Lisica Chapters

Thanks for joining us for the fourth and final volume of our Scientist Soap Opera escapist journey to the mysterious island of Lisica! You can find previous episodes in the link above or column on the right. Please don’t forget to subscribe and leave a comment if you enjoy what you find!

Audio for this episode:

59 – All The Love But None Of The Attention

Triquet climbs the narrow stairs through the open trapdoor up into the bunker. The structure is forlorn in the shadows, showing no sign of the life it held for so many weeks. They emerge into a gray morning. Their second to last here. The camp where they had so many parties and arguments is now covered with new detritus. The stump that cradled the barrel of wine is just a stump again.

They cross to the beach and survey the length of it. Such a tiny little world they inhabited. But it had everything they needed. Ennui fills them. Oh, great. They’re going to bawl like a baby when this is over, aren’t they? How odd. They’ve never had such a reaction to a field trip ending. Usually it was some measure of relief and excitement to get back to the lab so they could analyze their finds. And there is some of that here as well. Excellent finds. But this has been one of the most special and significant episodes of their whole life and they will never forget any of these people.

Ah. There they are. At the edge of Tenure Grove. Arguing, as always. Triquet approaches, holding their treasure up like a bible.

“But what we’re saying is that this isn’t going to have any kind of island-wide effect.” Jay, for once, has a dispute with Pradeep. “Bro, there’s like no conceivable network that connects these trees to the trees in the interior, which is the whole—”

“And I am saying the same thing,” Pradeep interrupts with impatience. “That is why we do it here first. To see if there is any effect on the grove before we unleash it on the entire island.”

“But what we are also saying,” Amy adds, “is that we don’t have enough time to meaningfully monitor our effects. We will be gone by the time this forest can express any kind of reaction. So this is a waste of time here. We can’t tilt the conversation of the island in the time we have left, and certainly not from here. I appreciate your desire to be methodical, but either we do this or we don’t.”

“Then I say we don’t,” Pradeep declares. “It is too dangerous. The communication networks of forests are hardly understood. We might be doing grave damage and we would never even know.”

“It’s a bloody good idea, though,” Katrina sighs. “You got to admit. Once we learn the languages of plants and forests we’ll be able to talk to them no problem. Oh, what a world that will be! ‘What kind of apples are you growing here, mate? You mind if I climb up and sit in your branches?’ Anyway, I wrote a bit of a, well, a piano concerto. I tweaked it so it has overtones in the ultrasonic range, well as much as my shitty phone speaker can emit, to see if I can get close to what the trees hear. Jay said that’s their range. I was going to play as you did your work on the trees.”

“That is very sweet,” Pradeep allows, “but I’m afraid the study showed the trees only make the noise when they are under stress. The more noise, the more stress. So we need to make sure your music doesn’t sound like alarm bells to them.”

“Yeh. Right.” Katrina quirks her mouth in thought. “I’ll just have to play it like super soothing, I guess. Legato. Legato.”

“Maybe this is not a terrible idea.” Alonso places a hand against the spongy bark of the redwood which towers over him. “Maybe we cannot change the, the tenor of the whole island, but at least this grove, our special grove where only we lived, can get our blessing. And who knows? Maybe some of us will come back some day and see the results of our work. Ehh. Then we will tell the others. How would those results manifest, Amy?”

“Just Tenure Grove…?” Amy steps a couple more paces into its shadows. “Yes. That’s a lovely idea, Alonso. Let’s just leave the best of us here in this beautiful spot. Who knows? Maybe things will grow more lush, more inter-related. I think of it as harmony…”

To illustrate, Katrina plays the opening chord on her phone’s piano app. It is like glass breaking, in a bittersweet, minor key.

Amy nods. “Yes, exactly. Those five days with the vixen… I could feel it. I can still feel it, what that level of connection to the living world is like. I hope I never lose it. It’s like speaking to god…”

“Yes,” Maahjabeen agrees. “For as the Prophet said to his companions, ‘If the Hour of Resurrection is about to come, and one of you is holding a palm shoot, let him take advantage of even one second before the Hour has come to plant it.’ In Islam we love trees and respect our environment.”

“So how do we do this?” Alonso asks. “Maahjabeen will pray. Katrina will play her very nice music. What can the rest of us do?”

Pradeep lifts a tray filled with open dishes of cloudy liquids and a cartoonishly-large syringe. “These are mostly alkaloids for the mycorrhizae, for their signaling channels. There’s some salts as well. I just drew on what I know about them so far. It’s all about increasing signal strength. I don’t want to tell them what to say, I only want to increase their ability to say… whatever they want.”

