just threw up in my mouth a little.”
“I know, it’s not pretty, and smells worse. I should warn you, though. Don’t even think about going over the hill and doing your business out in the sand. Bad idea.” The dentures disappeared under a frown. “We have a little problem with the local vegetation. It’s like… poison ivy, only one hundred times worse. You can’t see it, but it’s inside the sand right now. It’s not something you want to be near with your pants down.”
“What’s that on the ground? “
“It’s salt. We replenish it every three days. There’s something you may have noticed by now – we have to conserve everything on this island. You see that bucket underneath? Solids go in there, liquids go in a bag inside. We take the liquids down to the ponds to distill and irrigate the crops. The solids are composted and used as fertilizer and fuel.
“Tomorrow you’ll see that operation in person. As long as you’re here, you’ll keep busy on a work detail. It’s like a day on the farm, chores and all. Maybe you want this to be like a little vacation, sitting on the beach, hunting seashells, getting a tan. Well, we don’t have time for that here. If you’re eating, you’re working. If you’re not working, we’ll eat you .”
The groaning and muffled complaints died into silence. Wind whistled up the dunes, spitting grains against the back of the huts like rain.
“I’m kidding! C’mon! Where’s your sense of humor? What, are you on an accountant’s retreat? Anyway, who wants to pick their own hut?” He turned and waved a wrinkled arm over his shoulder.
There were more huts than people, and everyone seemed to have an immediate preference. Emily made a beeline for the hut furthest from the outhouse. Lauren picked the one beside her, not for the company but because it was the only structure that had white paint on the outside. It appeared to be half of a fiberglass hull, next to a dented silver sheet of some kind of metal, all tied together by plastic bags knotted end to end. She tried very hard to imagine she was in Greece. It wasn’t working.
Before ducking in, she gave Carter an encouraging look. He took the cabin beside her.
Inside, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. Enough light seeped through the seams of the walls to illuminate three cockroaches scuttling away. Those same seams left tiny piles of sand on the wood planks lining the floor. They were smooth beneath her feet, worn clean by years of wave action before being salvaged. An egg crate foam mat lay in one corner, inviting her. A full stomach and the hot sun drew her to the mattress, but her eyes went wide when she made out the décor.
Was someone else living here?
A few books and a flashlight lay next to the bed. Wallet photos of children plastered the fiberglass walls. A rosary hung from a nail. Two pairs of flip flops crisscrossed beside the door. There were even a few bits of dirty clothing heaped in one corner.
She backed out into the light.
“Emily!” she whispered as loudly as she could.
Emily popped her head out of the adjacent hut, pushed the door open and closed with her sleeve, and stood next to Lauren. “What?”
“Somebody’s stuff is in my hut.”
“I know. Mine, too. Come see.”
The inside of Emily’s hut wasn’t any more inviting. Instead of a foam mattress, she had a bare rope net suspended from the walls. Like Lauren’s, the walls were filled with little photos of smiling families, obviously not related. There were some ID cards, a pair of car keys, even a lock of hair tied in a ribbon.
“This is creepy,” she said.
“I know. You want to switch rooms?”
Lauren pictured her foam mattress waiting for her. “No. Mine’s just as bad.”
They heard a door bang open and some shouting outside. They ducked out to see the commotion.
It was Carter. “Hell, no. What is this? Do I have to share my room with somebody?”
Paul ran up. “No, no. There’s no one else here.
“I know, it’s not pretty, and smells worse. I should warn you, though. Don’t even think about going over the hill and doing your business out in the sand. Bad idea.” The dentures disappeared under a frown. “We have a little problem with the local vegetation. It’s like… poison ivy, only one hundred times worse. You can’t see it, but it’s inside the sand right now. It’s not something you want to be near with your pants down.”
“What’s that on the ground? “
“It’s salt. We replenish it every three days. There’s something you may have noticed by now – we have to conserve everything on this island. You see that bucket underneath? Solids go in there, liquids go in a bag inside. We take the liquids down to the ponds to distill and irrigate the crops. The solids are composted and used as fertilizer and fuel.
“Tomorrow you’ll see that operation in person. As long as you’re here, you’ll keep busy on a work detail. It’s like a day on the farm, chores and all. Maybe you want this to be like a little vacation, sitting on the beach, hunting seashells, getting a tan. Well, we don’t have time for that here. If you’re eating, you’re working. If you’re not working, we’ll eat you .”
The groaning and muffled complaints died into silence. Wind whistled up the dunes, spitting grains against the back of the huts like rain.
“I’m kidding! C’mon! Where’s your sense of humor? What, are you on an accountant’s retreat? Anyway, who wants to pick their own hut?” He turned and waved a wrinkled arm over his shoulder.
There were more huts than people, and everyone seemed to have an immediate preference. Emily made a beeline for the hut furthest from the outhouse. Lauren picked the one beside her, not for the company but because it was the only structure that had white paint on the outside. It appeared to be half of a fiberglass hull, next to a dented silver sheet of some kind of metal, all tied together by plastic bags knotted end to end. She tried very hard to imagine she was in Greece. It wasn’t working.
Before ducking in, she gave Carter an encouraging look. He took the cabin beside her.
Inside, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. Enough light seeped through the seams of the walls to illuminate three cockroaches scuttling away. Those same seams left tiny piles of sand on the wood planks lining the floor. They were smooth beneath her feet, worn clean by years of wave action before being salvaged. An egg crate foam mat lay in one corner, inviting her. A full stomach and the hot sun drew her to the mattress, but her eyes went wide when she made out the décor.
Was someone else living here?
A few books and a flashlight lay next to the bed. Wallet photos of children plastered the fiberglass walls. A rosary hung from a nail. Two pairs of flip flops crisscrossed beside the door. There were even a few bits of dirty clothing heaped in one corner.
She backed out into the light.
“Emily!” she whispered as loudly as she could.
Emily popped her head out of the adjacent hut, pushed the door open and closed with her sleeve, and stood next to Lauren. “What?”
“Somebody’s stuff is in my hut.”
“I know. Mine, too. Come see.”
The inside of Emily’s hut wasn’t any more inviting. Instead of a foam mattress, she had a bare rope net suspended from the walls. Like Lauren’s, the walls were filled with little photos of smiling families, obviously not related. There were some ID cards, a pair of car keys, even a lock of hair tied in a ribbon.
“This is creepy,” she said.
“I know. You want to switch rooms?”
Lauren pictured her foam mattress waiting for her. “No. Mine’s just as bad.”
They heard a door bang open and some shouting outside. They ducked out to see the commotion.
It was Carter. “Hell, no. What is this? Do I have to share my room with somebody?”
Paul ran up. “No, no. There’s no one else here.
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