains of command or titles or expectations or prerogatives. We are here as a family now, for thirty-seven more days together, and this meeting will begin and end in a spirit of cooperation, collaboration, and sympathy for each other’s positions. So. For that reason, I will ask you, Miriam, to please tell me what happened between you and Esquibel. But I want you to tell it from her point of view.”

Miriam had already opened her mouth to begin. But at this last directive she closes it again. Now she has to do some thinking. She shakes her head to clear it and frowns. “Well. Uh. Obviously Flavia came back. And when I, Esquibel, heard that she’d been abducted and the bastard was still out there, I thought of military ways I might protect the camp. Defensive measures. And my first thought was to close the tunnels.”

“Esquibel, is that fair?”

Esquibel nods. Despite his evolved approach and kind words she hasn’t let go of the guarded tension keeping her spine erect. “It is.”

“Could you please tell us what Miriam was thinking?”

“She was… thinking about rocks.”

“About science,” Miriam interjects. “Remember science? You know, the entire purpose of this mission?”

“About science, yes. She is a good professional. Very serious. And she doesn’t let anything get in the way of her mission. That is important. Definitely.”

“So then why is there disagreement?” Alonso spreads his hands, speaking over the sheeting rain outside. “Can we not see that both of us are working toward the same ends? We both have our best interests at heart, do we not?”

Miriam raises a shaking finger. “Agreed, but… You were too hasty, Esquibel, to play your military card. Perhaps I would have understood if we were under danger of imminent threat, but—”

“Hasty? Ha! I’ve hardly mentioned anything related to security in over two weeks! And there are so many times I should have! We are breaking protocol here every day. And just because you are used to the way things are done at your university does not mean that is the way they are done everywhere.”

“Colleagues. Please.” But Alonso’s beseeching words are lost.

Miriam stands. “You have brought us here under false pretenses assuring us this is a scientific mission when it is in fact an American military operation that we were not properly informed of, nor did we agree to. In a word, this is an abduction.”

“Abduction? Listen to yourself! You signed the documents!”

“We didn’t know what we were signing, did we?” Triquet shouts back, standing as well. “It was redacted top to bottom!”

“That was not our decision! The paperwork was taken by, the, the various security agencies before we could hand it to you. You received it from them. We have done all we could.”

The silence is excruciating. Each scientist digests this disturbing turn of events. Then Jay snorts. “Let me get this straight. Those NDAs we signed that we didn’t know what we signed… We signed it all away, didn’t we, chief?”

“They redacted the terms of the NDA as well?” Esquibel curses at the roof and shakes her head in disbelief. She sighs heavily, rearranging her internal understanding of this argument. “Oyaa! You will all have to forgive me. I was under the impression we were far more… aligned in our understanding of this mission. The fact that you don’t know what you signed changes that. Just so you know, your signatures on the forms expressly promise to follow the military command structure here. It is a common clause when working with contractors, especially in dangerous zones.”

Alonso takes the opportunity he sees. “Well I think that can explain almost everyone’s difficulties here, can it not? Miriam? Eh? Let us not be angry with our sister Esquibel, let’s be angry at the anonymous asshole at the CIA or wherever who screwed this up.”

“It’s true,” Mandy adds. “I mean, Esquibel’s really only trying to keep us safe. She’s not the problem. The problem is that Wetchie-ghuy who she’s trying to prevent from getting here. She’s on your side. We’re all on the same side.”

But Miriam isn’t done. “The issue I continue to have is that I now find myself on a project dig where I’ve already signed away my free agency and authority and I would have never signed such an agreement.”

“Neither would I, hon.” Triquet is equally defiant.

Miriam holds up helpless hands. “So now what am I supposed to do? Leave? I can’t. Protest? Stop working? Destroy my notes? I mean, I have a very bad taste in my mouth now, everyone.”

“Does anyone not?” Triquet scans their faces.

Flavia raises her hand. “I do not understand the issue here. We knew this was a spooky kind of mission. I mean, they flew us here on a fucking attack helicopter. We can’t plead ignorance now. I think she did a very good job leaving us civilians to ourselves until the… the threat appeared. I am glad we have military support if that is going to keep happening here. Take out that evil little hermit if you would. Fucking bomb his hut. Please.”

“Yeah, just call in an airstrike,” Jay chuckles. “Classic American diplomacy here. I am an ANGRY god!”

“Jay…” Amy restrains him with a hand on his forearm.

“I mean, I’m never too happy with military work,” Katrina offers. “But I’m not like surprised. More like… resigned. Seems to me, Miriam, that your big problem is that she pulled rank on you and that was a real shock and surprise.”

“It absolutely was. And I’m still waiting for an apology for that. But the more important matter,” Miriam points at the trap door leading to the sub, “is access to the sites I’ve been brought here to study. Now I don’t care if you want me to bring your gun or have a couple bodyguards with me while I work, but I must work.”

“Gun? What gun?” Alonso wonders. “There is no gun on the island, Mirrie.”

“Oh, no?” Miriam swings her heavy gaze at Esquibel. “Well then what is she carrying around in that little black satchel? Her bloody birth control pills?”

But this is all news to Alonso. “Doctor Daine. You don’t have a gun. Tell them. It was part of the agreement. Baitgie promised.”

Esquibel doesn’t move. “This is not a conversation we should have in this setting, Doctor Alonso.”

“We are a family and what you can say to me you can say to—”

But Esquibel has heard enough about this family nonsense. She stands, her hand chopping the air. “Stop! I am not your daughter, nor am I anyone’s sister. This was not Baitgie’s promise to make.” Then she sees how they are all looking at her. She scowls at her feet and sits back down.

“So.” Amy leans back. “There’s a gun on the island. Like a pistol? A—a… I mean, what kinds of guns are there?”