“Right on.” Jay pats his shoulder. “Mister free speech over here. I was thinking of a couple things, myself. You know, trees talk with pheromones through the air so I was trying to think of ways to share mine. You know, like, if I’m thinking beautiful thoughts. Get into those alpha waves. Then once I have a good groove going, release some stank, talk to my brothers and sisters here. But I want to shoot it right into their veins and this outer bark is so thick I don’t know how to reach the cambium. I mean… I was just going to like hug big fella here, but… then I thought… maybe I should like dig a shallow pit and crouch down in it. You know, let the feelers of its roots pick up my vibe.” He lifts a foldable spade.

“No no no,” Pradeep answers. “No digging. That will invariably cause stress, don’t you think?”

“Yeah…” Jay’s face falls. “Probably right. Maybe I can get up in the canopy and sing like a bird.”

Esquibel cannot help herself. She bursts out laughing. Flavia does too. Even Miriam joins them. “I’m sorry,” she gasps. “It’s just the idea of Jay dressed as a songbird, crouched on a branch up there, whistling…” Esquibel laughs again, until nearly all of them are.

“Nah, dude. I was going to rap.” But that just makes them laugh even harder. Jay’s earnestness dissolves before all this mirth.

“It’s just all so silly…” Esquibel finally manages. “I was trying to be respectful, but we have strayed so far from established science with this claptrap that I couldn’t…”

“I am so glad you did,” Flavia tells her. “Because I was about to. There is a difference between experimentalism and—and voodoo.”

“Yes, yes. The unbelievers have had their say.” Pradeep smiles modestly, readying his syringe. “Cynicism is easy. Of course there is only a tiny chance that these efforts have any affect at all. But we don’t actually know. Like Alonso said, I want us all to promise that if any of us come back here, we must do every possible test on this tree and this grove to see if our work has done anything at all.”

He shoves the cylinder of the syringe into the earth and pushes its plunger. Katrina plays more of her shattering, ear-piercing piano concerto. Jay yelps in alarm, realizing it’s happening now, and embraces the tree. His face is muffled so they can’t make out his words, only that they follow a beat.

Esquibel and Flavia laugh again. Alonso peers upward, fighting the stiffness in his back and neck, trying to see a hundred meters to the top. The trunk vanishes into the dark green canopy, and wind flutters its limbs. “I would like to think,” he says, placing a hand against the wall of bark, “that we will leave this place as friends.”

“And I’d like to offer,” Triquet finally says, having waited for the proper moment, “the words of Lieutenant DeVry, who left a bit of a journal I just found. Remember him? He was the delinquent one always fraternizing with the locals? We thought he was like chasing skirts but it turns out he was actually quite the sensitive soul. He was fascinated by the Lisicans. But he never really understood them. ‘They remain closed to me and won’t ever speak directly to me. But they have finally become animated in my presence. The parents are very tender and warm toward their children and they love a good squabble. What led their ancestors to this godforsaken rock I have no idea. But since it has been peopled, at least we are lucky that they are a gentle folk. Suspicious, but gentle.’ At the end of his journal, he complains several times about being prevented from seeing them any more. He says, ‘by the end of my time here I enjoy the company of the natives more than my own race, even though they still don’t speak with me! Perhaps it is because they don’t speak with me. Ha ha. I’ve never been comfortable as the center of attention. I like to stand aside and observe. The villagers let me. Boren never does.’ That’s the Staff Sergeant. Doesn’t sound like old Clifton DeVry got along very well with him.”

Katrina concludes her concerto and Jay releases the redwood. Amy brushes a spider from his hair.

Mandy looks up at the waving tops of the tree, thinking how Jay first proposed to turn it into a tower for her weather station. She’d thought he was a real meathead then. Now she has much more tender thoughts for him. He smiles at her, abashed. But she reaches out and snares his hand to squeeze it. “That was so sweet. Now don’t forget. You and I aren’t done. We’ve still got more scar tissue to pull apart when we get back home. You promised to visit.”

He beams, squeezing her hand back. “No doubt, sister.”

“And now,” Esquibel declares, “ceremony complete, let us get back underground, or at least away from where approaching ships might spy us. Remember. The American boats aren’t the only ones who promised to come back tomorrow.”

Ξ

Alonso rests a hand on the wine barrel and tilts it. “About halfway empty. We drank perhaps one hundred fifty bottles. In eight weeks. Fifty-six days. That is nearly three bottles per day, a good amount. I am proud of us. Our appetites. But now, my liver needs a bit of a break.” He peers at Amy, who is putting the last of her things in her duffel. They are in the sub’s ward room that is closest to the surface, where they have removed all the furniture so they have enough room to organize and pack all their gear. “Perhaps the rest of it, we can leave with the sailors who are coming. Or maybe someone else wants it. But I will never drink a Château Ausone again without thinking of this place. And all you lovely people.”

He shares his smile with Amy and Mandy, the only other person in here. She is struggling to pack with one good arm. Amy finally notices her difficulties. “Oh, dear. Let me help you.”

“Thanks.” Mandy steps back with a sigh, clutching her shoulder. “All this movement. Starting to hurt.”

Amy nods, sympathetic. “Sorry. I should have realized… Just got caught up in my own mess and didn’t look up for…” She falls silent as she works on folding Mandy’s t-shirts.

“Where is Esquibel?” Alonso wonders. “Perhaps she can help?”

Mandy and Amy both glower at Alonso.

“Ah.” He recalls the status of their relationship. “My apologies. It is too sad that things have ended as they have. I remember when we first got here and how happy you made each other. Now, we haven’t heard the good doctor laugh like that in too long.”

“Alonso. Mandy doesn’t want to hear…”

Mandy sighs. “No, it’s fine. It’s actually like good to talk about it. I haven’t had anyone… She doesn’t have anyone to… I mean, break ups can be so lonely. And I don’t even know if that’s what this is. I mean…” She shrugs, helpless. “I don’t know where we stand. I can’t blame her for—I mean… I can’t look at anything Esquibel did and say she should have done something different. She had her orders.”

“And she followed them as well as she could.” Alonso agrees. “We always like to have a dream, this fantasy that there exists a place somewhere that is truly cut off from the troubles of the rest of the world. But such a place does not exist. Even here. We are all one planet, and no matter how far we travel we bring the sins and crimes of the world wherever we go.”

“The sisters pushed the father of their children into the sea.” Amy doesn’t know if she necessarily agrees, but this is what his words made her think. “And yet they didn’t consider it a sin.”

“I don’t know.” Mandy sits back against a bin, shoulders slumped in defeat. “Getting shot… It’s like it knocked the wind out of me and the wind never came back. Maybe it will with time. I just thought, I mean, even a few days ago I still thought that we’d go back and I’d be in Topanga and every once in a while Esquibel would come to port in Long Beach or San Diego or whatever and we could have a lovely weekend or week, but now I don’t know. Now I think that we…”

“We are just too different.” Esquibel slips through the hatch between ward rooms, her hands full of folded sheets. “My path is far too dangerous for a wonderful, beautiful person such as you, Mandy.” She says it factually, her voice flat, her eyes downcast. “I love you too much to put you through that.”

Mandy eyes Esquibel speculatively. “Oh, you do? You’ve made that choice, have you? You know, I think that might be my biggest trouble with our relationship after all. Esquibel, you never once let me decide. You never told me about your secret life, and then when you did you said you could never change and that I can’t be near you. Now you’re breaking up with me before I even get to say whether that’s what I want or not. And that’s fucked up.”

Esquibel looks at Mandy with astonishment. “Meaning… what? You don’t want to break up with me?”

“I don’t know.” Mandy flails her good arm outward. “All I’m saying is that the real problem isn’t that you’re a spy, or that I’m in danger, the real problem is that you never let me decide for myself! Okay? We have to make this decision together, or there really is no hope for us.”

Esquibel smiles, shy. “So you think there might still be hope? Oh, Mandy! Yes. You are right. I am a control freak. Just like you. But even worse. And I am so sorry. I thought if I just kept you safe and comfortable you could ask for nothing more. But I never made sure that is actually what you wanted. I just… I just came here with things inside me that I thought could never be negotiated. Like, upon pain of death. And that—that hardness in me, it has only pushed you away from me. Now I don’t deserve you.”

“Stop. You’re doing it again. Why don’t you let me make that decision?” Mandy asks. “You know I love you. I know you love me. Let’s work together to see if we can find a way through this?”

“My god, Mandy,” Amy murmurs in admiration, “listen to you. Who taught you to be so wise?”