“Shotgun, MAC-10, carbine…” Jay lists off his favorite video game guns. “Man, we could go hunting! Get some fresh meat!”

“I have a question.” This from Pradeep. Everyone had started to react to the news in their own ways but they’ve all learned to listen when Pradeep asks questions in these meetings.

Esquibel, relieved to change the subject, leans toward him. “Yes? Now what?”

“I guess it’s for both of you. Why didn’t you know of the tunnels, Esquibel? Alonso? And the Lisicans. They’re a surprise to you both, aren’t they? Why would your—your commanding officers send you here without that crucial information? You need to help us reconcile this sort of garbled data.”

“I cannot speak on classified matters. The briefings I had—”

But Alonso cuts her short. “Well I can. I told them that whatever classified information they shared with me I would share with you. And I told you when you landed that I would share everything I knew. And I was not lying. They did not tell me about the sub. Or the Lisicans. Or the tunnels to get there. They said they had made a few exploratory missions into the interior decades ago but no, otherwise… pffft. Did you know?”

Esquibel chooses her words with care. “I knew the island had been inhabited. Nobody knew if it still was. There was no mention of tunnels or submarines or…”

“God, imagine what else she knows that she isn’t telling us,” Triquet marvels. “There’s probably like the lair of some insane super-villain down below stockpiled with chemical weapons and she’s just like, ‘Carry on studying your birds and leaves while I plot the destruction of the world.’”

“Triquet.” Pradeep’s voice is a gasp. “Please. I know it’s preposterous but my imagination doesn’t need any help.”

“Sorry not sorry. I mean, I never want to get your anxiety going, boyfriend. But I need to know what else we may be in for here. Come on, Esquibel. You can’t have us… just live like this for weeks, totally blind to the dangers around us. We can’t—”

A flash of lightning is almost instantly followed by a crack of thunder. It is painful to the eyes and ears, and their brains are lanced by the overwhelming sensations.

Triquet continues, slamming the table. “I can’t live like this! With fucking kidnappers hiding in the bushes and soldiers with guns and lightning blowing the roof off this shithole! I can’t!” Jay is the first one to stand and throw a comforting arm around Triquet. Triquet rolls into his embrace. “I mean, I have a very nice townhouse in Philadelphia these days. Two stories. Skylights. Cafe around the corner. Park and grocery store nearby. Lots of friends.” They shake their head in wonder. “And you made me give all that up for this? For a deadly nightmare where I’m cold and scared and trapped for eight weeks in a box?”

Alonso shrugs, helpless. “I am sorry that is how it has developed. This was supposed to be a partnership. U.S. Air Force and several academic institutions. I did not know that there would be anyone here who could threaten us. That is what seems to have changed the entire mission’s… posture.”

Esquibel nods. “It has. It absolutely has. Think of the training you have done for your specialty. Think of all the years of work you honed your skills. That is what I did with military operations. Now that we are under attack, it is time for this specialist to use my skills the same way Miriam studies the earth.”

“I hate that she says we are under attack,” Maahjabeen says. “But I hate more that she is right. We are. And we have to do something about it. I do not trust the military. But, Miriam…”

Miriam nods, prompting Maahjabeen to go on.

“I do trust Esquibel.” Maahjabeen steps away from her place in the ragged ring of chairs and approaches Esquibel standing alone. She drapes her arm over Esquibel’s shoulders. “Don’t you?”

“That is absolutely the right way to think about this,” Alonso begins. “Think about the relationships and not the—”

“Alonso.” Miriam’s voice is low and dangerous.

“Yes, Mirrie?”

“Shut it.” Alonso’s eyebrows rise but he closes his mouth. Miriam turns on Esquibel. “You heard all these fine words, Doctor Daine. They were not directed at me. They were for you. So what do you say? Are these relationships important to you?”

“Absolutely, Doctor Truitt. And I am sorry I insulted you by pulling rank.” Esquibel responds to Maahjabeen’s show of trust by putting her own arm around the Tunisian woman’s waist.

Miriam stiffly nods. “And can we trust you?”

A surprising sob escapes from Esquibel and she catches it with a fist, pressing it back into her mouth. A tear spills from her eye. “I am only here to take care of you all. I swear. Even to the point of sacrificing my life to save yours. I am your doctor. And protector. Please. Yes. Trust me.”

Maahjabeen clucks like a mother and kisses Esquibel’s temple, then enfolds the doctor in her embrace.

Ξ

Miriam squats in the dirt, the trousers-legs hacked off and rolled up her pinkish thighs into shorts. Her tattered button-down shirt is unbuttoned to the navel. She isn’t wearing a bra. Her laptop is perched on a cooler before her. She squints at graphs and takes drags off a joint Jay rolled for her.

Alonso settles into his camp chair, sighing with pleasure. He looks at his dirt-smeared wife with ardent admiration. “You have gone fully native, my dear. I love it.”

Miriam grunts. She is deep in her work. There is a yellow tint to this dolomite that surprises her. Most likely iron.

“I have had a very good talk with myself, Mirrie. And I realized I have not been fair with you, with any of you. I have been hiding from you. And it is time to stop.”

But she is only absently nodding. “Um. It’s okay, Zo. We all do.”

“No. You see. I have decided I am not hiding any more.”

But she still isn’t looking.

“Miriam. You see?”

“See what, love?” She finally tears her face away and looks at him. Her eyes clear. She squeals with joy, care flushing away. Miriam rushes to Alonso.

He is clean-shaven. Alonso’s face is wider than she remembers and more rugged, but he looks twenty years younger than he had with that horrible grey beard. He did something with his hair too. Oh Christ he’s even more handsome than before.

Her boy. His eyes, yes his eyes are still troubled but he is back.