Mandy shrugs, then winces. “I guess that Chinese spy. And his gun. I learned from them that life is short. And it can be so easily stolen. That’s what I now know. So there’s no more time for regrets. Come here, Skeebee.”

With a sob of relief, Esquibel kneels and puts her head in Mandy’s lap. Hot tears flow from her tightly-squeezed eyes. A sound she’s never made comes from deep in her throat.

Mandy pets Esquibel as she quivers and gasps, watching in silent wonder as her lover finally unlocks. How long has it been since she has let her guard down and unclenched these held muscles? Has she ever? Esquibel trembles in her lap, clutching Mandy’s legs like she’s drowning. What has it been like for her, working on ships year in and year out, tending the wounded sailors of a different nation? How solitary has her life been?

“What’s that sound? Is there trouble?” Triquet appears in the hatch, then Miriam and Maahjabeen.

“No trouble,” Alonso reassures them. “Just forgiveness.” He wipes his own tears away. “And sometimes it can be messy.”

Ξ

Their last dinner is cold, the remains of torn sheets of seaweed and dried banana chips. This would have been an unpalatable dish when they first arrived but their tastes have been forcibly changed by the environment. Now it satisfies them.

They sit on and lie against their stacks of gear, silent in the dim ward room. All of them are present, drowsing after a full day of effort. Jay chews the nori like gum, studying Katrina across from him. She has aged dramatically in the eight weeks here. Not just in the weathering of her fair skin but the look in her eye, her poise. Nobody would mistake her for a sixteen year-old any more. “Yo, dude. We should have one last concert. Don’t you think?”

Katrina shrugs, flips a hand. “All packed up. And I ain’t…”

“No no no, you’re right,” Jay agrees.

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t have a concert.” Alonso closes his eyes and tilts his head back. In a moody baritone, he sings the melody of Dvořák’s Serenade for Strings. His voice echoes in the metal chamber. Eyes closed, they all absorb the waves of sound washing over them.

A metallic clunk interrupts him, from deeper within the sub. Eyes open. The room waits in quivering silence.

“Got damn Chinese spy still out here.” Jay rises, looking for a weapon. “And he’s still got his orders. Just cause he’s somebody’s slave doesn’t mean…”

Esquibel has already fetched her satchel. She waves an urgent hand at the room. “Turn off the lights, Triquet. Everybody back against the walls.”

In a quiet rush, they all comply with her orders.

A slender figure steps into the hatch. “No more music…?” It is Jidadaa. She blinks into the darkness of the ward room.

“Oh, sweet!” Katrina cries out. “It’s Jidadaa! Aww. Wasn’t sure we got to see you again, love. Come here!”

“But the music?” Jidadaa asks. “Where is it?”

“Ah. You mean some of this?” Alonso laughs, self-deprecating, and begins again. This time Bach’s first Cello Suite. He waves his hand back and forth in the air like a fish’s fin in the water as the notes rise from him. Jidadaa kneels down on the deck, entranced. “Yes, lovely, is it not? Ahh. Just imagine hearing Bach for the first time. I envy you, young lady. Everything we have been talking about here, about the rhythm of nature and Her harmonies, has already been fully given voice by Johann Sebastian Bach. From hundreds of years ago. What do you think, Jidadaa? Eh?”

“More.”

“Yes, it sounds of the truth, doesn’t it? The secrets of life?”

“But, wait.” Esquibel leans forward. “Before you continue, Alonso. First, a few questions for Jidadaa. Are you alone?”

Jidadaa looks steadily at her. “I have Kula.”

“No. Just right now. Is anyone with you tonight?”

“No.” But as she says it, she nods her head yes.

“Eh.” Katrina reaches out. “No is a shake of the head this way.” She demonstrates.

Jidadaa laughs. “New to me. English words with my body.”

“So you are alone right now?”

“Jidadaa last saw the people this morning.” Her tone suddenly shifts. “This is a story about the ecchic oviki.”

Triquet finally gets the light back on. “This is?”

“The house of Thunderbird rests along the path to the house of Inchwi, god of winter east wind. That is what they say.” Jidadaa turns and unerringly points aboveground toward their secret village in the trees. “They say the god sends the cold wind to drive their enemies away. But the Shidl Dít say the wind make them strong. Their skin thick. Their blood hot. I do not say it. I do not believe. But I feel the wind. I sleep with them last night.”

“Oh, up on those platforms?” Katrina longs to console the lonely girl, to encircle her in her arms. But she knows she cannot touch her. “They sway so much it’s like a ship at sea.”

“And how are our old friends the golden childs?” Alonso asks.

But Jidadaa is too literal for this question. “Only people of the pollen in the spring. That season is past. No more golden childs. Now they are people of start of summer. People of the green sea.”

Alonso nods. “Understood. Are they well? I hope they know how much we appreciate all they have done for us.”

“It is a happy village. Three fox babies for them, young people and old. Great blessing. Old curse is lifted. The Shidl Dít say the prophet poem that the island has chosen is mostly their own.”

“Oh!” Katrina squawks. “It happened? The doom has passed and we’re now in the new era?”

“For most. Then I go to Ussiaxan. Not happy. Shouting. The people only have one fox and the girl, she is not strong. Village split. Many want to join with Keleptel. They have four fox now. Many want to find mama fox. To them she is new god. Shaman tell them to find her.”

“But isn’t the shaman their slave?” Flavia frowns. Then she holds up a hand. “No. I will never understand. Do not explain.”

“So, wait. When we first got here there were only three foxes,” Pradeep inventories. “Morska Vidra’s, the old one with the exiled shaman on the north coast, and the vixen. Where did the vixen come from? The Shidl Dít?”

“Yes.” But Jidadaa shakes her head no. Then when she sees Katrina correct her she laughs and imitates the nod.

“And then ten babies?”

“Eleven.” Amy lifts her own kit, now sleek and full, with colorless fur shading toward silver. The vixen still feeds her kits, appearing twice a day on an endless circuit around the island accompanied by her mate. “And I think I can finally safely say this one is a female.”

“Three with the Thunderbird. Four with the Mayor’s village. One with the bad guys. Aren’t there two missing?”

“Other íx̱tʼ on island.”

“Aye,” Miriam agrees. “Other íx̱tʼ. Whoever they are. The mysteries never cease. We could stay here our whole lives and never really learn the way Lisica works, could we?”

“Wait…” Amy holds up a hand like a student. “That’s what Xaanach called out, isn’t it? When she killed Wetchie-ghuy. She repeated that phrase again and again. What was it?”

“Ja sam sada íx̱tʼ!” Katrina mimics the girl’s triumphant cry from the clifftops. “The first part is Slavic. Like, ‘Now I’m the…!’ And the last part is íx̱tʼ. What Jidadaa just said. What is íx̱tʼ? Shaman?”

“Yes…?” Jidadaa tentatively nods in agreement. “Wetchie-ghuy was íx̱tʼ. Daadaxáats is íx̱tʼ. Aan Eyagídi was íx̱tʼ before—”

“Yeh. That’s it!” Katrina puts the puzzle together. “Now I’ve got it. She said, ‘I’m the shaman now!’ So Xaanach killed Wetchie-ghuy and became the shaman in his place. Bloody circle of life, mate. I thought that may have been it. Does that mean she got one of the missing foxes?”

Jidadaa frowns. “I look and look. No Xaanach. No more fox kit. This is a story of ecchic oviki.”

“Oh, right. What is that?” Katrina starts recording video on her phone. “Ecchic Oviki. Or who…?”

“Sacred stone. On the path to Northwest forest god. That is what they say. I climb there, follow its poem. From ecchic oviki, see like bird over Agleygle valley place. See all island of the south gods.”

Katrina tries to square this with the relational framework she has puzzled out in their language. “So the story is about the place from where you searched for… Xaanach? The baby fox? It isn’t about your search or her hiding from you or even about the vixen. It’s about the rock. And, what? How it like bears witness?”

But Jidadaa frowns at these questions. They are evidently the wrong ones. She makes a flushing gesture with her hands, pushing them away from herself. “The current ran from me, too fast.”

“I see.” But neither Katrina nor any of the others do see.

Finally Jidadaa collapses with a sigh, leaning against Katrina’s legs. “No find her. My heart hurt. So I come to you, under the grounds. Then I hear music.”

Alonso offers, “Yes. Would you like more music? Perhaps a little Brahms lullaby to put us all to sleep? What do you think? Nice and gentle…” And he begins to sing it.

Jidadaa nods happily one last time then slumps, the simple lyricism of the lullaby affecting her deeply. She rests her head against Katrina’s knees and sighs again.

Katrina hasn’t moved since the unexpected contact. She is too surprised. But as Jidadaa settles against her, she reaches out and touches Jidadaa’s hair. The girl does not startle. So Katrina runs her fingers gently through the tangles. After a while, she begins picking at them, grooming her like the fellow primate she is.

Jidadaa is the first to fall asleep.

Ξ

In the dark, Flavia pulls herself through the tight squeeze of the lower tunnel to win through to the culvert beyond. She takes out her phone and turns on its light, looking in despair at her clothes. These are her favorite top and pants and she’d hoped to travel in them but now they are filthy, and will only get more so when she returns. But she needs to empty her bladder too much to care.

“Ah! Blinded!” Mandy’s head emerges from the tunnel, her black hair streaked in mud, and gets a face full of Flavia’s light. She shuts her eyes with a grimace and drags herself from the tunnel.

“Eh, sorry.” Flavia whips the light away, to the water racing in the culvert below. “I think, maybe, we should just pee in here.”

“I’m not going down that slope. Looks slick. Might fall in. And then what?”

“Yes, you are right. Better somewhere in the cave…” With an aggravated sigh she leads Mandy to the rusted steel door and they step through.

“Who is that?” It is a male voice. Pradeep.

Flavia startles, then laughs. “Oh, great. Just looking for privacy. Didn’t find it. Sorry. I have to go!”

Maahjabeen sits up, clutching her pillow to her bare chest. “Go? Go where, Flavia? What time is it?”

“Ehh…” Flavia can’t hold it any more. “Go to the bathroom!” And she hurries in the other direction from the sleeping pair, toward the rotting pier and curtain falls in the back corner.

“Me too!” Mandy ducks into the cave and hurries after Flavia, squatting like her at the edge of the fall’s wide but shallow pool, adding their own fluids to the Lisica freshwater and the ocean’s salt. For the sake of decency, Flavia turns the light off and they finish in darkness.

“Creepy.” Flavia stands and sorts her clothing. She turns the light back on and joins Mandy, who is waiting a few paces away. “I thought something would jump out of the water and bite me on the ass! The whole time!”

“Oh, god!” Mandy cries. “So glad I didn’t think of that.”

“You didn’t? How? What were you thinking of?”

“I was just thinking how nice it was. The dog pile we were all in. Me and Skeebee and Jidadaa and Katrina and Jay. But I don’t think you were in there? I didn’t… like, feel your skin.”

“Ehhh. I was in another pile of skin. Triquet and Alonso and Miriam and Amy. Like the sea lions on the rocks. Best sleep I’ve had in weeks. I never knew I liked sleeping in a pile!”

“Huh. Maybe it’s like,” Mandy approaches the door, her voice dropping as they near Maahjabeen and Pradeep, “it’s the ancient way of doing it. How we slept for like millions of years. Everyone spooning each other every night. Young and old, cousins and strangers. The only way to beat the cold, right? Imagine, like, you got into a fight with someone during the day. But you still had to sleep with them at night. That’s like super healing, you know?”

“Or,” Pradeep’s voice emerges from the dark, “one of you is held to be in the wrong by the larger group so you are shunned and you must sleep on your own. Those would be some pretty strong social contracts. Risk death of exposure for not conforming.”

“Like the world is not full of homeless people now,” Flavia says. “Or maybe the group splits. Some agree with you and some agree with the other one. And this is how we get the first like individual houses. From some prehistoric drama in the bedroom.”

Maahjabeen’s sleepy voice mumbles, “What are we talking about here? I am trying to sleep.”

“Ah. Sorry.” Flavia tiptoes by to the door. “Group sleeping. How it must have been the status quo forever, until we got too emotional or something.”

“Yes, come here.” Maahjabeen doesn’t even open her eyes. Flavia can only see that she holds out her arms to her. Without hesitation, Flavia goes to her, embracing the woman she still privately considers a living goddess.

“Aww, so sweet.” Mandy joins them, taking the edge of the mat behind, enclosing Flavia and Maahjabeen between her and Pradeep.

“Sisters,” Maahjabeen grunts, kissing Flavia once and petting Mandy with a heavy hand, before falling right back to sleep. Flavia is not far behind. She begins to snore.

Minutes pass. Pradeep coughs.

Mandy whispers, “I can’t believe this is our last night. I hardly got to know any of you. And at the same time…”

“One big Cuban family,” Pradeep whispers back. “I’ve hardly ever known a group of people better.”

“You and Maahjabeen just have to stay together.” Mandy reaches across the two sleeping bodies to clutch his arm. “Oh, please promise you will. You two give me like so much faith in humanity.”

“Yes, we are working that out. Money will probably be the main concern, as well as visas and all that nonsense. But Monterey has a huge oceanic sciences and kayaking community. We’ll be able to find something fitting there for Maahjabeen, especially with Amy and all her contacts.”

“You know, LA is only like five hours away. If you guys would ever… like come by for a dinner or something?”

“Really?” Pradeep’s hand clasps hers. She feels something deep within him release. “You know, you people are so good for my anxiety. I never knew I could be so… liked.”

“Loved,” Mandy amends.

He squeezes her hand. “Yes, Mandy. Loved.”

Ξ

“Good lord, dude, I couldn’t tell what I was looking at there.” Jay laughs and approaches the giant log on the lagoon’s beach, behind which Esquibel stands in her purple jacket, peering out at the gray haze of dawn. “You looked like another log, just like vertically resting against…” He reaches her and rests his sternum against the cool, wet wood. Jay studies the horizon. “So what are you doing?”

“The Russians…” Esquibel doesn’t take her eyes from the water. “They said they would be back in two weeks. As of midnight, it has been two weeks. They could arrive at any moment, yes?”

“Uh… yes. Right. Dawn raid. Total Call of Duty commando-style. Too bad we can’t lay down trip wires and C4. Right?”

“This isn’t a video game.” Esquibel sighs. She has been standing here for an hour and the chill has penetrated to her bones. With a hiss, she rubs heat into her legs and claps her arms. “And you aren’t a soldier.”

Jay grabs her hands and blows heat into them. Esquibel scowls and begins to pull them away but the sensation is too nice. “Ehh. What are you doing out here, Jay? Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Scouting the perimeter, yo. Like a sheepdog. You know me. Damn, sister. Your hands are like ice.” Without asking permission he wraps her from behind in a bear hug and breathes hot air into the back of her neck.

Esquibel squirms. “You can’t just grab me!” Then she relaxes into his embrace. His hot breath cuts straight into her bones, warming them. She sighs. “You really haven’t learned a thing about consent, this whole time? Surrounded by women?”

Jay pulls back, shocked and hurt. “Oh! Did I do it again? Fuck. So sorry, dude. I just thought…”

Esquibel shivers again. She draws his head back down. “Just don’t ever do it again. But now. Just blow.”

“Aye aye, Captain. And you keep watch.”

Esquibel does so, glaring at the blue smear of a horizon with hostility. She hasn’t had a man this close to her in years, and never so gladly. This must be what it is like to have a brother. Esquibel was never really exposed to the masculine world in her home. The home was for the women, and her father was out drinking every night until late. She would only ever see him in the morning, contrite with a hangover, sipping coffee and demanding quiet. Friends had told her of their own brothers, and how much grief they gave their sisters. So growing up, she had never wanted anyone but her mother and herself. But now, it makes her wonder what it would have been like to have a little brother who loved her.

“Good Heavens, I couldn’t tell what I was looking at there.” Triquet approaches through the mist, their face pinched in a frown. For this chilly morning they’ve brought out the vintage ski bunny coat with the ermine hood fringe. It’s so warm there hasn’t been too much opportunity to wear it here. But Triquet is determined to finally make its weight and bulk worth all the effort they’ve put into hauling it around for eight weeks by wearing it on the open water when they get picked up. “Well, if it isn’t the most unlikely couple I could imagine here. Pardon my interruption.”

“She’s just cold.” Jay breathes another lungful into Esquibel’s neck. “I ain’t macking on her.”

“Looking for the Russians?” Triquet shifts closer and wraps their own arms around Jay and Esquibel.

“Someone must.”

“You know Mandy’s plan? To be up on the cliffs where her weather station was? Scouting from the highest point, but from a spot where she can’t be seen. I think Amy’s going with her. But I don’t know what kind of luck they’ll have in this fog.”

“Well if they don’t get up and start soon, their plan won’t be of any use at all.”

“They’re already up and heading out. What, you think I woke up of my own accord at five in the morning?” Triquet laughs. “Amy was my blanket.”

“Good. And perhaps we should have a string of runners through the tunnels, to shout it out and relay the news faster than they could carry it. Everyone else is staying in the sub, yes?”

“As far as I know. Mandy said she left Flavia and the lovebirds in the sea cave. They were still asleep.”

“We should all stay together now. Remember,” Esquibel speaks softly in the gathering fog, “the Russians have always used that west beach entrance before. So they may be there this time. Or they are waiting for the dead scientist, and when he doesn’t arrive there they will sail back over here again. That is my thought.”

“It’s a good thought,” Triquet nods.

“I wish we knew,” Esquibel continues, “what killed that scientist. If it was intentional or not. But no one is talking.”

“They say the dead tell no tales but I wish I’d been there with you,” Triquet says. “ I’m sure I could have gleaned something from his gear and his context. They don’t call us forensic scientists for nothing. God, what a bloody place. He’s dead. Wetchie-ghuy. Those two Chinese soldiers we found.”

“The bodies in the bunker on the west beach,” Jay pauses in his warming breaths to add. “The ones Maahjabeen told us about.”

“Maureen Dowerd,” Triquet continues. “And look at you, with your broken hand and twisted ankle.”

“And the spear blade along his ribs.” Esquibel shakes her head in despair. “The report I will write… My god. They will bring me up on charges. Not for the espionage work, but because I did such a poor job protecting the health and safety of you lot.”

“Pradeep and Maahjabeen getting poisoned…” Jay lists. “Katrina had that night of exposure. And Flavia did a couple times. Then Maahjabeen almost getting lost in that storm. And Mandy getting shot. Shit, we’ve really been through the wringer out here.”

“Not to mention what Alonso arrived with.” Triquet grimaces, then confesses, “Then there was my miraculous healing from the bird bite and those unhygienic tattoo dots between my toes… And I haven’t been able to take a deep breath since March.”

“What? You? Why?” Esquibel shakes Jay off so she can inspect Triquet, who only waves her away.

“No, Doc, I’m fine. It was just that dive through the waterfall after I got lost inside the cliff. It hit me hard. Hyperextended my spine or something. Never really got over it.”

“You should have let me look at it,” Esquibel admonishes them. “I’m sure Mandy could have helped.”

“And that is why,” Triquet purrs, “I never mentioned it. I heard all the screams of the tortured. No thank you. Motrin and jacuzzi for me. I’ll be right as rain. As much as I’ll miss all of you and this beautiful place…”

“Motrin and jacuzzi,” Jay echoes. “Yeah, that’s hard to beat.”

“Look, it’s Alonso.” Esquibel peers over Triquet’s shoulder to see the man’s width resolve out of the fog.

“Aha! I found you. I woke up alone and I wondered where everyone was. For a moment…” Alonso shakes himself and wipes the sleep out of his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I was afraid I’d been left here. The boat had come and gone.”

“Oh, lord.” Triquet laughs. “Could you imagine? How sadistic we’d have to be, to leave one of us here.”

“Not just anyone.” Esquibel laughs as well. “To leave Alonso.”

“No, but I awoke from the most lovely dream. And then that panic almost made me forget it but I…” Alonso shakes his head, a fleeting sadness washing through him. He sees they are waiting, expectant, so he tells them. “It was morning. Bright and sunny. Not like this. And the ship was here. But the tide was very low. So we started packing it and we had so many things, a mountain of things that needed to be piled on the boats and taken out. And I was very busy. We all were. Then the tide went out. Like far far out. And the lagoon became very shallow. Like it didn’t even cover my feet. So then we were able to work very fast, moving back and forth across the water right up to the hull of the ship. And I would pop the things in the hatch and go back for more. And I worked so hard everyone else got tired and collapsed on the beach so I…” Tears suddenly spring into Alonso’s eyes and his throat closes. “I began to run. And I was so fast. And it didn’t hurt at all. But everyone was so tired so I just picked you all up like my children, carrying you one or even two at a time through the water. And I was so strong. And I had so much energy. And my legs didn’t hurt. Not at all…” Then he can’t speak any more. He buries his head in Triquet’s embrace. Jay pats his back.

“Our big Cuban papa.”

“Doctor Alonso,” Esquibel stands at attention and speaks with formality. “I do not know if you would ever want to work with me again, but I would very much work with you again, sir. You were in a difficult position, between the military and your scientists. And you handled the situation as well as anyone could. I have learned from you, how to be a leader and how to…” She shrugs eloquently, “as inappropriate as it may sound, you and your incredible wife and your crazy graduate students have taught me how to love. Better than I ever have. And because of that, I will miss you.”

“Aww, Esquibel…” Jay goes in for the hug.

She wards him away. “You, not so much.”

Alonso laughs and pulls Jay into an embrace with Triquet. “No, don’t listen to her, Jay. We love you so much. You are our mascot. You are the littlest brother. In every family, it is the same. You get all the love but none of the attention.”